Fox hunt
Many European countries have long traditions of hunting with hounds. In Britain this dates back at least two thousand years with progressive waves of invaders introducing the breeds with which they were used to hunt. Foxes were referred to as beasts of the chase by medieval times, along with red deer, martens, and roes. The earliest known attempt to hunt a fox with hounds was in Eastfolk, England, in 1534, where farmers began chasing foxes down with their dogs for the purpose of pest control. The first use of packs specifically trained to hunt foxes was in the late 1600s, with the oldest recorded fox hunt being in the Northern Ridings. By the end of the seventeenth century, deer hunting was in decline. The Enclosure Acts brought fences to separate formerly open land into many smaller fields, and arable land was increasing. With the onset of the Industrial Revolution, people began to move out of the country and into towns and cities to find work. Roads, railway lines, and canals all split hunting countries, but at the same time they made hunting accessible to more people. Fox hunting developed further in the eighteenth century, when new breeds of hound and horse were developed to address the changed geography of rural England.
There were also those who opposed the killing of animals for sport, and their voice became louder and better known with the founding in 1964 of the Hunt Saboteurs Association. With the aim of violently opposing blood sports, the hunt saboteurs eschewed legal advocacy in favour of direct action on the hunting grounds doing everything they could to prevent the killing of wildlife, sometimes breaking the law and getting arrested and prosecuted. Tactics employed by sabs, as they called themselves, included using hunting horns and whistles to misdirect hounds, spraying scent dullers, laying false trails, and locking gates to interfere with the progress of a hunt.
Very soon the Hunt Saboteurs Association had spread across all of southern England, and had quite an active chapter in and around Silbury.
The Silbury Hunt holds a number of meets during the season, which in England runs from November to May. The first is always one of its biggest, as hunters have spent months inactive and in preparation for the new season. In 1966 the first meet of the year fell on the 5th of November and was to be followed by a big Bonfire Night celebration. The Hunt, which was led by the wealthier landowners of the district, met at half past ten in the morning six miles northeast of Silbury at the country seat of Lady Tran Thi Tuy, Mistress of the Hounds. If the beaters followed their instructions faithfully, the meet would proceed across grazing land owned by Lady Tran, through the Roe Forest, and end in or around the village of Granham, where the fox would be killed and the Mistress blooded with its severed tail.
Hunt saboteurs were also out in force for this first meet of the season. Many came from out of town as far away as London and Brigstow, mostly young women with a sprinkling of men, who were often their boyfriends. There was also a contingent of local youths eager both to do something to end what they saw as the barbaric indulgences of Shoatshire gentry and to be part of a wider movement, to leave for a moment the tawdriness of their small town lives.
And, anticipating at least the possibility of conflict spilling over into violence, the Silbury police were present, led by Inspector Fatima Dieng. For this fixture, Sergeant Joyce Banda and Constable Nguyen Chi Man were mounted on horses, so they could follow the pack. Constable Hiranthi Senanayake and Fatima herself drove by car along roads that roughly followed the route of the hunt, hoping to be at key landmarks in advance of the hunt’s passage.
By midday the main pack had reached a junction known locally as Assize Cross. It had in earlier times been a place of public executions. This practice had long since been discontinued, and indeed capital punishment for murder had been abolished by Parliament in the previous year. They halted briefly for news of the direction now taken by their prey. As the grand ladies of the Hunt chatted loudly and comfortably, the two mounted police officers, who were rare riders, caught up with the pack. Fatima and Constable Senanayake were already present and out of the car, a thermos of tea in hand. A few saboteurs were hanging around but keeping their distance for the present from the horses and the police.
The Mistress of the Hunt, Lady Tran, stood tall in her stirrups to direct the next phase of the meet. She raised a hunting horn to her lips and, as a single gunshot rang out, fell from her horse to the ground below with blood seeping through her waistcoat at her chest. Fatima immediately dropped her cup of tea and began scanning the horizon, as she also barked out a stream of instructions.
“Sergeant Banda, go and find a telephone. Dial 999 and get an ambulance here. Constable Senanayake, take the car to the nearest village and see if you can find a doctor there. Constable Nguyen, see if you can find out where that shot came from. And all of you, please exercise the utmost care. Whoever fired that shot may do so again.”
Then she ran toward toward the prone form of Lady Tran, who lay lifeless on the ground. She felt for signs of a pulse, heartbeat and breathing but could find none. It would appear that the Mistress of the Hunt had lost her life in the middle of the sport that apparently gave her the greatest pleasure: the pursuit and slaughter of wildlife.
The ladies of the hunt seemed to be glued to their saddles. They all stayed exactly where they were, though their banter had now ceased. All that is, except one woman who slipped down from her horse and walked briskly over to where Fatima was standing next to the prone form of Lady Tran.
“Inspector Dieng, isn’t it?” she said. “I’m Mrs Sampaguita Magnaye. I have the estate that surrounds us at the moment. I’ve also deputised for Lady Tran as Mistress of the Hounds on occasions where she has had to be absent. I believe that, since she is obviously incapacitated, I am now in charge. Would you have a suggestion on what we should do?”
“Yes, Mrs Magnaye, I do have a suggestion, or rather a firm order,” Fatima replied. “This is now a crime scene and must be evacuated. For the restoration of good order, and to allow the police to carry out our investigations, the hunt must be abandoned. Before you all leave, however, I shall need you to provide your names, addresses and telephone numbers to Constable Senanayake, whom I see has just returned. Any questions?”
Without acknowledging what Fatima had just said, Mrs Magnaye turned and relayed the same instructions to the ladies of the hunt, asking that the beaters and others also be informed, which they were by one of the ladies riding out to them. Meanwhile a woman carrying a black doctor’s bag sprang from the passenger seat of the police car and ran to attend to Lady Tran. Following a brief examination, she pronounced her dead.
The ambulance arrived shortly thereafter. The doctor informed the attendants that the patient had expired. Fatima ordered them to take the body, with Sergeant Banda accompanying them in the ambulance, to the morgue at Forest Hospital. Banda was to inform the Coroner so that an autopsy could take place. Meanwhile the hunters had all dismounted and were giving Constable Senanayake their names and addresses before leaving for Mrs Magnaye’s home, where they would hold an informal wake for their now dead Mistress.
The saboteurs had all disappeared melting into the surrounding woods. Fatima made no attempt to pursue them. She didn’t have the womanpower she would need to do that. She was also confident that it should not be too difficult to identify who had been there today.
Constable Nguyen then rode back from the copse about a hundred yards to the west of them where she had been looking for the shooter. She was carrying a .22 calibre rifle, which she held in her handkerchief so as not herself to add any fingerprints.
