Part One

May, 1995

Trixie rushed headlong through the kitchen door to Rose Cottage, right through the kitchen and up the stairs. “Jim!” she called, slightly puffed. “Are you still here?”

“In the bedroom,” came the muffled reply.

Sighing with relief, Trixie slowed her pace to a fast walk and ducked through the appropriate doorway. “You’ll never guess what’s happened,” she crowed, giving him a quick kiss. “A friend of Sir Winslow’s has just uncovered a mosaic floor from a Roman villa, so he’s decided this morning that he’s going back to England to see it and he’s given me some time off, and I’ve just handed in my last assignment for the semester yesterday. So can I come with you?”

Sir Winslow Fitzgerald was a well-known archaeologist and Trixie’s boss. Over the almost-two years since she first did vacation work with him, they had both gotten used to his eccentricities, but this was an unexpected development.

Jim’s brow creased. “But if you’re not working…” He was leaving that morning for two months’ work in another office of the charity for which he worked. He had planned that Trixie would stay behind to take care of the house and pay all the bills.

“He says he’ll pay me a retainer and I’ve got some things to take with me, so I’ll be paid for the time I spend on them. And he says he’ll probably send some more work later. Besides, I can always spend some time on research.” She put her arms around his waist and looked up into his eyes. “Please, Jim. I can’t stand for us to be living apart for two whole months, especially now that we can go together.”

“If you put it that way,” he replied with a laugh. “Okay, but you’d better pack quickly. It’s time I was leaving.”

She beamed at him, kissed him soundly and then rushed away to pack her things. A scant ten minutes later, she rushed downstairs with two very messy suitcases and a collection of odds and ends in plastic bags.

“Let’s get on the road!” she cried, as she passed her husband and tore out into the back yard. “Hurry up, will you?”

“You’ve given me a lot of extra things to do,” he reminded her, from the doorway. “You go over to Manor House and I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”

With the grin he loved so much stretching across her face, she crossed the yard heading for the path to his parents’ estate. When Jim was given this assignment, he had decided to take the Robin, which had recently been refitted. It was ready and waiting for him in the Manor House driveway. All he needed now was to pack up all of the perishables, which couldn’t stay in the house while it was empty, and secure all the doors and windows.

“Only for you, Trixie,” he muttered, as he dealt with the disgusting things in the back of the refrigerator. “Only for you.”

They reached their destination, a small town in upstate New York, late in the evening. It had been a slow trip upriver, with several short stops along the way, and both he and Trixie were tired from the journey. Dark had already fallen by the time Jim pulled the trailer into the lot, where they would be living for the next couple of months.

“What’s that?” his wife asked, pointing to a building just visible through the trees. “A house?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, hopping out of the car and giving his shoulders a long-overdue stretch. “I think we’ll have to wait until morning to find out. Right now, I just want to set ourselves up and get an early night.”

Curious, but with no time to do anything about it, Trixie nodded and set to work.

When morning broke, both of the travellers were fully refreshed. Trixie bounded out of bed in excitement, ready to explore her new surroundings right away. Jim, as was his habit, wanted to take the time for a hearty breakfast before embarking on any adventures.

“But Jim,” his wife pleaded, in a voice which only barely escaped being a whine, “I want to take a look around. I don’t want to have to wait for everything to cook.”

“Go, then,” he said, waving her away. “I’ll cook my own breakfast. Just don’t expect me to leave anything for you.”

“I love you,” she replied, giving him a quick kiss, before throwing the door open, leaping down the steps and slamming it behind her so hard that the trailer shook.

Walking a short way from the trailer, she turned a full three-sixty degrees, noting the mature trees, grassy areas and squat buildings that made up the property. The drive stretched away, down the slope to the road. From here, it was hidden by a grove of mature trees, but she remembered roughly where it lay from their arrival the previous night. To her left was the main building, where Jim would be working: a square, red brick structure, rather ugly and looking out of place in the otherwise picturesque area.

