Shot Down Rosemarie Cawkwell
First published in Great Britain in 2018 by Rosemarie Cawkwell Copyright Š 2018 Rosemarie Cawkwell For more from Rosemarie Cawkwell, visit: rosemariecawkwell.wordpress.com
The moral right of Rosemarie Cawkwell to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of very brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authors imagination. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities, is entirely coincidental
ISBN-13: 9781985332584
Other Work by the Author As Rosemarie Cawkwell Novels The FIRE Series Hidden Fire Fire Betrayed
Novellas Tales From Erce Charley’s War (Available Summer 2018) Bridas’ Justice
Contents Chapter 1.....................................................................................................1 Chapter 2...................................................................................................10 Chapter 3...................................................................................................15 Chapter 4...................................................................................................22 Chapter 5...................................................................................................24 Chapter 6...................................................................................................26
Chapter 1 D.S. Lucie Burns was new to Lincolnshire Police and bored. So far it had all been Friday night drunks disturbing the good citizens of Lincoln, and trips in to the sticks to look for hare coursing. It was a contrast to Manchester, certainly. Her last case at home had been a homeless man burnt to death by bored teenagers. To think, she’d given up the excitement and higher pay to move to this backward county for that useless, unfaithful swine, Richard… There was a crunch as D.I. Cane changed gear to slow down. They mounted the curb and drove down an unevenly paved path. Lucie winced. “Another dead mouse. Come on Sergeant, we’re here. Welcome to Ludwell; home of nothing interesting and people who aren’t going anywhere.” Lucie looked out of the window at the large rectangular building. It was a dull orange-grey, with blue fire doors. The paint was peeling. Another mouse died as the D.I. applied the brakes. A uniformed constable walked towards them. An ambulance was parked by the main entrance and two P.C.S.O.s held back a small crowd. Most were in shorts and t-shirts, and carrying football boots, but there were a few bored teenagers hovering around the edge. “Sir!” The young constable saluted when he saw who was in the car. He bent down to the window as D.I. Cane rolled it down.
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“Ah, Constable Farrow, excellent. This is D.S. Burns. She’s joined us from Manchester. Used to be a D.I. there. I’d better watch my back.” He laughed. “She’ll be after my job.” Lucie laughed, “I’m fine as a D.S. sir, I don’t know the county at all. I’m sure we all appreciate your experience.” Farrow looked her over, blinking in surprise. Oh dear, Lucie thought, I’m going to have trouble with this one. I wonder when he last saw a woman of colour? “Good girl. Lucie, this is Constable Farrow. Robbie here is trying to get into C.I.D; he keeps applying.” “And you keep telling me I need more experience. I think I’m getting that here, sir.” “Oh aye, what have we got then?” “One dead woman and one knocked out, the tills been robbed as well.” “Pathologist here?” “On the way. Scientific are heading over too. You’re going to need to move the car sir, ambulance will need to get out soon.” “So I see.” They watched a stretcher being brought out. A woman lay on it, covered in a blanket. As she was posted into the back of the ambulance a woman pushed through the crowd, carrying a toddler. A footballer grabbed her. “Wonder what’s going on there.” Lucie nodded towards the frantic woman. 2