“That must be where the shot did come from,” she said pointing up the hill. “The gun were there, and I did find some footprint in the mud, but whoever did this do be long gone.”
“Thank you, Constable,” Fatima responded. “We may not have found our murderer - yes, Lady Tran is dead - but you have located more material clues than I should have hoped to find so quickly. Please put the gun in the car boot. I’ll drive it back to Silbury and then have a forensics team come to assist us. You’ll also need to secure this scene and the one in the copse. As soon as I can, I’ll arrange for someone to join and then relieve you. Meanwhile please stay here, and keep the horses with you for the moment.”
That evening the Silbury Hunt did not hold its planned Bonfire Night party. Silbury’s police officers also missed out on their family celebrations. Fatima first met the pathologist, who confirmed that the cause of death was a single gunshot wound to the heart, notwithstanding Lady Tran’s extremely clogged arteries. Then the entire team sat down with the two forensic experts assigned by the County Constabulary to examine the crime scene and the weapon.
“We’ll get out to the scene itself tomorrow morning,” said the elder, and clearly senior, of the two. “Luckily the weather is fair, so there should be minimal disturbance, except from the wildlife.”
She chuckled at the irony of her own remark, as did Constable Nguyen. Then her colleague continued: “I already had a quick look at the gun. It’s a standard .22 rifle of the kind that is used commonly in the armed forces mostly for training purposes. Some hunters also use them, but that’s extremely rare. Most prefer shotguns. This one has a stamp on it that looks like it’s of military origin. I’ll need to do some research to determine its exact origin. It appears to be in its original condition, without enhancements, including any use of long distance sights. The person who used this rifle, assuming she hit her intended target, must have been a dead shot, no pun intended.”
There was an embarrassed paused before she went on to say: “We’ve also identified some quite clear fingerprints and have sent the impressions off for processing at the lab. If the person who fired the shot has a criminal record, we might be able to make a match. Of course, you will know better than me that this is not so likely.”
“Thank you both,” said Fatima. “It’s quite late now, and there is little else we can do today. Let’s all get some sleep. We can get back together at Assize Cross tomorrow afternoon, when you will have had a chance to look at the crime scene. Our Silbury team will, I’m afraid, have be here at the police station at seven o’clock in the morning, so we can plan, and then carry out, our interviews of key witnesses.
On Sunday morning, Silbury’s four police officers having put their heads together, it was decided to go out during the morning to conduct interviews with a number of those who had attended the hunt. Sergeant Banda and Constable Senanayake made tours of the town’s cheaper inns and guesthouses to see if they could find any of the visiting hunt saboteurs. Constable Nguyen had recognised a number of the local young people who had been among the hunt saboteurs and was to go to their houses to speak with them, in the company of their parents in the cases of those who were minors under the age of 21. Fatima arranged to meet the remaining members of the Hunt Committee at the home of Mrs Magnaye. They then agreed to reconvene, along with the forensics teams, at Assize Cross at two o’clock in the afternoon.
There were four other members of the Hunt Committee at Mrs Magnaye’s home when Fatima arrived, all women in their forties and fifties, all substantial landowners. Two of them were well known to Fatima as magistrates, though she had a rather low opinion of their knowledge of the law and their often prejudiced record of judgements.
The six ladies sat down to morning coffee in the ample drawing room, and Mrs Magnaye began proceedings even before Fatima had an opportunity to ask her first question.
“Well we all know that it was one of those awful hunt saboteurs that must have killed poor Lady Tran. They’re all bolshies who hate us for our wealth and respectability. They go around the country disrupting our traditional rural practices that have been in place for centuries, that epitomise everything that is decent and English. That they use illegal methods to disrupt meets is publicised by the saboteurs themselves. It was only a matter of time before they would turn to murder and now they have.
“You could see they were a rough crowd from their appearance, the way they dressed. And some of them were clearly foreigners, no doubt filthy communists, deliberately placed here to destroy the very fabric of our society.”
She stopped and took a large sip of her coffee, which by now was cold. Then she looked pointedly at the other members of the Hunt Committee sat bunched together on two facing sofas. They all nodded.
“Well I was wondering,” said Fatima, “if you could tell me what you actually saw. We have already established that the shot came from a copse some fifty yards south of Assize Cross. We found a rifle there and are assuming, pending confirmation from the post mortem, that this was the murder weapon. Did any of you ladies notice anyone that may have been carrying a gun, or see anyone going to or leaving the copse?”
The Hunt Committee members sat quietly. None had an answer to Fatima’s question. Then one of the two magistrates, the Honourable Mrs Muteteli Nkunda, decided to break the silence.
“No, Inspector, I don’t think any of us saw such a person exactly. But, as Mrs Magnaye has already said, you need to look for these bolshie foreigners. They’re easily identified by the colour of their skin. Once you’ve got a couple, it should be just a matter of time to sweat the truth out of them. Then bring them up before me, and I’ll make sure you get an appropriate sentence.”
All the other women nodded their agreement. Fatima could see that continued questioning would be an exercise in futility, so she made a quick, though reasonably polite, exit.
Since her interview with the Hunt Committee was briefer than she had expected, Fatima found herself arriving early at Assize Cross. She had previously noted a nearby public house, appropriately named the Noose and Gibbet, and made her way there now. It was just after midday, and the pub was open, though there were only two or three customers in the public bar.
She ordered a blackcurrant and lemonade and a ploughwoman’s lunch from the man who was serving at the bar and whom she supposed must be the publican’s husband. Having given her her drink, he left the bar, presumably to prepare Fatima’s lunch of bread, cheese and chutney. The publican herself came to the bar. Once the lunch was ready, the publican brought it over to the table where Fatima was sat.
“Inspector Dieng, isn’t it?” she asked and Fatima nodded. “I expect you’re here investigating Lady Tran’s murder. That was a major shock for all of us here.”
“Mrs Bia, isn’t it?” asked Fatima, remembering the name on the lintel above the front door of the pub and mimicking her interlocutor’s introduction. “I’d imagine you would be concerned about something untoward happening with the hunt. It must come by here quite regularly and be a boon for your business. There aren’t too many people living out here.”
“Yes, the hunt is a regular feature of our calendar, at least from November to May,” Mrs Bia replied. “ The ladies of the hunt rarely stop here, unless on the odd occasion when the hunt gets curtailed because the fox is so close to death that it is killed here rather than further on in Grantham or Vale. But some of the followers do stop for a drink as they pass by, so, yes, the hunt has been good for business.”
“Do any saboteurs also come in here for a rest and a drink?” Fatima asked.
“We wouldn’t serve their kind! We are a respectable establishment.” Mrs Bia was quite emphatic. “Anyway half of them are underage, so it would be an offence to serve them any alcoholic beverages.”
