‘More animated... no, more purposeful.’
‘Murder will do that,’ said Midge.
Bridie shook her head. ‘No. It’s the people. You’re changing.’
Midge looked out at the sky but said nothing.
‘Whose photograph is that in your hankie drawer?’ asked Bridie.
Midge’s stomach turned over. Taking care to keep her face neutral, she replied, ‘I found it in Rendell’s room. Someone will have to tell his wife.’ She paused. ‘It didn’t seem right just leaving it there.’
Bridie’s eyes had closed again and her breathing had switched to a deeper rhythm.
After watching her for a few minutes, Midge turned to the window seat to pick up her cane when something outside caught her eye. Outside, on the far lawn was Dr Mortimer’s body.
And leaning over it was a fox.
The second she got out of the front entrance, she started shouting. Making as much noise as humanly possible while striding as fast as she could towards the side gate and lawn. ‘Get out of it!’ she screamed, waving her stick in the air and yelling. ‘Go on, get!’
Harold had appeared behind her, and quickly overtook her, banging his hands together as he charged towards the fox where it stood with its muzzle buried in the doctor’s coat.
‘Move it!’ he shouted, bending down to scoop up snow and throwing it as he ran.
The fox gave a last reluctant tug at the doctor’s coat before jumping back and running off in the direction of the laurel bushes.
Slipping in the newly formed slush, Midge reached Harold just as he bent down to the body.
‘Has it done anything?’ said Midge. ‘It could disturb...’
‘Disturb the evidence, yeah, I know,’ said Harold. ‘It was going for the coat, I think.’
The fox had torn at the sleeve on Dr Mortimer’s right arm, pulling the coat loose on the chest and exposing the wound. Framed against the expansive moorland behind him, the doctor’s body appeared offered up by the earth itself.
‘Do you think... do you think he’ll be with his son now?’ asked Harold.
Midge again said nothing, instead focusing her gaze on the doctor’s chest.
‘What are you looking for?’ asked Harold.
‘I’m not sure,’ said Midge, truthfully. ‘Something that shouldn’t be there but is, or isn’t but should.’
She frowned, noticing a white discoloration on the doctor’s jumper that she had originally mistaken for snow. She touched it lightly with her fingers, the white powder sticking to them.
‘What’s that?’ said Harold.
‘Flour, I think.’
Where the fox had pulled the coat, a piece of card could be seen, sticking out from one of the doctor’s pockets. Carefully, Midge reached over and edged it out slightly.
It was a note with only a few words on it:
I HAVE PHOTOS
She pushed the card back in, quickly, before Harold could see. ‘You’re ex-army, Harold – what kind of gunshot wound is that?’ she said, pointing to the doctor’s chest.
‘Oh God.’ Harold glanced quickly down, puffing his cheeks out at the same time, before turning his back. ‘Uh. Not a shotgun, anyway. I’m guessing it’s a rifle. Possibly military.’
‘Or like the ones hanging in the hall?’ said Midge. Harold nodded, looking down at his feet now.
