Shadows in the Cotswolds by Rebecca Tope Page B

today you won’t be able to. This is a crime scene now. The entire woodland is cordoned off.’ She caught Thea’s eye and made a silent
God-help-me
face.
    ‘Well, I think it’s a disgrace. It was hard enough to persuade the Meadows man to keep the path open, without this. He’s been impossibly obstructive, over the years.’
    ‘You’re telling me there’s a public right of way through this property?’ Gladwin appeared to register this somewhat belatedly. 
    ‘Precisely! That’s what I’ve been telling you for the past five minutes.’
    ‘And do people use it?’
    ‘Almost never. We agreed that it should be limited to locals. There hasn’t been a signpost up for ten years or more, so he doesn’t get stray ramblers scaring his precious birds. The path isn’t obvious at all. It leads through to my field, do you see? Where my
horse
is. If I have to go around the road, it’ll take me three times as long.’
    ‘Well, I’m very sorry, but I really can’t allow it,’ Gladwin insisted, albeit with less force than before. Her mind appeared to be making some sort of calculation. ‘Although … perhaps if you could show me where the path goes, that might be rather helpful.’
    The triumph was plain in the woman’s eyes. ‘Come on, then,’ she said, impatiently. ‘We’ve wasted enough time already.’
    ‘Can I come?’ Thea whispered to Gladwin, having swallowed back a thoughtless assertion that she already knew where the path led. She was slowly learning that it was generally best to remain silent in the company of the police and potential witnesses.
    Gladwin shrugged and said, ‘Why not? But leave your relations behind, okay? And the dog.’
    Quickly Thea asked her mother and Fraser to take Hepzie into the house. Gladwin reinforced the request by adding, ‘There’s a detective inspector waiting totalk to you, Mr Meadows. Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll send him in right away.’
    With impressive skill, the superintendent arranged the interview with three short words. ‘Jeremy! Meadows. House.’ DI Jeremy Higgins, already known to Thea, peeled away from where he was scrutinising the screen of a Smartphone, and obediently made for Thistledown.
    Passing the much emptier clearing in front of the bird hide, the stout woman led the way at a sharp angle to the right, between tall willow trees, in a direction that seemed quite wrong for the centre of Winchcombe. Before Thea could raise a query, another sharp turn, this time to the left, corrected their trajectory, and within two minutes they were skirting the grassy area that Oliver had shown Thea the previous day. There was a stile in the corner of the property, with a narrow but obvious path beyond it. The buildings of the lower edge of Winchcombe were only a few yards away, jumbled on rising ground, a mixture of periods and styles that would keep a historian happy for weeks.
    ‘That way to Silk Mill Lane, and this way to my horse,’ explained the woman. ‘Can I go now, please?’
    ‘Just leave me your name and address,’ Gladwin said. ‘I might need confirmation that this was an established path, known to several local people.’
    ‘Priscilla Heap,’ came the ready reply. ‘Anything I can do to help, just ask.’ She added her address, which Gladwin noted carefully, along with a phone number.‘My house is just over there, behind that tree,’ she elaborated.
    ‘Thank you,’ said Gladwin. ‘I’m sorry to have delayed you.’
    ‘Think nothing of it. There’s obviously been something ghastly going on – but I’d prefer not to know any details. I’ve seen enough mayhem in my time. All I care about these days is my horse.’
    She had trotted off before Gladwin could say anything further. ‘Well,’ she turned to Thea. ‘It takes all sorts, I suppose.’
    ‘I’ve come across quite a few of her type over the past couple of years,’ said Thea. ‘Most of them turn out to be almost incredibly decent.’ She thought of a particular