Fear in the Cotswolds by Rebecca Tope

field below the donkey’s paddock. Or I thought I did. When I took the police back to the place, he’d gone.’
    The woman avoided Thea’s eye, and chewed a bottom lip. Her colour changed to a lighter hue. ‘Mmm. I heard a commotion.’
    ‘Did you? When?’
    ‘I don’t mean it was noisy. But I had to take hay to the Herefords, and could see there’d been people trampling about.’
    ‘Didn’t the police contact you? It is your field, after all.’
    Kate shook her head vigorously. ‘Why ever should they? Can’t have been anything to worry about, if he’d got himself up and away.’
    ‘I was certain he was dead. I think somebody moved him.’ Short of a direct accusation, she could hardly say any more. It suddenly seemed inescapably obvious that Kate was the person in question.
    ‘Well I hope you don’t think it was me ,’ the woman said sharply, picking up the unspoken thought. ‘I’ve got better things to do than mess about with dead bodies, let me tell you.’
    ‘And you didn’t see anybody there? What time did you take the cattle their hay?’
    ‘Don’t you go questioning me.’ Kate’s eyes narrowed. ‘If I tell you I saw nothing, then that’s the truth of it. It’ll all get explained soon enough, without either you or me having to worry. Leave well alone, that’s my advice.’
    ‘But—’ What was she missing here? How bizarre was this apparent lack of concern? ‘I mean, he might be injured or ill, and still out there in the snow somewhere. Nobody seems to realise that.’
    ‘I doubt that. What did he look like?’
    ‘I couldn’t really see. Grey hair, fairly long. A beard, I think. His face was almost buried in the snow, and I didn’t move him.’
    ‘Well, if you ask me, he can’t have beenreally dead. Surely you’d have checked pulse and breathing? Anybody would.’ The defensive fury seemed to have passed, Kate’s tone back to something more normal.
    ‘I was convinced he was dead. I touched his shoulder and it was stiff. The snow wasn’t melting on him.’ She felt as if she was doomed to repeat these lines for the rest of her life.
    ‘So what? Snow doesn’t melt on a coat when you’re outside, does it? Even a living body isn’t warm enough to melt it through three or four layers of clothes.’
    ‘He was dead.’ Thea spoke with greater certainty than she felt. ‘Somebody moved him.’
    Kate shook her head, still pale. ‘The police obviously don’t believe you. They know better than anyone that you can’t just leave a dead man out for the birds and foxes to dispose of.’
    ‘Right. I hope you’re right. But I still think there should be a search party.’
    ‘Maybe there would be if it wasn’t for this weather. Everything’s different in this snow. But you’re right – there should have been a search for him.’
    Somehow they’d reached a fragile understanding, for which Thea was grateful. The brief glimpse she’d had of Kate’s steely temper had not been reassuring. Far better to stay on the right side of her, if possible. But what did thewoman really think had happened? How much had she already known? There was an uneasy sense of being humoured, lurking somewhere.
    A brief silence followed, and Thea took the opportunity to try to assess her temporary neighbour’s credibility. She was tall, straight-backed and decisive. It was easy to visualise her driving a tractor or striding across the hillsides after a large flock of sheep. But beneath that there was a kind of camaraderie that Thea found appealing. She had met a number of well-intentioned women during her spells in the area, and this seemed to be another to add to the list. The temptation to take her at face value and make use of her as a friend and helper was almost overwhelming.
    But there had been others, Thea reminded herself, who had not been what they seemed. There had been women capable of murder, habitual liars, their rage concealed beneath amiable exteriors. And Lucy had spoken of a violent temper.