5

For a moment, Lindsay stood stock still, the journalist fighting the friend inside her. This was an important story. She had the edge on the pack, and she needed to call the office as soon as possible. Logically, she knew there was little she could do for Deborah as the police Landrover carried her off. That didn’t stop her feeling an overwhelming rage that translated itself into the desire for action. Abruptly, she turned back to the scene of the crime and found Rigano. Forcing herself to sound casual, she elicited the information that Deborah had not been arrested but was assisting police with their enquiries. End message. Lindsay turned and started to run back to the van.

Once out of the circle of light, she was plunged into darkness. Tripping over tree roots and treacherous brambles, she stumbled on, her only guide the distant glow of the campfire and the dim light from a few of the benders. At one point, she plunged headlong over a rock and grimly picked herself up, covered in mud. Cursing, she ran on till she reached the camp. As she reached the benders, she realised that several knots of women had gathered and were talking together anxiously. Ignoring their questioning looks, she made straight for the van, where she burst in, gasping for breath, to find Jane sitting over a cup of coffee. She took one look at Lindsay and said, “So you know already?”

“How’s Cara? Where is she?” Lindsay forced out.

“Fast asleep. The coppers were very quiet, very civil. But the van mustn’t be moved till they’ve had a chance to search it.” She was interrupted by a knock on the door. Lindsay leaned over and opened it to find a policewoman standing on the threshold.

“Yes?” Lindsay demanded roughly.

“I’ve been instructed to make sure that nothing is removed from this van until our officers arrive with a search warrant,” she replied.

“Terrific,” said Lindsay bitterly. “I take it you’ve no objection to me moving a sleeping child to where she won’t be disturbed?”

The policewoman looked surprised. “I don’t see why you shouldn’t move the child. Where is she?”

Lindsay pointed up to the curtained-off bunk. She turned to Jane and said, “I’ll take Cara to Josy’s bender. She’ll be all right there.”

Jane nodded and added, “I’ll stay here to make sure everything’s done properly.”

Lindsay smiled. “Thanks. I’ve got to get to the phone.” Then, with all the firmness she could muster, she said to the police officer, “I’m a journalist. I’ve got the details of the story from Superintendent Rigano, and I intend to phone my office now. I’ll be back shortly. Till then, Dr. Thomas is in charge here.”

She climbed the ladder and folded Cara into her arms. The child murmured in her sleep but did not wake. Lindsay carried her to Josy, then ran as fast as she could to the phone box. She glanced at her watch and was amazed to see it was still only half past midnight. Her first call was to Judith Rowe. When the solicitor surfaced from sleep, she promised to get straight round to the police station and do what she could.

Next, Lindsay took a deep breath and put in a transfer charge call to the office. The call was taken by Cliff Gilbert himself. “Listen,” she said. “There’s been a murder at Brownlow Common. I’ve checked it out with the cops locally, and the strength of it is that the leader of the local opposition to the women’s peace camp has been found with his head stoved in. I’ve got enough to file now, which I’ll do if you put me on to copy. I’ll also get stuck in to background for tomorrow if you think that’s a good idea.”

Cliff thought for a moment. Lindsay could almost hear the connections clicking into place to complete the mental circuit. “You’ve got good contacts among the lesbian bean-burger brigade down there, haven’t you?”

“The best. The prime suspect seems to be an old pal of mine.”

“What shift are you on tomorrow?”

“Day off.”

“Fine. Take a look at it if you don’t mind and check in first thing with Duncan. I’ll leave him a note stressing that I’ve told you to get stuck in. And Lindsay-don’t do anything daft, okay?”

“Thanks, Cliff. How much do you want now?”

“Let it run, Lindsay. All you’ve got.”

There followed a series of clicks and buzzes as she was connected to the copytaker. She recited the story off the top of her head, adding in as much as she knew about Crabtree and his connection with the camp. “A brutal murder shocked a women’s peace camp last night,” she began.

Then, at nearly two o’clock, she made her final call. Cordelia’s sleepy voice answered the phone. “Who the hell is it?”

Lindsay swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat at the sound of the familiar voice. She struggled with herself and tried to sound light. “It’s me, love. Sorry I woke you. I know you’ll be tired after driving back from your parents’, but I’m afraid I’ve got a major hassle on my hands. There’s been a murder down here. Rupert Crabtree the guy whose face Debs is supposed to have rearranged-he’s been killed. The cops have pulled Debs. I don’t think they’re going to charge her. I know I said I’d be home tomorrow lunchtime, but I don’t know when the hell I’ll make it now.”

“Do you want me to come down?”

Lindsay thought for a moment. The complication seemed unnecessary. “Not just now, I think,” she replied. “There’s nothing either of us can really do till I know more precisely what’s happening. I simply wanted to tell you myself, so you wouldn’t panic when you heard the news or saw the papers. I’ll ring you later today, all right?”

“All right,” Cordelia sighed. “But look after yourself, please. Don’t take any chances with a murderer on the loose. I love you, don’t forget that.”

“I love you too,” Lindsay replied. She put the phone down and walked back to the camp. She opened the door to the van, forgetting momentarily about the police. The bulky presence of two uniformed men searching the van startled her.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded angrily.

“We’ll be as quick as we can,” said the older of the two, a freckle-faced, grey-haired man with broad shoulders and a paunch. “We have a warrant. Your friend said it was all right,” he added, nodding towards Jane.

“I’d forgotten you’d be doing this.” Lindsay sighed as she collapsed into the comfortable armchair-cum-driver’s seat.

True to the constable’s word, they departed in about fifteen minutes with a bundle of clothing. Lindsay poured a large whisky for Jane and herself.

“I could do without another night like this,” Lindsay said. “I don’t know what it is about my friends that seems to attract murder.”

Jane looked puzzled. “You mean this happens often?”

“Not exactly often. About two years ago, a friend of mine was arrested for a murder she didn’t commit. Cordelia and I happened to be on the spot and got roped in to do the Sam Spade bit. That’s when the two of us got together-a mutual fascination for being nosey parkers.”

“Well, I hate to say it, but I’m glad you’ve had the experience. I think you could easily find yourself going through the same routine for Deborah.”

Lindsay shook her head. “Different kettle of fish. They’ve not even arrested Debs, never mind charged her. I’m pretty sure they don’t have much to go on. It’s my guess that Debs will be back here by lunchtime tomorrow if Judith’s got anything to do with it. Let’s face it, we all know Debs is innocent, and I’m sure the police will find a more likely suspect before the day’s out. They’ve just pulled her in to make it look good to anyone who’s got their beady eyes on them. Now I’m going to bed, if you’ll excuse me.”