A Village Not So Green (John Harper Series Book 1)

by Edward Holmes

  The detective stared at him, “I’m sorry sir this is just routine inquiry into the death of a neighbour. You knew the man that is important here.”

  “It was an accident. I knew the man who committed suicide, that doesn’t mean I was involved in that does it, Detective?”

  “No it does not sir but it is part of our due diligence that we investigate any death. In fact you mentioning a relationship with the Mister Fleming could be very useful. How did you know him sir?” John was intrigued.

  “I met him whilst I was on the parish council. Now there was a sick man. We had to kick him off the council when that boy said he touched him. Lots of people never saw eye to eye with him.”

  John nodded, “Could you give me a list of names of people who had trouble with Mister Fleming please sir?”

  “I suppose I could but what good is it going to do?”

  “There is a government mandate to reduce the amount of suicides in this country. Every person that commits such an act is recorded and investigated. We look at things in that person’s life to determine if there was anything that could be done to prevent that death. It’s all statistics and record collecting to be honest sir,” John shrugged, determining that the man would dismiss it as busy work.

  “Another waste of your time no doubt. I can write down the names for you, it is probably faster,” Bradhurst said, going to grab the notebook out of John’s hand. The detective moved it out of the man’s grasping hand and bent over the pages before handing it over on a blank page with his pen.

  Once Bradhurst was finished he passed back the notebook, “Now if that is all Detective, I would like to get back to my family? I would also like your word that you will not try to contact my son or speak of any of these allegations to anyone.”

  “There is nothing to discuss sir, all of this is confidential. However if there are questions that your son is the best person to answer, I would prefer to speak to him, without your interference.”

  The anger increased in Bradhurst and he took another step forward pointing his finger at the officer just centimetres away from his chest, “If you go near my son I will make sure that is the last thing you ever do in the police force. You won’t even be a community support officer when I am finished with you. Now get off my property.”

  John met the man’s stare with a glare of his own, but in a measured voice he replied, “I don’t like being threatened sir. All I am doing is asking questions. If you have a problem with that, you’d better deal with it. I understand protecting your family but this could be important.”

  Bradhurst’s finger touched John’s muscular chest, “Get off my property now.”

  “Touch me again and I will break that finger,” John said icily and turned around knocking the arm away. The detective walked in the opposite direction to the cottage, aware that Jeremy Bradhurst’s eyes never left his back.

  Chapter Thirty Five

  John was tired after a long day of work and as such did not feel like cooking for himself. Hannah was working and after eating repeatedly in the same pub he was beginning to feel overweight and considering his inability to exercise this was further exacerbated. It was not however enough to stop him eating out, as he ordered Chinese takeaway and went back to the cottage.

  The food smelt wonderful and he sat down at the table with his laptop and opened what was probably far too much food. Salt and pepper chicken wings, chips, curry sauce, fried rice, beef chow mein, Singapore vermicelli and peanut satay chicken pieces. He plated the food and picked up a set of chopsticks; it would be easier for him to use a fork but he respected the challenge. He loved the cuisine often eating in Chinatown when in the city. It reminded him of better times spent in Hong Kong and the Far East from his youth.

  A knocking on the kitchen door alerted him to the presence of Lewis. John smiled and waved him in, “Sit, eat, my boy. We’ve got work to do. If you want a drink there is beer, milk and juice in the fridge.”

  “Thank you sir, I take it this was from Hollingswood Supper Palace, I love that place,” Lewis sat down and took a plate filling it with food without bothering to get a drink. The student put his thick waterproof jacket over the chair back. He was wearing camouflage trousers and a dark blue woollen jumper.

  “I must admit it is delicious, not saying your mother’s food isn’t brilliant,” John quickly added.

  “Don’t worry she loves it too,” the student said as he picked up a fork and pointed at the utensils in John’s hands, “She eats it with chopsticks as well.”

  “Why am I not surprised? Right well tuck in, like I said we’ve got work to go over.”

  A smile developed on Lewis’s face as he began eating the meal with gusto, “Have you come up with anything else?”

  “I’ve had a fair bit of success over the past couple of days to be honest. I’ve spoken to Bailey’s brother, Wills and ermm Jeremy Bradhurst,” John said as he lifted a piece of chicken satay from the tray and tore the meat off the skewer. “Oh and I’ve put the evidence you got me in for forensics. God knows when it will be sorted but hopefully soon.”

  Lewis was surprised, “You managed to get in to speak to Wills? That must have been amazing to get so close to him.”

  John wiped his hands of the sticky peanut sauce, finished chewing and picked up his chopsticks, “There’s nothing amazing about talking to a killer. The man was nothing special, I’ve met his kind plenty of times; angry at the cops who put him behind bars, at the world at large.”

  “I’ve seen Wills out in the village before but I don’t think anyone has spoken to him in years.”

  “I just went up to his house, knocked on his door and asked him some questions. Being locked away in his sister’s home is nearly as bad as being in prison. He obviously wanted to talk about what happened,” John picked up some vermicelli with his sticks, “He didn’t have anything nice to say about the police who worked his case, he thought that evidence was planted to get a verdict.”

