Written In Blood

Chapter Seven

Melissa stood at the door to the police station, watching Zack Wild as he walked off up the road, seemingly unconcerned by the fact that he was barefoot, having left his running shoes at the station for forensics. She had been there for half a minute or so when she became aware of a presence at her elbow. Turning, she found that Mitchell was standing there, his eyes also on the author, a look of distaste and annoyance on his face that Melissa found troubling.

"You think he had something to do with the murder, don't you," she said.

Mitchell shrugged, and said unconvincingly, "I don't know. He has an explanation for his discovery of the body, one that could be true, or could be completely made up. And right now, we have no reason for thinking he's lied to us, and a number of reasons for thinking he's telling the truth. If he's connected to the murder, why would he have led us to the body? And why would he tell us he didn't touch the body and voluntarily give us his trainers, that doesn't make any sense if he's the murderer."

"But you think he might be involved in the murder, so why didn't you question him about it more?" Melissa didn't believe Zack Wild was a murderer, though she realised she didn't know the man and so had no idea what he might be capable of; despite that she couldn't understand why the author had been allowed to leave without being questioned more thoroughly.

"Because I've got no evidence, and if he is the killer, I don't want him to know I'm on to him until I do," Mitchell told her. "The inspector is making inquiries into Mr Wild to find out if he really is a former DI, and whatever there is to know about him. Hopefully, when we know something of the man, we'll have some idea of whether he could be the murderer. If he isn't, we'll have to start looking elsewhere, perhaps at the rest of the village."

Melissa could tell Mitchell didn't like the thought of having to do that, it wasn't something she particularly liked either. "How long until the forensics team, and the detective who's going to handle the investigation, get here?" she asked.

"The forensics team should be here in another hour, hour and a half," Mitchell told her. "But there won't be a detective, at least not for the time being." He saw Melissa's surprise. "The inspector and I discussed having a detective, and decided it would be better for the village if we try and solve this ourselves."

"What are we going to do to catch the killer then?" Melissa asked, wracking her brains to try and think how an investigation should be conducted.

"First things first," Mitchell said. "We need to go and see John and Verity Ryder, and let them know about this morning's discovery, assuming they haven't already been told. After that, we need to talk to everyone we spoke to last week, when Georgina first went missing, they may remember something now they didn't at the time. We also need to speak to anyone who might have held a grudge against her. Then we need to speak to Theresa Goulding, her housekeeper, and anyone who may have seen Lucy yesterday, before she apparently went missing, so we can try and find out what's happened to her, assuming she hasn't already come home."

*****

"Hello, John, can we come in?" Mitchell asked when the front door was opened.

The man who stood in the doorway looked, understandably, to be in the midst of a nightmare, Melissa thought as she took in his rumpled clothing, the stubble on his chin, and his generally unkempt appearance. She had never seen him look less like the accountant he was – he looked more like a homeless person.

"Ha-have you found Georgie?" John Ryder asked.

Mitchell inferred from that question that his friend had heard nothing that morning from anyone else in the village. "We should talk inside," he told his friend, his voice neutral, to avoid giving either hope or cause for alarm.