beginning to set in.
Max groaned when the call came through and asked Will to let Fenella know that he'd been called out. He'd been looking forward to seeing her again, away from the surgery, and had been going to invite her back to his place for coffee after the meeting, but as a police surgeon he knew only too well how soon the best-laid plans could be disrupted.
'Do you recognise her at all?' the police sergeant in charge asked as Max knelt beside the body, which lay face down in the mud. 'I expect you would know if she came from round these parts, you being the local GP.'
'At first glance, I would say she's a stranger, but I can't see her face properly,' Max told him. 'I don't want to move her until the scene of crime boys get here.' He pointed to the back of her head. 'Something has gouged into the base of her skull with a great deal of force. The attack came from behind so she would have stood little chance of defending herself, and landing in the mud won't have helped. She would have had difficulty breathing if she was still alive. There has been a lot of heavy rain recently, as I am discovering to my cost.' He glanced down wryly on to his shoes and the bottoms of his jeans.
'Would the blow, or blows, be severe enough to kill her?' the policeman asked.
'Yes. I would think so. Some folks' skulls are thinner than others,' Max replied. 'How long before the scene of crime people get here once you've reported my findings?'
'Hard to say,' he was told. 'Depends who is available. Why? Are you in a hurry?'
Max shook his head. 'Not so much that I'm going to leave the scene until I'm satisfied that I haven't missed anything. Did she have any personal belongings with her to help with identification?'
'We haven't found anything so far but my men are going over the area. I have a feeling that she might be a traveller. There's a gypsy site not far from here.'
It was a quarter to eleven when Max got back to the village and found the caretaker locking up after the meeting.
'The young lady doctor said to tell you that she'll be in The Moorhen,' the sprightly pensioner told him. After a quick word of thanks Max made his way to where the lights of the public house beckoned.
His spirits were lifting. At least he would have a short time with Fenella, he thought. Maybe the evening wasn't entirely spoilt and he quickened his steps, but as he passed the open window of The Moorhen he halted.
Fenella wasn't alone. She was with Will and his crowd and from the looks of it having the time of her life, laughing with them and singing to the jukebox.
So much for him thinking she would be waiting for him in solitary disappointment, he thought wearily. It was quite clear he hadn't been missed. He'd had a tiring and depressing evening and had been looking forward to making up for it when he found her. But it looked as if she was enjoying herself too much to be concerned about his absence. Turning swiftly, he went back to his car and drove home.
Only seconds after he'd departed Fenella got to her feet with the feeling that if she had to listen to any more loud music, or fob off one more youthful admirer, she would go crazy.
When she'd asked where all their girlfriends were there'd been some lame excuses and she'd accepted that for tonight she was the only woman. They were a nice lot of lads, well mannered, well behaved, and she knew they wouldn't step out of turn, but she could only endure their company for so long.
She wanted to be with Max, in spite of his doubts regarding their relationship. Wanted to get to know him better, find out what made him tick, what his likes and dislikes were, his hopes and fears. Everything about him was of importance to her. But it was not to be and as she bade Will and his friends goodnight it occurred to her that she had no transport home.
Her mother had given her a lift to the meeting and she'd been expecting that Max would be there to drive her back to the cottage when it was over, but as it
Max groaned when the call came through and asked Will to let Fenella know that he'd been called out. He'd been looking forward to seeing her again, away from the surgery, and had been going to invite her back to his place for coffee after the meeting, but as a police surgeon he knew only too well how soon the best-laid plans could be disrupted.
'Do you recognise her at all?' the police sergeant in charge asked as Max knelt beside the body, which lay face down in the mud. 'I expect you would know if she came from round these parts, you being the local GP.'
'At first glance, I would say she's a stranger, but I can't see her face properly,' Max told him. 'I don't want to move her until the scene of crime boys get here.' He pointed to the back of her head. 'Something has gouged into the base of her skull with a great deal of force. The attack came from behind so she would have stood little chance of defending herself, and landing in the mud won't have helped. She would have had difficulty breathing if she was still alive. There has been a lot of heavy rain recently, as I am discovering to my cost.' He glanced down wryly on to his shoes and the bottoms of his jeans.
'Would the blow, or blows, be severe enough to kill her?' the policeman asked.
'Yes. I would think so. Some folks' skulls are thinner than others,' Max replied. 'How long before the scene of crime people get here once you've reported my findings?'
'Hard to say,' he was told. 'Depends who is available. Why? Are you in a hurry?'
Max shook his head. 'Not so much that I'm going to leave the scene until I'm satisfied that I haven't missed anything. Did she have any personal belongings with her to help with identification?'
'We haven't found anything so far but my men are going over the area. I have a feeling that she might be a traveller. There's a gypsy site not far from here.'
It was a quarter to eleven when Max got back to the village and found the caretaker locking up after the meeting.
'The young lady doctor said to tell you that she'll be in The Moorhen,' the sprightly pensioner told him. After a quick word of thanks Max made his way to where the lights of the public house beckoned.
His spirits were lifting. At least he would have a short time with Fenella, he thought. Maybe the evening wasn't entirely spoilt and he quickened his steps, but as he passed the open window of The Moorhen he halted.
Fenella wasn't alone. She was with Will and his crowd and from the looks of it having the time of her life, laughing with them and singing to the jukebox.
So much for him thinking she would be waiting for him in solitary disappointment, he thought wearily. It was quite clear he hadn't been missed. He'd had a tiring and depressing evening and had been looking forward to making up for it when he found her. But it looked as if she was enjoying herself too much to be concerned about his absence. Turning swiftly, he went back to his car and drove home.
Only seconds after he'd departed Fenella got to her feet with the feeling that if she had to listen to any more loud music, or fob off one more youthful admirer, she would go crazy.
When she'd asked where all their girlfriends were there'd been some lame excuses and she'd accepted that for tonight she was the only woman. They were a nice lot of lads, well mannered, well behaved, and she knew they wouldn't step out of turn, but she could only endure their company for so long.
She wanted to be with Max, in spite of his doubts regarding their relationship. Wanted to get to know him better, find out what made him tick, what his likes and dislikes were, his hopes and fears. Everything about him was of importance to her. But it was not to be and as she bade Will and his friends goodnight it occurred to her that she had no transport home.
Her mother had given her a lift to the meeting and she'd been expecting that Max would be there to drive her back to the cottage when it was over, but as it
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