by Boyd, Damien
Gorman had begun to cry. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. He was salivating profusely. Air bubbles were appearing and disappearing on each breath.
‘Good old fashioned greed, Steve.’
‘The greedy little fucker.’ Gorman was talking almost to himself. ‘He was blackmailing me. What else could I do?’
The realisation of what he had said suddenly dawned on Steve Gorman. He reached into his inside jacket pocket and produced a gun. He pointed it first at Dixon then at Jane then back to Dixon.
‘Will we need Ballistics to confirm that is the same gun that killed Dan Hunter?’
‘No.’
Dixon pointed to the CCTV camera above and to the right of the bar.
‘Smile for the camera.’
Gorman pointed the gun at the camera and fired. The camera disintegrated.
‘That was unwise. There’s an armed response unit upstairs and another behind the sea wall.’
Gorman was sobbing uncontrollably. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’ He began to shake.
‘Put the gun down, Steve. You’re not going anywhere.’
A siren could be heard in the distance.
‘You said they were upstairs.’
‘I lied.’
Gorman pointed the gun at Jane. Dixon sat up in his chair. The siren was getting louder.
‘They’ll be here before you can reach the door, Steve. And where do you think you’re going to go? Put the gun down.’
‘I can’t go to prison.’
‘Think about it. You didn’t kill Jake. That just leaves Dan Hunter. You’d get parole in fifteen to twenty years.’
‘I can’t go to prison.’
Suddenly, Gorman stopped shaking. When he spoke, he was quite calm.
‘Tell my children I love them.’
Both Dixon and Jane would later testify that what happened next happened in slow motion. Gorman turned first to Jane.
‘Goodbye, Jane.’
Then he turned to Dixon.
‘Goodbye, Sir.’
Then he placed the barrel of the pistol to his right temple and pulled the trigger. Dixon lunged forward from his chair but was too late to stop him. Jane turned away but was too late to avoid being spattered with blood and brain, which sprayed across the bar.
The gun fell to the ground. Gorman gave a faint smile and then dropped to his knees. His mouth opened as if he was about to speak and he exhaled. Then he fell forward.
Dixon could see Jane screaming but heard nothing. The first sound he was aware of was a battering ram at the front door of the hotel. Suddenly the bar was full of uniformed police officers. Dixon was not aware that he was speaking but could hear his own voice.
‘I am DI Nick Dixon. That is DC Jane Winter. The gun is over there. This is DS Steve Gorman. He needs an ambulance.’
Dixon and Jane sat outside with a drink and watched through a window at the front of the hotel while the paramedics worked on Gorman. They watched as the paramedics sat back, looked at each other and shook their heads. Detective Sergeant Steven Gorman was pronounced dead at the scene.
The sea front had been sealed off and the hotel evacuated. It was likely to be some time before the bar would open to the public again. A thorough clean would be required.
DCI Lewis arrived before Dixon had finished his drink.
‘Steve Gorman?’
‘I’m afraid so, Sir.’
‘He killed Fayter and Hunter?’
‘He admitted killing Hunter but was adamant he didn’t kill Jake.’
‘Did he kill him?’
‘I thought so, Sir, but I’m not so sure now.’
‘So, who did then?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘But he was behind the egg dealing?’
‘He was.’
‘Fucking hell. We’ll have to keep this quiet.’
‘Well, there’s not going to be a trial.’
‘He’s dead?’
‘Yes, Sir.’
Lewis shook his head.
‘Let me have your statements then take a couple of days off, the pair of you. I’ll sort this mess out.’
They collected Sarah Heath from Dixon’s cottage and dropped her at her mother’s house in East Huntspill on their way to Bridgwater. Dixon then spent twenty minutes waiting outside Jane’s flat while she showered and changed clothes. They finally arrived at Bridgwater Police Station just before lunch.
They spent the rest of the day completing their witness statements. Dixon gave a detailed account of the use of Jake’s iPhone in setting up the meeting with Gorman but Jane’s made no mention of it. Otherwise, their statements were almost identical. They handed the statements to DCI Lewis just before 5.00pm and left the station together.
‘What about Jake?’ asked Jane.
‘We’ll worry about him next week, Jane. And Conrad bloody Benton.’
Jane nodded.
‘You shouldn’t be on your own. Is there anywhere you can go?’
‘No.’
‘Looks like it’s Monty and me on the sofa again. C’mon, let’s get a bottle of wine.’
Jane smiled. ‘How about two?’
DCI Lewis rang before they reached Brent Knoll.
‘I’ve read your statement, Nick.’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘The end can sometimes justify the means. But we have procedures for a reason.’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘We understand each other, I think, so we’ll say no more about it this time.’
‘Thank you, Sir.’
Dixon rang off, turned to Jane and smiled.