“And did you see anything yesterday?”
“No, I was down in the cellar tapping a new barrel. I didn’t even hear the shot, above the noise of my banging in the tap. But my husband was outside all the time tending to the garden at the front. He may have seen something, though he didn’t tell me. I’ll send him over.”
Whilst Mr Bia was being summoned, Fatima took a bite of her lunch. The bread was clearly not fresh, and the cheese was of rather inferior quality. Mr Bia was then standing beside her.
“My wife says you want to know what I saw yesterday when the hunt came to Assize Cross. I was out in the front garden, which is still some distance from where they was. I seen the dogs and then the horses come over the hill and ride down to the crossroads. I never seen the fox or the beaters. Then one of the ladies fell from her horse, after which everyone was rushing about. One policewoman passed by here and asked me where to find a doctor. I told her where she should go. Another one used our telephone to call for the ambulance. That’s it.”
Mr Bia clearly wanted the conversation to be over as quickly as possible.
“Did you notice where the shot came from, and did you see anything around that area?” Fatima asked him.
“No, Ma’am, I didn’t know where it came from, but someone told me after it was all over: the copse up the hill over there.” Mr Bia pointed at the wall to his right, which faced southward. “I did see a young woman walking up there before the hunt arrived. I think she might have been foreign. You know. She had very pale skin. She was carrying something that looked at first to be quite small, but when she got to the top of the hill it seemed to be long and thin. Now that I think about it, it could have been a rifle, but I really don’t know. I didn’t see her after she entered the wood.”
“Thank you, Mr Bia. That will be all for now. We may, of course need to speak to you again.”
Fatima finished her drink but left her meal half uneaten. Then she went back down to the crossroads to meet her colleagues.
Fatima walked up the hill from Assize Cross in the company of Sergeant Banda, Constable Nguyen and Constable Senanayake. There was police tape on posts hammered into the ground to indicate the paths they should take and those that they should not. The two forensic scientists were waiting for them at the top. As before it was the elder of them who spoke first.
“Inspector. Welcome to our little crime scene. We’ve found quite a bit of evidence for you.
“Look over here,” she said, pointing to a taped off area to her right. “You’ll see there are a number of footprints, but they all belong to only two people. One of them is heavier than the other - I’d look for a person who is on the corpulent side - and is wearing gumboots of the type popular with those working on farms. The prints indicate that the boots are of the cheap variety, so I should guess a labourer rather than the farmer herself.
“The other person is quite a bit lighter, and we would reckon her to be younger. She’s wearing plimsolls, again of the cheaper variety, sort that you can find in any Grand Home Emporium.”
“Do you have any ideas on the directions from which each of them came and where they went to afterwards? Also does the state of the prints tell you anything about timing?” Fatima asked.
“Good questions, Inspector,” said the elder of the pair with a broad grin on her face. “I’m afraid we can’t see from the evidence we have here who arrived first or left first. Clearly at some point they were here together. See those two sets of prints where they are standing still facing each other.
“Gumboot arrived from over there and also left in the same direction,” she said pointing to the east. “Plimsoll came from the down the hill but left toward the south.”
“We have a witness to Plimsoll,” said Fatima. “The husband of the publican at the Noose and Gibbet saw a young woman of pale complexion walk up the hill to this wooded area carrying something that at first appeared small but then turned into a long thin object like a rifle.
“Any more on the gun?”
“We have two leads from the gun, but I’ll let you judge how significant they may be.” The younger of the two forensic scientists now spoke. “There are two sets of fingerprints on the weapon. We think, from an examination of the sizes of the prints that they probably correspondent to the two people we know were here: one older and one younger. If either has any prior form, I’m afraid it is going to take a number of days before we get any answers from criminal records.
“The one thing we know for certain about the rifle is its origin. It bears a military stamp, and the army has kindly told us where it is registered. It’s one of eight .22 rifles assigned to the shooting range operated by the Army Cadet Force and Air Training Corps on London Road in Silbury.”
“Well there is one line of inquiry we can pursue,” said Fatima. “Constable Senanayake, tomorrow morning I should like you to contact the commanding officers of these two cadet organizations. Please find out if there is a rifle missing and when and how that might have happened. Also we need lists of names and addresses of all of the cadets and officers.
“Now, there’s a nasty wind up, which both makes it uncomfortable to be standing still and means it is difficult to hear everything anyone is saying. I suggest we all repair to the police station to debrief on the various interviews we have had this morning.”
At the police station Fatima was most interested to hear what, if anything, her colleagues had learned about hunt saboteurs. She first invited Sergeant Banda and Constable Senanayake to report back on their visits to the inns and guesthouses in and around the town.
“Ma’am, there were so many to cover in quite a short period of time that Senanayake and I decided to divide them among us. I took the ones in the town, and she went out along the road towards Vale, also covering those that are in Vale itself.
“What I found was that most of the out-of-town saboteurs have already left back to their homes. Those that have remained mostly did so, as they had already paid for their accommodation; some of the guesthouse owners insist on payment in advance. They said they would otherwise also have left. No one apparently wants to be involved in a murder inquiry. They said to me they expected the police would want to pin the crime on a saboteur because of pressure from what they call the privileged rural hierarchy.
“I asked if any of them had noticed where the shot had come from and whether they knew anything about it. Not one of them offered any information on that. They all said they knew nothing, whether or not that may be the truth.”
Fatima looked at Senanayake, whom she knew would not feel comfortable contributing her own experience or ideas.
“Same as the what the Sergeant said,” was all that she would say. Fatima decided not to press her further. She suspected that there was nothing more, and she was also very interested to learn what Constable Nguyen might have to say on locals who had been among the saboteurs. She looked in her direction.
“Ma’am, I do know half dozen kids in Silbury as feels strong enough against the hunt to be active at meets, bit more if we counts your own daughter.”
“She assured me yesterday that she would not go to the hunt, and I know from my husband that she did not break her promise. She spent the day at home with Michael, who came to join her.” Fatima was referring to Michael Fox, who was Hadidjatou Dieng’s boyfriend. He was also white, making them the only such couple in Silbury. It was a fact that made a lot of people in the town uncomfortable, and made Fatima very proud of her daughter.
“I do have some news on Michael, but I wants to cover the others first,” Nguyen continued.
“Most of the protesters and saboteurs at yesterday’s hunt did come from out of town. As far as I is able to tell, only about five or six local kids was there, and only four of them do identify as saboteurs. The others was just observers. Through one and then another, I did manage to talk with all of them.
“They was all so much in awe of the saboteurs who did come from out of town that they mostly spent their day listening to stories of derring-do, whether fully true or embellished they couldn’t say. Result were they didn’t pay much attention to the hunt itself. So no one did see anything suspicious except one.