“Probably family. Robbie, go find out who everyone is. And round up your witnesses. Presumably one of the footy players made the phone call?” “Yes sir.” Robbie nodded and went to follow orders. D.I. Cane put the car in reverse and backed out of the way for the ambulance. He parked in a disable space, leaving access for the SOCOs and the pathologist. “I’m sure murder is nothing new to you Lucie, but we’re not used to it here.” Lucie thought he seemed tense. “No sir.” “We get the odd drunk falling into the river or domestic incident, but murders are rare.” He shook his head. “Yes sir.” Lucie was glad to hear it, but worried about the ability of the force to handle an investigation. “You’re probably more experienced than most of my men, so I want you to go gently on them if they make mistakes.” He patted her knee. “Yes sir.” Her skin crawled where he’d touched her. It wasn’t him particularly; men in general had a habit of treating her like a child. She was thirty-eight, but they saw the lack of height and her generous curves, and either became paternal or lecherous, or worse, both. “Come on then.” D.I. Cane opened his door. Robbie was waiting at the police line with the football player they’d seen earlier. The woman had disappeared. Lucie followed her D.I. up the path to the crowd. 3
“Well?” “D.I. Cane, this is Mr Johnson, Sam Johnson. He’s the team captain, and he found Miss Randal, the young lady the ambulance just took away.” “Yeah, that’s right. Me and John found her when we went to get the key to the sports hall.” “And did you find the deceased, too?” “That was me sir. I was first on the scene.” Robbie volunteered. “Door to the sport’s hall isn’t meant to be locked until ten when Miss Randal locks up. I went to see why it was locked, while we were waiting for the ambulance.” “Curiosity got the better of you, did it P.C. Farrow?” Lucie smiled at him. D.I. Cane shot her a look of warning. “That’s right Miss…Er, D.S. Burns.” Robbie blushed, then straightened, “Good thing I did, the deceased was still warm. She’s Ms Cassandra Brown-Wilford.” He consulted his notes. “Afternoon Archers Club Secretary, recently divorced, living with her partner, Eileen Ambleside in one of the villages. Bit of a local champion; been in the paper apparently.” “Good work, Robbie.” “Most of it was on the notice board sir.” He smiled at the praise. “Do we have a list of club members and who was here this afternoon?” “You have to sign in, but there’s CCTV too.” Mr Johnson told them. 4
“Ah, Mr Johnson, would you mind going over how you came to find Miss Randal?” “We needed the key, because the hall was locked and I couldn’t find any of the archery club in the locker room. They’re usually here when we arrive but no one was, so I went to reception and saw her lying on the floor.” “You didn’t see her on your way in?” “No, I walked straight past and into the locker room, talking to John about our next match on Saturday.” “I see. Did you try to help her?” “Yeah, John worked here a couple of years ago, covering for Terry while she was on maternity leave, so he knows the door codes and stuff. We checked her over, put her in the recovery position and rang for the ambulance. Then Robbie turned up.” “You two know each other?” “We went to the same primary school.” Sam shrugged. “And where is John?” “Over with Mrs Randal and Milly, I think he’s going to take them to the hospital as soon as they can get away.” “Thank you, Mr Johnson.” D.I. Cane smiled. “Come into the office tomorrow and give us a statement, will you. The one in the community centre.” He tilted his head in the direction of the white building across the car park, florescent orange light bouncing off the walls “Okay, but it’ll be after five, I’ve got to work tomorrow.” 5
“That’s fine, I’m sure someone will be in the office.” Probably me. Lucie sighed, and stifled a yawn as she did. With a surreptitious look at her watch she realised it was almost nine. “We need to speak to the other man who found Miss Randal, sir.” “That’ll be me then.” A young man spoke, he’d been lurking around the edge of the conversation with a worn-looking woman, a cigarette dangling from her pinched mouth. A young toddler was perched on her left hip. “You are?” “John Welch. This is Terry’s mum Helen, and Milly her daughter.” “Mrs Randal, this must be a shock, hopefully Terry will recover quickly.” Lucie said, offering her hand. “Yeah, hope so.” Helen Randal muttered. “Mr Welch, can you tell us what happened?” “We all arrived at half six, same as usual, went through to the lockers but couldn’t get into the hall. Sam went back out to find Terry. He came running back in shouting for help. I’ve worked here before.” “Yes, Mr Johnson said. Maternity cover for Miss Randal, wasn’t it?” D.I. Cane looked at his notes. “That’s right, before Milly was born.” He smiled at the little girl, who was sucking on her dummy, eyes half closed. “He’s got a thing for Terry.” Helen Randal smirked, then seemed to remember her daughter had been attacked. 6
