Tailby pinned another blown-up photo on the wall behind him. 'This is Holmes. We're asking questions about both him and Sherratt now. But don't overlook other possibilities' of course.’

Ben Cooper sat up with a sudden lurch of excitement when he saw the photo of Simeon Holmes. He had seen him already' and in Moorhay too. Not only that' but at the time' the youth had been digging. And a friend with him had been burning something. Cooper hesitated for a moment. It seemed bizarre — but he knew he had to speak now' not later.

‘I've seen him' sir'' he said. 'Earlier today. In fact' he must have come straight from the smallholding to be interviewed here.’

All eyes turned on Cooper. Hesitantly' he told them about the vast compost heap that had been taking shape at Thorpe Farm that morning. He told them about seeing Simeon Holmes himself tipping barrowload after barrowload of fresh manure on to the heap' and about the old men carefully covering it over and treading it down. He told them about the unidentified youth with his small bonfire, and about what could have been a deliberately distracting conversation as he himself had stood in front of the heap.

As he spoke' he could sense the officers in the room pulling faces and drawing away from him as though they could actually smell the manure on his clothes.

When he had finished his story' he waited for a reaction. He was thinking of the words repeated by Sam Beeley and Wilford Cutts — 'blood and bone'' they had said. And again: 'blood and bone'.

Tailby stared at him, and groaned.

‘Oh Jesus'' he said. 'We're going to have to dig it up.’

*

A hastily assembled team arrived at Thorpe Farm an hour later in a variety of vehicles' which parked on the track between the jumble of outbuildings. A Task Force sergeant in a boiler suit and wellington boots walked up to the house' where he found Wilford Cutts and Sam Beeley waiting outside' astonished at their sudden arrival. He served the search warrant on Wilford.

‘You want to search my house?' said Wilford. 'What for?'

‘Not the house'' said the sergeant. 'The outside property.'

‘Outside —?'

‘Starting with the field over there.’

Officers were gathering on the track' fastening their boiler suits and pulling on wellingtons and gloves as spades and forks were issued from a van.

‘You're never going to dig my field up'' said Wilford. Sam waved his stick and started laughing as he saw where the policemen were heading.

‘Look at their faces'' he said. 'They're not digging the field up' they're going to dig up the muck heap.’

The sergeant's expression told them he was right.

‘What do you think you'll find?' called Wilford' but the sergeant walked away without answering.

A Scenes of Crime officer was raking through the remains of the fire and bagging the ashes as Tailby and Cooper came up from their car to the field. The two old men were standing by the top gate to watch the operation' and Cooper could feel their eyes on him as they approached.

‘It was built by craftsmen' that heap'' said Wilford accusingly. 'Your bloody coppers are going to ruin it.'

‘Some of them buggers look as though they've never used a fork in their lives'' said Sam' gazing in wonder at the boiler-suited diggers.

‘Mr Cutts' I believe you had a young man by the name of Simeon Holmes working here earlier today'' said Tailby.

‘Oh aye'' said Wilford. 'Young Simeon and his mate. Good lads' they are. Hard workers. They mucked out the pig shed for us.’

And helped you build the compost heap there.’

‘Well, they did the heavy work' the barrowing and that.'

‘What's in the compost heap' Mr Cutts?'

‘Here now,' said Sam. 'We told your lad there exactly what was put in it. Didn't we' Wilford?'

‘We explained it very carefully' as I recall.’

Sam's attention drifted back down the field. He couldn't believe what he saw. 'Some of them's shifting it' and some of them's just standing looking at it. What do they think it's going to do? Dance the hokey cokey?’

And there was some burning' I believe? What were you burning' Mr Cutts?'

‘Some old straw. Some dead branches. General rubbish.'

‘Did you allow Simeon Holmes to put any extra items on to the fire or into the compost heap?'

‘You what?'

‘The other lad looked after the fire' in between barrowing'' said Sam.

And who was he?'

‘Name of Doc' that's all. A mate of young Simeon's.' A nickname?'

‘I suppose so. Never seen him before.'

‘How did they happen to be working for you, Mr Cutts?'

‘Harry sent 'em up. I needed a bit of labour' and he said his great-nephew was a willing lad.'

‘His great-nephew! This is to do with Harry Dickinson again?'

‘They're good lads, those two. You leave 'em alone.’

‘I do believe'' said Sam' staring at the activities around the compost heap, 'that those blokes of yours are actually counting the turds.’

Cooper trailed after the disgruntled DCI as he strode off back towards the bottom of the field. The compost had begun fermenting as soon as the heap had been constructed' and steam could be seen rising in several places. The surface of the heap was alive with thousands of the reddish-brown dung flies. They rose in shimmering clouds when they were disturbed' only to settle again on the exposed patches of manure as work began on shifting the entire heap to one side.

The digging was hot and sweaty work' and the policemen could feel the pervasive smell of the manure infiltrating their boiler suits and being absorbed into the perspiration on their bodies. It was worst for the men working on top of the heap' where the heat rising from the compost itself made them feel as though they were slaving in the heart of a blast furnace' or stoking the boiler of a vast steam engine. They stopped for frequent rests' their places being taken by other officers who had been moving the manure aside' turning and separating it as they did so to make sure no evidence went unobserved.

As the digging went on' the smell got steadily worse and Cooper became more unpopular. Many venomous glances came his way as the top of the compost heap shrank and nothing more incriminating appeared than a tangle of blue baling twine or a rotted apple core.

Then a fork hit a solid object. Immediately, an officer dropped to his knees and used his gloved hands to dig into the stinking debris. Someone spread a plastic sheet on the ground' and the next few inches of manure were carefully transferred to the sheet' in case the material had to be packed up and sent to the forensic laboratory. The SOCO' who had finished with the fire, knelt alongside the officer' oblivious to the muck staining his knees and the swarms of flies that hovered around their sweating foreheads.

Finally' as a large clump of manure was scraped away' something white appeared among the dark fibres. It had been pierced by a tine of the policeman's fork' and now a burst of exposed muscle and tendon appeared like a bullet hole in the middle of the bare' white flesh.

19

Fry switched channels on the TV in her room until she landed on a news programme. She watched an item about a sex scandal involving a government minister' heard about a breakdown in talks in Northern Ireland' and listened to news of a long-running war in some African country where thousands of people had already died in an inexplicable tribal conflict. It was all very predictable.

She lay sprawled on her hard bed' nibbling one of the complimentary biscuits from a cellophane-wrapped packet on the bedside table. She had kicked off her shoes and taken off her sweaty clothes' and was wearing her black kimono over her underwear. She was wishing she had been able to find the time to call in at a shop in Skipton for some chocolate.