A Room Full of Bones: A Ruth Galloway Investigation

Aborigine relics?’
    ‘I was one of the people who drafted it, yes.’
    ‘Can you give me the names of the others?’
    ‘I suppose so. We’ve got nothing to hide. The group’s quite open and above board. We’ve even got a website.’
    But that, as even Nelson knows, proves nothing. These days every nutcase has got a website. Nelson leans forward, trying to force Cathbad to take him seriously. But Cathbad is still looking at Judy with that infuriating smile on his face.
    ‘Cathbad, did you, or anyone in the group, write letters to Neil Topham?’
    Cathbad is still smiling. ‘To Neil? No. Not that I know of. Why?’
    ‘Because threatening letters were sent to him.
Handwritten
letters.’ Nelson glares at Cathbad, remembering other handwritten letters, death threats written in flowery poetic language but no less sinister for all that. Cathbad drops his eyes first.
    ‘’I don’t know anything about any letters to Neil Topham,’ he says, ‘I helped draft the letter to Lord Smith, that’s all.’
    ‘You helped draft the letter that threatened Smith with the vengeance of the Great Snake?’
    Cathbad frowns. ‘I think we put it better than that. More poetically.’
    ‘Stop taking the piss,’ says Nelson. ‘These are serious accusations.’
    Cathbad opens his eyes wide. ‘What exactly are you accusing me of?’
    That’s the problem; Nelson doesn’t know. But he does know that something went on in the museum that day. Henty and Taylor delivered the coffin at half-past one. If he is to be believed, Cathbad visited the museum at two but didn’t see Neil Topham. Ruth arrived at two-sixteen, by which time Topham was already dead.
    ‘We’ll be in touch,’ he says, standing up. ‘Don’t leave the country.’
    Rocky and Clough are not having much luck with their door-to-door enquiries. Most of the buildings around the Smith Museum are offices and so are closed on Saturday. The people in the garage opposite didn’t see anything, nor did the owner of the corner shop. They are just about to give up when the shopkeeper suggests they talk to ‘old Stanley’.
    ‘Who’s old Stanley when he’s at home?’ asks Clough, who is stocking up on chocolate.
    ‘He’s the caretaker of the flats behind the museum. He’s always in the grounds, sweeping up leaves, doing odd jobs. Old Stanley sees everything.’
    ‘Then we’ll see him,’ says Clough grandly. ‘Come on Rocky.’
    Stanley lives on the ground floor of the mansion flats directly behind the museum. His flat is crammed with pictures of his children and grandchildren but his maininterest seems to be keeping the grounds clear of dog mess.
    ‘They used not to allow dogs in the flats,’ he explains. ‘But the residents complained and now their bloody dogs crap everywhere.’
    ‘Don’t they use pooper scoopers or whatever they’re called?’ asks Clough. He’d like a dog but Trace is asthmatic, or so she says.
    ‘Don’t talk to me about pooper scoopers,’ Stanley’s face darkens. ‘Little plastic bags full of crap everywhere. There’s no respect.’
    ‘Right,’ says Clough. ‘Look, Mr … er, Stanley. We’re investigating an incident which happened at the museum on Saturday. We wondered if you were in the grounds on Saturday between about midday and two-thirty.’
    ‘Might have been,’ says Stanley cautiously.
    ‘Did you see anything suspicious? Anyone entering or leaving the museum.’
    ‘There was that one man.’
    Clough sits up straighter and even Rocky looks interested.
    ‘What man?’
    ‘He was in the car park. Must have been after two o’clock because I always have my radio with me and
Any Questions
had just finished. Then it’s
Any Answers
, all these busy-bodies ringing in. Haven’t they got anything better to do?’
    ‘The man,’ prompts Clough. ‘What was he doing?’
    ‘Just walking through the car park. I watched him. He went up to the recycling box and put a shoe in. One shoe! What’s the good of that to some poor bastard?’
    ‘What did he look like?’
    ‘I only saw his back. Tall. Wearing a dark suit and a hat. I thought he looked like a businessman. People don’t wear suits so much these days. There are no standards.’
    Clough, wearing jeans, ignores this. ‘What did he do next?’
    ‘Just walked off. I think he turned right, towards the town. A few minutes later there was all the excitement. Ambulance, police cars, the lot.’
    ‘Why didn’t you come forward with this earlier?’
    Stanley shrugs.