An Accidental Shroud
“Dusk was falling and work had stopped for the day.
Building had started at the top of the site and was working downhill. Only about half a dozen houses were as yet occupied, their curtains already drawn against the dark, houses and families drawn in tight to themselves. It wasn't a comfortable place to live, not yet.
'Like I said, you'll have to come across yonder to see what I mean,' said the man Carmody was talking to, a small, wiry type with a bald head and a luxuriant moustache that tried hard to compensate. He was wearing jeans and a quilted anorak and his face was tight with suppressed anger.
The site was otherwise deserted. Carmody had timed himself to arrive after the workmen had knocked off but before it was too dark to see properly, wanting to do some poking around. He'd often found it paid dividends. Like now, though in this case it was ma'am who'd suggested it.
Fontenoy's car, after being thoroughly examined by Forensics, had been passed as clean.
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