Chapter Five

As Ben drove them through the estate, on the way from Bircher's house to where Suzy's parents lived, they passed a tall, elegantly dressed woman striding along the opposite pavement. Robin immediately glanced back over his shoulder at her. "Can you turn the car around at the mini roundabout, Ben, and then pull up next to that lady?"

"I didn't think you were the type to be stopping for a woman in a mini skirt, sir. I mean, not because you're gay, it's ... Sorry." He stopped, clearly embarrassed.

Robin snorted. Ben's stomach issues must have been affecting him badly for such a stupid remark to emerge. Still, everyone had their off moments, officers as good as this one included. "I'd stop digging that hole if I were you. This isn't the seventies."

Red as a beetroot, Ben concentrated on manoeuvring the car, doing a complete turn and gliding to a stop as requested.

"Christine?" Robin said, as he got out.

"Yes? Oh, is that Mr. Bright?" Christine Probert broke into a wide, charming smile.

"I think you can call me Robin by now. How's life?"

"Very good." The brightness of her smile certainly gave that impression. "How's Adam settling in at Wickley?"

"He's happy as Larry." They spent a few minutes swopping news, including the fact that the murders at Lindenshaw hadn't put her off being a school governor and that Adam and Robin's marriage had been the talk of the village a few years back.

"I bet you're here about Mark Bircher. That's all over the local gossip network too." Christine pouted disapprovingly. "Some people do talk tripe."

"Tell me about it. It's our job to sort the tripe out from the fillet steak, isn't it, Ben?" Robin nodded at the constable, who'd joined them and was evidently trying to unblot his copybook by keeping quiet. Although the joke about tripe was probably doing nothing for his food poisoning. "This is Mrs. Probert, who was a valuable witness in the first murder case I had charge of. Christine, if you hear anything that might be relevant this time round, I'd be grateful if you could let us know. I can trust you to sift fact from opinion."

"I can do that right now. I didn't know Mark except to say hello to, but I used to see his wife, Suzy, at art classes in the village hall. I guess you know she died young—too young—and that may have been because her family stopped her getting proper treatment for cancer?"

"We'd heard something similar. Good to have it verified. Was it the cancer that killed her?"

"No, it was Covid. I mean, the cancer didn't help because it lowered her resistance, obviously, and although she'd had all her jabs, the virus was too much for her to take in her state, even with hospital intervention. I think she developed septic shock." Christine, who'd been sounding increasingly choked, fished out a tissue and blew her nose.

"It's a cruel disease." Which might have been a cliché but it was true. "What kind of cancer was it?"

"Leukaemia. I don't know what type because Suzy didn't like to talk about the details and I didn't want to pry."

Robin nodded. Christine had always been a good sort. "What was Suzy like?"

"Sweet. Funny. You know how teenagers rebel against their parents by taking drugs or whatever? She told me her act of rebellion was wearing Marks and Spencer clothes and taking golf lessons. She loved her mum and dad but couldn't stand all that new-age stuff they're into."

Ben at last found his tongue. "Were there tensions between the Packers—Suzy's parents—and Mark? It can't have been easy if he felt they'd been partly responsible for her death."

"Partly? Suzy said he blamed them completely for the state she'd got into. Now, don't get me wrong, because I'm not linking this to his death. I can't imagine her parents getting into an argument with Mark that turned violent. According to Suzy, they're all peace and love." Christine's moue of disapproval hinted that she didn't entirely believe that and she was probably right. The most virulent advocates of nonviolence could have a breaking point.

"Did Suzy blame them for persuading her not to get proper treatment?" Robin asked.

"A bit, but not as much as she blamed herself. She told me she'd had the feeling something was wrong years ago and had gone into denial. You know how that kind of thing happens." Christine's eyes welled.

"I do." Robin paused while Christine collected herself. "We heard Mark and Suzy used to live in Kings Ride. Any idea why they left?"

"The official story was that they wanted a brand-new house—and the ones on this estate are lovely, with larger gardens than you usually get on a modern estate—but Suzy told me that they both wanted to move farther from her parents."

"It sounds like she felt she could confide in you." Robin thanked his lucky stars that he and Ben had been driving down this road, at this time. Useful information to have before meeting the Packers.