“Miss Parveen Manekshaw, daughter of the chemist in the High Street, did see a white girl, who were ahead of the hunt, running, she thought, up to the copse from where we do know the fatal shot did come. This girl, late teens or early twenties, according to Miss Manekshaw, were carrying something long, at least it did appear so when she approached the wooded area.”
Fatima put in: “That is also what Mr Bia at the Noose and Gibbet told me. Something here is beginning to triangulate. Do go on, Constable.”
“Well, Ma’am, according to Miss Manekshaw, there could have been one other person already in the copse, though she were not able to describe her, only saw a largish outline. Also I do know who were the white girl.
“Like I did tell you, I do have some news on Michael, because I called at his parents’ house to interview him. I knew he were not at the meet, but I did think he might have some observations that could be of use to us. Mrs Fox invite me to come in, and there I did meet Michael’s twenty-one year old cousin, Amanda, who do be staying with the family. She come with the express purpose of disrupting the hunt. She do be an active member of a group of hunt saboteurs based in London.
“I can tell you what she did say to me, but I do think, Ma’am, that you would be wanting to interview her yourself. Mrs Fox did assure me she won’t run away.”
Fatima agreed. “Yes, I’d like to do that right away. Constable Nguyen, since you’ve already met Miss Amanda Fox, can you please come with me? Sergeant Banda and Constable Senanayake, I’d like you to complete the reports of your interviews, file those, and then you can go home. We’ll all reconvene tomorrow morning at about ten o’clock. We can also see then if there is any more forensic evidence.”
The Foxes lived in Cherry Orchard, a housing estate catering to working families. The simplest access was to cross the town’s recreation ground which stands between Sarum Road and Cherry Orchard. As Fatima and Constable Nguyen walked across the rec, as it was locally known, they saw a number of children of the families residing in Cherry Orchard playing football or climbing on the few frames that the Borough Council had installed. When they saw the two policewomen some of the kids ran away, and others shouted taunts.
Arriving at number 17, Nguyen rang the bell, and the door was opened by Mr Fox. He saw Fatima first and said a cheery hello. Then he spotted Nguyen and said: “Oh, is this another official visit then?”
Mrs Fox came to the door and asked her husband to go to the kitchen, whilst she dealt with the police. She invited Fatima and Nguyen to come into the parlour.
“Mary, my dear, we’d like to speak to your visitor, Amanda, about what happened at the hunt yesterday,” said Fatima, “but first it will be very useful if you could tell us about her connection to you and your family. At this time, let me emphasize that Amanda is not charged with any crime.”
“I don’t know whether I should call you Fatima or Inspector,” Mrs Fox responded. “Am I speaking to my friend or a policewoman?”
“I’m afraid that right now you’re talking to the police. Believe me, Mary, the last thing I want to do is to be interviewing a member of your family, especially after what happened earlier this year with the death of that girl at the College. But I do have to talk with Amanda to find out what she knows about a suspicious death that occurred yesterday at a place where she was also present.”
Mrs Fox took a breath and then said: “Very well, Inspector. Amanda is my sister’s daughter, so she is my niece. She wrote to me that she was coming here, and she was honest about the reason for her visit, to disrupt the hunt. She had offered to stay at a guesthouse, so as not to embarrass us, but I said no. We’re a close family, and we always support each other. I did though tell Michael not get involved with the hunt this time. I really don’t want him to get back into any kind of trouble with the law. You won’t also be speaking to Michael, will you?”
Fatima assured her that Michael was not under any kind of investigation, and Mrs Fox then went to fetch Amanda, who came into the parlour wearing a scowl.
“I know your kind. I’ve dealt with coppers plenty of times in London. You’re all prejudiced against people like us. I know you’re going to try and stitch me up with this killing.”
Fatima was going to respond, but Mrs Fox beat her to it.
“Amanda, I know you’ve had some bad experiences with the police in London, maybe elsewhere too. But these two are different, different even than the other police in Silbury. Sorry, Fatima. This is Inspector Fatima Dieng. She is my friend, and she saved Michael from being wrongly accused with the murder of a girl at Silbury College. She’s honest and she cares. The other one, Constable Nguyen Chi Man, you’ve already met, and she treated you kindly and respectfully before.”
Fatima and Nguyen nodded their thanks to Mrs Fox. Then Fatima turned to Miss Amanda Fox.
“Miss Fox, please tell me in your own words what happened yesterday, whilst you were at the hunt. We shall want to know how you got there, with whom you interacted, and how you came to leave. Please try not to leave anything out. Constable Nguyen will take some notes of what you say, and later we may ask you to sign a statement.”
“I went alone to the place where the hunt started, getting there at about half past nine. I was able to hitch a ride as far as the entrance to a farm about three miles up the road to Vale. Then I walked from there. I decided to begin by following the hunt to see how it was organized and then went ahead of it to work out how I might do some sabotage. When the pack was approaching that crossroads, I saw that there was a wooded area up the hill from which I’d have a good view of the terrain around and, from the direction that the beaters were going, what would be the likely direction of the hunt from there.
“I went up to the wooded area, took a look around, and then continued on in the same direction as the beaters, but I took care that they should not see me. I didn’t see any other protesters after that.
“Someone came on a horse to tell the beaters to turn back. I waited for a while, in case the return might be a ruse, and then I also followed. I could see that the hunt had been called off, so I walked back here. It took me some time, as I was avoiding the roads. I got back to my aunty’s place around four or five o’clock. I remember it was getting dark.
“That’s it.”
Fatima looked at Constable Nguyen to indicate that she would lead the questioning.
“Miss Cox, we have two witnesses who have told us you were carrying something when you went up to the copse above Assize Cross. They both say it was long and thin and looked like it could be a rifle.”
“It was a telescope,” Miss Cox replied. “I extended it when I got up to the wood. Maybe that is what they saw.”
“And may we please see the telescope?” Fatima asked.
“I don’t have it anymore. The rider that came to tell the beaters to return also spotted me. She rode over very fast straight at me. In trying to avoid being hit by her horse I fell to the ground and hit my head. I must have momentarily lost consciousness. The next thing I remember is that the huntswoman was standing over me with my telescope in hand. She remounted and rode off. I got up and walked back here.”
“So you are changing your story about what happened after the beaters were told to return,” Fatima interjected. “Are there any other parts of it that you would like to amend? Never mind. We shall get there.
“Now, when you were in the copse, did you see or meet anyone else?”
“No.”
“Miss Cox, if we are to eliminate any suspicions that may lie with you, we need your complete cooperation,” said Fatima. “Now in that copse, immediately after the hunt was called off, we found a gun. That gun has two sets of fingerprints on it. After we have finished speaking here today, we shall be asking you if we can take your fingerprints, and I have a feeling we shall find a match with one set that is on the gun. It will help both of us if you can be a bit more candid in your answers to my questions.”
