The Scent of Death

Fourteen

Plot reminder: Jennifer has received an anonymous geographical coordinate which indicated the location where Rebecca Parkins' body would be found. When Ben calls round the next day, she decides to share her secret with him.

*

Ben barely seemed to notice when I reappeared from the kitchen and set our teacups down onto the coffee table. He was hunched forward on the settee, his curiosity in the envelope and printed sheet beneath him all-consuming, like an archeologist attempting to decipher the hieroglyphics carved into a just uncovered stone.

"What is it? Some kind of geographical coordinate?"

I nodded. "Ordnance survey national grid. The exact location where Rebecca was found."

He finally looked across at me as I settled into the armchair, his expression aghast.

"But it was posted the day before." He glanced back at the postmark on the envelope, checking. "Friday." His torso then shifted upright as if recoiling from danger - a snake or a spider, a buzzing summer bee poised to sting. "Christ, I really think you need to go to the police with this Jennifer."

"I thought about it." Raising my teacup to lips, I blew a cooling exhale, took a first sip. "Briefly," I then added.

"Well you need to think about it at greater length then. I mean, this could..." His Adam's apple bulged uneasily . "Jesus, this could be *him*. The murderer." He shook his head, as if disbelieving of my naivety. "There might be fingerprints. Some form of trace DNA. The lab guys'd be all over this like ants round a dropped ice-cream."

Yes, I'd considered this of course. But I'd also considered something else of potentially far greater importance.

"I think it's a test of faith," I explained. "If I handed it to the police then communication would stop there. But if I keep it to myself... well, then the sender might try and get in touch once more, offer up further information."

Rising to my feet, I stepped over to the patio doors, opened them up. Unlike Ben's previous visit, I'd had no time to prepare, take necessary precautions. Had I known of his arrival I'd doubtlessly have also chosen something a little more fetching to wear than yesterday's jogging bottoms and a tatty tracksuit top.

As if already bored of mine and Ben's company, Dudley took the opportunity to patter off outside, sniff at his own previously deposited urine amongst the flower beds.

"In any case, I don't think it's him." I  made my way back to the armchair, plopped back down. "Not the murderer himself, but someone connected to him. Someone who wants him to stop what he's doing but who must tread carefully, remain anonymous."

Ben reflected on this for some moments, his brow furrowed and serious. "It's a valid hypothesis, yes. Direct communication from a murderer is almost invariably mocking or self-aggrandising." A swept hand gestured at the coordinate. "I mean, this isn't even verbal. Just a code." His bespectacled eyes observed me pointedly. "And he sent it to *you*. Not a newspaper or the investigating authorities themselves. He must have read my article about the two of you. How else would he have known that you live in Littleford and have a dog called Dudley, would understand the significance of that row of letters and numbers?"

I nodded: yes, it was the same conclusion I'd arrived at myself

Pitching himself forward once more, Ben returned his attention to the printed sheet. "The accuracy of it, it makes you wonder what role he had in it. Whether he just witnessed the body dump or else took part in it. Helped out."

It was a matter which for now it seemed best not to ponder on too much. More important was to try and understand something of the man's identity and possible whereabouts.