Scaring Crows (15 page)

‘And now they've been wiped out,' Joanna finished.

‘Yes. Except Ruthie.'

‘You still think she'll turn up?' Mike was incredulous.

The old lady gave him a confident look. ‘Yes,' she said simply. And then something of their suspicions must have filtered through to her. ‘And it's no use your thinking she had something to do with the shootings. She and Jack were inseparable. She looked after him when he came out of hospital. Hardly let him out of her sight. She loved him like he was her own child, stopped him from coming to any harm. And Jack was still strong. He did the work of two men at Hardacre.' Something sentimental flashed over the leathered face. ‘He'd follow her around like a great, shambling dog but he'd work like a strong, steady horse. Working, eating, sleeping, steady as the day.'

She sat still for a while, absorbed in the memory as though Jack, Aaron and Ruthie were all still working at Hardacre. ‘Ruthie was so like her mother, small and slim, none too strong, with those big, dark eyes. Clever too. If Paulette had been educated she would have been a lady. But she married Aaron straight from school. She wanted a home of her own and Aaron promised her I could live here, in the cottage, for my entire life.' Hannah Lockley gave Joanna a twisted smile. ‘That's the trouble with we country girls, Inspector. We might have the same talents and clevernesses as the town and city girls but we don't always know how to put them to our advantage. And Ruthie was the same. You see our families don't want us too educated. They want to see us in our own homes, sitting in front of our own hearths. It's what all the folk round here want for their daughters and it's what I want for Ruthie. It's better than education.' Her eyes met Joanna's with a touch of defiance. ‘Jack never would have married. We all knew that so when Aaron died Hardacre would go to Ruthie. Hardacre, the Owl Hole, the cottage. The lot. Lock, stock and barrel. She'll manage the farm and Jack too for all she's slight and small.'

Had she still forgotten that Jack was dead and Ruthie missing? Something else struck Joanna. Had Hannah Lockley known her brother-in-law was terminally ill? And if she had known what bearing, if any, could it possibly have on the murders?

Joanna eyed Mike with desperation. He gave a small nod and an almost imperceptible grin. ‘Miss Lockley,' she began tentatively. ‘Did you know Aaron was ill?'

The old lady's shoulders twitched. ‘It was obvious,' she answered in a low voice. ‘Anyone could see he wasn't right. But he had an unholy terror of doctors.' The tears were rolling now. ‘I told him to go and see someone, that maybe they could cure him. He just told me to mind my own business. He said it was acid in his stomach. Even when he was bringing up blood.'

Mike was standing in the doorway, thick legs slightly apart, his face as inscrutable as a sphinx. And Joanna noticed he didn't take his eyes off Hannah Lockley but stared, unblinking, as he spoke.

‘Where is Ruthie?'

But if Joanna had hoped that abrupt tactics might shock the old lady into a confession she was disappointed. Hannah Lockley too could be as inscrutable as a sphinx.

‘I don't know,' she said simply. ‘So it's no use your keep asking me. I have no idea where she is. And I have no idea why she's staying away. It's a mystery.'

Mike stepped forward. ‘You must have
some
idea.'

She looked startled, intimidated by Korpanski's bulk. ‘I don't,' she said. ‘I don't. Please, don't try and bully me.' She looked from one to the other like a nervous rabbit, eyes flicking jerkily. ‘I'm every bit as confused as you are.'

‘So you don't think she's running away from a double murder?'

The old lady looked shocked. ‘Most certainly not,' she said. ‘If you
knew
Ruthie you'd understand.'

Round and round, Joanna thought irritably. Round and round. And they were getting nowhere.

She must try another tactic.

‘You didn't tell us
everything
about Jack, did you?'

The old lady looked affronted. ‘I did ...'

Mike picked up on Joanna's tack. ‘You didn't tell us that Jack enjoyed setting fire to things.'

The old lady's manner changed to one of furtiveness. Her eyes slid away from both the detectives.

‘Who told you?' she said at last.

‘One of your neighbours.'

Her lip curled. ‘I bet it was that ...'

‘Your bloody brother-in-law and nephew are shot,' Mike spoke furiously. ‘Your niece has disappeared. Don't you understand? We have to know …'

Hannah Lockley drew herself up to her full height. ‘It has nothing to do with it.'

