Death's Cold Hand, J.E. Mayhew [book club recommendations .txt] 📗

“You can make the coffee at the parent and toddler groups, Alex,” Kinnear said, smirking. “You’ll be a smash with all those yummy mummies.”

Manikas crumpled up a piece of paper and threw it at Kinnear who dodged so it flew onward and landed at Blake’s feet. They all turned to look at him and Blake suddenly felt like the schoolteacher who had rumbled a smoking circle behind the bike sheds.

“Congratulations, Andrew,” Blake said, suddenly feeling awkward. There was so much going on in his head; the case, memories of his own daughter, how fleeting her life had been, his younger self with dreams of what she might do, they all crowded around his head, strangling off what he really wanted to say. And worse still was the ‘understanding’ nods from the team. They all knew about Ellie, his daughter; it was part of the ‘Tragic Story of Will Blake.’ He could see it written on their faces, sympathy, a sense of guilt that they’d brought it all up again in his presence. But the truth was, he wanted to celebrate with them. “A great thing you’re doing there,” he managed to say.

“Thanks sir,” Kinnear said, with a flicker of a smile.

“Right. Turning to grimmer matters,” Blake said. “The post-mortem on Paul Travis confirmed what we already knew. He’d had a few pints and was beaten unconscious with a blunt object and then had his throat cut. It was a premeditated act as far as we can tell. A fw week before this, he’d had an altercation with a gang of teenagers, one of whom was called Bobby. Last night, Eric Smith, a pensioner from Port Sunlight, was attacked with a baseball bat by a gang of youths. The name ‘Bobby’ cropped up again. The bat was abandoned at the scene of the crime. Vikki, any news on that?”

Vikki consulted her notes. “Given the circumstances, it was fast-tracked today and it seems as though there are traces of Paul Travis’s blood on it and some bone embedded in the wood.” A few officers winced and shook their heads. “There are also traces of Mr Smith’s blood and DNA from another, unknown, person.”

“Probably Bobby unless he was wearing gloves,” Alex said.

“Possibly,” Blake said. “But it looks like we have the murder weapon. Kath, Alex and Andrew, can you coordinate the search for this Bobby? I want door-to-door and ask at local schools and colleges too.”

“What about Jack Kenning’s concerns, sir?” Vikki said.

Blake paused, running his fingers through his hair. “So that you’re all aware, Kenning discovered a plastic toy soldier in Paul Travis’ grip.”

“Do you think it’s significant, sir?” Kinnear said. “I mean it seems a bit odd, don’t you think?”

Alex nodded in agreement. “Soldier killed on a war memorial clutching a toy soldier. Add the boot print and it’s all kind of strange.”

“When you put it like that, Alex, yes, it does. But there are a number of reasons why Travis could have been holding that toy. It could have been given to him as a joke, he could have just found it…”

“All the same, sir,” Alex said. “You have to admit, there’s a kind of… I don’t know… theme building up here.”

“I’m not denying there might be something in it, Alex, which is why I’m asking Vikki to review the circumstances surrounding the suicide of Richard Ince, who was found with a similar plastic soldier in his hand six months ago.”

“Really?” Alex said.

“Oi!” Vikki snapped, giving him a playful jab with her finger. “Don’t you think I’m up to it?”

“N-no, Sarge,” Alex stammered, “I mean yes. I mean, another man has been found dead with a toy soldier in his hand? That’s weird…”

“Weirder things happen, Alex. If you look for a connection, there’s a danger you’ll make one that isn’t really there. Let’s be open-minded but look for actual evidence of any kind of link, right? Oh and we keep this detail to ourselves. Nobody else knows about the toy soldier, so it could be useful during interviews. What else have we got?”

Vikki looked at her notes. “Pretty much as we expected, sir. I spoke to George Owens and he confirmed that he and Dave Jones took Barry Davies home in a taxi. Davies was a bit the worse for wear.”

“Nope,” Kath Cryer said. “The first bit was right. Barry was pissed and he wasn’t a pretty sight today when I interviewed him. George Owens wasn’t in the taxi, though.”

“You’re certain, Kath?” Blake said. “Alex, what did Jones say?”

Manikas checked his notes. “He said that Owens got the train.”

“’Like he always does,’ were Barry Davies’ exact words,” Kath added.

“He was quite specific that he got into the taxi with the others, he even said he got out after Barry.” Vikki said. “He became quite edgy when I started asking him about his relationship with Paul, too.”

Kinnear looked at the map. “If he walked to the station, he’d be going in the same direction as Travis at least part of the way. He could easily have diverted off, run ahead. Shall we call him in, sir?”

“No,” Blake said, rubbing his chin. “I’ll go and have a word with him, tomorrow at Pro-Vets. I want to see this charity of theirs, find out a bit more about that. Then I might get a better idea why Mr Owens lied to us about where he went on the night his friend was murdered.”

Chapter 10

Some things seem like a great idea when you start, but the longer you spend on them, the less appealing they become. This was what Jeff Blake thought as he watched Josh Gambles shuffle into the visiting room, flanked by two prison guards. He was a young man with a scruffy black beard and glittering dark eyes. His pointed features made him seem like he was mocking Jeff and the guards and anyone else he encountered. Maybe he was.

Josh Gambles was a serial killer and Jeff, for his sins, was his biographer. Gambles had