The Red Herring Read Online Free Page A

to his tenth.
    â€˜I don’t like this, Monika,’ he said.
    â€˜It’s not the kind of thing I enjoy seeing just after breakfast, either,’ Paniatowski agreed.
    â€˜That’s not what I mean,’ Woodend said. ‘You know how I work. I like to know where the victim was killed. I need to root around the scene of the crime, a bit like the pigs. In this case, I’ve no idea where the crime took place – an’ what’s even more troublin’ is that I don’t know why she was brought here.’
    Monika Paniatowski looked beyond the pigsty to the sloping field which led down to the road. Half a dozen uniformed constables were criss-crossing it, their eyes fixed firmly on the ground. Standing at the edge of the field, watching them intently as they searched, was DI Bob Rutter. Apart from the police, there was nobody around – which was hardly surprising since the nearest village was a couple of miles away, and the nearest town of any size at least four or five.
    â€˜You see what I’m gettin’ at?’ Woodend asked.
    â€˜Perhaps the killer murdered her near to his home – or even
in
it – and thought that if the body was discovered there, it would be likely to draw attention to him,’ Paniatowski suggested.
    â€˜Yes, it wouldn’t be the first time the body’s been moved for that reason,’ Woodend agreed. ‘But I think you’re missin’ the point, Monika.’
    â€˜Am I, sir? So what
is
the point?’
    â€˜He doesn’t want her found near his home – fair enough – so he drives her out into the countryside. But why not just leave her on the side of the road? Or else drive her to somewhere much more secluded? Why run the risk of carryin’ the body across a field to dump it in the pigsty?’
    â€˜Maybe he thought the pigs would destroy the evidence.’
    â€˜Well, they’ve certainly tried their best to do that. But he can’t really have expected them to swallow her without trace. Which brings me back to my original point. Dumpin’ her somewhere she wouldn’t be found in a hurry makes sense. So does gettin’ rid of her body as quick as possible. But what he did achieved neither of those aims.’
    One of the constables bent down to pick something up, then made his way over to where DI Rutter was standing.
    It’s a handbag, Paniatowski thought excitedly. They’d found the victim’s handbag!
    Rutter took the bag off the constable, and carefully opened it up. He put his hand inside, and pulled out what looked like a small red booklet.
    â€˜Seems as if we’ll be able to put a name to the victim before long,’ Paniatowski said.
    Woodend nodded. The killer must have known the handbag would be found, he thought, which meant that he didn’t care that the victim would soon be identified. So again, why run the
bloody
risk of carrying her all the way to the pigsty?
    Rutter, the red booklet still in his hand, made his way over to where his boss and the detective sergeant were standing.
    â€˜According to her driving licence, her name was Verity Beale, and she was twenty-six years old,’ he said.
    â€˜If that
is
her driving licence,’ Paniatowski said.
    Rutter shot the sergeant a look of pure dislike. ‘What chance do you think there is that anybody else would drop their handbag in the middle of nowhere?’ he asked.
    â€˜Stranger things have been known to happen,’ Paniatowski countered.
    â€˜But they don’t happen very often,’ Rutter said cuttingly. ‘That’s precisely what makes them strange.’
    Woodend looked from the inspector to the sergeant. The first impression anyone got of Rutter was of smartness. Smart haircut, smart suit, smart shoes and smart eyes. A young man who was going places. With Paniatowski, what you noticed was the fact that her nose was a little too big and her mouth a little wide – which was a long