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  Chairs pushed pack, coats put back on – clank and screech. The women walk towards the door.

  ‘You mean she’s killed..?’

  Door slams close – the rest is not heard.

  Two young women in their mid-twenties – one a pretty brunette with short curly hair and gold-rimmed glasses, the other a redhead with a determined chin and ready smile – sit in the other end of the teashop from the two older women. Both are wearing boots, short skirts, turtlenecks and long wraparound cardigans, one dark grey, the other with black and white stripes. The girls sit at a table by a window, sipping their coffees. No cakes for them. They chat about the weather and about a friend who is going to get married soon until they both get distracted by their phones, and are quiet until the other women left.

  ‘Wow Olga, did you hear that, did she really say murder? Who was murdered?’

  ‘Not sure, she did say something that sounded like murder but it wasn’t that clear – she didn’t say who though?’ says Olga.

  ‘Maybe it was just all about TV – you know, like Midsummer or Morse or something?’

  ‘Rats! Couldn’t hear. Surely there are no murders around here?’

  ‘It would be very scary if there was a murderer on the loose! Don’t want that!’

  ‘I’ll ask Jimmy – if there has been a murder, he’ll know about it. And who knows, if he hasn’t heard about it yet and I tell him and he gets a scoop out of it, maybe he’ll take me out to that nice place again.’ The redhead giggles happily.

  ‘Helen, are you sure you’re not just looking for an excuse to call him?’

  ‘Of course not! What you take me for?’ Helen giggles again, a bit embarrassed.

  Helen and Olga finish their coffee and leave the teashop, discussing meeting up later in the evening.

  Action

  The murderer arrives at the bank and signs a slip for access to the safety deposit boxes. The bank clerk accompanies the murderer to a vault and further to the deposit boxes. They both insert their keys in the locks. The clerk leaves. The murderer takes out the box and pulls out a passport and several bundles of euro notes. The murderer then puts the passport in a pocket and the euros in a bag. The murderer empties the rest of the box’s contents into the bag.

  Chorus

  Monday 12th of May

  James Carter, journalist at The Abbey Chronicle

  James Carter, known as Jimmy, is a lanky twenty-six-year-old with keen brown eyes and brown, short flat hair. He is a somewhat shabby dresser – prefers chinos and a light blue shirt, neither of which rarely are touched by an iron. He has a genial personality, once you get to know him – very sharp, doggedly pursuing facts and finding out about people. He dreams about getting a big scoop so he could write for The Guardian. According to his editor, Mike Kings, Jimmy is a good writer but a bit slow and often spends too much time doing research. But considering The Abbey Chronicle now only has Jimmy and a part timer who covers sports and local events, Mike Kings, who is both publisher and editor, is keen on keeping him.

  Jimmy regularly listens to police radio; normally it is just accidents on roadways and occasional pub brawls or domestics. Today, something a bit different: apparently a man has been found dead in the Tersel Woods. The emergency services had been called, but he was pronounced dead on the scene. Nothing really very interesting, as far as Jimmy is concerned. Unless he was murdered, but since not many murders happen around Faukon Abbey, most likely the dead guy was just a traveler, a tramp, or maybe an old geezer dropping dead due to heart attack. Now if only he was a tourist – then it could at least be a bit more interesting.

  Jimmy turns his attention from the police radio to check up on a rumor regarding a sale of land to the golf course to make it a full 18-hole course, doubling its size. He searches online and checks if any of the bigger newspapers have reported anything about it. Nothing there, or at least nothing published yet. He calls the golf course manager, who refuses to comment one way or the other. He checks again with the county records office, but there’s nothing there either. Jimmy is getting frustrated, as he had promised Mike Kings a story. Now there seems to be no story after all.

  Just when he’s about to go out to get some fresh air and clear his head, he gets a call from his friend Helen telling him about two ladies in the coffee shop who seemed to be talking about a murder. He asks her how the women looked and what were they talking about. Helen says the women sounded really convincing. They were two middle-aged women, not very well dressed, but quite respectable looking. One was complaining about her employer and kept saying that someone was somewhere where he or she shouldn’t be. It all sounded very mysterious. Jimmy thanks Helen for the info. They chat a bit longer about this and that but Jimmy doesn’t invite Helen to go out with him, much to Helen’s chagrin. He promises to call her back later in the week.

