‘I was back there yesterday and I heard shots. I was too far away to be useful.’
I didn’t tell Neesham about Kate’s last words.Your fault.That was between her and me.
‘What were you hoping to achieve coming here?’ Neesham asked.
‘I wasn’t thinking that far ahead.’
‘You wanted revenge.’
He was right, of course, but it wasn’t just revenge.
‘She killed the Leckies,’ I said. ‘Even if it wasn’t either of her sons pulling the trigger, she was behind it. I wanted to put it to her. See what she said.’
Neesham wrote on his pad. He looked at me, thinking carefully about his next question.
‘I assume the soldier was dead when you arrived.’
I didn’t answer. It hadn’t sounded like a question.
‘What’s his connection to the Leckies?’ he asked.
‘He was a deserter,’ I said. ‘I found him lying low in my woods with a couple of others.’
‘He’s not from Dunkirk,’ Neesham said.
‘How can you tell?’
‘Orders from the top. The absolute top. We’re not going to find any of our returning heroes committing any crimes, least of all deserting. These are all gallant young men who can’t wait to get back into the fray and give Jerry what-for.’
‘So they get a free pass on anything they decide to get up to?’
‘If we catch anyone in the act, we hand them over to the military police. Let them worry about it. But if it’s a reportof a crime, we file it at the bottom of the in-tray. Leave it there for a year until this is all over.’
The last thing the country needed was stories of Tommies misbehaving. One of the advantages of conducting wars overseas was that the public could be kept unaware of the various realities of forcing young men to put themselves in harm’s way.
Neesham looked up as another car pulled up in front of the house. We listened to the door opening and closing, footsteps.
Doc Graham carried his medical bag. He looked at the two of us, on our opposite couches. Me in handcuffs, Neesham with his notebook. He didn’t comment. He knelt by Kate’s body.
‘Nasty,’ he said.
‘That’s your medical opinion?’ I asked. Doc and I were old friends. The three of us, Neesham included, had gone to school together. Small-town stuff.
‘In medical parlance, she’s deceased.’
It wasn’t like Doc to be so flippant. He was a precise man, in words and in action. Something was wrong. More wrong than walking in on a dead body and two of his old schoolmates at loggerheads, one of them in handcuffs.
‘There’s a couple more in the kitchen,’ Neesham said.
*
Doc went through his checks on the soldier while Neesham paced. I sat on a kitchen chair, next to the son, or what remained of him. Neesham had let me out of the handcuffs, grudgingly.
‘Well?’ Neesham asked. Doc was crouched on the floor, he looked up at Neesham and shook his head. He’d been feelingthe man’s ankles. Rolled his trouser legs back down. He shuffled along, repositioning, and unbuttoned the shirt. The soldier’s neck was destroyed, the frying pan had done its job. Doc examined the man’s chest, and looked under the arms. Once again, he looked up at Neesham and shook his head.
‘One less thing,’ Neesham said.
‘What are you looking for?’ I asked.