‘Let us decide. Miss Lockley, we don't know what's important in this case and until we do even if you go to the toilet in the middle of the night we need to know.'

‘There's no need to be crude, young man.' Hannah Lockley stared him out.

Joanna smiled. Somehow, this old lady had got the better of Mike, though he was twice her size and had the authority of the Staffordshire Police department behind him. She was reminded of the scorched rug Barraclough had rolled up on his first day's investigations. ‘Did Jack ever attempt to burn down the farm?'

Hannah Lockley was suddenly subdued. ‘He had to be watched,' she admitted.

‘When we first came,' Joanna said, ‘you mentioned ramblers. Are there many ramblers in this area?'

The old lady looked at her with something approaching respect. ‘You've got quite a memory, young lady,' she said grudgingly. ‘I did mention ramblers and there are too many. Especially in this sort of weather. Crowded as a street in the middle of London, it is sometimes. There is a public footpath crosses the boundary between Hardacre and Fallowfield. But they don't stick to it. They wander through the farms, into people's gardens. Cause no end of trouble. They leave the gates open, let their dogs chase sheep. And apologize? No they don't.'

Mike's dark eyes were sharply intelligent. ‘Would their path take them anywhere near the farmhouse door?'

She could read his mind. The previous weekend and the days following had been the hottest recorded temperatures in Staffordshire for twenty years. Half of the population of Leek might well have been wandering the footpath. The local residents took full advantage of the surrounding countryside. Not a quiet, rural area then, but busy and full of trippers. The old lady brightened. ‘The footpath crosses the boundary on the Top Field.'

Joanna never could get used to the different names for various fields. They all looked the same to her. ‘Which do you call the Top Field?'

‘Right by the door of the farm, across from the lane. But surely ... ramblers ... What for? Why would they want to shoot a couple of farmers?'

‘I don't know.'

But now Joanna had pursued one seemingly insignificant fact she was remembering another.

“Tell me about the cattle that went missing.'

Again the old lady looked cross. ‘Can't we keep anything from you? That has no bearing on the shootings. I'm sure. And I don't know how you came to know about it anyway.'

‘Just tell us,' Mike said.

Hannah Lockley looked at him with dislike. ‘It started at the very end of last summer/ the old lady began reluctantly. ‘Just as the leaves were turning. A few good cows went missing. We all thought it was Pinkers.' She looked from one to the other with a face taut with concern. ‘You have to understand. We
never
had any proof. Four of Pinkers' best milkers had gone dry. Dave ...'

‘Shackleton?' Mike interrupted.

‘Yes. Dave Shackleton. He told us Pinkers' milk production was down, that he was having real problems. If you lose production, let Milk Marque down, they cut your cheque. And then your quota. And you never get the quota back. So Pinkers really did have a problem. One day Aaron went to fetch in the cows. Early one morning it was, ready for milking. He came in and said that a couple had gone missing. Hell to play there was. It's a big farm but our cows are tagged, in the ear. If they had gone on to the road someone would have spotted them and fetched them back. We took a look around. There was no gaps in the hedge and the gate was fastened. So someone must have taken them out of the field. Naturally we thought of Pinkers. So we went down there and took Noah with us. He always had a good nose did Noah. Could sniff a Hardacre cow out like it was smothered in peppermint oil. Anyway, he went wild outside one of Pinkers' cowsheds. We tried the door but it was locked. Next thing we know is Pinkers is standing there, his shotgun pointing right at us. “One bloody step”, he says, “and the dog gets it. One more step after that and you does too''.' Miss Lockley gave Joanna a bold stare. ‘Have you ever had a gun pointin' right at you, Missus?'

It gave Joanna the perfect chance to redress the score. ‘I'm not a missus,' she said, with dignity. ‘I'm a Miss, like you. I have no husband to thank for my position either, Miss Lockley.' The old lady flushed.

‘But to answer your question no. I have not had a gun pointed at me and I hope I never shall.'

But it was a vain hope. Villains were getting ever more violent. And guns were readily available, without licences or with them. Joanna shivered. It was only a matter of time before she too stared down the barrel of a gun, as had Aaron and Jack Summers.