  Dead people are interesting, or at least they can be if they died mysteriously or if there’s something newsworthy about them. As he doesn’t have anything else to report on, Jimmy grabs his leather jacket and notebook and goes out. He walks down the street to Daily Cuppa Tea Room, which by now is just about empty, with only one customer sitting by the window reading The Guardian. Jimmy orders a cup of coffee for himself and asks the waitress if she remembers the two ladies from earlier, describing their clothes based on what Helen had said. The waitress does remember them, but doesn’t know them nor did she hear anything they talked about, just saying that they’d had some tea and cakes. Jimmy asks if they’re regular customers. No, says the waitress. She may have seen them come in once or twice before, but she’s only been there for six months so she doesn’t know everybody.

  Jimmy walks back to his office. What a waste of time that was. Although, it was nice of Helen to call and the coffee was good, not burned like the American chain stuff. Getting some fresh air was good too; the sun is shining between some puffy clouds. It’s been sunny and dry for past few weeks. Maybe he should go out with Helen again; she is fun to be with.

  As the golf course issue doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, Jimmy decides to contact his source with the Faukon Abbey police, who confirms a man has indeed been found in Tersel Woods but has no info about any murder. The man found in the woods didn’t have any identification on him, so they don’t yet know who he is, what he was doing there or what he died of. It could be a heart attack but they don’t know. No sign of foul play though, from what he could see. They are working on trying to identify him. No mobile phone either.

  Jimmy asks ‘Is a post-mortem going to take place?’ Police don’t know yet. ‘The coroner has to decide on that.’ Jimmy prods his police friend, Terry Ford, a bit more.

  ‘Someone must be missing him? Any idea how old he was?’

  ‘Don’t know, middle-aged is what I heard but we don’t really know, you’ll have to wait until we have more information. Sorry, Jimmy.’

  Jimmy types the information into his computer to be printed in the paper the next day.

  Detective Inspector Peter Greene and Detective Constable Terrence Ford.

  Detective Inspector Greene, a short thin man in his early fifties, with short brown hair marred with some grey, stands by the window. His face is pale and he has brown dreamy-looking eyes. He shares his office at the Faukon Abbey police station with Detective Constable Terrence Ford, known as Terry, who is in his late thirties, slimmer than Peter, and much taller. He’s been known to be called Beanpole, not to his face of course. He has light brown hair and very blue eyes, and because of his height, he walks with hunched shoulders, always trying to look shorter. Contrary to his boss, he’s a man of few words. According to Greene, Terry is a good detective but not Sergeant material yet. He is very good with computers.

  DI Greene reads aloud from the police report DC Ford had just handed to him.

  ‘So, what do we have, or rather have not – a dead man picked up from the middle of the woods, no identification in his wallet, only cash: three ten-pound notes and sixty-five pence. No jewelry, no watch, no
rings, nothing. No mobile phone. Who has no mobile phone these days? Pockets contained a set of keys, but no car keys. His jacket was well worn and moleskin trousers a bit muddy. The man seemed to be in his forties or fifties. He didn’t look dirty and was clean-shaven.’

  ‘Terry, is this really a case for us? Couldn’t he just have had a heart attack or something? What did the paramedics say? Have you talked with them? Maybe he was just some tourist – he seemed to be cleaner than a vagrant. What do you think? What did he die of? What was he doing there? And how did he get there in the first place?’

  ‘Indeed sir, it is a bit odd though. According to Police Constable Collins who was first to arrive on site, the guy didn’t seem to be old enough or in a bad enough shape to have had a heart attack, he wasn’t fat or anything. And he apparently looked a bit too well-groomed to be a vagrant, was clean-shaven and with short hair. He gave the file to me as he thought the guy could be a tourist, a lot of those around this time of the year on the moors. They walk and wander and get lost. Heart attacks can happen – I’ve read about those marathon runners who drop dead despite being so well trained and all.’ Ford draws a deep breath and sits down behind his desk, which has piles of folders and a big computer screen standing in the middle.

