Keya handed Monica a steaming cup of coffee and said, “That sounds great,” although she knew her voice lacked enthusiasm.
But Monica didn’t appear to notice. “I know. And I never believed I could afford such a trip until you let me work here. It’s all so exciting.”
Keya thought she saw in Monica a dutiful wife and mother, who’d finally been allowed her freedom and the chance to earn her own money and spend it as she wanted. Keya smiled, delighted that she’d been able to offer Monica such an opportunity. And Monica was a great cook and a steady head in the kitchen during busy periods of service in the cafe.
“I think I’ll only manage a few days away this time. Perhaps to Wales or the Lake District,” Keya said.
Monica looked disappointed.
Keya’s phone rang, and she looked down at the screen. “It’s Ryan.”
She stepped out from behind the counter and away from Gilly and Monica as she took the call.
“Morning Ryan. Do you have news of Daisy’s death?”
“Afraid not. But Farmer Minchin, on whose land the Rollright Standing Stones are located, made an angry call this morning reporting people vandalising his crops. Apparently, there’s a crop circle in the field next to the stones.”
Keya groaned.
“Can you pick Warren up from the station and take him with you?”
“Warren?” Keya queried.
“Constable Sparrow.”
Keya sighed. Time to get back to her other job. “Tell him to be there in twenty minutes.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Once again Keya approached the Rollright Standing Stones. This time a pale blue battered Land Rover Defender was parked in the first lay-by.
She pulled up behind it as an angry-looking man with red cheeks and a flat tweed cap climbed out. He waited for her and Warren, his feet planted wide apart, and he did not look happy.
“Mr Minchin?” asked Keya as she pulled her black police hat onto her head and rearranged her ponytail, so it sat snugly.
“Aye, and you’ll be t’police.”
“Sergeant Varma, and my colleague, Constable Sparrow. You reported an act of vandalism.”
“Aye, someone has destroyed my wheat and bashed it down to create a daft pattern. Aurora and her like will tell you it’s the spirits, but it ain’t. Someone has deliberately damaged my crop.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Keya commiserated as she, Warren and Farmer Minchin entered the grassy area of the standing stones.
The blue and white police tape flapped in the gathering wind.
“It’s bad enough folks trampling about at the stones and wandering out into my field, but this is deliberate.”
“I understand, sir. This isn’t the first crop circle we’ve been called to this month,” Keya explained.
Farmer Minchin led them down a narrow path clear of growing wheat towards the centre of the field. It was hard to tell from ground level the exact shape of the crop circle, but Keya marvelled at the creativeness of whoever had made it.
“See, flattened and lying on the floor. It’ll considerably decrease my yield. Make sure you write that in your report.”
Keya considered Farmer Minchin. Was he annoyed at the damage caused or more concerned with claiming as much as possible on his insurance?
Warren moved around the area, taking photographs with his phone while Keya asked the obligatory questions.
“So when did you discover the damage?”
“This morning, when I called you lot,” replied the red-faced farmer.
“And when did you last check the field?”
“Couple of days ago. Before all the folk turned up for the solstice.”
“So this,” she indicated with her arm towards the laid wheat crop, “could have been done anytime over the past few days.”
“Aye. But it’s still ruined my crop.”
Keya and Warren left Farmer Minchin and his damaged wheat crop and drove back to the police station.
“How do we solve this crime?” asked Warren from the passenger seat as he looked through the photographs he’d taken of the crop circle.
“With luck, I suspect,” sighed Keya. “But the culprit will be forced to stop once the fields are harvested. Someone might spot whoever is creating the designs, but by their very nature, most fields are remote and if the work is done at night, or early in the morning, the likelihood of the creator being seen is low.”
Keya slowed to a stop and looked left and right before driving straight over the crossroads. “Vandalism in the countryside has been a concern for years now, but as I’m the only officer officially overseeing the area, there isn’t much I can do unless the culprits are caught in the act.”
