THE DCI BLIZZARD MURDER MYSTERIES: Books 1 to 3

by John Dean

  ‘Yeah, but I wasn’t the one who tried to kill the Roberts woman,’ said Ramage quickly. ‘You can’t pin that one on me.’

  ‘So are you saying you did kill Moira Savage?’ asked Blizzard sharply.

  ‘No, I ain’t.’ Ramage looked rattled. ‘I’m just saying I didn’t do that Elspeth woman.’

  ‘Stop twisting my client’s words, Chief Inspector,’ cautioned Elsden.

  ‘Besides,’ said Blizzard, ignoring the comment. ‘We know who tried to kill Elspeth.’

  ‘So perhaps the same person also killed Moira Savage,’ suggested the lawyer.

  ‘No,’ replied Blizzard flatly. ‘That was old MacDonald here.’

  ‘You cannot prove that,’ said Elsden, desperately trying to regain control of the situation. ‘Even if my client had sent these threats, it does not prove that he killed Moira Savage. Surely, you arrested her husband for that?’

  ‘We did,’ said Blizzard. ‘But we are convinced that Brian Savage did not mean her to be killed. No, I think that’s down to your client.’

  ‘It’s all lies!’ exclaimed Ramage.

  ‘Shut it!’ snarled Blizzard, fleetingly losing his temper, a rare occurrence in interviews. ‘I have had just about enough of your shit! This time you are going down and if I have anything to do with it, they’ll throw away the key!’

  Colley looked at Blizzard in surprise and Ramage looked as if he was about to say something before a stern look from his lawyer silenced him.

  ‘I warn you,’ said Elsden, ‘that unless you intend to charge my client with an offence, we are going to walk out of here.’

  ‘Somehow I don’t think so,’ said Blizzard thinly, regaining his composure. ‘See, I think your client thought that there was nothing more Moira Savage could do. Then she started talking about making the site a war cemetery and the housebuilder panicked, threatened to pull out…’

  ‘Rubbish!’ exclaimed Ramage. ‘That’s a pack of lies.’

  ‘Well, you had better take that up with him,’ said Blizzard, ‘because that’s what he told my sergeant here an hour ago once he knew you were in custody and couldn’t hurt him.’

  Ramage blanched.

  ‘And, of course, Mr Elsden,’ continued Blizzard, ‘your client could not risk losing all that money. How would he pay your extortionate fees to start with?’

  Elsden glowered at him.

  ‘So,’ said Blizzard, thoroughly enjoying himself, ‘I think our Henderson told the housing company he would sort it then he sent the boys round to silence Moira.’

  ‘You can’t prove it!’ blustered Ramage.

  ‘Oddly enough, we can,’ said Blizzard calmly. ‘You see, our forensics team found a couple of fingerprints in Moira’s house. Belonged to Mr Ramage’s old drinking pal Garry Horton, did they not, Sergeant?’

  ‘They did,’ said Colley.

  ‘Yeah, well pin this one on him!’ shouted Ramage, leaping to his feet.

  ‘If only we could,’ said Blizzard wistfully.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Ramage, ‘except, you won’t find him. He’s long gone, mate. And without him, I’m as free as a bird.’

  ‘Yes, you are probably right. I imagine the plan was that you hook up with him,’ said Blizzard and glanced at Colley. ‘Oh, hang on, though, what were you telling me earlier, Sergeant?’

  ‘Ooh, I’m not sure, my memory isn’t what it used to be,’ said Colley. ‘Ah, I’ve remembered now, guv.’

  ‘Then could you care to enlighten our Mr Ramage. I am sure he is dying to know.’

  ‘Know what?’ asked Ramage.

  ‘Garry Horton was arrested by the Spanish police last night,’ said Colley.

  ‘What?’ gasped Ramage.

  ‘Yeah, got into a fight in a bar. One of their detectives rang us up when he discovered that Garry was from Hafton. Wanted to know if he was wanted. And do you know,’ Colley said, ‘it turned out he was. Somehow I think we’ll be seeing Garry Horton back in this city after all.’

  ‘Wouldn’t that be nice?’ said Blizzard.

  ‘He won’t say nowt!’ exclaimed Ramage.

  ‘Oddly enough,’ said Colley, ‘when the Spanish police mentioned you, his demeanour changed somewhat.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Ramage.