  ‘Well, I guess we have to try to find out who he is at least. If he’s a tourist, maybe someone is already missing him? Find out if anybody has reported him missing today, and if not reported to us, see if he is missing in Exeter. Did we get his finger prints checked yet?’

  ‘Yes sir. No fingerprint matches for him.’

  ‘Ok, let’s check the Missing Persons Registry. And get the uniforms to canvas the area – how did he get there? Walk, bicycle, car? Also, contact the hotels and inns on both sides of the woods tomorrow. They might have someone who didn’t return to pay their bill. Who knows, maybe he was just a tourist on his walking tour around the country, had a heart attack, and died? Was there no rucksack?’

  ‘Will do, sir,’ Ford says. ‘No rucksack with him at least when he was found, but there was one of those Starbucks thermal mugs next to him. Nothing in it. I’ll ask the uniforms to check the vicinity for rucksack and bicycle.’

  A few hours later, DI Greene’s office phone rings. Ford picks it up, listens intently, thanks the caller and relays the conversation to Greene: ‘About our dead man of the woods sir; no abandoned cars or bicycles or motorcycles for that matter found anywhere in the vicinity, sir. No rucksack either. The uniforms also drove around the Tersel Woods and walked the paths leading to the spot where he was found and found nothing. ‘

  ‘So how did he get there? He couldn’t have fallen from the sky and then dropped dead,’ Greene asked.

  ‘Don’t know, sir. He could have walked. It is fairly isolated, at least 2-3 miles from the nearest house. Not many people go there, although there are plenty of walking paths in Tersel Woods. The spot where he was found is, according to the report, a small clearing in the woods, sort of a small meadow, not far from the lake.’

  ‘Any traffic cameras leading to the area?’

  ‘No sir, it is isolated and at least five miles from town.’

  ‘So what was he doing there? If he was a tourist on his walking tour, don’t they usually carry rucksacks with gear and maps and so on?’

  DI Greene continues thinking out loud. ‘So how did he get there? Surely someone must have seen him. Did someone else drive him there, someone who then left him and drove away? Or maybe he just walked there – as you said, those tourists are known to walk longer stretches, right? Well then, I guess we have to dig deeper about the missing persons, unless you have some other ideas?’

  ‘No, sir, not at this time.’

  ‘Fine. Let’s also talk to that person who found him there. She may know more than she said in her statement.’

  Tuesday 13th of May

  The Abbey Chronicle, page 6

  Man found in Tersel Woods

  A man was found unresponsive leaning against a tree in Tersel Woods by a passer-by yesterday afternoon.

  A Dartmoor Constabulary spokesman in Faukon Abbey said: “Emergency services were called by a member of the public yesterday at 1.25pm concerning a man who appeared to be in a bad way in Tersel Woods. Police officers and paramedics attended but sadly, the man was pronounced dead at the scene. The man has not been identified yet. The coroner has been notified.”

  Police officers are reviewing missing person’s reports to find out whether any are connected to the dead man. Officers were unable to confirm if the death was suspicious.

  Wednesday 14th of May

  DI Peter Greene and DC Terry Ford

  Clearly, Mr. Tersel Woods (as DI Greene named the dead man for the site where he was found) wasn’t missed by anybody, at least not yet. Normally a missing person would show up in the registries after forty-eight hours so it is early days yet. DC Ford has combed through the Missing Persons Register twice now, but nobody has reported him missing and his fingerprints were not found in any register.

  DI Greene decides to wait with more action until they have post-mortem results. There are other cases needing to be resolved.

  Thursday 15th of May

  Dr. Percy Slater, Home Office Pathologist

  At 3 o’clock Thursday afternoon at Brookside Hospital Morgue, Dr. Percy Slater performs the post-mortem examination as requested by the coroner. The officers and paramedics, who had attended the scene, had judged the death to be non-suspicious and that he had died from natural causes. Dr. Slater who is in his mid-forties, of medium height and solidly built. He claims and insists that he is not overweight just a bit round. His wife begs to differ. His blondish hair is cut very short, showing his scalp. In a few years, he’s most likely going to go bald. As with most pathologists, he’s not very good at dealing with the living, and always assumes nobody knows anything about anatomy.