Up the hill, behind her and a little to the right, was the house that she had glimpsed the night before. All that could be seen through the trees were a few top storey windows and an expanse of roof. Further up the hill was an old shed, even uglier than the main building and in rather worse repair. Beyond that, the property stretched away into a tangle of undergrowth which obscured the boundary.

To the right, then uphill, she decided, turning her steps in that direction. I’ll see if I can follow the fence. Scrabbling through the untidy bushes, she soon found the boundary. Thick, luxurious foliage on the opposite side obscured her view, blocking out any sight of the neighbouring house. As she came level with the old shed, the ground beneath her feet became rougher and littered with fallen branches. Sighing with frustration, she backtracked a little and emerged onto the edge of the lawn.

From this distance, the shed looked in bad enough repair that a strong wind might knock it over. Long grass brushed against the closed door and cobwebs stretched from the narrow eaves. One small, dusty window faced down the hill, its single pane cracked. Glad to be free of the tangled undergrowth, Trixie bounced across the intervening space and peered through the glass at the jumble of discarded objects inside.

Some other time, she decided, not seeing anything that caught her attention. Her gaze ran back and forth across the property, looking for a path into the area beyond, but there was none in sight. Giving up the idea of exploring that area, she wandered towards the opposite boundary and the now-visible fence there. Through the wire, she could see a site where a number of very uninteresting houses were being built.

Sniffing with frustration, she glanced back over her shoulder, catching sight of the house she had noticed the previous night. More of it was visible from here. The upstairs windows sparkled in the morning sun. In one room, white curtains printed with bright flowers were shifting gently in the breeze. Trixie thought she could make out the shape of a person moving around inside.

The breeze shifted direction, carrying with it the scent of frying bacon. Suddenly, Trixie felt hungry and she turned her steps towards the Robin, in the hope that it was the point of origin of the tantalising smell.

“When was the last time I told you I loved you?” she asked her husband, as she bounded in the door of the trailer.

“Did I say I was making breakfast for you as well?” he asked, completely evading the question. “I seem to remember warning you that you would have to fend for yourself.”

Trixie nodded, while stealing a crispy rasher Jim had just lifted from the pan. “You won’t miss just this one piece, will you?” she asked, juggling it back and forth as it cooled. “It smells so good.”

“As it happens,” Jim admitted, “I have cooked enough for you. So, what did you find?”

Plates and cutlery clattered as his wife set the table. “Nothing special,” she sighed. “There is a big house next door, but it doesn’t look very interesting. On the other side, they’re building some really awful new houses. Up the hill, there’s a little shed full of junk. I guess there might be something interesting inside.”

“You can help me clean it out, if you like,” Jim offered, amused. “That’s one of the things I need to get done before it’s demolished.” There was a pause as he set out the food. “You’re going to be pretty bored here, aren’t you, Trix?”

She picked up her fork, poked at her bacon, then set it down again. “I’ll find something to do,” she muttered, sounding thoroughly unconvincing. Their eyes met and hers took on a pleading expression. “It’s better than me being at home and you being here.”

Jim nodded. “I have to agree with you there.” His eyes twinkled as he continued. “Just stay out of trouble, okay?”

Rain was falling steadily as Trixie put the evening meal on the table a few days later. The falling drops made a pleasant noise as they pattered against the roof and dripped from the branches of a nearby tree. A nice night to stay in, she thought with a smile. From the corner of her eye, she watched Jim as he changed his shirt. A very nice night for staying in, she decided.

“That smells good,” he said, joining her at the table.

“Of course,” she replied, with a grin. “I made it.”

Jim’s arm snaked around her waist and she snuggled against him. “Not that I’m complaining or anything, but I don’t really picture you as the domestic type. Please tell me you’re not horribly bored already.”

Trixie turned in his arms and laid her face against his chest. “Just a little,” she admitted. “Or, maybe it’s that I’m lonely. There’s no one to talk to when you’re working.”

