Chapter Seven

It wasn't difficult for DCI John Barnaby to find the large farmhouse at Cooper's Hill. Apart from anything else there were still two fire units in attendance, their blue lights illuminating the darkness. It was still early, a couple of hours until dawn he reckoned, but the disturbance had caused a lot of the local residents to be up and about. He could see lights on in most of the cottages he passed on his drive up to the farmhouse, which was situated on a small rise on the northern edge.

As he got closer, he could see the red glow that signalled the fire wasn't completely under control yet. He parked up and approached the tapes, shown over to where Winter was standing in discussion with what looked like the chief fire officer. As Barnaby approached, the officer left Winter to return to the building. His sergeant turned towards him.

"Morning, sir."

"Good morning Winter. What do we have here?"

"The fire department was called to this property at around two o'clock this morning, when one of the neighbours saw the flames. The watch officer, the senior fire official here, tells me that by the time they were arrived there was no hope for the building. They did their best and managed to get into it at around four thirty." Winter started leading them around the blackened building, towards a cluster of people on the far side. Barnaby noticed an ambulance parked just behind them.

"They found a body in the building shortly after," Winter was explaining. "Most likely the elderly resident, although no identification has been possible so far."

"Oh?" Barnaby asked as they approached Fleur, who was there in her customary pathology clothing, zipping up a body bag. She looked up at Barnaby and Winter.

"As I was telling your sergeant here, you'd better hope I can get a dental for this one."

Barnaby winced. "That bad, eh?"

"Well, that depends on if you like your victims flambéed." Fleur gestured to the paramedics, who began loading the body into the ambulance.

"And I'm guessing cause of death is…" Barnaby waved at the smouldering structure behind them.

"I can't confirm it until I get him in the lab," Fleur told him sternly. "But if it isn't what killed him, it's going to make it very hard to find out what did."

"Him?"

Fleur shrugged. "Jamie here was telling me that the occupant was a single male, I can't tell anything else until I get back to the lab."

"Ok, thanks Fleur." Barnaby wandered over towards the edge of the building, Winter following him. "What a mess." Barnaby sighed, looking up at the smoking structure. "Do we know what it was like before?"

Winter pulled a face. "Only from what a couple of the residents have said about it. A bit run down but otherwise sound. We'll know more when we start interviewing properly."

Barnaby nodded to himself. "If it was a bit run down, it suggests that no one has been spending money on it for a while. Could be just faulty electrics."

"I thought that myself at first, sir," Winter said, striding away. Barnaby followed him over to where a lone garage stood, far enough from the main building to have been spared. "But then one of the fire fighters drew my attention to these." Winter shone his torch down the side of the garage. At first, Barnaby couldn't make anything out but the nettles and brambles against the breeze blocks, but then saw a glint. Pulling on a glove, he reached into the undergrowth and pulled up what was obviously a jerry can. There were several others that looked as though they had been tossed together. Sniffing the can, the strong petrol fumes caused Barnaby to blink and step back, carefully holding the can away from him.

"Well, this certainly changes things, doesn't it?" Winter only nodded in reply, mouth set in a tight grimace.

Barnaby frowned in thought, looking between the house and the pile of empty fuel canisters. "But…why just leave them here? If you want to make it look like an accident, you dump them somewhere else. But they've been tucked away down the side here."

"Maybe they were disturbed in the act?"

Barnaby looked around. "I don't know. It's almost like they wanted to be found, but not too easily. Leaving us clues… I don't like it."

Winter raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything more. Barnaby sighed. "We'll need a preliminary report as soon as the watch officer can manage it. Send someone to get statements from the neighbours too, let's assume the body belongs to the occupant until proven otherwise and find out what kind of man he was. Any arguments, the usual. Also, if anyone happened to be awake and saw anything suspicious this morning."

"Of course, sir." Winter followed Barnaby back around to the cars at the front of the property. Barnaby looked at the groups of people watching from the far side of the police cordon.

"Do we know who called it in? You said a neighbour?"

"Yes sir," Winter consulted his notes, the pale light of the torch casting grey lines onto his face that accentuated how tired he was. "A Mrs Wright, who saw the flames when she was getting herself a cup of tea because, and I quote, of her 'jumpy leg keeping her awake'." He gestured towards a small lady with white hair, huddled in a blanket by the edge of the police cordon.

Barnaby digested that. "Unfortunate that her leg didn't start jumping earlier." He considered the blaze. "Although if it was set deliberately there still might have been no chance anyway, it will have gone up very quickly. Alright, I'll go and see what Mrs Wright has to say if you can organise a door to door."

Winter nodded and strode off towards some of the waiting uniformed police officers. Barnaby walked towards the lady Winter had pointed out. As he got closer, he could see that she was an elderly lady. Her face showed many signs of her age, with lines drawn across her brow and a posture that was hunched over as though her bones could no longer support her weight. Her eyes though were bright and piercing as she watching him approach shrewdly.

"Mrs Wright?" Barnaby asked as he got closer, receiving a nod in return. "My name is DCI Barnaby, I have just a few questions for you." He showed her his official identification and her visage relaxed.

"Of course Inspector. Though I doubt you want to stand out here in the cold to do it. Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?"

"That would be very kind of you," Barnaby agreed, following her back across the lane. She headed into a small cottage, one of several in a row that bordered the lane across from the farmhouse. Probably workers cottages back in the day, but now turned into very quaint little homes. Even Barnaby had to duck to avoid the low beams as he entered the front room, beams that stood out darkly on the ceiling except where hung with horse brasses. The room was only big enough to house a small settee and an armchair alongside a wood burning stove. The sheer number of trinkets all over the walls and surfaces made it feel far more crowded than it could have, with plates and ornaments all depicting small dogs. Most of them were King Charles spaniels, Barnaby guessed. A narrow and steep staircase veered upstairs opposite the door, the length of it hung with more ornamental plates.