"Only with a glass or three inside her." Christine grinned. "We weren't close friends, but it was just the way things worked out. You see, the art club planned a do, back when the pandemic was raging, so what was supposed to be taking place at Christmas ended up postponed to the spring of 2021. I drove Suzy to the pub and back, and because she'd had a touch too much wine, the floodgates opened on the way home. I knew about her illness by then—she'd never hidden that from us, although she made sure she was looking as well as possible—but this time I heard great chunks of her life story. How her parents were always dropping into her old house in Kings Ride. Usually to give their opinion, subtly, about all the wrong choices they reckoned Suzy had made. They hadn't been able to do so that easily once she and Mark were at Lindenshaw, because the Packers refuse to own a car, so it's cycle or bus everywhere for them apart from when they have no choice."

This was valuable background and from a proven reliable witness. "Were the wrong choices about her middle-class lifestyle or was there more? Like her choice of husband?"

"The first, I'd say. She thinks they quite liked Mark, but she did add that was probably because he always took the line of least resistance. Agreed with them, buttered them up, anything for an easy life and to get them out of the house. You know the sort of thing." Christine rolled her eyes. "It was all a bit of a soap opera with Suzy, but some people's lives are like that."

"True. Thanks, Christine, that's really helpful." Could Mark's placid agreement have led to family stress if he had—for example—agreed to do something and then hadn't? Surely Mr. and Mrs. Packer would at some point have realised they were being humoured and that could have rankled, especially if the promise not kept involved the issue of Suzy's medical treatment. Such family grudges could fester for years. "I'm so pleased we stopped for a chat. Ben and I are heading off to see the Packers right now, and every bit of background helps us to be prepared."

"Glad to be of help." She flashed them both her delightful smile. "Give my love to Adam. Tell him if he's thinking of moving school, Lindenshaw would have him like a shot."

"I will. If you promise you won't go killing the incumbent to make it happen." Robin returned the smile, with a frisson of guilt at making jokes about murder.

As they got back on the road, Ben said, "Mrs. Probert seems really nice. How reliable a witness is she?"

"As good as we're likely to get. It's not as good as Suzy telling us her side of things, but I don't think Christine would have any axe to grind, so I hope she'd give us the truth. As she understands it," Robin added. Didn't all information come to them through filters of one sort or another, and didn't every step removed from a source introduce another tweak to what they were told?

"There's a mismatch, though, sir. If Suzy hated new-age stuff and went mainstream to rebel against her parents, how come she's still influenced so much by them that she doesn't get the proper treatment early enough? Doesn't make sense."

"It might if you remember the axe-grinding part. If Suzy was in denial about being ill until it was too late, she might have told her husband that the Packers had influenced her choices. He'd be ready to blame them—most likely behind their backs—and so that's the story he told Ryan. Maybe with embellishments or perhaps missing out bits that didn't suit his agenda."

"It'll be interesting to see what their take is on things." Ben paused as they pulled onto the bypass. "Do you think the Packers knew about his family mystery? Bircher must have told his wife, surely, even if he left the digging until after she died."

"I bet he did, but she might not have wanted them to know. He probably didn't." Robin gazed out of the passenger-side window, watching a film of water forming from the drizzle which had started as they left Lindenshaw. "We're making too many assumptions, you know. Saying what someone we've never met would think about a situation."

"As long as we remember they're assumptions and not fact, we're okay." Ben's tone changed, a note of concern creeping in. "Can I ask if you're okay, sir? Tell me to shut it if I've overstepped the mark."

"Yeah." Time to come clean, at least in part. Ben knew him well enough to spot his distraction and deserved an honest answer. "This case has raised a strange coincidence, that's all, and it's one I'd rather you kept to yourself until I'm ready to tell the rest of the team. My dad was adopted, although he never hid the fact from me. He had no interest in finding out who his biological parents were because he said they meant nothing to him. I had no reason to doubt that. Still don't." Was that over-egging the pudding, and was it an admission that he did have doubts lurking in his mind? "Mum's become keen to find the truth, though, and she wants Adam and me to help her get on the trail. I thought I might put her in touch with Ryan if we've eliminated him as a suspect."