She gave Mike a weak smile. ‘So did you get the cows back?'

Hannah Lockley shook her head. ‘We didn't,' she said. ‘But Dave Shackleton told us about the miracle that had happened in the meantime. Surprise surprise,' she said sourly, Tinkers' milk production was back up to quota.'

‘And the tags?'

‘You can easily take the tags out and the pretend barren cows have miraculously turned productive.'

‘And the accreditation papers?'

Hannah Lockley looked scornful. ‘Barren cows can go in the freezer. Stolen cattle can easily take up their identity.' She chuckled. ‘Not the best of steaks but the cheapest.' She gave Joanna a hard stare. ‘Do you believe in virgin births?'

‘Uumm ...'

‘I don't suppose I need to tell a clever young lady like you that calves come from bulls and cows,' the old lady persisted. ‘The vet does the insemination if you pay him. Otherwise you need a bull. And cows what don't have calves don't produce milk neither. Do you get me? So when old Doric, Aaron's bull goes missing and Pinkers' cows start getting fatter with calves and no vet has been in attendance or semen bought we know who the daddy is. Now do you understand?'

They both nodded.

‘But there was no proof, was there?' Joanna asked.

‘Not a shred,' the old lady said comfortably. ‘Not a single shred of evidence. But then who needs evidence? Not that the courts would be interested in a couple of farmers squabbling over some animals. Now what else do you want to know?'

‘I want to know what Ruthie's relationship was like with her father.'

The question earned Joanna a hostile stare. ‘Perfectly normal. However deep you dig you won't find anything there, I promise you.'

‘And when did you last see Ruthie?'

About a month ago,' she admitted. ‘But I don't see her every day.'

‘Wasn't it unusual not to see her for such a long period?'

The old lady shrugged. ‘It happens,' she said, ‘sometimes.'

‘Perhaps she's with a boyfriend.'

Miss Lockley's face softened. ‘I have wondered,' she said. ‘She is such a pretty girl. And I know Dave Shackleton's quite fond of her. He gets on well with Jack too. And a young family will be so good for Hardacre.'

‘How did Ruthie feel about Shackleton?'

‘I'm not too sure about that,' she said. ‘Personally I think she's too good for him. But who else is there?' Her accompanying smile was anything but comfortable.

‘Miss Lockley...' Joanna stood up. She was more than ready for her lunch. ‘We may ask you to come back to the farm with us at some point, just to see if you can spot anything different.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘I don't know,' Joanna confessed. ‘Anything that may help us to discover who murdered two members of your family. Maybe tomorrow? Perhaps in the afternoon?'

The old lady gave a determined nod of her head. ‘I'll come,' she said, ‘provided it's all been cleared up.'

As they closed the small gate behind them Joanna felt a sudden wave of confusion. ‘We've been there for more than an hour,' she said. ‘And yet we've found out nothing.'

Mike was ahead of her. ‘You call that nothing? The fact that Pinkers threatened them with a shotgun after they'd found out about his petty pilfering? I don't call that nothing, Jo.'

‘I suppose it makes him worth a second visit but this business with the cows...' Mike was striding ahead of her. ‘It's hardly a motive for murder, is it?'

Mike turned then, shielded his eyes from the glare of the sun. ‘Maybe not to you and maybe not to me. But to these farming sorts. They have different priorities.'

‘Oh come on, Mike.' The heat was making her irritable, the swarms of buzzing flies doubly so. ‘You can't seriously think Pinkers blasted the pair of them into Kingdom Come over a couple of cows.'

‘I think it's possible,' he said stubbornly.

‘Then what about Ruthie?' She turned to face him. ‘Where does she fit in to all this?'

But Mike had no answer to that one.

They drove back towards the town to find a pub with a garden that served meals and pulled up outside the Three Horseshoes, famous both for its truly delicious home cooking as well as the stupendous views towards the Roaches, a rocky outcrop overlooking the moorland. They settled at one of the tables, Joanna baring her legs to the sunshine.

The action reminded her of something. She took her sunglasses off, folded them carefully and faced Mike across the table.