Common Murder

“What shift are you on tomorrow?”

“Day off.”

“Fine. Take a look at it if you don’t mind and check in first thing with Duncan. I’ll leave him a note stressing that I’ve told you to get stuck in. And Lindsay-don’t do anything daft, okay?”

“Thanks, Cliff. How much do you want now?”

“Let it run, Lindsay. All you’ve got.”

There followed a series of clicks and buzzes as she was connected to the copytaker. She recited the story off the top of her head, adding in as much as she knew about Crabtree and his connection with the camp. “A brutal murder shocked a women’s peace camp last night,” she began.

Then, at nearly two o’clock, she made her final call. Cordelia’s sleepy voice answered the phone. “Who the hell is it?”

Lindsay swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat at the sound of the familiar voice. She struggled with herself and tried to sound light. “It’s me, love. Sorry I woke you. I know you’ll be tired after driving back from your parents’, but I’m afraid I’ve got a major hassle on my hands. There’s been a murder down here. Rupert Crabtree the guy whose face Debs is supposed to have rearranged-he’s been killed. The cops have pulled Debs. I don’t think they’re going to charge her. I know I said I’d be home tomorrow lunchtime, but I don’t know when the hell I’ll make it now.”

“Do you want me to come down?”

Lindsay thought for a moment. The complication seemed unnecessary. “Not just now, I think,” she replied. “There’s nothing either of us can really do till I know more precisely what’s happening. I simply wanted to tell you myself, so you wouldn’t panic when you heard the news or saw the papers. I’ll ring you later today, all right?”

“All right,” Cordelia sighed. “But look after yourself, please. Don’t take any chances with a murderer on the loose. I love you, don’t forget that.”

“I love you too,” Lindsay replied. She put the phone down and walked back to the camp. She opened the door to the van, forgetting momentarily about the police. The bulky presence of two uniformed men searching the van startled her.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded angrily.

“We’ll be as quick as we can,” said the older of the two, a freckle-faced, grey-haired man with broad shoulders and a paunch. “We have a warrant. Your friend said it was all right,” he added, nodding towards Jane.

“I’d forgotten you’d be doing this.” Lindsay sighed as she collapsed into the comfortable armchair-cum-driver’s seat.

True to the constable’s word, they departed in about fifteen minutes with a bundle of clothing. Lindsay poured a large whisky for Jane and herself.

“I could do without another night like this,” Lindsay said. “I don’t know what it is about my friends that seems to attract murder.”

Jane looked puzzled. “You mean this happens often?”

“Not exactly often. About two years ago, a friend of mine was arrested for a murder she didn’t commit. Cordelia and I happened to be on the spot and got roped in to do the Sam Spade bit. That’s when the two of us got together-a mutual fascination for being nosey parkers.”

“Well, I hate to say it, but I’m glad you’ve had the experience. I think you could easily find yourself going through the same routine for Deborah.”

Lindsay shook her head. “Different kettle of fish. They’ve not even arrested Debs, never mind charged her. I’m pretty sure they don’t have much to go on. It’s my guess that Debs will be back here by lunchtime tomorrow if Judith’s got anything to do with it. Let’s face it, we all know Debs is innocent, and I’m sure the police will find a more likely suspect before the day’s out. They’ve just pulled her in to make it look good to anyone who’s got their beady eyes on them. Now I’m going to bed, if you’ll excuse me.”

In spite of Lindsay’s exhaustion she did not fall asleep at once. Crabtree’s murder had set her thoughts racing in circles. Who had killed him? And why? Was it anything to do with the peace camp, or was Debs’ connection with him purely coincidental? And what was going to happen to Debs? Lindsay hated being in a position where she didn’t know enough to form reasonable theories, and she tossed and turned in Debs’ bed as she tried to switch off her brain. Finally she drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep, which left her feeling neither rested nor refreshed when she awoke after nine.

After a quick shower, she emerged into a mild spring day with cotton-wool clouds scudding across the sky to find the camp apparently deserted. Puzzled, Lindsay glanced over at the big bender used for meetings; it seemed that was where the women had gathered. She decided to take advantage of the quiet spell by phoning the office and checking the current situation with the police.

Her first call was to the police HQ in Fordham. She asked for Rigano and was surprised to be put straight through to him. “Superintendent Rigano? Lindsay Gordon here, Daily Clarion. We met last night at Brownlow…”

“I remember. You were quick off the mark. It’s been hard to get away from your colleagues this morning. Now, what can I do for you?”