Land Rites (Detective Ford), Andy Maslen [best way to read ebooks .txt] 📗

‘Not wasted. We eliminated Mr Adlam. Unless—’ She stopped.

‘What?’

‘Unless he has other guns and he didn’t declare them.’

Jools nodded. ‘I’d need a warrant to search his property.’

‘You could ask Henry what he thinks.’

Ford was in the kitchen stirring coffee granules into a mug of boiling water when Jools appeared in the doorway.

‘How’s it going?’ he asked.

She wrinkled her nose. ‘The bullets weren’t fired from Tom Adlam’s guns. Hannah and I took them over to HQ to get them test-fired. No match.’

Ford shrugged. ‘These things happen.’

‘Yeah, but if it is him, he could have been trying to throw me off by offering up a couple of spare rifles,’ she said. ‘I thought we should apply for a search warrant for his place.’

Ford frowned, grappling with the point that had been niggling at him. ‘Why two, Jools? Why not use the same one for both murders?’

She opened her mouth, and then shut it again. He watched her pondering the same question he’d been turning over in his mind while making his coffee. Why would someone use two such different weapons to kill two victims?

Unless it was two shooters. But that was pushing the bounds of probability. If they were in London, two murders by gunshot within five miles of each other wouldn’t necessarily be treated as related killings. But here? No. The odds were against it.

‘A .22’s lighter than a .308,’ Jools said, finally. ‘Easier to handle close-in?’

He shook his head. ‘That makes it sound like a deliberate choice of weapon. Tell me what you know about close-up kills.’

Her eyes widened. She’d seen what he had. ‘They’re usually execution-style. Something you practically never see outside terrorist situations or gang killings.’

‘And then it’s two pistol rounds in the back of the head, not a rifle round under the chin.’ He paused. ‘Can you fetch Adlam’s .22 and meet me in my office?’

Jools returned ten minutes later with the wooden-stocked rifle.

‘It’s empty, before you ask,’ she said, sliding the safety lever across to reveal a red-painted dot. ‘Now what?’

‘Owen was shot under the chin and at close range. I want to know how it happened. Maybe if we can figure that out, we’ll see things a little clearer.’ He took a few steps away from her until he was backed up against a wall. ‘I’m Owen. You’re the shooter. How did your gun get under my chin?’

Jools came closer, holding the gun across her body. She lowered it until the muzzle was at the level of her sternum and closed in.

Ford grabbed the barrel and pushed it aside. ‘If you pull the trigger now, you’re going to miss by a mile.’

Jools pulled the barrel back so that the muzzle moved under Ford’s jaw.

‘We fight over it,’ she grunted. ‘Now it could work.’

He relaxed his grip. ‘Put your finger over the trigger.’

‘Nuh-uh. No way.’ Jools shook her head vigorously. ‘First rule of using firearms. You never point a gun at something or someone you don’t want to shoot. We’ve already broken it. I’m not touching the trigger.’

He grinned. ‘Come on, Jools. I must’ve pissed you off at some point in the last week.’

She laughed. ‘Maybe you have. But I still think—’

‘Fine. Put it near the trigger.’

Once she’d complied, Ford pulled the muzzle up under his chin. ‘We struggle. You fire. I die. Possible?’

‘Possible,’ she agreed, pulling the muzzle away and laying the rifle on Ford’s desk. ‘But I still don’t see how it could have gone down this way. Why would I let you get your hands on the rifle in the first place?’

‘Maybe you didn’t intend to kill me. Maybe you weren’t even planning on shooting me.’

‘So I was threatening you, then? Just waving it under your nose to frighten you?’

‘Exactly!’

‘But why? It’s hardly the MO of a murderer, is it?’

Ford saw it then. Clear as a muzzle flash. ‘No! It isn’t. But what if it was an accident?’

‘What do you mean?’

Ford went and sat down. Jools took the visitor’s chair.

‘I mean,’ he said, ‘the shooter didn’t go looking for Owen. He just happened to find him.’

‘By coincidence?’ Jools said with a sceptical twist of her mouth.

‘Not precisely. When you said you were threatening me, do you know what I heard?’

‘What?’

‘Get your ghastly little feet off my land!’ Ford said in a parody of an English upper-class accent.

Jools’s eyes widened. ‘You think it was one of the family, don’t you? The Baverstocks.’

‘Got to be a possibility, hasn’t it? Them or one of their staff.’

‘An ex-army gamekeeper, for example.’

Ford made some notes, then looked up at Jools. ‘Let’s say Joe Hibberd chanced on Owen filming on the estate. He gave him the old “you’re trespassing” speech. Only instead of retreating, Owen doubled down on his eco-warrior thing. Told Joe the land belonged to everyone, or something like that.’

Jools nodded enthusiastically. ‘Joe didn’t like it. He’d already come off second best to Tommy in a fight. He marched up to Owen and they got into a scuffle.’

‘Owen grabbed the gun barrel and it ended up under his chin, and that’s when Joe fired,’ Ford said. ‘Maybe on purpose, maybe by accident.’

‘If we can accept it went down like that, we still have the two-gun problem,’ Jools said. ‘How do you account for the switch to the .308?’

‘Easily, now. Owen is a mistake. But Joe’s done it once and he figures he’ll clear the mess up and then do a better job on Tommy. Pay him back for the ruckus over the poaching.’

‘So you don’t think it was Adlam?’

‘I can’t see it, Jools. I’m sorry. Not as a single shooter. Not as one of a pair. He’s a genuine witness, I could feel it in every word of your report,’ Ford said. ‘If we can narrow down the time of death for either Tommy or Owen, see if he can give you an alibi. But no search warrant. Not unless he ticks at least a couple more boxes.’

Jools nodded. ‘I didn’t get a killer vibe off him either, to be honest.’

He saw from her