“Yes, well, I don’t think that’s relevant. What happened after you went to see what Mr Johnson was shouting about?” “I went out and had a look over the counter. Terry was on the floor, face down. There was blood on the floor, and on the back of her head. The till was open. I opened the staff door. The place was a mess, all the keys were on the floor.” “And Terry?” “She was making these little whimpering noises. I was so glad, because that meant she was alive.” He gulped, starting to tear up. “Then Sam put her in the recovery positions and I found the first aid box. Not that we could do anything, she was out of it. Then I rang for an ambulance.” “Thank you, Mr Welch. We’ll need you to come to the office tomorrow and give a full written statement, but we’ll let you get off to the hospital now. I’m sure you must all be anxious to find out how Terry is?” D.I. Cane smiled sympathetically. “Thanks.” “Yeah, I’ll be there.” John bit his lip. “We usually get here before half six, but the archery club asked to have the hall a bit longer than usual, because they had a couple of beginners coming and needed extra time to tidy up.” “Thanks Mr Welch, that’s useful to know. Who runs the club?” “Chairman’s an old guy named Michaels, but Sandra really ran it. She did all the paperwork, paid the bills, organised events and courses, that sort of thing.” “So, you’re well acquainted with the club?” 7
John shrugged. “Just what I picked up helping out around the place.” “Thank you, again. We’ll let you get off now.” “Good night.” “Yeah, night.” Cane and Burns watched the trio down the path. “What do you think, D.S. Burns?” “Hmm, accidental shooting?” “Six arrows, Sergeant?” A woman, about sixty, carrying a doctor’s bag, and the white noddy suit the SOCOs insisted everyone who went in to their crime scenes donned, joined them. “Ah, Dr. Williams, you’ve arrived! As always. It’s a pleasure to see you.” “Really Donald? I can’t say it’s a pleasure for me.” Lucie watched the pair, an eyebrow raised. “I didn’t see you arrive, Doctor?” “I snuck in while you were interviewing witnesses.” The woman smiled and offered her hand. “Williams, Flora.” Lucie smiled and took it, shaking. “Lucie Burns.” “Ah the new girl, from Manchester.” Lucie felt herself blush.
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“Don’t worry, news gets around quickly. But back to work. This was no accident Donald. Six arrows in her back and head, from no more than ten yards. Wasn’t a heavy poundage bow, but at that range it doesn’t have to be.” “That is unfortunate.” “I’ll say. We’re bringing her out soon. Be nice if you could get rid of the gawpers?” “Good point. Where’s Robbie when you need him?” “Talking to the PCSOs, I think.” She tilted her head towards the police line around the door.
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Chapter 2 The door slammed against the wall as it was opened. Lucie jumped in her chair. She’d been dozing at her temporary desk in the Ludwell police office across from the crime scene. It was certainly kind of the killer to murder Ms. Brown-Wilford and assault Miss Randal so close to the town centre. She’d spent the night in the office and desperately felt the need for a wash and to brush her teeth. “Morning Sarge, been here all night?” Robbie looked around the office, it was a small back room that had been hastily turned into an operations room for the case. They weren’t used to so many people in the office; usually it was just him and a couple of PCSOs nine to five. They had a van but only used it when the town fair happened in July, and everyone knew that if they needed the police after five in the evening, they had to wait for an officer to arrive from Louth. Two desks had been shoved in, and laptops set up, although the laptops had probably come from Headquarters at Nettleham. The shelves had been emptied of printer toner, paper, and loo cleaner, and box files had arrived in droves. There was a cup of coffee and a Styrofoam burger box on D.S. Burns’ desk. “Robbie, the boss wants you to be statement reader on this case. We’ve got a team of DCs coming in to help with the inquiry.” “Oh, alright.” He looked disappointed. “It’s a start Robbie, better than being out on the beat, moving teenagers on from park benches.” 10
