Piece of My Heart Read Online Free Page A

half a mile or so to Fordham. Even in the surrounding darkness it was easy to see where all the fuss was as they came over the second bridge shortly after half past eight.
    The main road veered sharply left at the pub, opposite the church, towards Eastvale, but straight ahead, on a rough track that continued up the hill past the youth hostel and over the wild moorland, a police patrol car blocked the way, along with Winsome’s unmarked Vectra. Annie pulled up behind the cars, and wind whipped at her clothes as she got out of the car. The trouble was in the last cottage on the left. Opposite Moorview Cottage, a narrow lane ran west between the side of the church and a row of cottages until it was swallowed up in the dark countryside.
    “Not much of a place, is it?” said Banks.
    “Depends on what you want,” said Annie. “It’s quiet enough, I suppose.”
    “And there is a pub.” Looking back across the main road, Banks fancied he could see the glow of candlelight through the pub windows and hear the muffed tones of conversation from inside. A little thing like a power cut clearly wasn’t going to deprive the locals of their hand-pumped ale.
    The light of a torch dazzled them, and Banks heard Winsome’s voice. “Sir? DI Cabbot? This way. I took the liberty of asking the SOCOs to bring some lighting with them, but for the moment this is all we’ve got.”
    They followed the trail the torch lit up through a high wooden gate and a conservatory. The local PC was waiting inside the door, talking to newly promoted Detective Sergeant Kevin Templeton, and the light from his torch improved visibility quite a bit. Even so, they were limited to what they could see within the beams; the rest of the place was shrouded in darkness.
    Treading carefully across the stone flags, Banks and Annie followed the lights to the edge of the living room. They weren’t wearing protective clothing, so they had to keep their distance until the experts had finished. There, sprawled on the floor near the fireplace, lay the body of a man. He was lying on his face, so Banks couldn’t tell how old he was, but his clothing, jeans and a dark green sweatshirt, suggested he was youngish. And Winsome was right; there was no doubt about this one. He could see even from a few feet away that the back of his head was a bloody mess, and a long trail of dark, coagulating blood gleamed in the torchlight, ending in a puddle that was soaking into the rug. Winsome moved her torch beam around and Banks could see a poker lying on the floor not far from the victim, and a pair of glasses with one lens broken.
    “Do you notice any signs of a struggle?” Banks asked.
    “No,” said Annie.
    The beam picked out a packet of Dunhill and a cheap disposable lighter on the table beside the armchair, towards which the victim’s head was pointing. “Say he was going for his cigarettes,” Banks said.
    “And someone took him by surprise?”
    “Yes. But someone he had no reason to think would kill him.” Banks pointed to the rack by the fireplace. “The poker would most likely have been there on the hearth with the other implements.”
    “Blood-spatter analysis should give us a better idea of how it happened,” Annie said.
    Banks nodded and turned to Winsome. “First thing we do is seal off this room completely,” he said. “It’s out of bounds to anyone who doesn’t need to be in it.”
    “Right, sir,” said Winsome.
    “And organize a house to house as soon as possible. Ask for reinforcements, if necessary.”
    “Sir.”
    “Do we know who he is?”
    “We don’t know anything yet,” Winsome said. “PC Travers here lives down the road and tells me he doesn’t know him. Apparently it’s a holiday cottage.”
    “Then presumably there’s an owner somewhere.”
    “She’s in here, sir.” It was the PC who spoke, and he pointed his torch into the dining room, where a woman sat in the dark on a hard-backed chair staring into space. “I didn’t know what