  ‘My client…’ began Elsden.

  ‘Your client can bloody well listen to the sergeant,’ snapped Blizzard. ‘Pray, proceed, David.’

  ‘Why, thank you, guv, you are too kind,’ said Colley. ‘Well, as I was saying, Garry told the Spanish police that he was sick of taking the rap for you. I imagine that included the attack on those German students. You remember them, don’t you, Henderson? Poor old Garry took the fall for you, didn’t he?’

  Ramage said nothing but stared in horror at the sergeant.

  ‘Indeed,’ continued Colley. ‘Your mate Garry seemed keen for the Spanish cops to let us know he would co-operate if we mention his change of heart to the judge.’

  ‘Oh, Jesus,’ groaned Ramage, burying his head in his hands.

  ‘I don’t think my client should say anything else,’ said Elsden firmly.

  ‘No need – all he has to do is listen,’ said Blizzard, a harsh edge in his voice, ‘because we have only just started. You see, we also think he killed his father.’

  ‘You have no evidence of that,’ said Ramage furiously, leaping to his feet again and wagging a finger at the chief inspector. ‘The old bastard died by accident.’

  ‘Sit down!’ said Blizzard.

  Ramage slumped back into his chair and looked helplessly at his lawyer who was about to speak when a stern look from the chief inspector silenced him.

  ‘Actually,’ said Blizzard, ‘we do have evidence that it was not an accident. See, you did not exactly keep what you did to your dad a secret, did you, Henderson?’

  ‘I never told Garry Horton!’ exclaimed Ramage. ‘If he tries to say that…’

  ‘Actually, it was Brian Savage. He has had time to think about what happened and he really is very upset about what you did to his wife. He’s quite a changed man, actually. When we saw him earlier today, he told us everything. He had already said you promised to sort Moira out but this time, he told Sergeant Tulley that you admitted to him that you killed your father because he was standing in the way of the land sale.’

  ‘Jesus,’ said Ramage feebly.

  ‘And we know you were the one who had Dennis Hoare done over at the farm as well.’

  ‘I never did!’ exclaimed Ramage but the protestations were becoming less convincing.

  ‘Oh, we think you did, Henderson,’ said Colley, the constant switching between officers helping to confuse and rattle Ramage. ‘You see, Robin Harvey told us how you threatened to harm his children unless he told you what Dennis Hoare had been saying to us.’

  ‘Anyway,’ said Blizzard, ‘before you had Dennis done over, he told us some very interesting things about your rows with your dad. I am sure you will be pleased to know that Dennis is recovering well and is prepared to give evidence in court.’

  Ramage said nothing; his pale features said it all.

  ‘I think I need time to talk to my client,’ said Elsden feebly.

  ‘I am sure you do,’ said Blizzard. ‘Oh, while I remember, there is some good news for him.’

  ‘Good news?’ asked the solicitor suspiciously.

  ‘Yes, the person who started this all off – our Herr Knoefler – turns out to be the one person your client did not kill.’ Blizzard beamed at him.

  ‘Have you finished?’ asked Elsden icily.

  ‘Yes. Oh, come to think of it no,’ said the chief inspector. ‘Actually, I was thinking that in this new heart-warming atmosphere of entente cordiale, your client would like to do his bit and drop Eddie Gayle’s fat arse in it.’

  ‘Some things,’ said Edward Elsden as Ramage looked at Blizzard anxiously, ‘are just too dangerous, Chief Inspector.’

  ‘I imagine they are,’ said Blizzard. He stood up with the scraping of chair legs and
walked out into the corridor, followed by Colley.

  ‘Bloody hell, we got the bastard,’ said the sergeant, punching the air as the interview room door closed behind them.

  Blizzard leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

  ‘You look shattered,’ said Colley.

  ‘Yeah, I am. In fact…’ His mobile phone rang. ‘Now what?’

  Fishing it out of his trouser pocket, he listened for a moment. Colley watched his impassive face but could glean nothing about the conversation and Blizzard said little apart from a muttered ‘sorry, but you know how it goes’ at one point.

  ‘Who was that?’ asked Colley.

  ‘Danny Wheatley.’

  ‘What did he want?’

  ‘Wanted me to know that his move to the chief constable’s office has been put on hold. Apparently, the chief decided it would be bad PR to promote him. Instead, he’s being moved to Multhorpe.’