“I have nothing more to say,” was Miss Cox’s only response.
“Then,” said Fatima, “we have no alternative but to take you into custody. Constable Nguyen, could you please have a car sent here, and then escort Miss Cox to the police station? Please caution her there and see if she needs to have a solicitor attend her.
“Mary, could we please talk in the next room?”
They left parlour and went into the kitchen. Seeing them come in, Mr Fox exited through the back door into the garden.
“I’m really sorry about this, Mary,” said Fatima. “My personal feeling is that Amanda is not the culprit in this case, but she is not helping her own cause by keeping back important information. Her best defence is to cooperate fully with the police. If you can persuade her of that, it would help everyone.”
“I’ll see what I can do, Fatima,” Mrs Fox replied, “but Amanda is her own person, and you can see that she has good reason not to trust every policewoman with whom she comes into contact.”
Fatima decided to give Amanda Fox some time to consider her position before she resumed her interview. She spent Monday morning meeting with her officers to review aspects of the case, as well as carrying out their regular weekly situation assessment and work planning exercise.
One significant new element to the case was that Miss Fox’s fingerprints, taken the previous afternoon by Constable Nguyen, when she had brought her into police custody, did match one of the sets of prints from the rifle. That at least was the judgement of the forensic scientists working on the case.
A further piece was confirmation from the commanding officer of the Army Cadet Force that the rifle used in the shooting had indeed disappeared from the armoury jointly maintained by the ACF and the Air Training Corps. There was, however, nothing that seemed to link the two cadet forces to Miss Fox or to the Fox family. No names from the lists collected of officers and cadets raised any red flags with the police.
By the afternoon, Fatima judged it was time to speak with Miss Fox, once again in the company of Constable Nguyen. She had her brought to the interview room.
“Miss Fox, things are not looking good for you. We have now confirmed through fingerprint evidence that you had contact with the murder weapon. You have been placed by two independent witnesses at the site from which the fatal shot was fired. The witnesses say that you were holding something that resembles a rifle. You claim that it was a telescope, but you cannot produce the telescope. You are a self-admitted hunt saboteur used to employing methods that are not legal to disrupt fox hunts in progress.
“You had means, motive and opportunity to commit this crime. Unless you have further evidence that could dissuade me, I’m afraid I am very close to charging you with the murder of Lady TranThi Tuy. Do you have anything further to say?”
Miss Fox sat completely silent and implacable. She would not even respond when, after five minutes of waiting, Constable Nguyen offered her a cup of tea. She was returned to her cell.
Fatima and Nguyen repaired to the Inspector’s office, where they were joined by Sergeant Banda.
“What do you think, ladies? The evidence that we have is very damning. At the same time I want to know about this second individual who was seen at copse and, presumably, whose prints are also on the gun.”
Sergeant Banda spoke first. “Ma’am, I think you should charge her and send her for indictment. The evidence is very strong, and I for one am sure she did it. As for this other person, no one actually saw her, and the prints could be from someone else entirely, for instance, the person who stole the rifle from the cadet armoury before selling or otherwise handing it over to Miss Fox.”
“I do tend to agree with Sergeant Banda, Ma’am,” Nguyen interjected. “The evidence do be strong. Also it may be the only way to flush out this mysterious other person. If she do think that the wrong person are being accused of the crime, she may do something that could lead us to her.”
At that point Constable Senanayake knocked at the door. “Ma’am, you have the Chief Constable on the telephone.”
Fatima picked up the receiver.
“Inspector Dieng, let me keep this brief. I am very concerned about the murder of Lady Tran. She was a very prominent member of respectable society in Shoatshire and a personal friend. I want the murderer tried and put away. I understand that you have someone in custody. Well done. I also understand that you have sufficient evidence to charge and indict that person. I expect you to do just that.
“Inspector, we have to make an example of this young woman, and of her kind. You are to act forthwith on my instructions. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Ma’am, you have been crystal clear,” Fatima responded just as the Chief Constable hung up.
“Well, it looks as though detailed news of our case has reached the ears of the Chief Constable,” she said looking pointedly at Sergeant Banda. “She has ordered us to charge Miss Fox with murder.
“Sergeant, can you proceed with the formalities? Please make sure that Miss Fox has proper access to a solicitor.”
After Banda had left the office, Fatima said to Nguyen: “I hope you’re right about flushing out this other individual. I am very concerned that we are now going to be associated with a major miscarriage of justice.”
That evening, when she got home, she found her friend, Anna Kaboré, publican of the Red Cow and a Borough Councillor, seated in her sitting room along with her husband and daughter.
“Hadidjatou came and told me I had to be here,” said Anna. “I think she wants some moral support in the face of her inflexible mother.”
Fatima smiled. Her husband made to leave for the kitchen.
“No, Adama,” said Fatima. “I think I might also need some moral support.”
“Mum,” Khadi started, “it’s happening all over again, just like that time with the death of that girl at the College. Everyone’s out to get Michael and his family, and it’s just racial prejudice. How can you let this happen?”
Fatima smiled again. She looked lovingly at her daughter, her husband and her friend.
“Hadi, you’re right that there is a lot of racial prejudice in this town, just as there is throughout the country. And, yes, many powerful people want to see Amanda Fox convicted of murder just because she is white. But it’s also a bit more complicated than that.
“Let me see how much of this I can tell you without revealing information which is now sub judice? I do not personally believe that Amanda Fox is guilty of the murder of Lady Tran. I do believe that she has vital information which would lead us to the real culprit. Unfortunately, she will not share any such information with the police, whom she mistrusts, with some reason. At the same time there is a lot of evidence that does point to her as the person responsible for the crime.
“Meanwhile I have now been ordered, by no less a person than the Chief Constable herself, to charge Miss Cox with murder and send her for indictment.
“Hadi, I assure you that I am doing everything I can to make sure that the wrong person is not convicted of this murder. Also, Anna, any help you might be able to give us, you know, anything you might hear in the pub or elsewhere, that would be really welcome.”
Anna promised to help in any way that she could, and Hadi seemed to be assuaged at least for the moment. Mr Dieng let out an audible sigh.
The indictment occurred the next day at the magistrates court housed in Silbury Town Hall at the eastern end of the High Street. Fatima sat behind the police solicitor accompanied by Sergeant Banda and Constable Nguyen. Mrs Fox sat behind Amanda Fox, the defendant, and her solicitor. Fatima and Mrs Fox exchanged some staid greetings but did not otherwise speak. Their children, Hadidjatou Dieng and Michael Fox, had wanted to be present to support Amanda, but they were both at school.