"Ryan?" Ben grinned. "Would that count as a help or a punishment, sir?"

The rest of the journey passed in a discussion of witnesses they'd come across and who'd been the most boring, the most annoying, or the like. A nice, safe conversation that allowed Robin to regather his thoughts and put the lurking doubts back where they'd been, until he had the proper chance to deal with them.

The smallholding was a good forty minutes' drive from Tumulus Gardens, a journey that would probably be longer during the rush hour and not one you'd necessarily attempt on a bike. It would take much longer on two wheels and add on miles if you wanted to keep safe by avoiding the main road. Ben drew the car up outside, not because of lack of space on the gravel-covered hardstanding the other side of the gate. No vehicles were parked there, but there was a large goat in occupation, and they'd have to brave the beast when they went in through the pedestrian access.

Just as Robin was planning how to defend himself if attacked, a woman emerged from the house. She said, "Sorry! I'll get her tethered," and then took the nanny goat round the back. Hard on her heels was a man who introduced himself as Justin Packer before opening the gate and ushering them into the house and through to the kitchen.

If Robin had been making a TV murder mystery, he couldn't have chosen a better property in which to shoot any "Police interview new-age couple" scenes. Homemade items—cushions, paintings, wine, and what might be medicines—were in evidence throughout, as was an apparent lack of much that could smack of modern consumerism.

Suzy's mother and father could themselves have come straight from a TV casting agency—and wardrobe department—who wanted to present a stereotypical hippie couple in their early sixties. Justin Packer had long greying hair, bore a distinct resemblance to Robert Plant, and sported a faded T-shirt clearly bought at a concert in the 1980s. Izzy had dreadlocks, was adorned with multiple necklaces, and wore a cheesecloth skirt and sandals. A bigger contrast to their daughter's dress style, as evidenced in the photographs at the Bircher's house, couldn't be imagined.

Both Robin and Ben declined the offer of "own brew" tea and coffee, asking for water instead, although a freshly made batch of biscuits smelled too delicious to resist. The array of baking equipment on display, and the same old-fashioned style of solid chairs and table, reminded Robin pleasantly of his grandmother's kitchen.

"We were so sorry to hear about Mark. Shocked, too, naturally." Izzy was well-spoken, with a pleasant, husky voice, and held herself with a natural grace that seemed rather at odds with her image.

"When did you see him last?" Robin asked.

"Ages ago. A fortnight after Suzy's funeral, which was late January." She crinkled her forehead. "Not the start to the new year anyone could have wanted."

Presumably she meant Suzy's death, rather than meeting Bircher. "And you've not seen him since?"

"We've had no reason to. The last time we met was at their house, to pick up some keepsakes of Suzy that she'd wanted us to have. This necklace included." Izzy fingered a delicate pendant which was almost lost among the others round her neck.

"That's right." Justin sipped his odd-looking coffee. "I wouldn't say that we had a lot in common with Mark, but we tried to get on with him, for Suzy's sake."

Robin put on his most insouciant voice. "Did you have a lot in common with yourdaughter?"

The couple both smiled ruefully, shaking their heads.

"At first, yes," Izzy said. "She seemed such a chip off the old block as a child. A free spirit, same as us, although like so many children, she changed as she grew up. Suddenly, you find that your own child is like a stranger to you."

The hurt was palpable; Robin couldn't help but feel compassion for a couple who had, in effect, lost their child twice over. Still, he would have to raise the matter of Suzy's illness. He kept his tone sympathetic. "That must have been difficult for you, especially when she moved from Kings Ride and then became ill. We've been told that you weren't too keen on her receiving traditional treatment."

"Who said that?" The fury on Justin's face appeared to reflect genuine outrage and upset. "It's a complete and utter lie. How could we be so heartless to our little girl?"

"It's all right." Izzy patted her husband's arm.

"We've heard a similar story from two people, though. Are you saying they're both mistaken?" Robin asked, puzzled.

"Yes. Folk take one look at us and come up with the most ridiculous rubbish." Izzy gestured wildly. "I know we probably come across to you and everybody else as rabid anti-vaxxers or whatever, just because we've adopted an alternative lifestyle, but we're not so stupid as to think we know better than health professionals. With us, it's more a case of living like Tom and Barbara from The Good Life, if you've ever seen that programme, rather than being on the hippie-trail. People jump to stupid conclusions."