  Lewis stabbed at the chicken with his fork, “Well I’m sure a lot of killers say the same thing, right?”

  “Yeah they do,” John continued eating, preferring not to say anything more since Wills essentially implicated Peter Hart as a corrupt officer. It was not that he believed that the ex-convict was telling the truth but he did not want to involve Lewis in that part of his investigation.

  “So what do you want to go through or are you trying to date me and my mum?”

  If John could blush it would have been then, but instead he tore his way through two salt and pepper wings before answering, “You’re not my type, sorry. I’ve been meaning to say something to you about your mother and me. I apologise if I’ve made things awkward for you being here and asking for your help at the same time.”

  “Detective you’ve made my mum happy whilst you have been here. She left my father years ago and she’s rarely been as happy in someone’s company since then. I don’t begrudge her or you; I just hope you stick around a little longer for her.”

  John smiled, “I know you’re a young man but you’ve been very grown up about this; so thanks.”

  “Anyway, what work do you want me to go through?”

  “The reason I got you to bring warm clothes and stuff is that there are going to be shooters out in the woods, I want to spook the bastards and see if they did anything in relation to Bailey dying. Bailey fired a shotgun that night, he took it out so there was a threat; other gunmen are a threat.”

  “After all this you think it could be someone new to the case?”

  John let out a little sigh, “I don’t know. I got so hung up on Wills and the Bennett murder that I devoted my attention to that and only that. It seems so right but why now, why kill those two people after all these years out of prison?”

  “You could ask him if you can catch him. You’ll have to interrogate him at some point, won’t you?”

  With the plate in front of him empty, John pushed it away and interlaced his fingers over his stomach, “I don’t know i
f they would let me or if he would answer me. The man has spent the last twenty plus years keeping the whereabouts of Janine Bennett’s body a secret.”

  “If it is not him then who matches your suspect profile?” Lewis asked still eating.

  “Jeremy Bulloch is top of my list at the moment; he’s small and overly aggressive. That slight stature would mean he would not attack his victim from the front. He was also very keen to flaunt his intelligence over Bailey and he apparently had a dispute with Fleming.”

  “What about Keith Birkett? He attacked you and had issues with them both. What about Bailey’s brother?”

  John picked up another skewer, idly turning it over, “Bailey’s brother was hindered by his death; he was selling out his brother but that was it. Birkett…I don’t know if he is clever enough for this to be honest. Someone like him is more likely to use his strength in a blitz attack of power and fury.”

  “He had been involved in an altercation with Mr Fleming before he died. Apparently Keith had been peddling drugs with someone else to the Scouts and some the other kids that Mr Fleming cared for.”

  John had finished the satay and was working on the wings, he felt full but the food before him was to morish to stop, “That’s all brilliant. I take it they didn’t say who the other drug dealer was?” Lewis shook his head, “I’m sure it’s probably one of his lackeys. Did anyone say anything about what Fleming said when they last saw him?”

  “Like what?”

  “I know it’s unlikely that he would say such a thing to essentially strangers but people who commit suicide sometimes offer spontaneous proclamations of love before they do it. More often than not it is their way of saying good bye to the people around them without actually saying the words.”

  Lewis sat there for a moment in thought, “No I don’t think anyone said anything like that,” he finally said shaking his head.

  “I went round Fleming’s house and there was nothing to suggest he was thinking about suicide. Even if someone does do it on the spur of the moment there has to be some thought in their head, otherwise how did he have the hose to put on the car?”

  “It could’ve come from his house.”

  John shook his head, “I saw hose piping in his house, I’m pretty sure he didn’t bring it from home. It was also a different colour, if I remember correctly but that whole night is hazy to me.”

  “Well we have to figure out how then the killer was able to get Fleming in the car if it was not a suicide.”

  “My money is on drugs; he gets weak and ill and passes out in the car. Person gets in, runs the engine, puts the hose through and then locks the car. They’re outside and Fleming dies, done.”

  “Brutal but clever. You’re probably right about this not being Keith, far too planned out if that is what happened.”

  John stood up, taking the empty plates and scraping the refuse into the bin before putting the crockery in sink, “Things are going to get interesting in the next couple of days. I’m gonna turn up the heat on these people and find out who did it. My time here is short at the moment and I want this wrapped up.”

  “You will be coming back though?”

  “I’ll be back,” John took went to his bedroom and took out his black jacket, it matched the trousers that thankfully made no sound when he moved in them and the boots he had by the door. A thin green t-shirt finished his ensemble, “We’d better get ready; those bastards are going to be out there soon.”

  “Why do you want to confront them?”

  “Because I have a real issue with animal cruelty. Torturing and killing animals is one of the foundations of the Macdonald triad.”

  Lewis stood up, “Wait I know this; the others are bedwetting and the setting of fires. The triad of sociopathy, the beginnings of homicidal intent.”

