Graham is silent, thinking. ‘You know, she’s never come up.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Which means?’
Mr Mallow sighs. ‘I thought you used to be a damn good detective? I find myself disappointed.’
Graham tuts and spoons more curry into his mouth. He knows Mr Mallow isn’t saying that to be cruel, despite it sounding exactly that. ‘Fine,’ says Graham. ‘We’ll ask around about her mother tomorrow. Wait … there is one thing. In Sophia’s written piece, there was nothing about a scarecrow.’
Mr Mallow looks at his laptop. ‘Consider my disappointment in you revoked. That’s a good catch, Detective. You’re right, which means that the scarecrow could very well be a recent development. If Sophia is missing, then it only started being hung in the tree after her disappearance. It may not have anything to do with John Hammel at all, but rather Sophia Hammel.’ At this point. Mr Mallow notices the bowl of food next to him and begins to eat, taking small bitesand chewing a lot. Graham expects he has to chew his food a certain number of times before swallowing it.
‘I have made numerous searches and there’s nothing about her disappearance online. I think we need to know for sure whether she is or isn’t missing,’ says Mr Mallow after swallowing his first mouthful of food.
‘Agreed. What do you make of the heart found inside the scarecrow?’ asks Graham before spooning the last portion of rice in his bowl.
‘Hard to say at this stage, but let’s err on the side of caution and confirm whether it is a pig heart first. Let’s head to the local butchers to see if they have sold any pig hearts lately or if any of the neighbouring farms have had any of their pigs killed. Considering the Davies family are also members of the village council, they may also have some useful information to share.’
‘That’s if they do share it at all,’ says Graham.
Mr Mallow nods his agreement, then takes another small bite of food. ‘It certainly is strange,’ he says. ‘The Hanging Tree is one of the oldest oak trees in the United Kingdom. It’s possibly almost a thousand years old. It must have seen some amazing sights over the years.’
Graham watches as Mr Mallow stares off into space.
He admits, it’s good to flex his brain muscles again with this mystery. A part of him wants this; no, needs this. He’s been somewhat bored for a while and he’s looking forward toinvestigating tomorrow morning. Someone somewhere must know something.
‘Yet, they wish to burn it to the ground,’ says Graham.
‘Yes, which poses another question, doesn’t it? Why now?’
Graham pushes his empty bowl away. ‘Something is going on in this village. I’ve been blind not to have seen it before, but it all started when that scarecrow appeared in the tree. There’s something that people don’t want us to know. John Hammel seemingly killed himself a hundred years ago, but why? Another mystery is who wrote the short article about the burning of the tree in the Bethgelert Oracle?’
‘Someone who wants that tree gone, along with all the secrets it holds.’
‘But trees don’t hold secrets, Mr Mallow. People do.’
Mr Mallow holds up a single finger in a point. ‘Ah, but people also like to use deception and blame to distract others from their true intentions. The tree may not hold physical secrets, but it is a very large, very poignant symbol in this village and holds a lot of history. Whoever has made it their mission to destroy it is the person who has the most to gain from its destruction. Without the tree, this village is just an ordinary village. Perhaps they are hoping that with the tree gone, the history, the curse the residents have seemingly created, will disappear too.’
Graham lets out a long sigh. ‘And here I was thinking this would be a straightforward investigation. I guess it’s time to hit the hay, Mr Mallow. Tomorrow is a brand new day, and we have ourselves a lot of people to speak to, who may not appreciate our questions.’
‘My favourite type of investigation,’ says Mr Mallow. He reaches up and rubs his forehead.
Graham watches the man as he closes his eyes for a moment, as if in pain. Graham sees a trickle of blood drip from his nose. Mr Mallow quickly wipes it away with a tissue from his pocket and stands up, picking his laptop up from the table.
‘Goodnight, Detective.’
‘Goodnight, Mr Mallow. The spare room is the second door on the right just before the dead end hallway.’
Graham doesn’t like the way Mr Mallow is holding himself. Something is wrong, but if he knows the man at all, he won’t say a single word until it’s worth mentioning. Graham must trust that he knows what he’s doing. He isn’t one to pry, but he’d also never forgive himself if something happened to his friend and he didn’t do anything to stop it.
Chapter 21
STEPHEN
It’s creeping closer to midnight, a brand-new day, by the time Stephen bids the detective goodnight, then climbs the stairs. He follows the detective’s instructions and locates the spare room just before the dead-end hallway. The area intrigues him. A hallway that goes nowhere seems like a slightly pointless design of the cottage, but his intrigue soon turns to confusion. Something doesn’t add up. What’s the purpose of it? Surely, there should be some sort of window where the blank wall is, or even an extra room? It’s only a two-bedroom cottage as it stands, but the downstairs is considerably larger than the upstairs.
He scratches his head, too exhausted to give it any more thought tonight. His brain needs to rest and recharge, ready for a big day tomorrow, and he’s not feeling his best. A lingering headache is slowly weighing him down, to the point where all he wants to do is crawl into bed and pull the covers over his head, like he used to do when he was a child so he didn’t have to listen to his parents arguing. He got good at ignoring that type of thing.
He’s not sure if the detective noticed his bloody nose earlier, but if he did, he didn’t remark on it. Stephen listens asthe detective moves around downstairs, closing down for the night. Stephen then uses the bathroom and enters the spare room. It’s pleasant enough. The single bed is like a warm, welcoming hug at the end of a long day. A simple lamp on a small table sits beside the bed.