"Don't get upset, Izzy." Justin, who seemed to have calmed down a bit, now comforted his wife. "Mr. Bright, let me assure you that we never brought up Suzy to reject everything modern, especially where health was concerned. She had all her jabs when she was little, because it was the right thing to do. Living on a smallholding, we all had to be up-to-date with tetanus, for a start. We weren't risking our daughter scratching herself on a rusty nail and getting lockjaw. Want me to show you my Covid-vaccination card as proof we're not conspiracy theorists?"

"No. I'll believe you." Robin had heard many witnesses lie to him over the years, but this sounded like the truth. "You tell us your side of what happened with Suzy when she was ill."

"Okay. She and Mark used to live a pleasant cycle ride from here. Thirty-two Cranmer Drive. We could call in there after U3A meetings in Kings Ride Community Centre. That's the University of the Third Age, for us old crumblies who don't want to stop learning." Justin paused, as that was jotted down. "They moved—Suzy and Mark, not U3A—when the new estate was built in Lindenshaw, but I guess you know all that?"

"We do, although for the moment assume we know nothing. Isn't that right, Ben?"

The constable, who'd been taking notes, had become suspiciously quiet and had turned a bit green around the gills. "Yes, sir. Sorry, I felt queasy again. I think I've got a touch of food poisoning," he explained to the Packers. "Comes on and off in waves."

Izzy rose from the table. "I'll make you a tea that'll help. Very good for my IBS, so it should do the trick. If it doesn't, you can find the loo by the front door, and Mr. Bright will have to make his own notes."

If Robin hadn't already known about Ben's illness, he might have wondered if it was the kind of ruse seen in cop shows on telly—an excuse for the constable to leave the room and have a poke around the house—but that would be out of character. At least the Packers were unlikely to harbour similar suspicions, because the constable couldn't be faking the colour on his cheeks. "Give me the notepad, Ben, and you concentrate on feeling better. Carry on, Mr. Packer."

"We used to like having Suzy living close by, although maybe the temptation to drop in was too great, back then. I don't know if you have children, Mr. Bright, but it's not easy to let them fly the coop. They'll always be your little girl or boy. You never want to lose them."

Robin nodded and carried on without remark, although he could sympathise with the sentiment. Hadn't he been in a terrible state on the occasions Campbell had hurt himself? "Was that why they moved to Lindenshaw?"

Justin blew out his cheeks. "We suspected so. In part, anyway. Admittedly, Suzy had always wanted a brand-new house on a brand-new estate, so when the Barrow Farm estate started to be built, she was all over it like the proverbial rash. Would you agree, Izzy?"

"Yes," Izzy said over her shoulder as she prepared Ben's drink. "It's a bigger house, as well, which was what Mark wanted. Came in handy during lockdown, so they could both work from home without being under each other's feet. Not that they would have been thinking about that in early 2019. Nobody was really."

Robin nodded. "What jobs did they do?"

"They both worked for that big drug company with the manufacturing site on the Kinechester industrial park. Haveland and Sons. That's how they met. Mark got a post there on the IT side and Suzy was in HR. She'd been with the company for years and had got herself very highly thought of. She used to do a lot of travelling to their different sites pre-Covid, which I think is one of the reasons she was so slow to get herself checked out properly. Always too busy with work." Izzy presented Ben with a mug of minty-smelling liquid before sitting down and bursting into tears.

"I'm sorry," Robin said. "I know this must be painful, but we have to ask these questions."

Justin, one arm around his wife, raised his other hand. "We know you have a job to do. We'd like to help." He took a deep breath, clearly fighting his own emotions. "As we understand it, Suzy hadn't been right for most of 2019, but she put it down to the stress of the house move and juggling that with work. Then 2020 came, and she decided it was too tricky trying to get any medical help at all because of the pandemic and everyone being in a bit of a lather. She didn't like her own GP, either, which didn't help. When she eventually told us she wasn't feeling well, she said she'd decided to wait until things evened themselves out as she didn't want to go into a clinic and come out with Covid, given the risks. I don't know if that was simply her putting off getting a diagnosis, burying her head in the sand. Well, by the time she did get proper help, they couldn't do anything much for her because the cancer had spread everywhere. The doctor at her work had got the ball rolling, but it was all too late. He was very upset and apparently gave her quite a rollicking for being slow off her marks. Anyway, she did well to survive as long as she did, because it had likely been lurking for years. If we'd known early enough, I'd have dragged her to a specialist as soon as I could, going private if need be. We could have found the money. We'd have sold some of our land here if need be."

