Bodie was out of sorts as Doyle drove them to the rendezvous in the pouring rain. Not for the first time on the journey he'd complained of being called out of an evening on a 'fool's errand'. Doyle had kept his silence. He knew, happily, that this strategy got up Bodie's nose. The car bumped and jogged across the uneven ground of the old factory site. The two agents noticed a car across the yard with the rear door open. They said nothing, but Doyle made a mental note to investigate when they were done here – rain or no rain; Bodie's moaning or no.
They quickly got out of the car and ran into the disused warehouse. There was the sound of running water as the rain got in amongst the ruins. But they found a dry spot by the door and waited for their contact. They stamped their feet – confident that they wouldn't be heard – and blew on their cold hands to keep the circulation going.
"Another 5 minutes, Doyle, then I'm out of here."
Doyle couldn't help but agree with him. Bozo was often late – if he came at all – but when he did turn up, he usually had some tasty tips to share. He'd made contact earlier that evening and sounded excited on the phone. As usual, he hadn't given any specifics. The rain stopped as quickly as it had started and Bodie made for their car. The five minutes were up. Doyle reluctantly trailed after him. He looked over again at the abandoned vehicle. In this area such a car would either be used for 'joy riding' or be burnt to a cinder, so it couldn't have been here long. He wandered over to it, deep in thought. Bodie followed. He too was puzzled. It was as they approached the car that Bodie spotted something else and veered off. Doyle took a cursory glance inside the vehicle, but nothing held his attention (he'd check the boot later) so trotted over to his mate. They both looked down at a young male lying in the dirt. Even in the poor light, they could see the ligature around his neck. Doyle took a small torch from his inside pocket and shone it on the face. It was Bozo. Doyle whistled softly through his teeth.
"I guess we won't be getting any more morsels from him," Bodie commented unnecessarily.
Doyle had been poking around the area, mindful that it was a crime scene, but couldn't find anything of interest other than the rope around the corpse's neck.
"We'd better radio it in," Doyle said sadly, straightening up.
The rain had begun again and they just made it to their car before they got too wet.
"Would that be his car?" There was a lot of doubt in Bodie's voice as he peered through the misty windscreen.
"Not unless he's robbed a bank." Doyle replied confidently.
They both looked at the car again, each lost in their own theory.
Eventually a police siren was heard and a few minutes later a CI5 car joined them. They all gathered in the shelter of the old factory. Bodie and Doyle told their audience what little they knew: that they'd a whisper from a contact and so they had come out here, as requested, to find out what the snippet was. They were too late. Since the rain had eased, they wandered over to the crime scene.
"Who else knew that he was coming here?" one of the officers asked as they viewed the body.
"No idea. I can't imagine that he'd want to broadcast what he was up to," Doyle replied.
Any further question or answer was cut off by Benson, CI5. He called them over across the yard.
"There's another one," he said as they joined him.
Soon they were looking down at another corpse. Doyle and one of the coppers crouched by the body while PC Collins shone a torch on the scene. There was no rope, but it was a body all right.
"Jesus," exclaimed Collins, "how many more are there?" He peered into the wet darkness as though expecting a massacre.
No-one had any answers for him. Collins' colleague, Patel, and CI5 made their respective calls for backup. This was looking like a joint op. Since they couldn't all get into one car, they adjourned back to the factory to pool their meagre resources.
"Did you know him?" asked Bodie of his partner.
Doyle shook his head, looking at the police. "New one on me," said PC Patel. "If you're saying," he continued thoughtfully, "that you know Body A …," he pointed back towards the factory yard.
"Bozo," Doyle supplied.
"… does that mean that this Bozo has any connection with Body B?"
It was unusual for informers to come in groups or pairs, and the bodies were quite far apart, with the mystery car in the middle. The men all viewed the scene, trying to piece together what had happened.
"I think we can reasonably say that they didn't kill each other," Doyle eventually conjectured. "The car may belong to Body B. And …" Doyle petered off, having exhausted his theories.
"Bozo could have killed … " persisted Patel.
"No," Doyle interrupted. "Bozo couldn't kill a fly. He's all mouth – was." Doyle shook his head at the thought. But there was, of course, an outside possibility … "Even if he did," he conceded after a long silence, "who then killed Bozo?"
"A mate. A revenge killing?"
"… who just happened to be here at the time?" Bodie scoffed. Patel looked chastened.
They had run out of theories and counter-theories. The pathologist would have to ascertain time of death, and it was looking as if the two had been killed at around the same time, so that wasn't going to add much to their speculations. Perhaps the manner of deaths would tell them something, but Doyle put a safer bet on the car telling them something more. It was a pity, he thought, that he hadn't had chance to turn the car over and explore the boot. It suddenly occurred to him that there may be a third body there! He shook his head. No, one step at a time.