‘We’re off the hook…’
Twelve
Late on the Sunday afternoon Dixon was walking on Burnham beach with Monty. They had parked at the end of Allandale Road and walked out to the lighthouse, which was silhouetted against the evening sky as they approached. The tide was out and seagulls were wandering up and down in the channels between the sand banks looking for worms. Monty was tearing up and down after his tennis ball, as usual.
Dixon had always loved the Burnham lighthouse. It was not a conventional lighthouse by any means. It was square for a start and stood in the middle of the beach on nine stilts. It had been a part of Dixon’s life since he had first used it for goalposts as a child. He stood at the foot of one of the stilts looking at the steel plates bolted to it and remembered challenging Jake to climb up to the door using the bolts for finger holds. Neither of them had got close to it but it had been fun trying.
Dixon heard the familiar soft ping of an email arriving.
He walked up the beach towards the dunes intending to sit on one of the concrete blocks that had once been part of sea defences long since smashed to pieces. He took out his phone and checked his email while he walked.
jakefayter [New Post] I’m Sorry – jakefayter posted
The subject line was enough to stop Dixon in his tracks. He recognised the familiar email alert for a new post on Jake’s blog. It would be interesting to know when Jake had written it but that could wait. Dixon sat on a concrete block and opened the email. He knew instinctively what was coming. He felt tears falling slowly down his cheeks.
I’m Sorry.
If you are reading this then I am already dead. A horrible cliché that, I know, but it’s true. I’ve re-scheduled this post twice already so if it’s live, I’m not.
I’ve done something that I cannot live with. I have tried. God knows, I’ve tried. But I just cannot see a way through what I have done. All I can say is sorry to everyone I have let down and everyone I have hurt.
I have been making a few quid selling ecstacy. This one time I was sold PMA. I didn’t know what it was. If I had done, things might have been different. Anyway, I sold it to Jenna and she died.
Sarah, please believe me that I am sorry. I had no idea what PMA is and I would never have sold it to Jenna had I known. Please believe me and please tell Tina that I am sorry.
I have let everyone down, including my parents. I love
you both and am truly sorry for not being a better son.
Nick and I used to talk about soloing the north face of the Eiger in flip-flops when our time came. Better to die in a climbing accident than suicide. So, here’s what I am going to do. I’m going to tie my ropes in a loose granny knot and take my chances abseiling over High Rock. When my time comes I won’t know much about it and at least I won’t directly have taken my own life.
Maybe that’s my final act of cowardice. Who knows? I only ask your forgiveness, please, on all counts.
I love you all.
Jake
PS Tell Nick I changed my mind about Never Mind the Bollocks. They were the best of days, matey. I’ll see you on the other side. J.
NICK DIXON RETURNS IN
‘HEAD IN THE SAND’
OUT NOW
The discovery of a severed head in a bunker on Burnham and Berrow golf course triggers a frantic race to find a serial killer that brings the seaside town of Burnham-on-Sea to a standstill.
When the connection is made with a series of unsolved murders over thirty years before, Detective Inspector Nick Dixon finds himself chasing ghosts from the past in a race against time that takes him the length and breadth of the country.
The brutal killing of an elderly man in a flat on Burnham seafront raises the stakes and, as he closes in, Dixon begins to question whether he is chasing one serial killer or two.
A fast paced crime thriller and the second in the DI Nick Dixon Crime Series, Head In The Sand follows on from As The Crow Flies, which has been described as 'gripping'.
Amazon UK http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00FPXWBBS
Amazon US http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FPXWBBS
Amazon CA http://www.amazon.ca/dp/B00FPXWBBS
OTHER BOOKS BY DAMIEN BOYD
The DI Nick Dixon Crime Series
As The Crow Flies
Head In The Sand
Kickback
Coming Summer 2014
Swansong
*
Afterword
First of all, a big thank you for reading this book. It’s a terrifying experience to publish your first novel and then truly humbling to find that people are actually reading it and liking it. A real rollercoaster.
I’d been carrying As The Crow Flies around in my head for a good few years before finally summoning up the courage to make a start in October 2012. Much of the climbing is semi-autobiographical, with perhaps a touch of exaggeration thrown in. I prefer to call it ‘poetic licence’! They really were happy days.
What about Burnham-on-Sea? It’s a seaside town in Somerset and my home for the first 32 years of my life. It’s a great place, with great people and some atmospheric scenery for setting a bit of crime fiction. I love it. If you’re ever passing by on the M5, drop in and have a bag of chips on the seafront.
I live in Devon with my wife and two dogs now but still regard Burnham-on-Sea as home. You can regularly find me on the beach with my dogs or wandering about with my dictaphone in hand doing a bit of research for my next book.
Finally, if you enjoyed As The Crow Flies, I’d be very grateful if you left a review on Amazon. They help readers decide to give my work a try and I appreciate each one very much.
Thanks again for reading.
Damien Boyd
Devon, UK. February 2014