“I suppose so. Is D.I. Cane S.I.O. on this case?” “For now. He knows people round here, doesn’t he?” “Yeah, everyone knows him. We all thought he’d be in Louth for the rest of his career, until he moved to Lincoln six years ago.” “I see.” Lucie nodded to herself. “What do you know about the Afternoon Archers?” Robbie looked at his notes; he’d got home in the early hours and stayed up even later browsing the archery club website. “Formed a decade ago, in May 2007. They’re an offshoot of Ludwell Archery Club; that closed in 2014 but until then it was fairly popular. They used to come to the fair to demonstrate –“ “Alright, Robbie, less reminiscing, just the details.” “Right, yes. Current chair is Steven Michaels, 75, former solicitor, retired for fifteen years. Been the chair since the club formed. His big claim to fame was his participation in an international competition for England, back in 1967. He didn’t do much good.” Robbie smirked. “You’ve met him?” “A few times, at council meetings. He’s got his head securely fitted into his posterior. He’s been trying for Mayor for fifteen years and his ‘distinguished career’ gets brought up every sodding time.” “I see. And what about the rest of the committee?” “Let’s see. Mrs. Celia Jones, Treasurer, for the last five years. Mrs. Alice Gardner, senior coach and coaching co-ordinator. Harry Reynolds, 11
Equipment Officer. John Picksmith, Junior’s Officer, although he doesn’t seem to have a lot to do; most of the members are in their fifties at least.” “I see, that makes sense of the list.” She tapped on the tatty paper in front of her, pinholes along the top. “Yesterday, our victim signed in at half two, and the rest arrived about three. They just have their first names down, so Celia must be Mrs. Jones, Treasurer, Alice and Steve will be the Chairman and Coach. John is the underworked Mr. Picksmith, so Harry must be Mr, Reynolds. There’s someone else here, looks like a regular, but not on the committee, a Ron?” “That’d be old Mr. Herbert, used to be the physics teacher at the secondary school. He’s involved in everything but never as an organiser.” “You know everyone in this town?” “Pretty much. It’s a small town.” Robbie looked up from his notes with a quick smile. “So, who else do we have on the list?” “That’s pretty much it. It’s only a small group. People go there to learn then bugger off to Louth because the coach’s a nice bloke and they have a field.” “That’s important?” “It is, people like to think they’re Robin Hood, and a sports hall doesn’t really have the same atmosphere.” “How do you know this stuff?” “My cousin shoots for Lincolnshire Juniors; all he talks about is archery.” 12
“Right. Look, I need a wash, and something to eat, does this place have a changing room?” “Yeah, well, a locker room, but we have a shower in there if you want to use that?” “Thanks. I don’t suppose there’s a butty van in the area?” “Even better, we’ve got a sandwich shop around the corner that does the best sausage and bacon rolls. And the roast pork and stuffing buns are amazing too.” Lucie lifted her hand up to stop him, “That’s nice.” She pulled a wallet out of her pocket and opened it. Handing over a tenner, she said, “Go and get me a bacon roll and a decent cup of coffee.” “Yes, Sarge.” Robbie grinned and took the money. The door banged again on his way out. Lucie reached under the desk for her overnight bag. She’d had to leave everything else out in the car. After they’d watched the victim being removed by the pathologist and waited for the SOCOs to finish. It was three in the morning by the time the science team had signed out and waved goodbye to the PC on the door. D.I. Cane had said he wasn’t going to look around while he was half asleep. They’d signed out, and driven back to Lincoln. Lucie had driven back up to Ludwell and slept in their temporary office; it was an improvement on the car. Just about. She ached, and cracked as she moved, but it was better than being in the house with Richard and his mother right now. If she saw him, she’d be the one being investigated for murder. The overnight bag contained essentials; she hefted it on to her shoulder and pushed the door open into the 13
tiny changing room. It smelt of sweat and cheap cleaning fluid, and she could hear the gurgle and clanking of pipes. I thought this was a new building? Lucie smiled to herself, it’d do for now. Only one of the five locker doors had a padlock on it, the rest were empty and doors bare of information. Lucie chose one and sat down on the bench, preparing for the day.