He dropped a kiss on the top of her head and released her. “We really didn’t think this through, did we?” he asked as he seated himself at the table. “We need to do something about this, before it drives you mad.”

“I need a project to work on,” she decided. “I wonder what there is around here that needs my help?”

“Maybe I could ask around a little for you,” Jim offered. “Someone is sure to need you.”

Smiling her gratitude, Trixie settled to her meal.

The rain had stopped by the time the sun rose. Trixie found herself at a loose end after Jim left for work. All of her work was up-to-date and there was little housekeeping to be done; Jim was, as a rule, exceptionally neat and seldom made any mess that he did not immediately clean up. Quite possibly there was some dusting to be done, but Trixie had never considered it an important chore.

Maybe I’ll go for a walk, she thought, feeling restless. She pulled on a pair of sturdy shoes, ready to deal with whatever conditions she found outside, and shoved some money in her pocket, just in case. The trailer door opened smoothly and she stepped out onto the concrete apron. Around the edges, the ground was muddy, so she kept to the driveway on the way down to the road, rather than cutting across the grass.

Halfway to the road, she glanced over her shoulder. Strange, she thought, catching a glimpse of the house next door. One of the windows is broken. I’m sure it wasn’t like that before dark yesterday. With a mental shrug, she put it out of her mind and went on her way.

A few hours later, having exhausted the town’s supply of interesting sights, she returned to St. Leonard’s Mission and looked in on Jim. She found him conversing with an older man, whose friendly greeting welcomed her inside.

“You must be Trixie.” He held out a large hand for her to shake. “Sam French. I’ve been hearing all about you. It’s nice to meet someone so accomplished, and at such a young age.”

Trixie felt the blush rising in her cheeks. “It’s nice to meet you, too,” she answered, trying to cover her embarrassment. It gave her a warm feeling to know how much her husband admired her, but she sometimes wished he would be a little more reticent.

“I really hope you won’t be bored in our quiet little backwater town,” he continued. “Jim’s been telling me that he’s after a project for you. I’ve promised to keep an eye out, but I don’t want to land you with anything too easy.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” she assured him. “Whoever needs my help is fine with me.”

Sam smiled. “That’s very generous of you, Trixie. It’s good to have the two of you in town. Sometimes, I think this place needs a good shake-up.” He turned to Jim and handed over a file. “I think that was all I needed to tell you. Give me a call if anything comes up that you can’t handle – or even if you need a little advice.”

“Thanks, Sam. Will do.”

“I’m sure you’ll get on just fine. Just watch out for the ghost if you’re out after dark,” he replied, with a laugh. “I wouldn’t want to get in old Reg’s way when he’s out on the prowl.”

“Ghost?” Trixie asked, suddenly interested. “What ghost?”

Sam paused on the threshold. “No one’s told you that old story, yet?” He let out a laugh. “It’s not true, for the record. Story goes that the previous owner of this place walks the grounds at night. He’s supposed to have been so attached to it that he resents us being here, and anyone who gets in his way is in a lot of trouble.” The excitement must have shown on Trixie’s face, for he continued quickly. “Now, I’ve worked here ever since the place was built and I’ve never had any trouble – not even when I’ve stayed here late into the night. What’s more, I knew the old gentleman back in the days that our office was in the main street, right next to his store, and I’m sure as sure could be that he isn’t the type to want to scare us away.”

“But other people have seen him?” Trixie queried, feeling the thrill of a mystery to be solved. “Has he ever done anything else?”

The older man shook his head. “He’s been blamed for plenty of things, but they could all be explained as the actions of far more ordinary beings. As for the sightings… well, let’s just say that there’s sometimes a little too much imagination being applied in a lonely spot like this, when it’s dark outside and there’s already a ghost story attached to the place. Reg Hill was a nice old man, who was grateful for our help. End of story.”

At that, Sam turned and left the young couple together. Trixie plonked herself onto Jim’s desk and let out a breathy sigh. “Do you think there’s more to the story than that?” she wondered aloud, as her husband settled back to his work.

