daughter of Neville Gaines, murderer.
I thanked them and went away. ‘Them’ was a creamy blonde who’d got the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, and I’d have her name for you only I was getting married on Friday.
I had landed on a market day, so the traffic was bad. I edged my way round the block a few times, and eventually found my way on to the island and out to the road for Shrewsbury. Then I made good time, driving fast as though something was chasing me. Something was. I didn’t like to think how that letter might have affected Paul.
I made it in forty minutes. They’d improved the Police HQ buildings since I’d been there. You couldn’t expect them to stand still, simply because I’d chosen to transfer. I asked for Freer. Yes, he was still with them, a Det. Chief Inspector now. But he was out on a case. Would I care to wait? What else could I do? I filled in by doing a wander round to see if any of my old mates were still there. One or two were, just where they’d been twelve years before, so their ribbing about my present job left me quite unmoved.
Freer came in at last. He was snappily dressed and carried a zipped document case under his arm. He still walked with vigorous dignity, not looking to right or left. He was thinner and more supercilious, his cynicism having soured. He wouldn’t have been a popular man to work for.
Eventually I got in to see him. They’d had a hi-jacking on the A5 the night before, and Freer was up to his neck in it. He said he’d give me ten minutes. To him I was a minor constable from an unimportant corner of his past, and he just wasn’t interested.
‘M allin?’ he said. ‘Yes, I remember.’
There was nothing relaxed about him. He leaned forward in his chair like a cat about to strike, and waited, not prompting.
‘ You’ll perhaps remember the Paterson murder?’ I asked. It wasn’t important to him, because he hadn’t been in charge. His eyes were steady. He said nothing.
‘ You were a sergeant,’ I prodded him.
His lips curled. ‘You’ve got a nice regard for rank.’
‘ You were my hero.’
Something dark stirred behind his eyes. ‘And you came back after twelve years to tell me so?’
‘ To ask if you remember the Paterson murder.’
‘ Of course I do.’
‘ At the time,’ I said, ‘I was a driver. But nothing important, like sergeant.’
‘ You are now, then?’
‘ Now I’m a private enquiry agent.’
‘ Ah! Divorce and things like that.’
‘ Not so far,’ I admitted. ‘Nothing worse than murder.’
‘ Andrew Paterson’s murder? You’re a bit late for that.’
‘ Something more recent. The murder of a young man, and his father’s suicide.’
‘ I haven’t got much time.’
‘ I wanted to ask you about the father.’
‘ And you think I’d know?’
‘ You’ve got a good memory. That search,’ I said. ‘You’ll remember that first time we searched for the second gun. We didn’t find it.’
He smiled. The corners of his mouth moved outwards but not upwards. It was painful to watch. ‘Yes, of course. You were in on that. As you say, you didn’t find it.’
‘ I drew the pig sty.’
‘ Very unfortunate.’
‘ But who,’ I asked, ‘was Hutchinson?’
I actually caught him unawares. There was not much to show but a flicker of the eyelashes, and the very slight pause before he said:
‘ One of the men.’
‘ On the first search?’
‘ Yes.’ He was obviously back in his official shell.
‘ Where on the first search?’
It was probably unusual for him to be on the receiving end of questions. He didn’t like it. ‘The cow byre.’
So I’d guessed right. ‘On his own?’
‘ I decided it wasn’t too much for one man.’
‘ So you blame yourself?’
‘ For what?’ So polite—so deadly.
‘ For putting him in there alone.’
‘ Not at all.’
‘ But on the second search, that’s where it was. Maybe he missed it because it was all too much for him.’
‘ I told you,’ he
I thanked them and went away. ‘Them’ was a creamy blonde who’d got the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, and I’d have her name for you only I was getting married on Friday.
I had landed on a market day, so the traffic was bad. I edged my way round the block a few times, and eventually found my way on to the island and out to the road for Shrewsbury. Then I made good time, driving fast as though something was chasing me. Something was. I didn’t like to think how that letter might have affected Paul.
I made it in forty minutes. They’d improved the Police HQ buildings since I’d been there. You couldn’t expect them to stand still, simply because I’d chosen to transfer. I asked for Freer. Yes, he was still with them, a Det. Chief Inspector now. But he was out on a case. Would I care to wait? What else could I do? I filled in by doing a wander round to see if any of my old mates were still there. One or two were, just where they’d been twelve years before, so their ribbing about my present job left me quite unmoved.
Freer came in at last. He was snappily dressed and carried a zipped document case under his arm. He still walked with vigorous dignity, not looking to right or left. He was thinner and more supercilious, his cynicism having soured. He wouldn’t have been a popular man to work for.
Eventually I got in to see him. They’d had a hi-jacking on the A5 the night before, and Freer was up to his neck in it. He said he’d give me ten minutes. To him I was a minor constable from an unimportant corner of his past, and he just wasn’t interested.
‘M allin?’ he said. ‘Yes, I remember.’
There was nothing relaxed about him. He leaned forward in his chair like a cat about to strike, and waited, not prompting.
‘ You’ll perhaps remember the Paterson murder?’ I asked. It wasn’t important to him, because he hadn’t been in charge. His eyes were steady. He said nothing.
‘ You were a sergeant,’ I prodded him.
His lips curled. ‘You’ve got a nice regard for rank.’
‘ You were my hero.’
Something dark stirred behind his eyes. ‘And you came back after twelve years to tell me so?’
‘ To ask if you remember the Paterson murder.’
‘ Of course I do.’
‘ At the time,’ I said, ‘I was a driver. But nothing important, like sergeant.’
‘ You are now, then?’
‘ Now I’m a private enquiry agent.’
‘ Ah! Divorce and things like that.’
‘ Not so far,’ I admitted. ‘Nothing worse than murder.’
‘ Andrew Paterson’s murder? You’re a bit late for that.’
‘ Something more recent. The murder of a young man, and his father’s suicide.’
‘ I haven’t got much time.’
‘ I wanted to ask you about the father.’
‘ And you think I’d know?’
‘ You’ve got a good memory. That search,’ I said. ‘You’ll remember that first time we searched for the second gun. We didn’t find it.’
He smiled. The corners of his mouth moved outwards but not upwards. It was painful to watch. ‘Yes, of course. You were in on that. As you say, you didn’t find it.’
‘ I drew the pig sty.’
‘ Very unfortunate.’
‘ But who,’ I asked, ‘was Hutchinson?’
I actually caught him unawares. There was not much to show but a flicker of the eyelashes, and the very slight pause before he said:
‘ One of the men.’
‘ On the first search?’
‘ Yes.’ He was obviously back in his official shell.
‘ Where on the first search?’
It was probably unusual for him to be on the receiving end of questions. He didn’t like it. ‘The cow byre.’
So I’d guessed right. ‘On his own?’
‘ I decided it wasn’t too much for one man.’
‘ So you blame yourself?’
‘ For what?’ So polite—so deadly.
‘ For putting him in there alone.’
‘ Not at all.’
‘ But on the second search, that’s where it was. Maybe he missed it because it was all too much for him.’
‘ I told you,’ he
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