  ‘I hope he can talk sheep then,’ said Colley, ‘because the only thing that ever happens up there is the farmers’ market.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Blizzard with the flicker of a smile.

  ‘So how was Danny?’ asked the sergeant.

  ‘Not entirely happy.’

  ‘That’s another enemy for your list, guv.’ The sergeant winked at him.

  ‘And what difference will one more make exactly?’

  ‘Aye, maybe you’re right,’ said Colley. ‘Hey, I’ve just had a brillo idea, guv. Matty Roberts has just taken over that pub on the corner of Linklater Street. So, what do you think?’

  ‘I think,’ said Blizzard, ‘that sometimes you have some excellent ideas, Sergeant. Put the word round, will you? Let’s get the team down there, and I’ll give Gerry Hope a ring, I owe him a pint or three. He can bring his gonads.’

  ‘Guv?’ asked the bemused sergeant.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Blizzard, clapping Colley on the shoulder. ‘And you know, if I’ve got some change left, I might even buy you one as well.’

  ‘Now you’re talking,’ said Colley as they turned back into the interview room.

  Chapter twenty-eight

  The wind whipped off the North Sea as John Blizzard stood and stared out over the vast expanse of dark water. Something had drawn him to the clifftop a few miles from Hafton that bright Saturday morning in May and as he stood there, he knew it was the only place in the world he wanted to be. Eyes seeking the distant horizon, his mind went back over the events of the past six months, events which had finally reached their conclusion late the previous afternoon.

  Along with Colley, the chief inspector had been in Hafton Crown Court when Henderson Ramage was jailed for life for the murders of his father and Moira Savage. Ramage stared at the floor in shocked silence. For years, he had thought himself one of the untouchables; now everyone in the city’s underworld knew that John Blizzard could touch them all. It was indeed job done.

  Next to Ramage in the dock was Garry Horton, also jailed for life for the murder of Moira Savage, alongside another man; he tried to claim that her death was accidental and that he only meant to scare her, but the jury rejected the argument. Horton had been as good as his word and taken them all down with him.

  Well, not quite all. He had not taken Eddie Gayle down; no, Eddie Gayle remained beyond the law. As he walked down the steps outside the court, leaving Ronald and Hope to deal with the media, the chief inspector had caught sight of Gayle, leering at him as he stood in front of his black Mercedes parked nearby.

  ‘Next time, Eddie,’ Blizzard shouted, ‘next time.’

  When Blizzard returned to Abbey Road, there was a note from the chief constable, congratulating him for his efforts in leading the investigation. Blizzard screwed it up and threw it in the bin.

  Tommy Cranmer had appeared briefly in court a few weeks before, when the judge was told that he admitted manslaughter on the grounds of diminished responsibility. In a five-minute hearing, Tommy was sent to a mental hospital indefinitely. He would never come out, everyone knew that, and Edward Cranmer died in his sleep in hospital.

  Ironically, Moira Savage got her final wish. Alarmed by the negative publicity, the housebuilder withdrew from the scheme at Green Meadow Farm.

  The chief inspector stood and stared out over the choppy sea. Faces and images rushed through John Blizzard’s mind but each time he came back to that one face, Frank Robinson smiling out of the black-and-white photograph. With a deep sigh, the chief inspector pulled the picture from his pocket and glanced down at it for a moment.

  ‘Job done, Grandad,’ murmured Blizzard, feeling his voice starting to crack. ‘Rest in peace.’

  And the tears suddenly came, sharp and stinging as the winds that whipped in off the North Sea. Then they were gone and, as the chief inspector’s composure returned, so were the images banished from his mind. For a crazy moment, as he looked out from the clifftop, Blizzard felt an urge to throw the picture into the wind, to let it swoop and swirl until it fell into the sea to drift endlessly in the dark waters.

  ‘No,’ said Blizzard with a quick shake of the head, slipping the picture back into his pocket. ‘No.’

  He turned away from the cliff edge and started to walk back to where Fee had been standing at a respectful distance, watching him in silence.

  ‘OK?’ she asked, noticing his red eyes.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, slipping his arm into hers. ‘Yeah. Edward Cranmer was right, you know. It is over.’