“No,” he replied, taking the file Sam had given him and spreading it out on the small area of clear surface available. “I think it’s the flimsiest excuse for a ghost story that I’ve ever heard. Now, do you think you could move, please? I’m busy and I’ll see you tonight.”

Given little choice in the matter, Trixie sighed and left the room. Her husband may have dismissed the tale out of hand, but it still had a few possibilities for investigation and she was determined to see them through.

The next morning, Trixie was wandering aimlessly around the compound, looking for something to do, when her attention was caught by the neighbouring house. The broken window she had noticed the previous day had still not been repaired. It had rained again overnight and Trixie could see that the curtains were wet.

It doesn’t look like the kind of house that no one bothers to fix important things like that for days, she thought, determining to investigate. Knowing that there was no way through along the fence line, she headed for the road. A few minutes’ walk brought her to the drive, which she followed back up the hill. To her left, a manicured lawn was littered with leaves and small branches from the recent storm. To her right, a thick and luxurious hedge blocked off the view of St. Leonard’s Mission.

The house came into view and Trixie’s steps quickened. Broken glass shimmered in the morning sun where it lay on the grass. Nearby, the neat flower beds showed signs having been disturbed by the storm. The front door stood open, but there was no one in sight. Trixie bounded up the short flight of stairs, stopping short at the doorway.

“Hello?” she called. “Is anyone here?”

There was no answer. She pressed the doorbell and heard it chime. Trixie waited impatiently for several minutes, but to no effect. Slowly, she walked along the wide porch until she reached the corner. There was no one to be seen.

Retracing her steps, Trixie began to walk around the house. She found no sign of anyone around. At the rear of the house stood a garage, both car spaces empty. From here it could be seen that several windows were open. Her apprehension growing, Trixie headed back to the front door and called again. Once again receiving no answer, she stepped inside.

The entranceway opened into an elegantly decorated living area. Not an object seemed out of place and there was certainly no one there. Trixie tried another doorway and found a formal dining area. Once again, the place was immaculately clean and neat – and unoccupied.

There’s something wrong here, she thought, trying to decide which direction to take. Maybe the owner fell and hurt themselves, or they’re too sick to get up. They might die waiting for someone to find them!

Exploring further, she soon covered the whole lower level. There were puddles underneath some of the windows, where the rain had come in, but nothing else seemed disturbed. Calling once more, she started upstairs.

Once at the top, she was faced with a corridor of closed doors. She knocked on the first, then opened it to reveal what appeared to be a guest room. There was no one here, so she closed the door and moved on. Repeating the procedure, she uncovered a bathroom, two other bedrooms and an office on one side of the house.

On the opposite side, the largest bedroom held the broken window that had attracted her attention in the first place. Rain had soaked into the thick carpet, which was liberally sprinkled with fragments of window-glass, and the wet curtains had apparently been whipped by the wind, for some of the items on a nearby table were disarranged. This room, too, was unoccupied, as was its connecting bathroom and walk-in wardrobe, filled with feminine garments of a conservative style. A sitting room occupied the remainder of the upper floor.

What do I do, now? Trixie wondered. There’s definitely no one inside, but then why is the door open, and why are the windows open when it’s rained the last two nights, and why hasn’t anyone fixed the broken window?

Returning to the main bedroom, she spent a minute looking through the broken pane. Several large fragments of glass lay on the porch roof below, as well as the visible part of the lawn. The expanse of brown asphalt shingles was marred by several dark smudges. The heavy rain had washed away any other clue.

Walking slowly as she considered the matter, Trixie made her way back to the building where Jim worked and wandered inside. Olivia, the receptionist, smiled as she passed, on her way to her husband’s small office at the rear of the building. The door was closed, telling her that he was busy, so she stepped into the small room next door.

