‘What do you do at the farm?’
‘Just about everything, sir,’ said Moxey.
‘This must be a busy time of the year for you.’
‘It’s always busy.’
‘What – even in winter?’
‘We’ve sheep and dairy cows to look after. Then there are fences to mend, walls to rebuild, timber to cut and a hundred other chores. Farm work never ends.’
‘All the more surprising, then,’ observed Colbeck, ‘that you can find time to go out after rabbits at night. I’d have thought you’d be exhausted at the end of the day.’ Moxey said nothing. ‘How many of you are employed at the farm?’
‘Five of us, sir,’ said the other, ‘though that’s not counting Mr Higginbottom’s sons – he’s the farmer. They look after the stock. There’s three of us work the land and we’ve got two milkmaids.’
There was something about the way his voice lingered on the word ‘milkmaids’ that gave Colbeck a clue as to who had been his companion in the wood. He didn’t express the thought. The further they went in the jolting cart, the less tense Moxey became. Colbeck had no wish to unsettle him.
‘Have you always worked there?’ he asked.
‘No, sir, I started out with my father.’
‘Does he have a farm?’
‘It’s only a smallholding and there’s not enough work there for me and my brother. So I moved away.’
‘And where is this smallholding?’
‘Leeming,’ said Moxey.
The sergeant’s ears pricked up. ‘Did I hear my name?’
‘It’s a place, Victor,’ said Colbeck.
‘Yes,’ explained Moxey. ‘It’s a village further west, sir, over towards Bedale. I was born and brought up there.’
‘Is that so?’ said Leeming with a chuckle. ‘I didn’t know they’d named a village after me. I must go over there some time.’
Dawn was making its first gesture when they reached the wood and they could see the trees silhouetted against the sky. Not wanting the cartwheels to destroy any potential evidence, Colbeck brought the horse to a halt well short of the place indicated by Moxey. The three of them dismounted and moved forward in a line. Colbeck was carrying the oil lamp that he’d just lit. Approaching with great trepidation, Moxey took them to the place he’d visited earlier with Lorna Begg. When they got near to the mound of earth, the labourer came to a halt and let them go on together.
The lamp illumined both the protruding hand and parts of the body. After carefully scooping back the earth with his hands, Colbeck exposed the face of a woman, her hair matted with filth, her features hideously distorted by the work of insects. He then examined the area around the shallow grave. Leeming had brought a spade with him.
‘Shall I dig her up, sir?’ he asked.
‘By the look of it,’ said Colbeck, ‘animals have already started to do that. Hold on a minute, Victor. I want to see if he’s left us anything by mistake.’ He moved the lamp so that the pool of light shifted to some ruts in the earth. ‘Now that’s interesting.’
‘What have you found, Inspector?’
‘A cart of some description was here.’
‘What’s so unusual about that?’
‘It’s well off the beaten track. The cart – or trap, most likely – would have had to pick its way through the trees. It would be completely hidden in here. Think back to yesterday evening,’ said Colbeck. ‘Do you remember that walk we had along the road to Northallerton as we traced Mrs Tarleton’s footsteps?’
‘I do,’ sighed Leeming. ‘My legs are still aching.’
‘Near one of the places we thought suitable for an ambush, we found ruts very similar to these. They were concealed in a place where nobody would have thought of driving a trap.’
‘I see what you mean, Inspector. Someone may have killed her there, put the body in the trap and brought it here to bury it. No,’ he went on, thinking it through. ‘That can’t be right. Shots were heard. If Mrs Tarleton had been shot at close quarters, there’d have been blood near the place we’re talking about yet there was none. And those search parties found no blood anywhere along that route.’
‘That was only because the killer made sure that none was left behind.’
‘How could he do that, Inspector?’
‘Why don’t we find out?’ said Colbeck, putting the lamp down.
Removing his hat and coat, he hung them on a bush then took out a handkerchief to hold over his mouth. He held the spade while Leeming took off his hat and coat. The sergeant also produced a handkerchief. Both of them had unearthed decomposing remains before and they knew that the reek could be powerful. A handkerchief over the nose and mouth helped to ward off some of the stench. Moxey looked on in amazement as Leeming used the spade to dig up the makeshift grave with almost reverential care. In the course of his work, the labourer had had to slaughter animals and he had no qualms about handling their carcases. A human body was a different matter altogether and he made sure that he didn’t get too close.
When the body came fully into view, so did an item that Colbeck picked up and brushed off before holding it close to the lamp. It was a bloodstained sack.
‘There’s the answer,’ he said, using a hand to tilt the corpse’s head to the left and seeing the gaping wound. ‘Mrs Tarleton was shot in the back of the head. My guess is that this sack was put over her first so that it would absorb any blood. Look,’ he went on, ‘there are holes in the sack.’
‘So she was shot through it,’ said Leeming.
‘It’s a strong possibility. Come on, Victor. We must bring the cart as close as we can. We’ll put her onto the sack and lift her up that way. She deserves to be handled very gently.’
It took time. The cart was too big to go all the way up to the grave, though there would have been just enough room for a trap to get through the trees. Moxey held the horse and tried to make it back up. The animal protested and had to be coaxed. Eventually, the cart got within a dozen yards of the remains of Miriam Tarleton. He then watched as the detectives lifted her onto the sack then used it like a stretcher to transfer her to the cart. Once there, she was covered by the sacks they’d brought with them. While the detectives retrieved their hats and coats, Moxey eyed the corpse, not relishing the idea of travelling on a cart with such a cargo aboard.
‘Thank you, my friend,’ said Colbeck, coming to his rescue. ‘You did us a great service in finding the body. We’ve no need to detain you any longer. Get back to the farm and tell Mr Higginbottom that I have nothing but praise for you.’
‘Will you need to speak to me again, Inspector?’
‘No – but you’ll be called upon to give evidence at the inquest.’ Moxey’s face fell. ‘All you have to do is to say how you discovered the body,’ Colbeck told him. ‘In doing so, you’ve taken the first vital step in a murder investigation. You should be proud of yourself.’
Moxey smiled inanely. ‘Should I?’
‘You’re a hero,’ said Leeming. ‘You’ve saved us weeks of looking for the lady. We can now start to search for the villain who brought her here. The family will be very grateful to you.’
‘Oh, well, that’s all right, then.’ He shuffled his feet. ‘In that case, Sergeant, I’ll be off.’
‘Before you go, I’ve got a question for you.’
‘What’s that, sir?’
‘Where exactly is this village called Leeming?’
Colbeck didn’t hear the exchange between the two men. He’d already returned to the grave and was using the spade to sift through the earth, aided by the fact that more light was now beginning to poke its way through the fretwork of branches. His search was thorough and it eventually bore fruit. Something clinked against the end of the spade. Kneeling on the ground, he felt with his hands until his fingers closed around something. He brushed off the dirt and examined what he’d found. In his palm were two spent cartridges.
The letter was addressed to Adam Tarleton and delivered by a messenger sent from Northallerton. His sister was with him when Colbeck’s missive was opened.