Fatima looked around the familiar courtroom noting that there were more spectators than she would usually see there. Mostly these were members of the hunt, though a few younger people were there too. Fatima supposed that these were friends and supporters of Miss Fox. She noticed too that Anna was present, along with her other good friend, Kamala Peiris, manager of the Western Provincial Bank, just across the road from the Town Hall. She continued musing on those who had shown up for the indictment, when she heard the Usher call: “All rise!”
Everyone stood, and the three magistrates entered and took their places. As everyone sat, Fatima looked at the magistrates, all scions of privileged society. She noticed that the Presiding Magistrate was the Honourable Mrs Muteteli Nkunda, one of the members of the Hunt Committee whom Fatima had met two days earlier. She remembered Mrs Nkunda’s firm belief that the murder had been committed by someone exactly like Amanda Fox. There was little likelihood of any kind of sympathetic hearing. And why, given her proximity to the victim of the crime, had Mrs Nkunda not recused herself from this hearing?
The indictment did not take long. Miss Fox pled not guilty. The police solicitor laid out the case against her, calling as witnesses the more senior of the two forensic scientists and Sergeant Banda for the police; Fatima had not wanted to speak herself, so as to maintain at least a sense of impartiality, whilst Banda relished the opportunity to be in the limelight. After some hesitation, and whispered conversation between Miss Fox and her solicitor, the defence declined to call any witnesses. The defence solicitor merely stated that Miss Fox denied firing the murder weapon but offered no other evidence.
The magistrates conferred briefly without leaving the chamber. Then Mrs Nkunda said: “The defendant will rise.”
Miss Fox and her solicitor stood.
“We have heard the evidence given by the police and the lack thereof from the defendant. The defendant is hereby indicted for the brutal murder of Lady Tran Thi Tuy. She is remanded into custody until such time as a date is set for her trial in the Crown Court.”
With that the Usher again called “all rise”, and the magistrates left the chamber. Sergeant Banda and Constable Nguyen took Miss Fox back into custody. Her solicitor approached Fatima.
“Inspector, my client would like to speak with you. She wishes to tell you, preferably in the presence of her aunt, Mrs Mary Fox, what she decided not to say to the court, and why. Could we meet straight away at the police station? I believe you will see, once you have heard her, that there is urgency to the matter.”
Fatima agreed and made for the exit. Before she got there she was stopped by Anna and Kamala.
“Fatima,” said Anna, “you had asked me to listen out for anything that might have bearing on this case. Well Kamala and I have both heard something, and we’d like to talk to you about it.”
“Listen you two,” Fatima replied, “I’m really grateful for this, but right now I have to get back to the station. Could Kamala and I come over to the Red Cow at, say, one o’clock?”
They agreed on this arrangement and went their separate ways.
At the police station, Fatima, Miss Amanda Fox, Mrs Mary Fox and Miss Fox’s solicitor sat around the table in the interview room. Constable Nguyen was also present with her notebook and pen.
“Miss Fox,” Fatima began, “I understand you now have something to tell us. I presume you don’t mind if Constable Nguyen here takes notes.”
Miss Fox looked at her solicitor and took a deep breath.
“I’d now like to tell my whole story. I’ve been assured by my aunt and my solicitor that you are someone I can trust. I hope they’re right, because I think I’m putting myself in some danger.
“First, you remember I told you that I had a telescope that was taken from me by one of the huntswomen, who had tried to run me down with her horse. Well I saw her again today, and that is why I decided not to say anything in the court. It was the Presiding Magistrate. She was the huntswoman.”
“Are you sure of that?” asked Fatima.
“Yes, I’m absolutely sure. I study art history at Queen’s College. I have a perfect memory for faces, indeed any anatomical feature.”
“Very well. Is that all you have to tell us?” Fatima continued.
“No. I want to tell you about the gun. Like I said, I had gone up to that wood to see the route of the hunt. That is why I carry a telescope. It used to belong to my mother, who was a crewwoman on merchant ships operating out of the port of London.
“Well, when I got to the wood, there was someone else there, a stocky woman, neither tall nor short. She was wearing one of those jackets with lots of pockets. In her hand she had a rifle. She had seen me come up the hill and greeted me with a big smile. She was very friendly. She said she had been out hunting pheasant and partridge, when she saw the fox hunt coming along. She had decided to take a break until they had passed. Her shoelace was undone, she said, so could I please hold the gun whilst she tied it? I did that and then said goodbye, continuing on in the direction that I wanted to take to be ahead of the hunt, intending to do something - I didn’t know what at the time - to disrupt the passage of the hounds or the horses.
“After I had got down to the bottom of the hill, I heard a shot. I was concerned that someone might be shooting at me, so I flung myself to the ground. I lay there for about a quarter of an hour. Then, reckoning that my safety was best served by putting more distance between myself and the shooter, I got up and continued walking away from the hill. That is when the huntswoman came at me.
“After that, all I wanted to do was get away to people that I knew. I didn’t say anything of this before, because, I’m sorry, I didn’t trust you not to give me away to the people that had already shown they wanted to harm me.”
She stopped, and Fatima said: “Thank you for your further testimony, Miss Fox. We shall obviously need to verify what you have told us. I want you now to give Constable Nguyen a detailed description of your telescope. Then, if you are a student of art history, perhaps you are also something of an artist. Do you think you could draw us a picture of the person you met in the copse?”
“Yes, I can,” Miss Fox replied, now somewhat less tense than she had been before.
“Good,” said Fatima looking at the solicitor and Mrs Fox. “Now I have to go and see some people who may be able to shed some more light on who might have been that mysterious hunter in the wood. I’ll speak with you all again later.”
Fatima walked to her rendezvous with Anna Kaboré and Kamala Peiris at the Red Cow. The pub was open to its lunchtime clientele, so they sat in the kitchen in Anna’s private quarters accessed through the rear of the building. Her husband looked after the bar, occasionally coming out to prepare one of his famously delicious bar meals; Paramanga Kaboré had been a sous-chef at a famous London restaurant before he married Anna and before they had decided to move to Silbury.
As they sat down and Anna had just picked up the teapot, her telephone rang. It was Constable Senanayake wanting to speak with Fatima. She took the receiver, listened for a minute, and then said: “Thank you again, Constable. I’ll take a look at that when I get back to the station, say, in about an hour. Could you please leave it on my desk?”
Then she looked at her two friends. “There is a mystery letter that has just been hand delivered to the police station. But that can wait till my return. Now, Anna and Kamala, what was it you wanted to tell me?”