That wasn't the story Mark and Suzy seemed to have been putting about. Robin quickly checked on Ben, who was sipping his drink and gradually getting a better colour on him, although he apparently hadn't registered the mismatch. "When did she tell you she was ill?"

"Spring of 2021. That was a great birthday present for me. Sorry." Justin raised his hand again. "It hurt. It still hurts. Then, early this year, Suzy got Covid—which is what she died from—and that was that. You feel so helpless. She'd have been wired up in the hospital and hardly able to breathe, and we couldn't even visit her because the hospital was awash with cases and had banned all visitors. If only she'd got an ambulance sooner."

"Hush, it's all right." Izzy stroked her husband's hand.

Robin didn't doubt the Packers' anguish. Not quite the same situation as when Campbell had died, but he could identify with that heart-wrenching sense of helplessness. "And Mark blamed you for the delay in cancer treatment?"

Justin nodded. "Clearly he did, Mr. Bright, although he never said so to our faces. I wish now we'd had the chance to talk it out and put things straight, but I'm afraid we've barely spoken to him these last couple of years. Eh, Izzy? Izzy?"

"Sorry. I was thinking about a conversation I had with Mark the back end of last year. I was at the farm shop the other side of Kings Ride, saw him, and asked how Suzy was. I'm afraid the news was worse than expected, and I got terribly upset. To my surprise, he was sweet as pie about everything and seemed really sympathetic."

Playing the anything for an easy life card that Christine had spoken about? Or had Mark been one of those unpredictable characters whose personality turned almost on the flick of a switch? Ryan might have some input about that: Robin suppressed a smile at how another interview with the bloke might be exactly the thing Ben needed to take his thoughts off his dicky tummy and maybe act as a relaxant. Thoughts back to the interview in progress. "When was this?"

"October time? I'm pretty sure I was there to buy a pumpkin because we never have any luck growing them. Funny how you remember strange things like that. Anyway, when I got upset, Mark said he understood entirely. That when someone was ill, all the focus went on them, rather than the people around them, who'd also be feeling the strain. Suzy had told me he'd said something similar when she miscarried early in their marriage, that he'd found it depressing that everyone asked how she was and ignored the fact he'd also lost a child." Izzy inhaled loudly, clearly steadying herself. "I felt rather shamefaced when Suzy told me that because I'd been guilty of focussing on her when they lost the baby. I'm digressing. Back to the farm shop. What I really wanted to say was that Mark told me his brother had ‘been on his case' about some family business."

"We didn't realise he had a brother," Ben said, facial colour much improved. "He's not been in touch with us, and there was nothing obvious at the house. Not even on the makeshift family tree."

Justin sighed. "I don't think they were that close, and from the little we heard via Suzy, Kevin—the brother—wasn't the sort to make any effort to keep in touch. It wouldn't surprise me if he's sat at home waiting for you to make contact, rather than getting off his backside and doing it for himself."

They'd picked up an address book at the house, which Robin had intended getting one of the civilian staff to go through, although now he'd be going straight to the B or the K page himself. He turned to his constable again. "You're definitely looking better, Ben."

"Yep." He gave Izzy a sheepish grin. "This is good stuff."

"Excellent for hangovers too, with a couple of paracetamol. I'll give you some to take home, although if you have a repeat episode, I have to say that the best thing, to be horribly frank, is to let nature take its course, unpleasant as that it. Get it all out of the system."

Robin thought they'd better press on before matters intestinal took over, one way or another. "This family business. Was it to do with Mark's mother being adopted?"

"I couldn't tell you." The adoption part clearly didn't come as news to the Packers, though.

