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

Only, he didn’t say “effing”, he said, you know, the actual f-word.’

‘What else?’

‘He said he’d seen this old bloke up on the hill making this film, yeah?’

Ford nodded, feeling the link between the two murders crystallising right in front of his eyes.

‘Then there’s this other, you know, person, comes up and starts shouting and it all kicks off and they, like, have this massive row or whatever, loads of pushing and shoving, anyway, and then this gun goes off and the old bloke falls down dead.’

Ford picked up on her use of the word ‘person’. It sounded wrong on her lips, let alone Tommy’s. But inside, he was rejoicing. She’d just confirmed his own intuition that the two deaths were linked, and strongly at that. Tommy had witnessed Owen Long’s murder. And he’d planned to blackmail the perpetrator. Which meant Tommy had known the murderer’s identity.

‘Did Tommy tell you the name of the person with the gun?’

Gwyneth shook her head, sending his hopes flying away. ‘I asked him, but he’s, like, “I knew ’em, that’s all you need to know.”’

‘And he definitely said he knew them, not he recognised them?’

She shrugged. ‘It’s the same, isn’t it?’

‘No, it isn’t. Think hard. It’s important.’

‘He said he knew them.’ She dropped her cigarette and ground it out beneath her stiletto. ‘Have you finished? Can I go now, please?’

‘In a moment. Why didn’t you come forward sooner?’

‘It’s JJ and Rye. They frighten me.’

‘But they wouldn’t hurt you, would they?’

She laughed, and it sounded bitter to Ford. ‘Wouldn’t they? Look, JJ spoke to me after the inquest. He said if I heard anything about Tommy I was to go to him, not the cops – sorry, I mean the police – or he’d make my life uncomfortable.’ She made air quotes round the final word. They both knew what that word would mean coming from JJ Bolter’s lips.

It made a kind of sense. JJ may well have given Ford until the wake to find Tommy’s killer, but he could have changed his mind and decided to go for his own brand of justice.

Ford reached for something reassuring to say. ‘JJ’s all talk. He’d never hurt you. He just likes to frighten people.’

‘Promise?’ she asked him with pleading eyes, reddened by crying.

‘Promise.’

She nodded, then turned away, wandering over to a group of women in high heels and higher spirits. They embraced her, and soon all five were laughing at some shared joke.

She’d said Tommy claimed he ‘knew’ the shooter. Who would Tommy have known on Alverchalke land? The answer leaped out at him: Joe Hibberd. He might have been gentle with Gwyneth, but he had a hot temper bubbling just below the surface. Ford had seen that up by the rearing field.

A minute later, the pub’s front door flew open and JJ burst out on to the pavement. Weeping or drink, or both, had made his face puffy.

He turned his red-rimmed eyes on Ford and grabbed his lapels. ‘My little brother’s dead, chopped into pieces like Frankenstein’s monster, and I see you hanging round his wake boozing when you should be out catching his murderer. I told you what would happen if you didn’t catch the bastard who did it.’

Ford was too slow. JJ’s fist smashed into the side of his face, spinning him round and making him stagger into a couple leaning against a windowsill stacked with empty glasses. They shattered as Ford stuck his hands out to stop himself falling.

His face blaring with pain, Ford turned and saw JJ’s meaty right fist heading towards his eyes. He ducked and drove forwards, jamming both hands into JJ’s left shoulder and spinning him in a half-circle.

JJ bent forward, then kicked out backwards with his right heel. But Ford had already sidestepped, thus avoiding having his knee broken or the ligaments sheared.

The kick glanced off the side of his leg. Ford punched hard, aiming for a spot at the base of JJ’s neck where nerves ran close to the surface. JJ yelled out as Ford’s knuckles crushed the fragile fibres.

In that moment, Ford grabbed JJ’s right wrist, yanked it up behind his back, then pushed him against the wall beside the front door. He punched JJ in the side, over his kidney, drawing forth a low moan.

Ford felt able to ease off the pressure. He leaned closer and spoke into JJ’s left ear, between panting breaths. ‘If that’s your idea of fucking up my career, then I’ll give it to you. Call it a Get Out of Jail Free card. But don’t try it again.’

JJ offered a grunted laugh in response. ‘You have no fucking idea, Ford. I had a chat with Rye. We thought of something much better. Your boy. Sam, isn’t it?’

Ford’s heart stuttered. He felt a wave of pure fear crash over him. ‘Don’t even think about it,’ he growled.

‘He goes to the grammar school, doesn’t he?’ JJ twisted his head round to look straight at Ford. He dropped his voice. ‘Schools can be dangerous places. Chemistry labs full of acid. All those sharp edges in the workshops. Bullies. Anything could happen.’

Ford yanked JJ’s arm back up, drawing forth a hiss of pain. ‘If I hear you’ve even looked at Sam, I’ll come for you,’ he muttered. ‘And your brother. And I will finish you.’

JJ laughed. ‘Finish us? What, with some underpaid CPS brief and a half-baked case my lawyers’ll destroy before the tea break? I don’t think so.’

‘I’m not talking about lawyers, Bolter.’ Ford pushed JJ once more against the wall, then took his hands off his shoulders. But he was fully ready for a counter-attack.

Instead, JJ headed for the pub door. Then he stopped and turned back. ‘Carry on with your investigation, Ford. But all bets are off. Me and Rye are doing our own digging,’ he said. ‘Keep an eye on Sam,’ he added with a wink, then went back into the pub.

Mick emerged a minute later.

‘Christ, H! What happened to you?’

‘Ah, the cavalry,’ Ford said ruefully, rubbing his cheek. ‘JJ