I don’t actually know who lives there, she mused, beginning to pace back and forth, so, I can’t exactly contact anyone they know and tell them there’s something wrong. What if they’re hurt? They could have gone out the night before last to fix something in the storm and maybe a branch fell on them and they’re lying there, waiting for someone to find them. I didn’t search all of the grounds – they’re more extensive than the ones here, and I haven’t even covered all of them since I got here. She stopped her pacing. Maybe I should call the police and report it.

As she was trying to decide whether to bother Olivia, or just wait for Jim to finish whatever he was doing, she heard his office door open. Racing for the door, she slipped into his office as he escorted a visitor outside. By the time he returned, she had looked up the number and was picking up the telephone to dial.

“And just what are you doing in here?” he asked, with a teasing note to his voice.

“Oh, Jim,” she cried. “Remember I told you there was a window broken next door? Well, I noticed it was still broken this morning, so I went over there and the house is unlocked, but there’s no one there and there’s puddles on the floor where the rain came in and broken glass on the grass from the window, so I thought I’d call the police.”

His blank look reminded her that she had not, in fact, told him about the broken window, but she dialled the number regardless. An impersonal voice answered and she repeated her story. The police officer listened attentively until she gave the address. At once, she noticed a change in his manner.

“You are going to do something about it, aren’t you?” she prompted, knowing without a doubt that he had no intention of doing so.

“We’ll send a car by when one is available,” he hedged. “Thank you, ma’am. Goodbye.”

Left with no choice, Trixie returned the greeting and put the phone down. A frown settled on her face. “There’s something very strange about this,” she muttered. “Why doesn’t he want to take it seriously?”

Jim gave her a little push. “Maybe our neighbour has a history of doing vague things – leaving the doors and windows open and going away. This is a small place, remember. The police would know if that sort of thing happened over and over.”

“And so would Olivia,” Trixie crowed, rushing off towards the front desk. “Thanks, Jim. See you later.”

A moment later, she was waiting in the reception area, impatiently shifting her weight from one foot to the other. The young woman behind the counter was engaged in the kind of telephone call which was likely to go on for some time. Finally the receiver was replaced and Trixie had the chance to put her question.

“Do you know anything about the neighbours?” she asked, without prelude. “In the big house next door?”

The receptionist smoothed back her long brown hair and thought for a moment. “Old Mrs. Hill? She’s a little eccentric, I guess. Very quiet; doesn’t leave the house a lot, as far as I know. Doesn’t like visitors.”

“Would she be likely to leave the house unlocked, with the windows open, and one of them broken, when we’ve been having all this rain?” In a few words, she explained the police attitude to her report.

Olivia stared at Trixie in disbelief. “As far as I know,” she explained, slowly, “Mrs. Hill has always been very particular about her house – she doesn’t like people visiting, I heard, because she doesn’t want them to make a mess. And you’ve seen how it looks from the outside – it’s always just beautiful! I don’t think she’d be so careless.”

Trixie nodded. “That’s kind of what I thought. Apart from the damage from the rain, everything looked clean and neat.” Her brow creased as she tried to decide on her next course of action. “I think I’ll go back there and take another look,” she announced, and headed for the door.

A few minutes later, she was approaching the house once more. This time, she followed the drive around the back to the garage. A short search of the utilitarian area revealed nothing of interest, so she continued behind it to look over the grounds. This is useless, she decided, a short time later. Even if there was someone here, I’d never be able to find them among all these shrubs! What I really need right now is a dog – an obedient dog, she added with an inward grin as she thought of Reddy.

In a short time, she had established that there were no fallen trees or branches of significant size on the property. Reaching the front of the house once more, she gazed out across the expanse of lawn to the lush hedges which sheltered it. Still, there was no one in sight. Sighing with frustration, Trixie returned home.

Wind was whistling through the trees. In the hour and a half since turning off the light, Trixie was certain that she had not slept at all. Beside her, Jim was peaceful in slumber. Heaving a sigh, she hopped out of bed and went to one of the windows. Outside, the wind whipped the branches and swept leaves along the ground. She was just about to turn away when a glimmer of light caught her eye. It came from the direction of the neighbouring house.

