The Birdwatcher Read Online Free Page A

and facemask was going through the green bin, carefully taking out its contents and placing them in clear plastic bags. Cupidi was leaning her elbows against the bonnet of the CID car, talking on her phone. ‘Half an hour,’ she was saying. ‘Can the DI make that?’
    As South approached, she finished the call, pulled out a packet of cigarettes from her shoulder bag and offered one to him. He shook his head and looked at something behind her head. Pulling out his police notebook, he wrote down ‘ Juv Arctic Pom/Skua? ’ and the time.
    She said, ‘Anything?’
    ‘Just making a couple of observations,’ he said. It was swooping at a herring gull, just at the shoreline, trying to steal its catch. As usual, he thought about telling Bob about it, then he remembered with the kind of stupid shock that happens at times like this, that Bob was dead. Bob would have liked seeing the bird.
    ‘I’ve noticed. You’re someone who takes notes. That’s good.’ She nodded. ‘So? What else can you tell me about Mr Rayner?’
    South tucked the book back inside his vest. ‘He arrived about four years ago. He bought the cottage outright. I didn’t have much to do with him at first. A lot of the people round here keep themselves to themselves. Only he was into birds, or was learning to be, so I used to see him out on the reserve. Old gravel pits. He was there every day. He wasn’t experienced, not at the start anyway, but he had all this gear. Eighteen-hundred-pound binoculars. We started talking.’
    ‘You’re a bird spotter?’
    ‘Birder, really. Not a bird spotter.’
    Cupidi made a face. ‘There’s a difference?’
    South shook his head. ‘It’s not important.’
    ‘Is that rare? Eighteen hundred quid for binoculars?’
    ‘Not so much these days, I suppose. But it was obvious that before he came here he hadn’t done much birding. Some people come here like that. You spend your working life dreaming of it but you’ve never actually had any time to do it.’
    The police tape slapped in a gust of wind. ‘Did he mention anything that was worrying him at all?’
    South shook his head. ‘More I think of it,’ he said, ‘more I realise I didn’t know much about him. I mean practically nothing, really. He had been a teacher. He had a sister. That’s it. I mean, we saw each other pretty much every day. I like to go out before dusk. It’s a good time. This time of year it’s right after my shift. I’d taken to calling on him maybe three or four days a week and we’d head out together. But we never talked much, unless it was about birds.’
    ‘Birds?’
    ‘Strange as it may seem.’
    ‘Sarge,’ called the Scene of Crime man standing at the bin. ‘Take a look.’ Cupidi walked towards him, South following. The man in the white protective suit held open a blue-and-white shopping bag for Cupidi to peer inside. ‘Bandages?’ she said.
    ‘’Bout twenty packets, I reckon. All unopened.’ The man delved inside the bag and pulled out one of the small boxes: ‘ Absorbent for lightly weeping or bleeding wounds ,’ he read.
    ‘Did your friend have any condition that required him to have dressings?’ asked Cupidi.
    ‘No. Not that I know of,’ said South.
    ‘Poor bugger inside could have used a few of them, I reckon.’ The man held one of the boxes between blue-gloved finger and thumb. ‘Think the killer brought them with him?’
    South peered into the bag. ‘Is there a receipt?’
    ‘That would be kind of weird, wouldn’t it?’ said the forensics man, rummaging inside the bag. ‘Bringing your own bandages to a murder? No. No receipt.’
    DS Cupidi’s phone started ringing. ‘Just a minute,’ she said, and swung the handbag round to start digging in it. She found it before it rang off. ‘I can’t talk now. I’m on duty,’ she said. Then, ‘Oh.’
    South saw her eyes widen.
    ‘What did she do? . . . Are you sure? . . . I see. Only, it’s not exactly very convenient right now.’
    She walked