Midsomer Maiden |1| The Trials of Midsomer

16. Electric Vendetta

At the post office over in Midsomer Parva, there was quite a stir. It should be noted, for the sake of city dwellers, that 'quite a stir' in the case of a Midsomer village simply meant a body had been found and so the villagers had something juicy to gossip about.

"Morning, Lady Chatwyn," called the postmistress as she saw the woman outside the shop.

"Good morning, Alice," Beatrice Chatwyn returned politely.

"Terrible thing, isn't it?"

"It is, Alice."

"Bet your husband was shocked, wasn't he?"

"He certainly was." Beatrice continued on her way down the side of the post office to the shed out the back, which had been kitted out with all kinds of extraterrestrial paraphernalia. "Lloyd!"

"Coming!" came the reply, and he appeared from among the mess.

"If we hurry, we might get there before the police," Beatrice explained excitedly. "I told Harry to give me twenty minutes start before he called them."

"Where is it?" asked Lloyd.

"In our big wheat field, off the Mallow road."

***

Over in said wheat field, Freddie and Ben were heading towards a line of police tape, their backs to a large crop circle that was, at the moment, swarming with SOCOs. They were chatting—not about the crime but about the television show they were halfway through—when Freddie's mobile rang.

"Oh, no," she groaned, reading the display. "It's the Chief bloody Super."

Ben frowned. "What's he want?"

"God knows. Wish me luck."

"Good luck."

She answered the call, putting on a false polite smile even though the man it was meant for couldn't hope to see it. "Sir. To what do I owe this tremendous honour?"

"Bullard," came the gruff reply. It was hard to explain why she hated that voice so much—asides from its association with the person, that is—but it might have had something to do with the fact that it sounded as though his mouth was almost entirely obscured by a large, thick, walrus-style moustache. This was a side effect of the fact that it was. "This body in Midsomer Parva—found in a crop circle, I hear? Naked?"

"Yes, sir. We're taking measures to avoid the involvement of, er—" She was very tempted to say nutters, but that would do her no favours with the brass. "—conspiracy theorists. The scene is secured and I've got men on the perimeter."

"Good, good, good," he said, although whether or not he'd been listening was anybody's guess. "Got an ID yet?"

"No, sir. The victim doesn't appear to have anything useful with him. Nothing at all, in fact."

"You don't recognise him, then?"

Freddie hesitated. "Should I, sir?"

"Not necessarily, not necessarily. But, with him turning up in the altogether, I did wonder if you might have crossed paths at some point." He chuckled, as if laughter could mitigate the hollow, sinking feeling in her chest. "You do have a reputation, you know!"

She swallowed hard, setting her jaw, and turned away from Ben in the hope that he wouldn't notice the trembling in her hands. He did, of course, but the thought was there nevertheless.

The Chief Superintendent cleared his throat, perhaps realising the reason for her silence. "Er, so is that a no, then? You've never met the chap?"

It took all the restraint she had to answer civilly when all she wanted to do was shout and scream at him. "No, sir. I've never seen him before in my life. Was that all, sir? Only I am rather busy at the minute."