as seemed likely, and they were dealing in drugs, which also seemed likely, then he was facing far more trouble than he had anticipated at the beginning of the evening.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Powell slept late, having only finally fallen asleep about four thirty. He’d had a large scotch when he returned home and spent some further time digesting what he’d seen.
It was ten when he turned over in his bed and reached for his phone. He was pleased to see it was Brian calling as he wanted to update him on the previous night’s events.
“I was going to call you,” Powell said, rather sleepily.
“Listen you’re in big trouble,” Brian replied instantly. “I think you can expect a visit from the police very shortly.”
Brian’s warning brought Powell alert. “What’s happened?”
“The ballistics report on the gun they found in your car has just been finalised. Seems the gun was used to kill a young man by the name of Stuart Brown. His body was found a couple of weeks ago. The police think it was a drug related shooting.”
“Shit! After what I discovered last night, I’m not surprised.”
“What do you mean? What did you discover last night?”
Powell explained what he’d seen.
“How do you do it?” Brian asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You have a knack for finding trouble.”
“I don’t go looking for it. It just tends to find me.”
“I’ll have the number plate checked out and see if I can identify who the police officers might be,” Brian offered. “What are you going to do?”
“I haven’t much choice. If I’m locked up in a cell for months, I’m never going to be able to prove my innocence. I need to disappear.”
“Try and keep out of harm’s way. You won’t get bail a second time.”
“What can you tell me about this Stuart Brown, I’m supposed to have killed?”
“He was a twenty eight year old, out of work reporter. Lived in Lewes and no police record. His body was discovered near Forest Row. He’d been buried in a shallow grave in the woods and was dug up by a couple of enthusiastic Terriers out for their morning walk.”
“So why do the police think his death was drug related?”
“They found a significant stash of drugs at his flat. They think he was dealing and it was a turf war.”
“That sounds vaguely familiar. Same sort of story someone wants to pin on me. And Forest Row isn’t far from Lindfield.”
“But why would they kill him?”
“You said he was a reporter. Perhaps he discovered something he shouldn’t?”
“Or perhaps he changed jobs and started working for Scott, then became greedy?”
“Maybe. Listen, I better get out of here before the police come calling. I’ll be in touch soon.”
Powell didn’t bother to shower and hurriedly packed a sports bag with a few essentials. He was out of the house and driving away within five minutes of finishing his call with Brian. If the police couldn’t find him, he wasn’t committing a crime by going on the run as his bail had been unconditional. He didn’t officially know about the ballistics report and they couldn’t charge someone they couldn’t find.
On the one hand, he would have liked to get as far away from Brighton as possible but that wasn’t a realistic option. He needed to stay close to Haywards Heath to prove his innocence but evading capture would be difficult. The police would be tracking his electronic fingerprints. Fortunately, he still had the passport in a false name, which he used to get out of Saudi Arabia, a couple of years earlier. It would come in useful if he did have to flee the country.
He decided the best place to stay close and at the same time remain hidden, would be one of the bed and breakfast hotels in Crawley. Unlike the larger hotels at the airport, they wouldn’t require a credit card for identification, when he arrived, and
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Powell slept late, having only finally fallen asleep about four thirty. He’d had a large scotch when he returned home and spent some further time digesting what he’d seen.
It was ten when he turned over in his bed and reached for his phone. He was pleased to see it was Brian calling as he wanted to update him on the previous night’s events.
“I was going to call you,” Powell said, rather sleepily.
“Listen you’re in big trouble,” Brian replied instantly. “I think you can expect a visit from the police very shortly.”
Brian’s warning brought Powell alert. “What’s happened?”
“The ballistics report on the gun they found in your car has just been finalised. Seems the gun was used to kill a young man by the name of Stuart Brown. His body was found a couple of weeks ago. The police think it was a drug related shooting.”
“Shit! After what I discovered last night, I’m not surprised.”
“What do you mean? What did you discover last night?”
Powell explained what he’d seen.
“How do you do it?” Brian asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You have a knack for finding trouble.”
“I don’t go looking for it. It just tends to find me.”
“I’ll have the number plate checked out and see if I can identify who the police officers might be,” Brian offered. “What are you going to do?”
“I haven’t much choice. If I’m locked up in a cell for months, I’m never going to be able to prove my innocence. I need to disappear.”
“Try and keep out of harm’s way. You won’t get bail a second time.”
“What can you tell me about this Stuart Brown, I’m supposed to have killed?”
“He was a twenty eight year old, out of work reporter. Lived in Lewes and no police record. His body was discovered near Forest Row. He’d been buried in a shallow grave in the woods and was dug up by a couple of enthusiastic Terriers out for their morning walk.”
“So why do the police think his death was drug related?”
“They found a significant stash of drugs at his flat. They think he was dealing and it was a turf war.”
“That sounds vaguely familiar. Same sort of story someone wants to pin on me. And Forest Row isn’t far from Lindfield.”
“But why would they kill him?”
“You said he was a reporter. Perhaps he discovered something he shouldn’t?”
“Or perhaps he changed jobs and started working for Scott, then became greedy?”
“Maybe. Listen, I better get out of here before the police come calling. I’ll be in touch soon.”
Powell didn’t bother to shower and hurriedly packed a sports bag with a few essentials. He was out of the house and driving away within five minutes of finishing his call with Brian. If the police couldn’t find him, he wasn’t committing a crime by going on the run as his bail had been unconditional. He didn’t officially know about the ballistics report and they couldn’t charge someone they couldn’t find.
On the one hand, he would have liked to get as far away from Brighton as possible but that wasn’t a realistic option. He needed to stay close to Haywards Heath to prove his innocence but evading capture would be difficult. The police would be tracking his electronic fingerprints. Fortunately, he still had the passport in a false name, which he used to get out of Saudi Arabia, a couple of years earlier. It would come in useful if he did have to flee the country.
He decided the best place to stay close and at the same time remain hidden, would be one of the bed and breakfast hotels in Crawley. Unlike the larger hotels at the airport, they wouldn’t require a credit card for identification, when he arrived, and
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