The Skeleton Man

‘Well, think about it. Getting the local people into court will serve little long-term good. The idea is to trade them in for information. They walk if we get the names, and the evidence, we need to move against the leadership in the East Midlands. We get one of them to start talking then we can crack the lot, including the people who did this.’

He held the picture up so Dryden could see it again. ‘We think they’ll have more to worry about than tracking the trail back to Ely. When it comes to court there’ll be no mention of Sealodes Farm. Peyton’s willing to take the chance, he’s smart enough to know it may be the only chance he’s got if he wants a happy, and wealthy, old age. So that’s our game.’

‘Yours. Or the people running this unit back in Lynn?’ asked Dryden.

‘That’s the plan,’ said Shaw, not answering, lacing his fingers across his eyes and rubbing the sockets.

‘But if it works we might see a timely promotion for DI Peter Shaw, a few less burglaries in future, right?’

Those water blue eyes again, giving nothing away.

Dryden stood. ‘OK. And if they don’t call?’

‘You can run the story – but no names. The farm is just that – a farm, somewhere near Ely. The story’s good enough without the detail.’

Dryden ran a hand along the files, fighting an urge to tell Shaw to stuff his plan. But there was always the other story. ‘And matey in the cellar? It still looks like a suicide, surely? There’s no link with animal rights there?’

Shaw smiled, and again it was difficult not to join in. ‘Take a look at this,’ he said. The childlike enthusiasm was infectious, and they hunched over a plan drawn on graph paper – about three foot by four foot. There was an etched outline of a room, expertly drawn.

‘It’s the cellar,’ said Shaw.

‘So you don’t think it’s suicide?’

Shaw shrugged. ‘Who cares what I think? I need to be sure it isn’t murder. My job’s to catch people who break the law. It’s pretty black and white. On this case I have two problems. Identifying the victim, and then working out if there’s any chance they were strung up by a person or persons unknown.’

‘What about the Smith twins?’

Shaw smiled. ‘Bravo. Indeed.’ The detective’s shoulders relaxed visibly. ‘Research of your own?’

‘Maybe,’ said Dryden, determined to gather information, not give it away.

Shaw pressed on. ‘Yup. It’s a good question. They went for each other’s throats that last night, out in the yard of the inn apparently, thirty yards from the trapdoor down to the cellar. Woodruffe, the landlord, has given us a blow-by-blow account – but then he’s keen to divert attention from the fact that we found the skeleton in his cellar.’

‘Brothers fall out all the time – why should this end in murder?’

‘Standard version of events says it’s money – isn’t it always? At least that’s what Mark Smith says – he ended up working for one of the big national builders, based out near Thetford. He’s a bitter man. He says the two brothers had a great opportunity to relocate their own business – the father was a builder, and they’d been brought up in the trade. The old man died in 1989 and there was some insurance money, plus a lump sum off the MoD for compensation. Mark reckons something like £45,000 in total. It was their mother’s really, but she said she’d back whatever they agreed to do – if they agreed. But Matthew said no – he had his own ideas, a new life. Sounds like he was smarter, wanted to start up a design business with a friend customizing websites. So they came to blows, like brothers do, and stumbled out into the dark. That’s the last time anyone seems to have seen Matthew outside the family. None of the witnesses we know were in the inn that night say they followed them outside, a lack of curiosity which borders on the unnatural, I think. That was just after eleven o’clock. Mark claims the fight petered out and they walked home twenty yards apart. Next morning there was a silent breakfast, punctuated by an announcement from Matthew that he’d been offered a job in computers in North Wales and he was going to take it. A story which is corroborated by the sister – Jennifer. Mark says his brother phoned home a couple of times to talk to his mother, and there was a telephone number where they could call him, but they never did. Apparently the mother felt he’d deserted them when they needed him most. She’d taken the death of her husband very badly. As far as she was concerned Matthew was a non-person, a view which turns out to be uncannily close to the truth.’

‘Which is?’

‘Matthew doesn’t appear to exist. We’ve tried Swansea, Inland Revenue, trades unions, credit companies, banks, but so far there’s no record of a Matthew James Smith.’

‘The mother – where’s she?’

‘Dead within eighteen months of the move.’

‘And Mark got all the money?’