  ‘Good,’ said Fee, then grinned at him. ‘Hey, I realise it’s the dreaded exercise but do you fancy a walk?’

  ‘Do you know,’ said Blizzard, ‘I think I do, Fee.’

  ‘Come on then,’ she said, kissing him softly on the cheek, ‘old timer.’

  And, arm in arm, they set off along the windswept cliffs.

  Character List

  Hafton officers:

  Detective Chief Inspector John Blizzard – head of Western Division CID

  Detective Sergeant David Colley

  Detective Inspector Graham Ross – head of forensics in Western Division

  Detective Inspector Chris Ramsey

  Detective Constable Fee Ellis

  Detective Constable Dave Tulley

  County force:

  Deputy Chief Constable Ken Bright

  Detective Superintendent Arthur Ronald – head of CID in the southern half of the force

  Gerry Hope – customs officer

  Other characters:

  Edward Cranmer – war veteran

  Tommy Cranmer – his grandson

  Paul D’Arcy – lawyer

  Edward Elsden – lawyer

  Eddie Gayle – Hafton criminal

  Franz Hasse – criminal

  Robin Harvey – farmer

  Dennis Hoare – farmhand

  Dr Richard Hamer – archaeologist

  Horst Knoefler – former German POW

  Garry Horton – Hafton criminal

  Henderson Ramage – Hafton criminal

  Peter Reynolds – Home Office pathologist

  Elspeth Roberts – archaeologist

  Moira Savage – chair of Hawkwith Parish Council

  Brian Savage – her husband

  Malcolm Watt – council officer

  STRANGE LITTLE GIRL

  A DCI John Blizzard murder mystery

  John Dean

  Published by

  THE BOOK FOLKS

  London, 2017

  © John Dean

  Polite note to the reader

  This book is written in British English except where fidelity to other languages or accents is appropriate.

  You are invited to visit www.thebookfolks.com and sign up to our mailing list to hear about new releases, free book promotions and other special offers.

  We hope you enjoy the book.

  STRANGE LITTLE GIRL is the second book by John Dean to feature Detective Chief Inspector John Blizzard. It can be enjoyed on its own or as part of a series. Details of the other books in the series can be found at the end
of this one.

  She didn’t know how to live in a town that was rough

  It didn’t take long before she knew she’d had enough

  Walking home in her wrapped up world

  She survived but she’s feeling old

  ‘Cause she found

  All things cold.

  Strange Little Girl

  The Stranglers (1982)

  STRANGE LITTLE GIRL

  John Dean

  Chapter one

  John Blizzard stared bleakly at the red paint that had been thrown over the gravestone. Kids, he thought. Whatever happened to respect for the dead? The question was quickly replaced by a more sinister one. The attacker could have used any coloured paint, so why choose red? To resemble blood, he decided. And why this gravestone of all the hundreds in Hafton Cemetery? And why this day of all days? Just a coincidence? No, concluded the detective chief inspector with a shake of the head, this was more than kids mucking about, this was someone with a message for the world. Or perhaps just for the police. For Blizzard. Or perhaps, he thought, someone with a message for Danny Galston, a reminder that his act had not been forgotten. For some in the city the emotions were as raw now as they were the day the murders were committed. Old memories die hard and Blizzard knew from personal experience that these died harder than most.

  He reached out a hand and, on discovering that the paint was still wet, turned sharply to peer across the cemetery, seeking movement among the drooping trees. A flash of blue caught his attention at the far end of one of the paths, over by the crematorium. It revealed itself as an elderly woman shuffling along the long line of flowers laid out on the pavement after that day’s funerals, the sharp late afternoon sunlight catching her coat. Occasionally, she crouched to read the dedication cards, reaching out to run a finger slowly over the words as if spelling them out. As the chief inspector watched, the pensioner looked round furtively then, with a surprisingly rapid movement for one of such advanced years, shot out a hand and snatched a small bunch of roses. Glancing round again, she straightened up and walked briskly in the direction of the cemetery gates, clutching her prize. Blizzard could not help chuckling; better the flowers brighten up her living room than wither away outside the crematorium. Looking across the cemetery, he noticed a woman in a headscarf. She was too far away for him to be sure but Blizzard sensed that she, too, had seen the incident and was smiling as well. She looked in his direction, and for a split second it seemed that they connected. Then she turned and was gone.