“So you don’t think it’s suspicious?” said Jack, pouring Brian a coffee and settling back into the old beaten up cane sofa that sat on the corner of the deck.
“Oh I’m sure there’s plenty to be suspicious about,” said Brian, “but I’m seeing things a slightly different way.”
“Go on.”
“This guy, Simpson? From what you told me, a loner. Bit of a mystery. Twenty years ago maybe has some kind of breakdown — which by the way does ring a bell, got a memory there was an incident in one of the pubs, a fight he got involved in. Back in Spain I still got diaries, I can check for you.”
“Appreciate that.”
“Welcome. So the guy’s a tad odd, hmm? Round peg, square hole. Doesn’t come back to Cherringham — but then turns up when this dig starts, sneaks around in the woods watching.”
“If Ray’s got it right.”
“Well, true. This Ray of yours sounds a little unreliable.”
“Maybe, sometimes more than a little.”
“Nevertheless. The body’s dug up, Tim goes missing, cashes in fifty grand. You know how that plays for me?”
Jack shrugged.
“Tim’s actually your missing link in the real murder case. What if he’s your killer all those years ago? Who knows why — relationship gone wrong? Jealousy? Drugs? Crime of passion? Kid buries the body, has a breakdown, leaves the village, gets over it — then hears about the dig, comes back to check, sees the worst, panics. Takes the money — does a runner.”
“What about the emails?”
“Dunno. Pretty flimsy — not like a real blackmail letter. Maybe sends them to himself?”
“And the whole vacation thing — Morocco?”
“Just a cover.”
“So you don’t think Tim’s been murdered?”
“Seems like a bit of a stretch to me, Jack. Not even dead, I’d say. Jumped in the car, loaded with cash, and took off. Could be anywhere — Scotland, Wales. Caravan somewhere, lying low, right now.”
“And the connection to Todwell?”
“Yeah, that really sounds like a red herring to me. So what if the guy worked there as a student twenty years ago? I can hardly remember what I was doing two years ago, let alone twenty. Don’t blame the Tylers for not remembering.”
“They did seem to be hiding it. Least, seemed that way to me.”
“Maybe. Can’t say I really knew them myself but I never heard a bad word said about them. They always came across as a nice couple — plenty of money, to be sure, but gave lots of local lads jobs over the years — opportunities, chances. And Tyler — good MP. Yup. Think you’re barking up the wrong tree there, Jack. They’re givers, not takers.”
Jack nodded.
Made sense. Maybe Brian was right. Maybe he and Sarah had been coming at this from the completely wrong angle.
Jack saw Brian look away, towards the village, the lights of the fair flashing neon colours in the night sky. On the far horizon, a half moon rising. The sound of music and distant voices drifted down towards the river.
“God. Hope that doesn’t go on too late,” said Brian. “My room looks right out onto the square.”
“You going to stay for one more?” said Jack. “Got a nice single malt needs testing.”
“Well — why not?” said Brian, smiling. “No way I’m getting to sleep with that racket still going on. Might as well put the time to better use.”
“A man after my own heart,” said Jack, heading below for the bottle and the best crystal.
A nightcap.
Though Jack had more on his mind than just a final drink with his new friend.
***
Sarah sat back against the leather seat in the carousel of the Big Wheel and waited while the operator pulled the metal bar across her lap and locked it into place.
She watched him step away, cigarette in mouth, and check there was nobody else wanted a ride.
Above her, she could see the other seats filled with excited teenagers and couples, the wheel lit with a thousand bulbs against the sky.
Then — with a lurch — they were off.
Slowly, she rose into the darkness. Below — a perfect view of the rides and the stalls, and the hundreds of revellers still crowding the High Street.
She saw the lower meeting room of the village hall still lit up, though the upper floors were now dark; the sponsors’ party seemed over.
Just one or two figures moving around in the darkness of the balcony, presumably clearing up.