  “Spot on.”

  “You know some people call it an urban legend; that you can’t say all killers have the same problems.”

  “True again my dear boy but there is evidence that some serial killers do have parts of that particular triad. Personally I just hate people who hurt animals but it doesn’t sound macho to say that does it?”

  Laughing Lewis replied, “Guess it doesn’t.”

  “Well this will be macho enough, just remember to stay behind me.”

  Chapter Thirty Six

  John and Lewis walked outside into the cold night air. The moon was a third full; the light highlighting their breaths as they walked. John made them walk around the perimeter fence of the disused chemical facility. They moved as quietly as possible, the moon silhouetting rabbits that made the night their own, the only other sign of life as they made their way towards the entrance.

  Only one car was on the road as they went past, John recognised it as the vehicle of Ben Craik. When he had been back at his desk getting the car registration plates of the pheasant breeders had been one of the first things he had done.

  Benjamin Craik was an ex-Royal Air Force avionics crew member who had left the service after an ugly incident whilst on leave from RAF Leuchars in Scotland, where he was stationed. A bar brawl had left two people in hospital, one of whom lost an eye due to a bottle being broken on his head. Although there had been a number of witnesses to the crime, Craik had walked free and moved south, back towards where he had grown up as a child. He had married and the report John had read indicated that the man worked in a nearby technology college as a lab technician.

  The other car had been registered to a Charlene Mallory nee Cook. Her husband Andrew must have been the man John had seen the other day. He had a history of petty violence and drunken brawling, much like his employer. Both of them owned shotgun licenses although there had been an incident over safety that had resulted in Andrew losing his for a short period of time, till a reassessment had been carried out.

  John held up his hand stopping Lewis before they entered the plant. He wanted the young man to stay by the car in case the two went to leave. John also planned for them to feel like he had back up. The way in looked totally different in the dark but the detective had experience remembering his way through difficult terrain, based on prior knowledge and maps. He had specifically waited another ten minutes in the undergrowth getting used to the darkness and the silence. There was very little movement; an occasional flutter of wings the only thing that punctuated the night’s reverie.

  Moving in the direction of the hide John did his best to use his limited night vision to avoid the branches and snare traps. When he found a trap he crouched down and with a knife he cut his way through the metal. A wire cutter would be easier but the blade he had was a sharp hunting knife. Placing the knife back into the plastic sheath that hung on his waistband, John made his way to within ten yards of hide.

  John’s hand went to his trouser pocket and removed his wallet, turning it over to show his badge. He also took out a torch from his jacket and slowly approached the hide making sure he was downwind and away from the line of sight from the main opening. John expected to hear noise from the hide; breathing, rustling anything that would suggest there was someone in there. God this is stupid. I’m approaching two men I know to be armed on their preferred territory. To make it worse I’ve managed to drag Lewis into all of this, his mother will kill me if she finds out. Suppose I could always try and smooth things over with a Chinese and lay on my best moves. Come on John, head in the game, forget about Hannah and see this through.

  Opening the back of the hide up into the air, John flashed his torch inside but before he could say anything he saw that there was no one there. Biting back a curse he slammed the door to the hide shut. He did not know how far in the two men were or the location of any other hides. Nice one you bastards this ruins all of my plans. How am I supposed to get you to answer my bloody questions now?

  Moving with a lot more speed and a little less silence he was near the gate when he heard a shot ring out in the dark and then a yell prompting numerous winged creatures to take flight and screech. Immediately his head turned towar
ds the sound of the report. Instinctively he wanted to move towards the noise but instead he walked back to the car and Lewis who was waiting patiently but now very alert.

  “What the hell is going on?” Lewis whispered.

  “No idea but that shot came from deep within the woods,” John said just before another shot. This time the shouting was much louder, a yell that sounded like a cry for help, “Shit there is no way I can get that far in.”

  “We’ve got to help whoever it is. It sounds like they are in pain,” Lewis replied after another yell echoed through the trees. It was faint and John was reminded of when he called out for help only a few days earlier.

  John pulled out his knife and stabbed it into the driver’s side front tire in the tread, letting out the air, “Right that will slow these bastards down if they’ve hurt someone. Lewis you need to ring the police, say you’ve heard gunshots and shouting.”

  Lewis took out his phone, “I’ve got no signal but I know a quick way through the forest.”

  “There is no way I’m taking you near gunfire, bringing you here was bad enough. Go back to the cottage and ring from there,” John said. Taking out his own phone he checked it and there was no signal, “Damn it.”

  “Detective you know that if someone is injured, especially if it is a gun wound the faster you get that person stable and to help the better for them. We’re wasting time discussing this,” As if to punctuate the last statement another yell went out and a third shot.

  “Screw it. Show me how we get there quickly. If your mother asks, you stayed by the car and rang for help.”

  Lewis turned to the right and took off towards the field, “Follow me,” he called from over his shoulder as he raced ahead. He had switched on a large torch he had brought with him, the light swaying as he ran.