  He’s nearly finished with his examination when Greene and Ford walk in.

  ‘Oh good, you’re both here.’ Dr. Slater greets Ford and Greene and points to the table, which is covered with a white sheet. He pulls the sheet off, revealing the dead man’s naked body underneath. He takes a folder from a side table and opens it.

  ‘I don’t have much to tell you. The man found in the Tersel Woods on Monday the twelfth at 13.25 appears to have died of cardiopulmonary arrest, often referred to by non-medical people as a heart attack. Basically, his heart stopped. But what caused his heart to stop is not yet clear to me. We’re running some additional tests.’ He continues:

  ‘The body appears to have not been moved. There is no evidence of accidental or non-accidental injury. No damage due to firearms or bladed weapons, as in there’s no sign of any external violence on him. No wounds, punctures or ligature marks or contusions. He didn’t even have any scratch marks. He appears to have died shortly before he was found, about an hour or maybe two at most before the emergency team arrived on site. He was still warm when they got there. Rigor mortis had not yet set in when they brought him in, according to Dr. Monroe. Based on lividity, observed also by Dr. Monroe, it seems he had just sat down where he was found, leaned against the tree, and died.’

  ‘But you have no idea what killed him?’ asks Greene.

  ‘No, not at this time, you will have to wait until the test results come back’, Slater tells the officers. He checks his notes again and reads out loud. ‘The found man is 181cm tall, weighs eighty-two kilograms. As you can see his brown hair is short and has a lot of grey. His eyes are brown and all his hair and teeth are his own.’

  ‘How old is he?’ asks Ford

  ‘I estimate him to be between forty and fifty years of age. He was seemingly in good health, heart, kidneys and liver all normal for his age, not much arterial clogging, he wasn’t circumcised. So why he should have suffered a cardiac arrest is a bit confounding. Granted, a lot of things can cause a cardiac arrest – a sudden shock, anxiety attack or even a virus of some sort – but he appeared to have been enjoying good health, as I said.’


  ‘Anything that can tell us who he is?’ asks Greene

  ‘Alas, he has no distinctive markings on his skin, no tattoos. His teeth are in good condition, with only a couple of fillings, one capped front tooth, nothing distinctive there either. His hair is cut short as you can see and he had recently shaved. His teeth have been brushed and cleaned relatively regularly. His body and hair have been washed recently, and he had some aftershave as well as deodorant under his arms. I don’t think he was a vagrant.’

  ‘Anything in his appearance that would suggest that he could be a foreigner, a tourist?’ asks Ford.

  ‘I don’t think so, could be, but I have nothing specific there. His dental fillings are very common ones, nothing particular or foreign about those. His stomach content showed that he had likely had some eggs and toast for breakfast, and some brown liquid, most likely coffee. Could be he had had that meal in a hotel or B&B? And it could be where he got the coffee in his travel mug too? And before you ask, it had his fingerprints but those were quite smudged by other people wearing gloves. I understand that the mug was picked up by the emergency personnel and brought in with the dead man? It had a very small residue of coffee, with sugar in it, nothing else. I have taken the residue and sent it for further testing but I suspect there was nothing else in it, it smelled like regular coffee.’

  Slater walks to the table on the side and shows Ford and Greene plastic bags containing dead man’s clothes and shoes.

  ‘Clothes are not new, but are most likely his own as they seemed to fit him reasonably well. They were not very scruffy, some muddy spots on his moleskin trousers which had not been ironed. The seat of his trousers was slightly damp and muddy from sitting down on the ground. His clothes were otherwise clean. Clothes seemed to be typical Marks and Spencer type, nothing special, shirt, underwear, socks and trousers, labels all washed out. An older leather jacket, cuffs and collar worn, didn’t look like anything special, no labels on it either, fitted him well.