Without a thought of possible danger, Trixie slipped on some shoes and went to investigate. She closed the Robin’s door with as little noise as she could and headed up the hill. The wind tossed her curls and tugged at her pyjamas. As she walked, she noticed that the light was coming from the opposite side of the thick hedge. Every now and then, a gust of wind moved the branches in such a way that a glimmer could be seen. The rest of the time, its source was hidden.

Her steps slowed as she neared. Someone was working on the other side of the hedge, occasionally grunting with effort. There was the sound of metal against earth. Shovelling? Trixie wondered. In the middle of the night? A particularly violent gust threw the branches into motion. Is it a lantern? Why would someone be digging in the middle of the night, by the light of a lantern? From her visit earlier that day, she remembered seeing floodlights which could have easily lit the area.

The wind howled through the trees and Trixie was visited by an uncontrollable urge to look over her shoulder. Across the grounds, silhouetted against the blank wall of a half-built house in the lot next door, was a tall man. His chin was tucked down against his chest, giving him a hunched look. The ghost! was her first thought, but a moment later she shook her head. No, not a ghost. A real person. Someone who’s walking around the grounds in the dark. Someone who’s probably been doing this for years and knows the place a whole lot better than I do.

All at once, Trixie felt the danger of her situation and willed herself to keep calm as she returned to the trailer. She barely noticed that the digging seemed to have stopped, only to be replaced by grunting, as if the unseen worker was lifting a heavy load. She stumbled, as she tried to keep the man in sight, without allowing him to see her. As she travelled, he was lost from view. Keep calm, she told herself, as her heart beat fast in her chest. He can’t be too close, and I’m almost there.

She opened the trailer door and fastened it after herself, then quickly checked that everything was secure. She felt a little silly about being nervous, now that she was inside, but still went through the motions of checking every conceivable hiding place for intruders. Jim’s even breathing showed that he was still fast asleep, oblivious to the situation.

All at once, her thoughts returned to the events she had heard next door. Think! she told herself, fidgeting in the cramped area. Her natural inclination was to pace back and forth, but the trailer was too small to do so comfortably. She sat down, stood back up again and sat once again. It might be nothing. It might be perfectly innocent. Maybe they weren’t digging. Maybe the floodlights are broken. Maybe they forgot to pay the electricity bill. The other man might have just been out for a walk. He might like to walk at night. Alone. In a strong wind. She stood up once again, but then decided that there was nothing to be done tonight. She sat down to take off her shoes. I’ll investigate in the morning. Maybe then I’ll be able to figure out what was going on.

When morning arrived, Trixie was sound asleep. She had found it almost impossible to settle to sleep, but had been unwilling to show any light in the trailer, for fear that someone might notice. It was a long wait for sleep to overtake her. She woke, eventually, to find that Jim had already left for work. Dismayed at the hours she had lost, she sped through her morning routine and emerged from the trailer fifteen minutes later, eating a rather messily made sandwich as she walked.

Entering the building, she waved a cheery hello to the receptionist and stuck her head into her husband’s office. “Jim, I saw something strange last night,” she announced, without so much as a greeting. “I’m going next door to investigate. If I’m not back in an hour, you’d better assume that something’s wrong and I need rescuing.”

“Good morning to you, too,” Jim replied with a grin, as she scooted back out again.

A few minutes later, she reached the point where she had stood the night before. All was silence on the other side of the hedge. She climbed over the fence and struggled to push the lush foliage aside to get a view. Eventually, she found that by crouching on the ground and putting her face as low as possible, she could see a small amount. There was no one in sight.

Trixie began to rise, but paused mid-action. There was something strange about the lawn near the hedge. It seemed less smooth than she had remembered from her previous visit, almost rumpled. There was no way to push through this large and luxuriant hedge, so she scrambled back to her own side of the fence and headed down towards the road.

