against second-home owners but, as far as I can see, they’re all talk.’
‘They’ve been sending threatening letters to Jon Bright’s wife.’
Neil gave a low whistle.
‘Keep in touch,’ Wesley said as he climbed into the driver’s seat.
Neil suddenly looked worried. ‘They might see us digging and think we’re connected with the developers. You don’t think my
team could be in danger?’
‘Just don’t ask for police protection. We’re stretched as it is,’ said Wesley with a grin before driving off.
Jem Burrows knew that Chas Ventisard had been taken in for questioning but he was certain that he wouldn’t talk.
Jem sat surrounded by computer equipment like a spider in the centre of a web of wires and cables. Fromhis bedroom he had command of all useful knowledge at the click of a mouse. With a bit of searching on line he could even
discover the names and home addresses of the second-home owners – the ones who turned up at weekends in their 4x4s with their
luxury ready meals bought at distant supermarkets. The ones who clogged up the M4 on summer Friday evenings to get to their
expensively bought piece of paradise.
He knew who they were and where they lived. That was a start.
Since he’d finished his degree in Media Studies at Morbay University, Jem had moved back to live with his mother and his two
younger brothers. He hadn’t had much choice in the matter. Not with things as they were.
Chas Ventisard had imagined that mentioning the Whitely fire on the website would send a warning shot across the enemies’
bows. But there had been someone in the house. And because of that, it might look bad for the Sons. It might make them look
like murderers. Jem had always known Chas was a liability.
Would a new denial rectify the situation? Probably not. The damage had been done and now the police might start taking a serious
interest. And that was the last thing Jem Burrows wanted.
Wesley hadn’t bothered to drop in at the police station on his way home. He was still supposed to be on leave, after all.
But, even so, he just couldn’t get Ian Rowe out of his head.
As soon as he arrived home he broke the news toPam and, as he expected, she was shocked but not particularly upset. She was quiet as they ate supper and he knew that she
was reliving their encounter with Rowe in Carcassonne, seeing if she could, with hindsight, recognise any signs or clues to
what had happened.
‘So what the hell was Rowe doing in Whitely?’ she asked as soon as they’d got the domestic drudgery out of the way and settled
the children in bed.
‘No idea. But he was driving Nadia Lucas’s car.’
‘Perhaps she lent it to him. Have you spoken to her yet?’
‘Some uniforms went round to the address we traced from her car registration but there was no answer.’ Wesley put his arm
round her shoulders. ‘We found a letter from Sir Martin Crace’s PA in his holdall.’
‘So he wasn’t lying about knowing Crace?’
‘I wouldn’t go that far. The letter confirmed that he had an appointment but it was quite formal. Certainly no indication
that Rowe and Crace were bosom buddies – or even that they knew each other. The meeting was fixed for the day after tomorrow
at Bewton Hall.’
‘Crace’s home. I saw it once in one of those magazines at the doctor’s – fabulous place. If Ian was actually invited to the
house surely it means he was telling the truth.’
‘I think Crace uses it as his headquarters.’
Pam looked disappointed. Another theory shot down in flames.
Wesley stood up. ‘Those copies of Nadia’s e-mails are somewhere in that case I haven’t unpacked yet. I want to read through
them again.’
Pam looked him in the eye. ‘Is this fire being treated as suspicious then? Could Ian have been murdered?’
Wesley shrugged. ‘The fire investigators say it was started deliberately but we don’t know the cause of death yet. We’ll have
to wait and see.’
Colin
‘They’ve been sending threatening letters to Jon Bright’s wife.’
Neil gave a low whistle.
‘Keep in touch,’ Wesley said as he climbed into the driver’s seat.
Neil suddenly looked worried. ‘They might see us digging and think we’re connected with the developers. You don’t think my
team could be in danger?’
‘Just don’t ask for police protection. We’re stretched as it is,’ said Wesley with a grin before driving off.
Jem Burrows knew that Chas Ventisard had been taken in for questioning but he was certain that he wouldn’t talk.
Jem sat surrounded by computer equipment like a spider in the centre of a web of wires and cables. Fromhis bedroom he had command of all useful knowledge at the click of a mouse. With a bit of searching on line he could even
discover the names and home addresses of the second-home owners – the ones who turned up at weekends in their 4x4s with their
luxury ready meals bought at distant supermarkets. The ones who clogged up the M4 on summer Friday evenings to get to their
expensively bought piece of paradise.
He knew who they were and where they lived. That was a start.
Since he’d finished his degree in Media Studies at Morbay University, Jem had moved back to live with his mother and his two
younger brothers. He hadn’t had much choice in the matter. Not with things as they were.
Chas Ventisard had imagined that mentioning the Whitely fire on the website would send a warning shot across the enemies’
bows. But there had been someone in the house. And because of that, it might look bad for the Sons. It might make them look
like murderers. Jem had always known Chas was a liability.
Would a new denial rectify the situation? Probably not. The damage had been done and now the police might start taking a serious
interest. And that was the last thing Jem Burrows wanted.
Wesley hadn’t bothered to drop in at the police station on his way home. He was still supposed to be on leave, after all.
But, even so, he just couldn’t get Ian Rowe out of his head.
As soon as he arrived home he broke the news toPam and, as he expected, she was shocked but not particularly upset. She was quiet as they ate supper and he knew that she
was reliving their encounter with Rowe in Carcassonne, seeing if she could, with hindsight, recognise any signs or clues to
what had happened.
‘So what the hell was Rowe doing in Whitely?’ she asked as soon as they’d got the domestic drudgery out of the way and settled
the children in bed.
‘No idea. But he was driving Nadia Lucas’s car.’
‘Perhaps she lent it to him. Have you spoken to her yet?’
‘Some uniforms went round to the address we traced from her car registration but there was no answer.’ Wesley put his arm
round her shoulders. ‘We found a letter from Sir Martin Crace’s PA in his holdall.’
‘So he wasn’t lying about knowing Crace?’
‘I wouldn’t go that far. The letter confirmed that he had an appointment but it was quite formal. Certainly no indication
that Rowe and Crace were bosom buddies – or even that they knew each other. The meeting was fixed for the day after tomorrow
at Bewton Hall.’
‘Crace’s home. I saw it once in one of those magazines at the doctor’s – fabulous place. If Ian was actually invited to the
house surely it means he was telling the truth.’
‘I think Crace uses it as his headquarters.’
Pam looked disappointed. Another theory shot down in flames.
Wesley stood up. ‘Those copies of Nadia’s e-mails are somewhere in that case I haven’t unpacked yet. I want to read through
them again.’
Pam looked him in the eye. ‘Is this fire being treated as suspicious then? Could Ian have been murdered?’
Wesley shrugged. ‘The fire investigators say it was started deliberately but we don’t know the cause of death yet. We’ll have
to wait and see.’
Colin
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