"And did you know that he was supposed to be in Woodhall Spa this weekend just gone?" Ben asked.

Izzy shrugged and Justin said, "Nope. But he wouldn't have got in touch to tell us if he was. Woodhall?" His face wrinkled in thought, aging him. "617 squadron territory. I used to make Airfix kits when I was younger, and the Lancaster was my favourite."

"He still would. I've had to ban them. Dust accumulators." Izzy chuckled. "I wonder what Mark was doing up there? Or supposed to be doing, I should say. I guess he didn't get nearer his destination than Kings Ride."

Robin nodded. "Indeed. He didn't share your enthusiasm for aircraft, Mr. Packer?"

"Not as far as I'm aware. It was a topic of conversation I tried but failed with. The only point we had in common—apart from Suzy—was a love of rugby. No Premiership teams near Woodhall, though. Not sure about the lower leagues."

"I'll get Ben here to check the fixture lists." Robin smiled, then put his serious face on again. "I'd be remiss if I didn't discuss your police record."

"Oh, you're not thinking that had anything to do with Mark's death?" Justin seemed amused rather than outraged at the suggestion. "I haven't touched weed since we had Suzy. An indiscretion of youth, like many people will have committed."

Robin turned to Izzy. "And what about the 5G protest?"

"I was a bloody idiot to get involved." Sighing, she put her fingers to her mouth. "A friend was completely wound up about the things and wanted me to go along. To keep her company. I was feeling pretty low, because it was around the time Suzy was getting worse, so I let myself be persuaded. The daft tart got carried away and started to cause damage. Next minute I'm in the back of a Black Maria. Are they still called that?"

"Sometimes. Police van does for me." Robin didn't feel the need to probe deeper at present. "I've got a couple of further questions and an unpleasant request. I don't know if the brother's local, but if he isn't, will you come in and do the formal identification? I'll get a car sent out for you."

"That would be very much appreciated, as we don't have one." Izzy's brow crinkled. "I've a feeling Kevin lives the other side of London, so maybe it would be easiest if we identified the body. It's the least we can do for Mark."

"Thanks. Now, we talked about Kevin not coming forward, but why didn't you contact us when Mark's body was found?" Robin had assumed before he'd met the Packers that would be because they weren't the type to watch the telly or surf the internet, but there was a radio in the kitchen and a phone on the side, so they couldn't be totally disconnected from the world. How many more assumptions about this pair would prove false?

"We did hear the news about the dead man on the radio, but we never thought of connecting the body to Mark. We don't buy newspapers, so didn't see any pictures and anyway, as far as we were concerned, he'd shaken the dust of Kings Ride off his shoes when he and Suzy moved to Lindenshaw. That's what he told us the last time we saw him, earlier this year. Said he wouldn't come back here if you paid him."

But he did. "He must have had a pressing need to return, then. Could he have been visiting friends here despite his vow not to return?"

Justin shrugged. "That promise could have been merely bluster, although he could be very stubborn if he wanted to, so if he'd said it offhand, he may have felt he had to stick to it. Suzy could be stubborn too, which must have made matters interesting at times."

"I'm sure they still did have friends at Kings Ride," Izzy cut in, "because there were some at her funeral, although, like Justin said, it wouldn't surprise me if he deliberately met up with them elsewhere."

Perhaps stubbornness ran in the Bircher family, which could explain Kevin's attitude. "One last question. It's purely routine and we're asking everyone, so you can guess what it is. For elimination purposes, where were you on Saturday?"

"Here," Justin said, to which his wife nodded. "As we usually are, milking the goat and doing stuff on the plot. This time it was getting the soil ready for the next lot of planting."

"Can anyone verify that?" Robin asked.

"Not during the day. We had pals around in the evening for dinner and drinks, but earlier on, I'm afraid not. There's always traffic up and down this road, so somebody might have seen us, although we rarely get pedestrians, so not much passing footfall, either."

At last, two people close to the victim who didn't have an alibi for his time of death. Although what motive could either Justin or Izzy have had for killing him? Robin would have put a tenner on neither of them being the sort to use violence in an argument. What about Kevin, though? Was he "on Mark's case" because of family business related to their mysterious maternal descent? And where did Woodhall Spa come in?