She puffed a little as she neared the neighbouring house. As it came into sight, she noted that the front door was now closed, but that the window was still broken. Something about the place gave it a deserted look. She took the time to ring the doorbell to be sure, before walking towards the boundary. From here, the lawn looked perfectly normal. The next ten minutes were occupied with trying to find the exact spot she had viewed from the other side of the hedge. Everything here looked so different, that she could not be sure.

I guess I could go back and try to mark the place somehow, she mused, in frustration. Or, what if I got a view from closer to the ground? Maybe it would work from this side, too. Backtracking a little to a place that she was sure was too far down the hill, she dropped onto her stomach and peered up the slope.

“That’s it!” she cried, aloud. From ground level, the ripples were obvious. She raced up to the place, noting in surprise how perfect it looked as she looked down. On closer examination, she could see that a panel of turf had been lifted and replaced. It measured roughly eighteen inches by five or six feet.

Trixie shot a glance back at the empty house, then down to the shape on the ground. The sounds she had heard the night before echoed in her imagination. She took a few steps backwards, then raced down the hill, as fast as she could go. When she reached Jim’s office, she slumped into the doorway, taking him by surprise, and gasped, “Oh, Jim! I’ve been up to the house and it’s still empty, but I found where someone had been digging and I’m afraid it’s a grave and that someone’s been murdered there. Quick! We need to call the police!”

“What?” he replied. “Trixie, this is too much. Come and sit down. Slow down and tell me exactly what you found.”

Sighing with impatience, she summarised her experiences. “Last night, I saw a light through the window. I went to see what was happening and heard someone digging and I think the light was from a lantern. Just now, I found where they’d lifted up the grass to dig and it was in the shape of a grave. Now, can we just call the police already? Whoever did it has had lots of time to get away.”

A dubious look on his face, Jim waved towards the phone. As she had done only days before, Trixie made the call. At first, she had as much trouble as the previous time getting her concern taken seriously, but persistence paid off. The officer – she was quite certain it was the same man to whom she had spoken previously – eventually gave in to her request to speak to someone else. As soon as the more senior officer came on the line, Trixie knew that she would be heard.

Within an hour, the area was swarming with police officers and other personnel, along with their vehicles and equipment. After showing what she had seen and heard, and giving a statement, Trixie was forced to wait, unable to see what was happening on the other side of the hedge. She paced back and forth along the boundary, occasionally catching snatches of conversation. From what she could understand, her guess had been correct and the excavation was, in fact, a grave. Frustratingly, she heard no indication of the identity of the body within.

Itching with impatience, and forced inaction, Trixie tried to piece together the events as far as she could. The only place that was at all disturbed, she recalled, was the main bedroom, so I guess that’s the most likely place for a crime. She cast her mind back over the scene, remembering the disarray and the fragments of glass which had littered the room. I wonder if the broken window was connected, or just a coincidence?

With hardly a thought, she set the second idea aside. It must be connected, she decided, but how? In her mind’s eye, she tried to reconstruct the breaking of the glass. Something hit it, I guess, and I think it must have been from the outside – otherwise, why were there so many fragments in the carpet? … But, then, why was there also glass outside?

Trixie imagined a faceless intruder smashing the pane, then pulling the fragments out to make hole. As he – or she – climbed inside, the old lady arrived on the scene. The intruder bashed her with the implement used to break the window and she fell down dead. With a shake of her head, she set the vision aside. I’ll need a lot more to go on before I can come up with a theory, she decided ruefully. It could have been a burglary gone wrong, but then, it might have been premeditated murder and the window just got broken by accident. What I need is more information.

As quiet settled on the property next door, Trixie was forced to give up for the time being. Work was continuing, but as there was nothing much to hear, she soon became bored and wandered away. She found herself unable to concentrate on anything else, but she had so little to go on that she could do nothing constructive for the investigation. All that she could do was wait.

Continue to part two.