Death at Rainbow Cottage, Jo Allen [top 100 books of all time checklist .TXT] 📗

evidence from the post-mortem suggested that whoever had killed Len Pierce had surprised him so completely that he couldn’t have seen the death blow coming even though it had been struck from in front of him, a sharp, right-handed thrust to just below the heart. ‘And there’s no match for the DNA, either, so the other man obviously has no criminal record.’ Irritating. The cigarette had been Len’s, too.

‘None. So, to the car.’ Doddsy ran down his list like the expert meeting-manager he was, one eye on the agenda, one on the clock and a good chunk of his concentration almost certainly already in the pub. ‘Chris, what can you tell us about it?’

‘Just about everything except its colour, reg and chassis number.’ Chris shook his head. What he had wouldn’t help to trace the vehicle, only to confirm it had been on the scene once they’d finally found it — if they ever did. ‘A Toyota Rav, probably heavily loaded, left rear tyre more worn than the right. The left tyre was illegal. Tammy’s reasonably confident she’s identified a trace of very similar tyres elsewhere on the verge, which suggests that this wasn’t the first time that person had been there. There were indications from tyre tracks — degraded but just about usable — that Len Pierce’s car had been there before. The only other tracks at that end of the lane were from a tractor, and they’ve been matched to the one at the farm. The farmer had been along the lane on the Saturday morning.’

Jude nodded and took a moment to scan the email a second time. ‘That implies a regular meeting place, and it ties in with Maisie Skinner’s claims that Len met men online. But she didn’t offer any evidence for it and according to this,’ he tapped the printed email, ‘there isn’t any suggestion of that on his laptop, either.’

‘What about the dark web?’ Chris would do well in the tech team, if he ever wanted to go there. ‘Have they looked a bit deeper?’

‘I imagine they have.’

‘Yes, but if he’s meeting—’

‘We don’t know that he is.’ Ashleigh joined in. ‘Just because Maisie falls into the trap of thinking being gay makes you dangerous and promiscuous, there’s no reason why we should. The opposite, I’d say.’

‘We can’t let political correctness obscure the possibility, either. Everything suggests he was meeting someone in secret.’

‘It’s a public place. Hardly secret.’ Ashleigh glared.

‘Okay.’ Jude lifted a warning hand. ‘Chris. You have a good point. The tech team haven’t finished. They may find something else.’

‘What about his phone?’

‘Not that we’ve been able to access. There are a couple of cryptically named WhatsApp groups but they could have been group conversations, or just Lenny and a mate. He didn’t bother to encrypt any messages to his sister. They’re straightforward texts, and there’s nothing in there that goes beyond the mundane.’ Jude consulted the next paragraph of the email. ‘They’ll keep digging.’ The slenderness of information in the email disappointed him, but it was hardly unexpected. He turned to Ashleigh. ‘I imagine if the door-to-door inquiries had come up with anything I’d have heard, but at least you can run me through what we don’t know.’

‘You’re right, I’m afraid. We did extensive door-to-doors in Appleby, but none of Len’s neighbours could tell us anything, other than the fact that he was quiet, pleasant, a bit of a loner, and most of them either knew or suspected that he was gay. And we’ve knocked every door in Temple Sowerby, except Doddsy’s.’

‘Okay. And can you give me a quick sketch of Len Pierce?’

‘I can. His neighbours liked him. He was friendly and helpful. Watered their gardens when they were away, delivered surplus baking to them. Nobody but his sister seemed to think he was at all promiscuous and nobody cared, except for a couple of slightly prim folk, and even they liked him. He loved animals. He worked hard, but he loved his job.’

‘Okay. And no-one saw anything on the A66?’

‘Not that we’ve been able to confirm. We stopped traffic on there on Monday and Tuesday. You can image how popular that made us with the public, but it couldn’t be helped. I’m planning to repeat that on Sunday afternoon, at the time Len was killed and for an hour before and after, to catch anyone who makes a regular trip and see if it jogs any memories.’

‘You’ll be supervising that?’

‘Yes. Theoretically, I’m not working then but I took most of Monday so I need to make it up.’

He nodded. ‘And I don’t suppose there have been any responses to my TV appeal?’

Chris smothered a laugh. Everyone knew how much Jude hated having to appeal to the public, and whenever he could he’d pass the job on to someone else, but this time Doddsy had been out of the office and he’d had to take the job on himself. ‘Apart from the usual half-dozen elderly ladies asking if you could come round and interview them? You seem to appeal to a particular demographic.’

Jude rolled his eyes. ‘It was a waste of time and effort, then. But it had to be done.’ He checked his watch. ‘One more thing before we go. The will.’

‘I checked that.’ Chris swiped across the screen of his iPad and offered a scanned document for them all to see. ‘Simple as you like. His sister inherits.’

It would have been interesting to see what Len had thought of Maisie, given her view of him seemed so different to everyone else’s. Or maybe she was the only person brave enough to express her reservations to the police. ‘She said she didn’t know if he’d made a will.’

‘She must have guessed she’ll be richer by a six figure sum when probate goes through.’ Chris, of course, had Googled the value of the property.

Jude sat back and