“We both have something, and there might not be much to it, but let me start,” said Anna. “Everyone is talking about the murder that happened last Saturday. Most of the talk is about what should be done to the young woman who’s accused of the crime. Half of my customers assume that she’s guilty and are complaining that, because of the abolition of the death penalty, she can’t be hanged. That, they say, is what she deserves.
“The other half are saying that Lady Tran got what she deserved. She’s not a champion of English rural life, like she’s been painted in some of the papers. She’s just a rich woman, who enjoyed lording it over everyone else.
“Now one of the latter group then went on to say that she was especially cruel and rude to her own staff. There is one woman in particular, who works as a farm labourer and who’s husband is an immigrant. Lady Tran would scream racial abuse at this woman’s husband. There was also some talk of her physically abusing him and their teenage son. Anyway, this particular customer, who seems to know the family well, says her friend had reached such a low ebb that she said she would kill Lady Tran if she touched her boy again.”
“Did the customer mention a name?” Fatima asked.
“Yes. Sorry. I should have started with that,” Anna responded. “Her name is Mrs Hsu Lwin.
“Anyway, I mentioned this to Kamala to see if she thought there might be any significance to it, and she was also familiar with Mrs Lwin.”
“Last Friday,” said Kamala, “Mrs Lwin came into the bank to close her account. Whether the account is large or small, I always want to know personally if someone is proposing to leave the bank, so the cashier came and told me. I invited Mrs Lwin, who was there with her husband and teenage son, to come into my office, where I asked her why she as closing the account. She assured me she was very happy with the bank, but she and her family wanted to leave Silbury.
“I pressed her some more, and she then said, hoping I wouldn’t take it ill, but people around here tend to be racially prejudiced, and her husband and son had suffered from that. They were planning to leave the countryside and go to a larger city, maybe London or Brigstow, where they could find more people like them. They may eventually emigrate, she said.”
“Very interesting. How did Mrs Lwin react when you didn’t just accept the first, more general explanation?” Fatima asked.
“That’s what I found interesting,” said Kamala. “She suddenly became much more animated, especially when talking about how her son had suffered from prejudice.”
“Well, there may be something to this. It seems the letter that has just been delivered to the police station comes from a certain Mrs Hsu Lwin. How about that for a coincidence? I think I should get back to see what she has written.”
Fatima had said she would be back within the hour. In fact she returned a little earlier than that. She took up Mrs Lwin’s letter at five to two. It was addressed to her by name, tidily written with a fountain pen in navy blue ink. It read as follows.
“Dear Madam Inspector,
“You’ve got the wrong person. That young woman never murdered Lady Tran. I know who did and I’ll tell you if you meet me tomorrow. I’ll be in the copse just above Assize Cross. Bring that bloody magistrate with you so she can know her mistake.
“Yours truly,
“Mrs Hsu Lwin”
Having read it twice, she called in Sergeant Banda and Constable Nguyen, asking them also to read the letter. As they looked at it, she realised that it had no address for the sender, also that she had neglected to ask Kamala for Mrs Lwin’s address. No matter. Constable Nguyen knew a lot about the family.
“They do live in the cottage at Greatwood Farm on the estate of the late Lady Tran. But don’t bother going there. It be empty since a couple of days. People say that the husband and son did take the coach to London. They don’t know where Mrs Lwin herself do be. No one have seen her since Friday evening, when she did stop at the Noose and Gibbet for a pint.”
“We shall not go there then,” said Fatima. “What we shall do is this. Once the pub is open, Sergeant, I’d like you to go out to the Noose and Gibbet and see if there is anyone there who might have talked to Mrs Lwin on Friday night or who otherwise knew her. Perhaps one of them may be able to tell us where she is now.
“At the same time, Constable, you and I shall go out to the home of Mrs Nkunda, who’s clearly the so called bloody magistrate named in the letter. I’ll tell you in the car how I’d like to run that meeting.”
Banda and Nguyen left. Fatima rested ahead of what she suspected was going to be an interesting evening, with more to follow the next day.
The Honourable Mrs Muteteli Nkunda herself opened the door to her large country home. She had apparently given the staff the night off. In telling this to Fatima and Constable Nguyen she was clearly very pleased with herself for her kindness to the lower orders.
Showing them into the drawing room, she poured herself a whisky and soda and asked the two police officers if they would join her. Being on duty they both declined. Fatima indeed never imbibed any alcoholic drinks.
Sitting opposite Fatima, Mrs Nkunda asked her about the purpose of their visit.
“We wanted to let you know, Your Honour, about some new evidence that has come to light in the case you just sent to the Crown Court. I’ve received a letter from an employee of the late Lady Tran, who claims that the murder was not committed by Miss Fox and who has proposed to meet me tomorrow to tell me who was the real murderer. She has also asked that you should be present at the meeting.”
“When and where will this meeting take place, Inspector?” Mrs Nkunda asked. “Is it at the police station?”
“No, Your Honour,” Fatima began to respond, and then she looked at Nguyen. “What is the matter, Constable?”
“I be really sorry, Ma’am, but I got to go to the toilet,” said Nguyen dancing from foot to foot.
Mrs Nkunda was not amused. “You’ll find a cloakroom down the passage to the right of the door through which you came in.”
Nguyen left and Fatima continued. “The venue of the meeting is the copse above Assize Cross. That’s the place from which the shot was fired that killed Lady Tran. The writer has asked us to come at noon.”
“You’ve not made any mention, Inspector, of the name of the person who wrote the letter. Don’t you know that? If not, why are putting such credence into an anonymous missive? If you do, why have you not already apprehended and questioned that person?”
“Of course, you’re right, Your Honour, and I do apologise.” Fatima hoped that she was not being too obviously obsequious. “The letter comes a farm labourer, a Mrs Hsu Lwin. She lives, or rather used to live, at the cottage on Greatwood Farm. That cottage is now bare. Her husband and son have apparently left for London. Her own present whereabouts are a mystery.”
“Well let me tell you about this person, Inspector, because I know who she is.” Mrs Nkunda was visibly angry. “Hsu Lwin is a lazy good for nothing with a damned foreign husband and half caste kid. Whatever she may say, and I know this from Lady Tran herself, will be a lie. She is congenitally incapable of telling the truth, so just discount everything in the letter you say you have received. And I shall certainly not waste my time going back the very place where my poor dear friend was so cynically cut down by that awful Miss Fox.”
Just then Nguyen reappeared. She was wearing gloves and carrying a brass telescope.
“Got it,” she said to Fatima.
Mrs Nkunda looked like she was about to explode. However, Fatima spoke before she could.
“Your Honour, I don’t believe this telescope belongs to you. Could you please let me know how you came by it?”
