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

“He was drinking heavily with someone in the local pub. According to the notes, regulars thought he was an old army pal, but they’d never seen him before. There’s no description but I get the impression that it was seen as an open and shut case. No evidence of a struggle, history of mental health problems and excessive drinking. A hint from a professional that he might have been heading that way.” Vikki shrugged.

“Worth talking to this Nicola Norton, though, eh, Sarge?”

Vikki thought for a second. “Yeah. It is.”

Chapter 12

George Owens didn’t look particularly surprised. He just sat back in his chair and sighed a little as though irritated at being caught out so quickly. “I didn’t get in the taxi that night, but I didn’t kill Paul. I wouldn’t. He was my friend…”

“Would it surprise you to learn that a lot of murders are committed by friends, Mr Owens?” Blake said. “It looks very suspicious, to be perfectly honest. You were one of the last people to see Paul Travis alive and you’ve lied about where you were on the night in question.”

Owens held up a hand. “Yes, yes I know but it’s not what you think…”

“Tell me what it is exactly, then,” Blake said. “It better be good; perverting the course of justice is a serious offence.”

“I can’t. Look, I went up Bolton Road and got the train. I never meant to hinder the investigation. It makes no difference.”

“It makes a huge difference, Mr Owens, why do that when there’s a taxi already waiting to take you home?”

“I don’t know,” Owens said, reddening and looking at the desk. “Maybe I just didn’t like the idea of sharing a taxi with Barry. He was going to be sick. I was sure of it.”

“I’m sorry, Mr Owens, but why lie about it?”

“Because I knew if I said that, it would get back to the others and I didn’t want to upset Barry.” Owens looked up at Blake.

“Really? Your best friend is brutally murdered and the first thing you think about is not hurting Barry Davies’ feelings?”

“Please,” Owens said pressing his hands on the desktop and leaning forward. “Yes. Well, no. I just didn’t want there to be any ill will between us at this difficult time…”

“I’m sorry, Mr Owens, but that sounds like a feeble excuse. Firstly, they told me that you were in the habit of walking up to get the train. Surely they would have questioned why you did that.”

A hopeful look spread across Owens’ face.  “If you know that I never get a taxi with the others, then you know that I was walking up to get a train.” Blake wondered if Owens ever played poker. He hoped not. The man would have given his hand away in seconds.

“If you had told me where you went in the first place, then I might have been less suspicious. But if you walked up Bolton Road, you could easily have diverted and met Paul at the memorial. The fact that you lied to me doesn’t make any of this look good for you.”

“I just caught a train.”

“We can talk about that later, along with asking staff for that night if they saw you, looking at CCTV at the station and appealing to the public for any witnesses to the fact you were where you say you were. Right now, I need you to accompany me to the station and provide a DNA sample, so we can check the murder weapon and the body for any traces.”

“You’ve found the murder weapon?” Owens said, going pale.

“We think so, yes. We’re following a number of lines of enquiry,” Blake leaned forward. “Now, come with me and if you tell me you’re busy, I’ll arrest you for obstruction and perverting the course of justice, right?”

*****

Although History was probably the only lesson Harley Vickers was allowed to attend, he couldn’t concentrate today. There was too much going on. Whispers in the corridor about Bobby Price and Alfie. People laughing or scowling at him.

Normally, he’d be hanging on Mr Lowry’s every word. The History teacher had a way of bringing the past to life that Harley loved, and he didn’t patronise or try to threaten Harley like other teachers did. Most lessons went badly for Harley, he’d say something or someone would say something to him, then the teacher would get involved and it was Harley who got sent to the Remove Room. Then, because he’d missed the last lesson, he’d be confused about where he was up to and get into trouble for not knowing things that he’d never been taught. It was a vicious circle, and the Remove Room had a revolving door.

Mr Lowry was different. Maybe it was because he was older. Some of the younger teachers seemed to have decided that Harley was a troublemaker as soon as they met him; before if they’d been told what a nuisance he was by other teachers. They saw him as a threat to good order that had to be neutralised immediately. Harley suspected that some of the younger teachers were a bit frightened of him, too. He could see it in their eyes. To them, he was like an unexploded bomb just waiting to go off, so they may as well just cut the red wire and be done with it. There was none of that with Mr Lowry. The first thing Mr Lowry had done was ask after Harley’s dad. Apparently, Mr Lowry had taught him way back. He told Harley that his dad was a gifted student and he made a bet with Harley that he would be too. That wasn’t to say that Harley had never had trouble in Mr Lowry’s class, but he was always fair and even-handed and Harley respected that. Today was different, though. Today there was a distraction outside.

They had all piled into the classroom and Mr Lowry had given one of his weary, disappointed looks that meant that they all had to go