Midsomer Maiden |1| The Trials of Midsomer

7. Strangler's Wood

In the many villages of Midsomer, there were more than a few proliferating rumours about certain milkmen and the, shall we say, rather less professional endeavours that seemed to go hand in hand with the morning milk round. Whether or not the gentleman who delivered the milk in Midsomer Worthy on this particular morning was of a similar ilk is of no consequence, for even the randiest, most experienced, most expertly philandering old Romeo couldn't have got his leg over in the time it took Anna Santarosa to grab the milk and slam the door of the Merrill family home. Not, at least, without doing something terribly painful to something terribly sensitive. In truth, he hardly had time for a 'good morning' before the woodwork thudded into place—and if he'd been an animated cartoon, he would have staggered off down the path with a flat nose.

Inside the house, Anna took the milk into the kitchen, setting it on the table where the three Merrills were partway through their breakfast. "The milk, he come."

Kate Merrill gave a long-suffering sigh. "It's not 'he', Anna."

"I don't know why you bother," her husband John sniffed. "She never understands."

At the end of the table, their young son was pushing soggy cornflakes around his bowl miserably. "I don't want this," he complained.

"Eat it anyway, David," said Kate. "You're not going to school on an empty stomach."

"You want fry eggs, Mrs. Merr?" Anna asked, opening the fridge.

"Not today, thank you, Anna."

"I'd better go," said John, getting to his feet. "I'll miss the train. What time is it?"

Kate frowned. "Where's your watch?"

"I took it in."

"Why?"

To his credit, he hesitated only for a fraction of a second. "Er, it was running slow."

Kate narrowed her eyes, and he thought he was a goner. Then her gaze drifted over her shoulder and she was immediately distracted. "I said no eggs, Anna!"

Anna sighed heavily, dumping the sizzling pan into the sink. David, meanwhile, had slung on his schoolbag and was heading for the door. "I'm out of here."

"Aren't you going to say goodbye?" John called after him.

"No!" The front door slammed shut.

Kate sighed. "You're going to have to talk to him."

"You're the expert," John retorted, shooting her a look. "Why don't you?"

***

As David hurried along the path through the woods on his way to school, he passed a group of older boys playing catch in the clearing. "Where'd it go?" one asked.

"Over there! Over there!" One boy went into the bushes to try and find the ball, and stopped dead. The others watched. "Have you got it?"

And there, lying naked in the undergrowth, was the corpse of a beautiful young woman, a long tie slung loosely about her neck.

***

Meanwhile, over at the Barnaby home, Tom was carrying Joyce's suitcase down the stairs for her. "I hate leaving you like this," she worried. "Are you sure you're gonna be all right?"

"It's only a couple of weeks," Tom pointed out. "And with Cully out of work—"

She rolled her eyes. "They call it 'resting', Dad."

"It still means you can look after me."

"I hoped you'd be looking after me."

"You can look after each other," Joyce told them. "Now, listen, I've left food in the freezer, and there's—"