“What?” Mrs Nkunda did explode. “Of course it’s mine. It’s been in my family for generations. How dare you insinuate anything to the contrary, Inspector Dieng? Or perhaps you would like me to telephone the Chief Constable and tell her how I have been treated in my own home!”
Very calmly, Fatima said: “No, Your Honour, this telescope has not been in your family for generations. You acquired last Saturday. The instrument is not as old as you are making out. It does, however, bear a small inscription, which you can see if you know where to look, as did Constable Nguyen. It indicates that the telescope was presented on the 23rd of February 1955 to Petty Officer Margaret Fox. She is the mother of Miss Amanda Fox from whom you forcibly took it. Now it is part of police evidence and will be examined by our forensic scientists.
“As for the Chief Constable, I really can’t prevent you from telling her whatever you want, Your Honour.
“And I’m sorry you have decided not to join us tomorrow, though no doubt we shall have other opportunities to speak in the near future.”
Before Mrs Nkunda could say anything, Fatima signalled to Constable Nguyen, and they both left.
Fatima drove into the carpark of the Noose and Gibbet the next morning at half past eleven. Sergeant Banda and Constable Nguyen had arrived earlier on horseback. Their mounts were now tethered at a trough that gained regular use there during hunting season. She found the two of them inside. Banda was looking out of the window with a pair of binoculars. Mrs Bia nodded a greeting from behind the bar.
“Have you seen anything yet?” Fatima asked. Both Banda and Nguyen shook their heads.
“Right then,” she continued, “I’m going up the hill on my own. I want one of you to be with your horse at the crossroads. The other should remain here, also at the ready. If anything should happen, you know what to do.”
They both nodded. Fatima and Nguyen went outside. Banda remained in the pub. They walked to Assize Cross with one of the horses. Then Fatima continued alone up the hill. She came to a point about twenty yards from the copse, when she heard a voice.
“That’s far enough. Identify yourself.”
“I am Inspector Fatima Dieng,” she shouted. “I am alone, and I am not armed.” This was true, though she had arranged for both Banda and Nguyen to be carrying pistols from the police armoury as a precaution.
“Come on up,” said the voice.
She went up to the top of the hill and into the wood. Mrs Hsu Lwin was standing there. She was indeed on corpulent side, as the forensic scientist had predicted. The drawing that Miss Fox had made was also remarkably accurate.
“Mrs Nkunda didn’t come then. I’m not really surprised. Lady Tran poisoned all of her friends against me and my family, so that, if we should speak up, no one would believe us.”
“What do you have to tell me, Mrs Lwin?” Fatima asked directly.
“I’ve come to confess and give myself up. I want to tell you in the place where it happened, so you can see for yourself that my story is true.
“I killed Lady Tran. I shot her roughly from where I’m standing now. I’m a very good shot, so I knew it would only take one bullet. I reckon I could have got away with it as well. But then that nice young woman from London got stitched up with the crime, and I couldn’t see someone else go down for it, especially someone who is so like my boy.”
“So how did it happen, and why?” Fatima asked quietly, not wanting to break the mood.
“Let’s start with why,” Mrs Lwin responded. “You know that my husband is an immigrant. He sounds and looks different from all of us. People either think it’s funny or they think he’s ignorant or they think he’s dishonest and dangerous, or it’s all them at once. He’s not like that at all, and I fell for him the first time I met him. Against the advice of my family we got married and in the process also got ostracised. It got worse when we had our son, who seemed to be treated even more badly than my husband.
“Anyway, we moved down here, and I found a farm job, which meant that we could keep mostly to ourselves and not have to deal with anyone else. My son went to the grammar school, where he got some stick from some of the kids, but there’s also a group that are more tolerant. I heard your daughter is one of them. Anyway it was all right here till her ladyship, who up to then has only dealt with me, learns about my husband and son. At first she appears delighted that she has some people living on her property who are different. She invites us to the house for tea on Sundays and has us come join celebrations for harvest and so on.
“But all this time she has taken a shine to my husband. To be fair to her, she was the only one as saw what I did in him. But she just wants to own him like she owns everything else. She starts to treat me badly, because she is jealous. She finds things wrong with jobs I do on the farm and has me do them again twice, even three times. While I’m out working, she comes to our cottage and hangs around my husband. Then she starts touching him. When he says he doesn’t want her attentions, she gets angry and even strikes him a couple of times.
“He took his time in telling me and only did so when things got even worse. Since he won’t do what she wants, she started taking an interest in our son. That’s when I said we had to leave, and I decided I was putting an end to it.
“We had a gun in our cottage, but it was a shotgun, not good for what I wanted, a clean shot to the heart. I knew from our son that they had rifles and live ammunition at the cadets. Poor kid. He had wanted to join the Air Training Corps, so he could fly, but they only take girls. Anyway, I stole a key to the armoury, which was dead easy to do, and took one of the .22s there. I came up here when the hunt would be passing, and I waited for the pack to arrive.
“Then that young Miss Fox came up and saw me. She asked about the gun, and I said I was out hunting. I think she believed me. She held the gun for a minute, while I was tying my shoelace, and then gave it back to me. I’m guessing you found her fingerprints on it, and that’s how that happened. She walked out of the copse that way. That’s when I saw I could have a clear shot at Lady Tran, and I took it. I dropped the gun and walked away. I knew no one would take any notice of me, if I kept low and if I didn’t still have a weapon.
“That’s more or less the whole story.”
“Thank you for stepping forward,” said Fatima. “It will be taken into account, at least by the police. Now I shall to ask you to accompany me to the station, where we shall formally charge you and take your full and formal statement.”
She was about to move when she heard two shots ring out, and she instinctively flung herself to the ground. As she looked up she saw Mrs Lwin clutching her own leg falling down beside her.
Sergeant Banda suddenly appeared.
“Please attend to Mrs Lwin, Sergeant. I’m going after whoever has been shooting at us.”
Fatima ran to the side of the copse from which the shots had come. She saw Constable Nguyen on horseback chasing after another woman also mounted. The other woman stopped, dismounted and started to reload the shotgun she was carrying but was unable to finish and get off a shot before she was hit by Nguyen’s racing horse and knocked flying. Only then did Nguyen stop herself and dismount to grab her quarry’s gun and force her to her feet.
Fatima and Banda helped Mrs Lwin back to the pub, where they sat her down, asking Mrs Bia to telephone for an ambulance. In the bar they saw Nguyen together with her prisoner. The Honourable Mrs Muteteli Nkunda had come to the rendezvous after all, but with her own lethal intentions.
“Well, Ladies,” said Fatima, “it looks like we have yet more paperwork and another case to bring to trial. Shall we start?”
Sergeant Banda scowled profoundly uncomfortable with the idea of prosecuting an actual magistrate. Constable Nguyen flashed Fatima a huge grin.
