Simon Beckett - The Chemistry of Death

'Yeah, well, it's that all right.' She smiled. 'Still, I quite like it. I'm getting used to living out in the middle of nowhere. You know, the quiet and everything. No crowds or cars.'

'Or cinema.'

'Or bars.'

'Or shops.'

We grinned at each other. 'So how long have you been here?' she asked.

'Three years.'

'And how long did it take you to be accepted?'

'I'm still working on it. Another decade and I might be thought of as a permanent visitor. By the more progressive elements, obviously.'

'Don't say that. I've only been here six months.'

'Still a tourist, then.'

She laughed, but before she could say anything there was a commotion in the doorway.

'Where's the doctor?' a voice demanded. 'Is he here?'

I pushed my way forward as a man was half-supported, half-carried into the pub. His face was contorted in pain. I recognized him as Scott Brenner, one of a large family who lived in a ramshackle house just outside Manham. A boot and the bottom of one trouser leg were soaked in blood.

'Sit him down. Gently,' I said, as he was lowered into a seat. 'What happened?'

'He stepped in a snare. We were going up to the surgery but we saw your Land Rover outside.'

It was his brother Carl who'd spoken. The Brenners were a clannish lot, ostensibly farm workers but not averse to poaching as well. Carl was the eldest, a wiry, truculent individual, and as I eased back the blood-soaked denim from Scott's leg I entertained the uncharitable thought that this had happened to the wrong brother. Then I saw the damage that had been done.

'Do you have a car?' I asked his brother.

'Don't think we walked here, do you?'

'Good, because he needs to go to hospital.'

Carl swore. 'Can't you just patch him up?'

'I can put a temporary dressing on, but that's all. This needs more than I can do.'

'Am I going to lose my foot?' Scott gasped.

'No, but you're not going to be doing much running for a while.' I wasn't as confident as I sounded. I considered taking him up to the surgery, but by the look of him he'd been manhandled enough. 'There's a first-aid kit under a blanket in the back of my Land Rover. Can somebody fetch it?'

'I will,' Ben said. I gave him the car keys. As he went out I asked for water and clean towels and began mopping the blood from around the wound.

'What type of snare was it?'

'Wire noose,' Carl said. 'Tightens once anything's got its foot in it. Cut through to the bone, it will.'

It had done that all right.

'Whereabouts were you?'

Scott answered, face averted from what I was doing. 'Over on the far side of the marsh, near the old windmill-'

'We were looking for Lyn,' Carl cut in, giving him a look.

I doubted that. I knew where they meant. Like most windmills in the Broads, the one outside Manham was actually a wind-powered pump, built to drain the marshes. Abandoned decades before, it was now an empty shell that lacked sails or life. The area was desolate even by Manham's standards, but it was ideal for anyone wanting to hunt or trap animals away from prying eyes. Given the Brenners' reputation, I thought that was a more likely reason for them to be out there at this time of night than any sense of public duty. As I wiped the blood from the wound I wondered if they'd managed to blunder into one of their own snares.

'Wasn't one of ours,' said Scott, as though he'd read my mind.

'Scott!' his brother snapped.

'It wasn't! It was hidden under grass on the path. And it was too big for rabbit or deer.'

The announcement was met by a silence. Although the police hadn't yet confirmed it, everyone had heard about the remains of the tripwire that had been found in the woods where Lyn had disappeared.

Ben returned with the first-aid box. I cleaned and dressed the wound as best I could. 'Keep the foot elevated and get him to casualty as soon as you can,' I told Carl.

Roughly, he hauled his brother to his feet and half-supported, half-hauled him out. I washed my hands and then went back to where Jenny stood with my drink.

'Will he be all right?' she asked.

'Depends how much damage has been done to the tendon. If he's lucky, he'll just end up with a limp.'

She shook her head. 'God, what a day!'

Ben came over and handed me my car keys. 'You'll be needing these.'

'Thanks.'

'So what do you think? Reckon that's anything to do with what's happened to Lyn?'

'I don't know.' But, like everyone else, I had a bad feeling about it.

'Why should it have?' Jenny asked.

He seemed unsure how to answer. I realized they didn't know each other.

'Ben, this is Jenny. She teaches at the school,' I told him.

He took it as approval to continue. 'Because it seems like too much of a coincidence. Not that I've any sympathy with any of the Brenners, bunch of poaching bast-' He broke off with a glance at Jenny. 'Anyway, I hope to God that's all it is. A coincidence.'

'I don't follow.'

Ben looked at me, but I wasn't going to say it. 'Because if not it means it's somebody from around here. From the village.'

'You don't know that for sure,' Jenny objected.

His face said otherwise, but he was too polite to argue. 'Well, we'll see. And on that note, I think I'll say good night.'

He drained his glass and started for the door. As if as an afterthought, he turned to Jenny. 'I know it's none of my business, but did you come in a car?'

'No, why?'

'Just that it might be a good idea not to walk home alone, that's all.'

With a last look at me to make sure I'd got the message, he went out. Jenny gave an uncertain smile. 'Do you think it's that bad?'

'I hope not. But I suppose he's right.'

She shook her head, incredulously. 'I don't believe this. Two days ago this was the quietest place on the planet!'

Two days ago Sally Palmer had still been dead, and the animal responsible was probably already turning his gaze towards Lyn Metcalf. But I didn't say that.

'Is there anyone here you can go with?' I asked.

'Not really. But I'll be fine. I can look after myself.'

I didn't doubt it. But beneath the defiance I could see she'd been unnerved.

'I'll give you a lift,' I said.

When I got home I sat outside at the table in the back garden. The night was warm, without a breath of wind. I put my head back and stared up at the stars. The moon was approaching full, an asymmetrical, haloed white disc. I tried to appreciate its dappled contours, but my eyes were drawn lower until I was looking at the shadowed wood across the field. Normally it was a view I enjoyed, even at night. But now I felt uneasy as I looked at the impenetrable mass of trees.

I went into the house, poured myself a small whisky, and took it back outside. It was after midnight and I knew I'd be up early. But I grasped any excuse to put off sleep. Besides, for once I had too much to think about to be tired. I'd walked with Jenny to the small cottage she rented with another young woman. We hadn't bothered with my car after all. It was a warm, clear night, and she only lived a few hundred yards away. As we walked she'd told me a little about her job, and the children she taught. Only once had she spoken about her past life, mentioning working at a school in Norwich. But she'd quickly brushed past it, burying the lapse in a flurry of words. I'd pretended not to notice. Whatever it was she was avoiding, it was none of my business.

As we walked up the narrow lane towards her house a fox suddenly cried out nearby. Jenny grabbed my arm.

'Sorry,' she said, quickly letting go as if burned. She gave an embarrassed laugh. 'You'd think I'd be used to living out here by now.'

There'd been an awkwardness between us after that. When we reached her house she stopped by the gate.

'Well. Thanks.'