As she reached the top of the circuit she could see over the hall right across Cherringham, to the Ploughman’s at the edge of the village and beyond to the boats on the river, many still lit up.
Is Jack down there right now, out on his deck in the moonlight? she wondered
Such a gorgeous summer night.
And now as her seat swung lower again, she peered into the crowd, looking for faces she could recognise.
The stalls were all doing good business: people throwing hoops, firing cork guns at targets, trying to win dopey prizes, lining up for hot dogs and burgers …
Somewhere down there, she was sure, were Amanda and Harry. Something was going on tonight down in those streets, she was sure of it. But what?
Slowly the seat looped round at ground level. She saw Grace and Nick and gave them a wave. Grace held up a glass of wine and grinned — oops, forgot that, thought Sarah.
Then up into the sky once more. Rising away from the lights, level now with the village hall balcony again, her eyes scanning the crowd, searching …
… and catching a movement on the balcony that didn’t quite make sense.
The shape of a man moving fast — as if running away, or maybe staggering? Falling?
Then getting up, with difficulty. Wavering. And then another shape there on the balcony — what was happening? Some kind of crazy fight? A drunken brawl?
Sarah stretched in her seat, leaning out into the void to see, as the wheel reached its height — and started its dizzying descent again.
And as she dropped out of the sky, so she saw someone drop from the balcony too.
A man, in shirt and jeans, tumbling, arms flailing, legs bent, upside down, the thirty-foot drop seeming to go on forever …
And now she heard a shout. A panicky cry. Louder even than the thudding music that blared from the speakers of the rides.
A shout of fear and horror from the man who — as she came lower — she suddenly realised was …
Bruno.
And he crashed through the roof of one of the stalls.
Sarah saw the crowd around the stall suddenly pull back, people falling over each other, frightened.
And — inexplicably — a great wall of water splashing from the smashed stall.
As her seat reached ground level again, Sarah looked across and saw that Bruno had fallen — amazingly — into the bobbing duck stall, the little yellow ducks scattered for yards. The water had broken his fall.
The water which now began to streak with blood.
The Big Wheel came to an emergency stop. She grabbed the metal frame and looked into the crowd that now had gathered round Bruno. Screams and crying.
She looked up to the balcony above and for a second saw a movement — but it was gone.
Whoever had been chasing a stumbling Bruno had vanished.
She was trapped, swaying in the air, ten feet from the ground and unable to do what every instinct told her to do. Race to the village hall and find whoever had just pushed Bruno off to what might be his death.
***
Jack and Brian sat on the deck of The Grey Goose, their single malts in hand, looking up at the village.
The music had stopped. And instead of flashing neon in the sky — Jack could see the blue lights of what had to be police cars or ambulances.
And the sound of more sirens on their way.
“What’s going on, do you think?” said Brian.
“Must be serious. And I got friends up there tonight.”
His phone pinged with texts and he read them quickly. Then he turned to Brian.
“Seems our friend Bruno Carter has had a bit of an accident,” said Jack. “Fell off the balcony of the village hall. Been taken to hospital.”
“Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy,” said Brian, shaking his head. “And wasn’t you, eh? Got your alibi sitting right here, Jack?”
Jack read the next text.
He turned to look at Brian.
“Sarah says he didn’t fall,” said Jack. “Looked like he was pushed.”
“What? You’re kidding …”
“Still think there’s nothing funny going on?” said Jack.
Suddenly all of Jack’s questions — his suspicion — returned.
And a few seconds ago he had been ready to walk away.
He looked at Brian, thinking maybe the old Cherringham cop was changing his mind too.
Jack stood up. He needed to think through things.
First thing tomorrow, meet up with Sarah.
For now, the evening was over.
Then to Brian: “Maybe Sarah and I do have something to solve, hmm?”
And Brian stood up, nodding.
“You never know. Thanks, Jack. The steaks, the drinks. And if you need more old cop thoughts …”
Jack nodded. Right now though — he just needed his own clear thoughts.
And for those to be clear, he’d have to wait until morning.