"Oh, please have a seat." Mrs Wright waved at the settee. "I'll just get the kettle on for tea. Unless you'd like something stronger?"

"Best not," Barnaby demurred with a smile, tucking his jacket out of the way as he sat on the settee and promptly sinking into a pile of crocheted cushions.

Mrs Wright bustled out of the back room that Barnaby guessed was the kitchen carrying a tray containing two steaming cups and a large pile of shortcake biscuits. She placed it onto the coffee table that sat just in front of Barnaby, carefully angling the biscuit platter towards him.

"I thought we could use a little fortification," she told him, helping herself to one. "After all the excitement this morning. I barely slept a wink last night!"

"I understand you were the one who called the emergency services, Mrs Wright." Barnaby started.

"Oh yes!" She sat back into the armchair and made herself comfortable for the telling. "I woke up, you see, but then couldn't get back to sleep because of my jumpy leg." She gestured to her right leg, causing Barnaby to give her a look of sympathy. "It's been very bad this past month or so, and I just know that I won't get back to sleep once it starts playing up. So instead I decided to come downstairs and get a cup of tea. But as I was heading down the stairs I thought it was very light for that time in the morning." She gestured towards the small window in her front door. "So I decided to have a look out and I saw it."

"It was already a significant blaze?" Barnaby asked, feeling like he knew the answer.

"Oh yes." Mrs Wright confirmed. "Flames right up into the sky! I was worried for a while that it might even stretch to this cottage, but then the firemen came and it got a bit better." She sipped her tea for a second. "Poor Freddie." She said eventually with a sigh, popping down her cup and reaching for another biscuit.

"Freddie?" Barnaby asked, making a note of the name.

"Frederick Brand. A nice man. Going a little…well, you know, not remembering as good as he once did. But always had a smile for you. German originally, came over with his parents in the war I think. Always had a smile for you." She looked down at her hands clasped in her lap, genuine sorrow in her expression. "I saw the ambulance you know, and the trolley. I guess there isn't any hope for him?"

Barnaby shook his head slightly. "They haven't made a formal identification yet…"

Mrs Wright dashed a tear away. "But who else would it be? Poor Freya."

"Freya?"

"Freddie's granddaughter. Pops around a couple of times a week. Lovely, pretty girl. I think her parents might have passed away… I got the impression it was just the two of them now." Barnaby made a note to ask Winter to look into this granddaughter.

"Do you know of anyone who might wished Mr Brand any harm?" Barnaby asked. The old lady's eyes clouded over with confusion.

"Harm? But it was a fire…"

"We can't rule anything out until we get the report back," Barnaby soothed, not wishing to raise any alarm at this stage - not until the fire officials confirmed his suspicions anyway.

"Oh well… let me think. Something happened yesterday when Freddie was out and about, Freya was really very upset about it. I suspect it was his memory playing up again, but you'd have to ask her. Oh and that hoo-hah over the fun run, of course."

"Hoo-hah?"

Mrs Wright flapped a hand at Barnaby. "All stuff and nonsense really, but Freddie was very cross that the run goes across the field next to his garden. Something about runners leaving rubbish or the like. He had a big argument with the poor marshal who came to set it up last weekend, even though really he should have been cross with that Mr Johnson." Seeing Barnaby's quizzical expression, she elaborated. "Mr Johnson is the organiser of the fun run, owns the gym in the town – the new big one, next to the supermarket. He has taken over organising the fun run and has rubbed a few folk up the wrong way." Mrs Wright stifled a yawn with her hand. "Oh do excuse me."

"Not at all, Mrs Wright," Barnaby stood with a smile. "Thank you very much, I think it's time I left you now."

"Do you have everything you need inspector?"

"For now, yes."

"Well," her expression turned mischievous. "If you do have anything else, please pop by. It does an old woman good to talk with a dashing young man, you know."

"Oh, well," Barnaby pulled at his collar, going scarlet. "I'll, erm, bear that in mind."

He left Mrs Wright to her tea and biscuits, walking back over to the collection of emergency vehicles. The ambulance had gone, no doubt already depositing its macabre load in Fleur's lab back at the station. The sky was becoming streaked with grey, heralding the approaching dawn.

Winter made his way over when he spotted Barnaby coming back to the burnt out building. "I've organised the door to door sir and the next of kin have been informed."

"Thank you, Winter."

"Did Mrs Wright see anything?"

"Unfortunately not, by the time she saw the fire it was well established. She did give me some details of the likely victim's granddaughter though, and also rumours of a spat he had with a Mr Johnson, the owner of the local gym and organiser of this weekend's fun run."

"The fun run?" Winter sounded surprised.

"Apparently there was a dispute about the route. I'd like you to go and talk to him, while I take the granddaughter." Barnaby looked critically at his deputy. "Later though, for now go home and get cleaned up. See if you can get some rest while you are at it. It will take Fleur and the fire officers a while to give us anything, there is no rush on the investigation."

"But sir…"

"No, Winter." Barnaby stared him down. "You've been up half the night and you won't be any good exhausted. Plus you really need to clean up. Go home."

Winter looked down at his soot covered clothing, rumpled after wearing for two days in a row, and conceded defeat.

"Come into the station at lunchtime and we'll work out how to tackle the interviews." Barnaby told him. "Until then, I don't want to see you."

"Yes sir," Winter replied with a rueful smile, before taking his leave of the uniform and heading towards his car. Barnaby stretched, preparing to head back to the station himself, when the smell of smoke caused him to pull a face.

"Maybe Winter isn't the only one who needs to change," he muttered, sniffing the collar of his jacket. With a sigh, he decided that a quick shower at home wouldn't do him any harm either.