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

‘Like I said, the Remington .22 from Maj— Lord Baverstock’s gun safe.’

‘Why not use your own?’

‘Like I told your mate here the first time we met, it’s at Berret & Sartain. Needs the trigger looking at.’

‘How long have they had it?’

‘Since the twenty-eighth of April.’

Ford kept his face neutral. If Joe was telling the truth, and it would be easy enough to check, he was offering Ford concrete proof that he hadn’t used his own gun. Owen had been shot on the twenty-ninth.

‘Where’s the rifle you used now?’

‘Back in the gun safe up at the main house.’

Ford nodded. Clearly Hibberd had no idea they’d searched the manor house and seized the rifles.

‘You didn’t think to get rid of it?’

Hibberd shook his head. ‘Not mine, is it?’

‘And you weren’t worried about potentially incriminating Lord Baverstock or a member of his family? Or another member of staff?’

Hibberd’s eyes slid sideways then locked back on to Ford’s. ‘Like I said, I did it. And I confessed, too. No need to worry. Anyway, it doesn’t prove anything if their fingerprints are on it, does it? It’d be weirder if they weren’t, seeing as how it’s their gun.’

Ford switched to the present tense to put Hibberd right into the centre of the scene the man claimed he was describing from memory. ‘You’ve just shot Owen. He’s lying dead at your feet. The dogs – what are they doing?’

‘Molly’s lying flat. Bess is a bit nervy. She’s gone up to him and she’s, you know, licking it.’

‘The blood, you mean?’

‘Yeah. I shooed her away and got her to lie down.’

Ford nodded, made a note. The detail about the blood was a nice touch. He looked up at Hibberd and smiled.

‘How did you get him from there to the Ebble, Joe?’

‘Back of the Land Rover, wrapped up in a tarp. I chucked him into a nice deep bit. If we hadn’t had those heavy rains, he would’ve stayed where I put him till the eels and the crayfish ate everything but the bones. You’d never have found him in a thousand years.’

Ford nodded sympathetically. ‘Just your hard luck.’ He doodled a small tick on the pad in front of him. A sign for Jools to take over.

‘Did you see Tommy at any point?’ she asked.

‘No. But he must have been hiding somewhere. The next day, he calls me up, right? He says he saw me kill Long and he wants fifty grand or he’ll tell you lot.’

‘Have you got that kind of money?’

Hibberd’s eyes widened with what looked like genuine surprise. ‘Do I look like the sort of bloke with fifty grand in savings?’

‘I don’t know. I try not to judge by appearances.’

‘Well, I don’t. The cottage is tied to the job. I’ve got a small army pension and what Lord Baverstock pays me. That’s it.’

‘So you decided to kill him.’

‘That’s right. I told him to meet me on Alverchalke land. Said we’d be guaranteed privacy. Bolter turned up expecting his big payday but I’d got myself nicely tucked under a camo net about a hundred yards away, in case he brought his brothers.’

‘Describe what happened next.’

‘He just stood there, bold as brass.’ Hibberd ran his tongue over his lip. It looked like nerves to Ford. ‘And I shot him.’

‘What with?’

‘Lord Baverstock’s Parker-Hale.’

‘Why didn’t you use the .22 again?’

‘No good for a long-range shot. And I didn’t want to be anywhere near Bolter.’

‘Shot placement?’ Jools asked. A flicker of doubt crossed Hibberd’s face at her use of a military term. She smiled at him. ‘I’m ex-army, too. MPs.’

‘Huh. A monkey, eh?’

She shrugged. ‘Somebody had to eat all the bananas.’

That won her a brief smile. ‘Left ear.’

‘Must have made a mess.’

He shook his head. ‘Ballistic tip. Expanded in his head. No exit wound, no mess.’

‘Did you clean that gun, too?’

‘Yes.’

‘Wouldn’t it have helped your cause if you’d left your prints on both rifles?’

‘I didn’t think I had a cause, did I? Plus, I’m an old soldier. You always clean your weapons after use. I had it drilled into me by my gunnery instructors. I like to keep things clean and tidy. Once you learn that in the army, it stays with you for life.’

‘How did you dispose of Tommy’s body? The Ebble again?’ Ford asked.

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘I tried to be more rational about it.’

‘Rational?’

‘Yes. I reckoned putting two bodies in the same place doubled the risk one might float or something.’

‘Yeah, I can see that,’ Ford said casually, but made a note. ‘Instead of using the Ebble again, you did what?’

‘I cut him up and dumped the pieces down a badger sett.’

Ford retrieved Joe’s suicide note from the folder in front of him. He made a show of reading it.

‘That’s odd. It says here you had some kind of blackout. But now you recall chopping him up. Which is it, Joe? You do remember or you don’t remember?’

Hibberd rubbed the back of his neck. Glanced at his solicitor. Then looked back at Ford. ‘I remember the first bit.’

‘OK. How many?’

‘What?’

‘Sorry, Joe. I know it’s a gruesome question, but how many pieces did you cut Tommy into?’

Hibberd blinked. His mouth opened and then closed again.

‘Joe?’ Ford asked again.

Having remained utterly immobile until now, Rowbotham leaned over and spoke to Hibberd behind his hand.

Hibberd nodded. ‘I can’t remember. That’s what I meant in my letter. I was having some sort of flashback. Like you said, I basically blacked out, and when I came round I was at mine in the shower.’

Ford shook his head, gratified his ploy with the letter had worked. ‘Sorry, Joe, I was paraphrasing. What you actually wrote was, “I don’t know what happened except I came to beside his dismembered body.” Clear it up for me,’ he said with a smile. ‘When you came out of this apparent blackout, were you beside the body or in the shower?’

‘Body,’ Joe muttered.

Ford nodded and made a note. ‘Thanks for that, Joe. Now, you said you didn’t want to double the risk that one of the men you murdered