Peter Lovesey: Skeleton Hill

‘True, but if it was your leg bone, or mine, we wouldn’t want it thrown to the dogs, even charming dogs like Hector, would we?’ She appeared to agree, but was looking thoughtful. ‘Do you think there could be more bones under here?’

He put up both hands. ‘Don’t go there. Don’t even think about letting the dogs do any more digging.’

By the end of the day the area around the tree was marked off with crime scene tape and a luckless constable was posted to guard the scene overnight.

In the morning, a forensic anthropologist confirmed the femur as human, probably from an adult of average height. Further tests would yield more information. In theory that single bone could reveal its owner’s sex, age at death, body weight, ethnic origin and how long ago death had occurred. ‘Bloody marvellous,’ Diamond said, to encourage even more co-operation. ‘I don’t know how you people do it.’

He was told they’d do it even better if he provided more bones from the same individual.

He returned to Lansdown with two of his team, DC Ingeborg Smith and DI Keith Halliwell, and watched the white-suited crime scene investigators slowly sift the earth below the upended root system.

Diamond told his colleagues about the mass of information an anthropologist could get from a single bone. ‘As a first step we want an estimate of the length of time since death. Carbon dating should establish that much.’

‘Do you think it’s ancient?’ Halliwell said.

‘It didn’t look fresh to me. There was a Civil War battle up here three or four hundred years ago. I expect some bodies were buried in haste.’

‘There were Iron Age settlements long before that,’ Ingeborg said in one of those demonstrations of learning that didn’t always go down well. ‘The bone could be two thousand years old.’

‘How can they tell if it’s male or female?’ Halliwell asked, getting back to the wonders of anthropology.

Diamond shrugged.

‘Not obvious from a femur,’ Ingeborg said. ‘Much easier with a skull or a pelvis.’

Halliwell rolled his eyes upwards.

Halliwell rolled his eyes ‘You did ask,’ she said.

‘I’m in awe,’ he said.

‘Liar.’

Diamond stepped in. ‘Look, I didn’t bring you two up here to knock spots off each other. Just enjoy the scenery. It beats sitting in front of a computer.’

The excavation was slow. After another hour, all the searchers had found was a ringpull and bits of broken root. The man in charge, a cantankerous character called Duckett, reported that they’d reached a level where the earth was more compacted.

‘You mean it hasn’t been disturbed?’ Diamond said.

‘Listen up, will you? I didn’t say that. The section we’ve just cleared was extra loose, as if someone had dug here in the past few weeks.’

‘Like Miss Hibbert’s dogs?’

‘More than that. It’s too much for animal activity alone.’

‘Why would anyone come digging here?’

‘Maybe it was something to do with the re-enactment of the Battle of Lansdown, troops digging themselves in and using the tree as a shield.’

‘Good thought. Did any of you watch this event?’

Nobody had.

The digging resumed.

Twenty minutes later, one of the team in the trench said, ‘There’s something here.’ She had exposed a patch of off-white.

‘Another bone?’ Diamond said. ‘Hook it out and we’ll see.’

Duckett glared at him as if he was a vandal. ‘If you don’t mind, superintendent, we’ll do this the approved way, leaving everything in situ.’

Soon enough, the outlines of the object were revealed.

‘It is a bone,’ Diamond said.

‘A tibia,’ Ingeborg said.

Soon some foot bones were unearthed at the lower end of the tibia.

‘Can we get someone else clearing at the top end where the skull is?’ Diamond asked. The painstaking progress frustrated him.

‘We’ll do this in our own good time,’ Duckett said. ‘In all probability it’s been here for hundreds of years. An hour or two more isn’t going to make much difference.’

Almost as if it was done to provoke the police, the excavation slowed. Brushes, rather than trowels, were being used. At regular intervals photos were taken.

‘What time is it?’ Duckett eventually asked.

‘Three thirty, just gone,’ Diamond said.

‘Is it, by Jove? Take a break, people. We’ve been going two hours.’

‘You’re on a job,’ Diamond said.

‘Yes, and it’s back-breaking work. You should try it.’

‘All right, then.’

‘I didn’t mean that literally.’

The police were forced to watch the CSI team sit down, open their flasks and look at newspapers. Suspicion hung in the air that the break was being prolonged just to spite Diamond. ‘At this rate, we’ll be here all night,’ he said to Halliwell.

‘I heard that,’ Duckett said, looking up from his crossword. ‘You don’t have to worry. We stop at five.’

‘ Five? ’

‘Terms and conditions of employment. We’re a private firm. Will you be guarding the site overnight?’

‘He’s winding you up, guv,’ Halliwell said.

‘I think he means it,’ Ingeborg said.

Duckett hadn’t finished. ‘Now that we’ve located remains, we’ll need to put up a tent to screen off the trench.’

‘How long will that take?’ Diamond asked.

‘Half an hour, no more.’

‘We can do that, me and my officers.’

‘No, thanks. Not while we’re at work in the trench.’

‘But you’re not in the trench now.’

‘It’s a specialised job.’

‘What – putting up a bloody tent? Ridiculous.’

‘This isn’t one of your boy scout tents, officer. This is a metal-framed inflatable job, property of the firm. I can’t allow any untrained person to handle it.’

Diamond was about to erupt, but Halliwell said, ‘Leave it, guv. He’s going to have the last word whatever you say.’

‘How do they find these people?’

The break came to an end about four. Ingeborg phoned the station to get a man out to guard the site.

‘I was expecting answers by now,’ Diamond said, pacing the turf. ‘All I’m getting is high blood pressure.’

After another twenty minutes there was a clicking sound from the trench. Duckett was snapping his fingers.

Ingeborg said, ‘I think he’s asking for you.’

‘He’s asking for something, that’s for sure,’ Diamond muttered.

He went over. More of the skeleton had been revealed, enough to see that the leg bones were at an angle, as if the body had lain on its side in a foetal position.

Work on the dig was about to stop for the day. More photographs were being taken and one of the CSI team was unloading the protective tent from the van.

Diamond stood over the trench with arms folded. ‘You’ve got something to tell me?’

‘Only if you’re still interested,’ Duckett said. ‘You asked about the skull. There isn’t one – not where it ought to be, anyway. This would appear to be a headless corpse.’

That evening Peter Diamond had a pub meal with Paloma Kean, the one woman he’d been out with since his wife Steph had died six years ago. Their friendship – still more of a friendship than a relationship, although they’d slept together – had got them both through a testing beginning and tough times since. They drew strength from each other. She understood his moods, his brash manner, even his conviction that no one would ever replace Steph as the ideal woman. And he treated Paloma with the warmth that sprang from a shared sense of humour and physical attraction.

They managed to get a candlelit table on the patio at the Hop Pole, in Albion Buildings, off the Upper Bristol Road. This warm summer evening had brought out drinkers and diners in large numbers. With a pint of Barnstormer real ale in front of him and steak pie on order, Diamond was more expansive than usual, telling Paloma about his frustrating day.