A Charitable Body by Barnard Robert

Author:Barnard, Robert [Barnard, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Published: 2012-01-03T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9

Wet Bones

The woman taking the path down to the pool known as Haroldswater (chivying her two young children and their dog along the path behind her and exclaiming at familiar natural phenomena) exuded moral authority, young as she was. At her place of work her attributed name was Trouble, as in “Here comes trouble,” though others more favorably disposed attached to her the more cumbersome “the done thing.” She was continually asking herself what the regulations said, and why they said it. When she had discovered that, she generally knew what the done thing was and followed her nose.

Once beside the water, her family’s favorite place for an impromptu picnic, she opened the small basket, took from it a rather basic set of packages containing cheese sandwiches, biscuits, and fruitcake, and placated the children with a selection from each package. They all settled down, chattering happily, and occasionally feeding the dog, who was called Peggotty. Beside their picnicking place was a notice warning against swimming in Haroldswater, which in places had surprising depths. The woman did not need warning, and while she chattered and pointed out birds and even a fox on the other side of the water, she kept her eyes on her children with her ear taking in all the time the subjects of their chattering. When half the picnic was eaten, she packed the remainder away for later on, and they all went down to paddle in the shallowest and safest places, with Peggotty practicing her powers of self-advertisement. They paddled and splashed until the mother said it was time to eat up the food and start for home. She looked toward the shore and shook her head.

“Oh, dear. What’s Peggotty got now?”

The dog was barking a “Haven’t I been clever?” sort of bark, one she used often, and was standing over two white, solid objects that she had found somewhere or other and laid out neatly on the shore. The woman gained the earthy shore and was about to pick them up when she said, “Good heavens,” and held herself back.

“What is it, Mummy?”

“I don’t know. I think I have to get someone out here.”

She pulled out her mobile phone and spoke into it, the children on either side of her in trained total silence.

“Kath? I need help. I need someone who knows what’s what out here. It’s Haroldswater—you know where it is, don’t you? . . . I mean ‘what’s what’ medically and criminally. I’m here with the children, and I won’t go away till I’ve handed over to someone who is a detective policeman, not a boffin like me. . . . Hurry, Kath. The children are inclined to be boisterous, and I’d like to get them out of the crime scene, if there is one.”

She slipped the phone into her jeans pocket.

“Mummy, Mummy—what is it? What did Peggotty find? Is this really a crime scene? Tell us.”

“I think, darlings, that Peggotty discovered a human bone, and a separate finger bone. They’re wet, and I guess they have been in the water a long time.

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