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

south. Forget the kid, I’ve got something much better. Much more clever.’

‘Don’t drag it out then. What?’

‘I’ve been doing a little digging into Ford’s past. Did you know he left his wife to drown?’

Rye sat up straighter. His eyes flashed and a grin stole across his face. ‘What? You serious?’

‘It was a climbing thing in Wales. On the coast. She broke her leg and he apparently went off to get help. When the coastguard got there, she was dead. Drowned.’

‘Fuckin’ ’ell!’

‘Yeah, well, don’t get too excited. It all got written off as an accident. They had an inquest like they did for Tommy.’

Rye’s face closed in on itself. He finished his brandy and poured another.

‘Why tell me then?’ he asked sulkily.

‘I didn’t think that was the whole story. I went over to the land of the sheep-shaggers. Spoke to this guy at Milford Haven Coastguard. Persuaded him to talk,’ JJ said, rubbing thumb and forefinger together.

Rye grinned as he swallowed another enormous mouthful of brandy. ‘What did he say?’

‘He gave me this internal report. They had their suspicions it wasn’t all kosher but nothing ever got done about it.’

‘So we’re going to blackmail him with it?’

‘No, you arsehole! Look where blackmail got Tommy. We’re going to be much more subtle. You’re going to put it in the hands of someone who’ll take over digging where I left off.’

‘Who’s that?’

‘Her name is Dr Hannah Fellowes. She’s the second in command of the Forensics department at Bourne Hill.’

‘Cool,’ Rye said, drawing out the word. ‘D’you get this from your source, then, did you?’

JJ nodded. Grinned. ‘We’re not the only ones with family troubles.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

The terms of the search warrant in Ford’s jacket pocket were clear. Under Section 8 of PACE, the Police and Criminal Evidence Act, he was permitted to search Alverchalke Manor and all buildings within a one-mile radius.

The magistrate had been more than happy to sign it, on the basis that Ford believed that he would find one or more murder weapons on the property. It wasn’t perfect, but they didn’t have the manpower for a bigger area.

He’d managed to scare up sixteen uniformed search officers to work under Jan as the supervisor. They were parcelled out between four marked cars currently following Ford and Jan in his Discovery. He turned into the private road that led to Alverchalke Manor.

‘I suspect we’ll be here for two days, at least,’ he said. ‘We’ll get a couple of people in a car at the gate there overnight.’

‘Got it,’ Jan said, making a note.

Ford pulled up in the large semicircle of gravel outside the manor house.

‘Ready?’ he asked her.

‘Ready,’ she replied, with a brief smile.

Ford walked up to the front door and rang the bell.

‘This is a copy of a warrant to search this property,’ he said, handing it to the maid who opened the door. ‘Please stand aside.’ He turned to Jan. ‘In you go.’

Jan beckoned half a dozen officers to follow her in. A second team headed to the stables. In his office, Ford and Jan had plotted the house and outbuildings. They’d outlined them in red or blue, as hot or cold zones, according to their importance. The stable block and the house, where they expected to find the firearms, were hot.

Still clutching the copy of the search warrant, the maid ran towards a door and disappeared. Ford waited. He knew what was coming. Rich or poor, people reacted the same way to police intrusion into their property.

The hallway smelled pleasantly of furniture polish and the scent of roses, a couple of dozen of which – of the palest pink – stood in a huge glass vase on a table.

He heard the clack of heels on tiled floor. Straightened up and turned to meet – who? Lady Baverstock? Yes. In a navy dress, buttoned at the front, and matching suede stilettos. He took in the fierce gaze and tight mouth. She looked furious.

No ‘Coco’ for you today then, Ford.

Arriving in front of him, she brandished the search warrant in his face.

‘Inspector, what is the meaning of this? Why are all these police officers in my house?’

‘That is a copy of a search warrant, Lady Baverstock. I obtained it yesterday from a magistrate. It entitles me to search this property and those allied to it.’

She flushed. ‘This is preposterous! We’ve done nothing wrong.’

‘I’m not saying you have. The warrant is to search for material we believe may have a significant bearing on a murder investigation. I am drawing no conclusions about anyone in particular,’ he said. ‘Is there somewhere you could go while we work? A friend’s house, perhaps?’

Her nostrils flared. ‘You must be bloody joking! I’m not leaving here and letting those people with their great big boots wreck my home. I’m staying.’

‘That’s your right. But you can only observe, and please stand well out of the way. If you try to interfere with my officers, I will have no option but to arrest you for obstruction.’

Breathing heavily, she turned on her heel and stalked off.

‘Lady Baverstock?’ he called after her.

She stopped. Turned to face him, still glaring. ‘What?’

‘I need the key to the gun safe. Could you fetch it for me, please?’

‘Fetch it yourself. It’s in a key box on the wall outside my husband’s office. First door on the right over there,’ she said, pointing to a corridor.

Following her instructions, Ford found a wooden box screwed to the wall. Inside, six sets of keys hung on little hooks. Each bore a label except one, linked by a short chain to a tiny brass shotgun.

He pocketed it and went outside, heading for the stable block and the workshop containing the gun safe. He met a uniform coming the other way.

‘Found the safe, sir. We just need the key to the padlock.’

Ford held it out to him. ‘Here you go.’

‘Thanks, sir,’ said the officer before trotting off back to the stables.

Ford followed him. Inside the workshop, a single-storey brick building with a pitched slate roof, a couple