So why did he fit the incubator in the armrest?’
‘He did it again, Maureen. More eggs and another trip to Dubai. Only something went wrong. I haven’t got to the bottom of what yet but he didn’t go.’
‘He never knew when to quit,’ said John.
‘Falconry is big business in the Middle East, John.’
Maureen started sobbing again.
‘I think I’d better leave you to it,’ said Dixon. John Fayter nodded.
‘I’ll show myself out.’
It had been an early start. Dawn and dusk had always been the best times to catch pike but these days it was a rare occasion when he got out of bed much before 9.00am at the weekend. This morning his alarm had gone off at 5.00am. It was still dark. He had made a thermos flask of coffee and had stopped at the petrol station to get some sandwiches and chocolate. He had put his fishing tackle in the car the night before and had arrived at Gold Corner Pumping Station before sunrise.
He parked in the muddy car park opposite the farm and walked through the wooden five bar gates. He followed the muddy farm track over Powder Sluice on the River Cripps and then climbed over the five bar gate into the field. He was now behind the farm and the pumping station and walking along the South Drain, his favourite pike fishing venue.
He followed the north bank for about eight hundred yards towards the metal bridge that took the farm track over the drain. There was a slight bend at this point with sluices bringing small streams into the drain on either side, creating small bays. Ideal features for pike. This had always been a favourite spot.
He put up his large umbrella to get some shelter from the wind and tackled up by the light of his head torch. By sunrise, he was ready to start. He was fishing two rods and cast one into the bay opposite and the other along the nearside bank. Each had a small mackerel on the hook that he hoped would take the fancy of any pike roving along either the far or the near bank.
The wind had dropped and in the morning light he could see cows in the fields behind him and opposite grazing gently on the wet grass. He could hear the buzz of the electricity pylons and spotted several vapour trails glowing red in the morning sun. A buzzard was wheeling overhead.
By mid afternoon he had caught three good-sized pike, the largest weighing in at just over 17lb. It was turning out to be a good day.
He could see a figure walking along the bank towards him. He was wearing dark trousers and a blue coat. It would be the Environment Agency bailiff coming to check his licence. A regular occurrence and nothing to worry about. He reached into his pocket to check that his licence was in his wallet.
‘May I see your licence, Sir?’
He turned to find himself looking straight into the barrel of a gun. He didn’t have time to look up. He saw the trigger finger twitch. He felt a sharp pain in his right eye and then darkness began to take him. He felt numb. Suddenly he was falling forward. He heard a splash. He could not breathe but there was no panic and no pain. He felt cold.
Eight
Dixon started the briefing at 10.00am. He noticed DCI Lewis sitting at the back of the room, as usual. Steve Gorman and Jane Winter were leaning on the desks nearest the whiteboard. DC Mark Pearce sat at the desk Gorman was leaning on. Mark Pearce was of medium build. He had short dark hair and wore a jacket and tie. He clearly took pride in his appearance and Dixon thought that if he turned out to be half as efficient as he looked then he would be an asset to the investigation.
‘Did everyone get the emails I sent yesterday morning?’
All agreed that they had.
‘Good, so you have a reasonable grasp of where we are. Let’s deal with the admin first. Jane, can you rustle up a lorry to fetch Jake’s car? It’s at his parents’ place in Braithwaite Place, Burnham-on-Sea.’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘PC Cole has brought over the evidence from Cheddar. I’ve signed for it. Mark, can you get
‘He did it again, Maureen. More eggs and another trip to Dubai. Only something went wrong. I haven’t got to the bottom of what yet but he didn’t go.’
‘He never knew when to quit,’ said John.
‘Falconry is big business in the Middle East, John.’
Maureen started sobbing again.
‘I think I’d better leave you to it,’ said Dixon. John Fayter nodded.
‘I’ll show myself out.’
It had been an early start. Dawn and dusk had always been the best times to catch pike but these days it was a rare occasion when he got out of bed much before 9.00am at the weekend. This morning his alarm had gone off at 5.00am. It was still dark. He had made a thermos flask of coffee and had stopped at the petrol station to get some sandwiches and chocolate. He had put his fishing tackle in the car the night before and had arrived at Gold Corner Pumping Station before sunrise.
He parked in the muddy car park opposite the farm and walked through the wooden five bar gates. He followed the muddy farm track over Powder Sluice on the River Cripps and then climbed over the five bar gate into the field. He was now behind the farm and the pumping station and walking along the South Drain, his favourite pike fishing venue.
He followed the north bank for about eight hundred yards towards the metal bridge that took the farm track over the drain. There was a slight bend at this point with sluices bringing small streams into the drain on either side, creating small bays. Ideal features for pike. This had always been a favourite spot.
He put up his large umbrella to get some shelter from the wind and tackled up by the light of his head torch. By sunrise, he was ready to start. He was fishing two rods and cast one into the bay opposite and the other along the nearside bank. Each had a small mackerel on the hook that he hoped would take the fancy of any pike roving along either the far or the near bank.
The wind had dropped and in the morning light he could see cows in the fields behind him and opposite grazing gently on the wet grass. He could hear the buzz of the electricity pylons and spotted several vapour trails glowing red in the morning sun. A buzzard was wheeling overhead.
By mid afternoon he had caught three good-sized pike, the largest weighing in at just over 17lb. It was turning out to be a good day.
He could see a figure walking along the bank towards him. He was wearing dark trousers and a blue coat. It would be the Environment Agency bailiff coming to check his licence. A regular occurrence and nothing to worry about. He reached into his pocket to check that his licence was in his wallet.
‘May I see your licence, Sir?’
He turned to find himself looking straight into the barrel of a gun. He didn’t have time to look up. He saw the trigger finger twitch. He felt a sharp pain in his right eye and then darkness began to take him. He felt numb. Suddenly he was falling forward. He heard a splash. He could not breathe but there was no panic and no pain. He felt cold.
Eight
Dixon started the briefing at 10.00am. He noticed DCI Lewis sitting at the back of the room, as usual. Steve Gorman and Jane Winter were leaning on the desks nearest the whiteboard. DC Mark Pearce sat at the desk Gorman was leaning on. Mark Pearce was of medium build. He had short dark hair and wore a jacket and tie. He clearly took pride in his appearance and Dixon thought that if he turned out to be half as efficient as he looked then he would be an asset to the investigation.
‘Did everyone get the emails I sent yesterday morning?’
All agreed that they had.
‘Good, so you have a reasonable grasp of where we are. Let’s deal with the admin first. Jane, can you rustle up a lorry to fetch Jake’s car? It’s at his parents’ place in Braithwaite Place, Burnham-on-Sea.’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘PC Cole has brought over the evidence from Cheddar. I’ve signed for it. Mark, can you get
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