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Chapter 3 “Well, Lucie, looks like we’re going to have a busy day.” D.I. Cane looked at the remnants of bacon sandwich and the empty paper coffee cup piled next to the burger box. “Hungry?” “Not now. I’ll just get these tidied up, Sir, then we can get started. Do they have an interview room here?” Lucie found a roll of black plastic bags at the back of a nearly empty shelf and pulled one off the roll. She swept the detritus into the bag and threw it into a grey plastic bin that had been hidden behind the now-closed operations office door. “Just the one. You’re thinking of calling in all the club members who were there yesterday?” “Yes sir, they would be the last to see Ms Brown-Wilford alive, and the footballers need to make their statements today. Any news about Miss Randal?” “Not yet.” Cane sighed. “I wish we could just move this to the station in Louth, they’ve got more space.” He shrugged. “Yes sir, it’s not ideal. Why did we get called in, anyway, if there’s a bigger station at Louth?” “No C.I.D. in Louth, we handle all the big stuff. Like I said last night, Lincolnshire doesn’t get much in the way of murder. Drivers who’ve had one too many beers, druggies, shoplifters, students falling in to rivers on a night out, that’s more our sort of speed.” “That doesn’t explain why we’re in the store cupboard of a tiny police office in a middle of nowhere town.” 15
“They haven’t got anywhere else to put us. Look, things aren’t the same here as they are in Manchester, we don’t have a huge amount of money and we have a massive area to cover. We can set up near the crime scene and save petrol money.” “Petrol money?” “Yes, expenses and all that guff.” “I see.” “I hope you do. I know it’s not exactly what you had planned for your career, but we need experienced officers here.” “I understand sir.” D.I. Cane had the sense the leave it there and sat down at his desk, facing Lucie. “Right, who shall we get in first?” “There’s the list of everyone at the club yesterday afternoon.” Lucie passed the paper across the desk. “Oh, and I’m told there’s CCTV footage. Robbie is going to look through it when the security company sends it to us.” “Good lad, that Robbie.” “He certainly seems to know everyone in the town.” “Grew up here.” “He said.” “Where’d you grow up?”
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“Liverpool, then Manchester when Dad got a job teaching at the university.” “Ahh.” He looked her over and took a guess, “Your parents must have seen the L8 riots then?” “In ’67? Yeah, they met a few years before that. Mum worked as a nurse at one of the hospitals and that area was the best to be in, you know, for a mixed couple.” “I suppose so. Terrible times. We managed to avoid most of the upset of the sixties and seventies.” That explains why it feels like I’m back in the fifties in this county. “Really sir?” Cane nodded, looking at the list in front of him. He barked a laugh. “Well, it definitely wasn’t him.” “Who, sir?” “Steve Michaels. He’s crippled.” “Sir?” “Sorry, in a wheelchair, some sort of road accident twenty years ago.” “I don’t see how that stops him shooting six arrows into someone’s back?” “Hmm, but how did he get into the front office to attack Miss Randal?”
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“Maybe she let him in and he struck her from behind?” “Who’s that?” Robbie said, bouncing the door off the rubbish bin and back on to his arm. “We’re just speculating, silly really. Michaels, the Chairman. I say he couldn’t be the killer because he can’t walk. Lucie reckons he could still have done it.” “He can walk, I’ve seen him.” “Really?” Cane furrowed his brow, “I’ll put him back on the list then.” “Might not have been a club member.” “Well, we’ll need to review the CCTV as soon as possible. If anyone else went in to the sports hall after the club members left, well see it.” “What did you come in for, Robbie?” “I’ve just checked their website. Ron Herbert is listed as the Secretary now, but they haven’t said anything about Sandra being killed.” “I see.” “That is interesting. You’d have thought, a founding member, dedicated archer, coach and club secretary, would have warranted a black banner or some sort of memorial.” “That’s what I thought, sir.” “We really need that CCTV footage and the scientific team’s report.” “I’ll Action it on HOLMES sir.” Robbie grinned, enjoying his power to Action actions. He left their cupboard and shut the door behind him. 18
“We’ve got a little dictator in the making in P.C. Farrow.” Lucie laughed. “Probably. Our inquiry teams aren’t going to be here until tomorrow, something to do with another cannabis bust in Lincoln, so we need to get started ourselves. I want you to coordinate the teams for me and I’ll act as office manager.” “Is that strictly according to regulations, sir?” “No, but we need to make do with what we’ve got. And at the minute we’ve got you, me, Robbie and three PCSOs who shouldn’t be allowed near real police work.” “Yes sir.” Lucie sighed. Everyone complained about the shortage of police officers and money, but this was getting ridiculous. Whoever heard of a S.I.O. being Office Manager and D.I in charge of the inquiry teams? They worked through the list of archers present the day before, ringing ‘round and arranging interviews. Most were happy to come in as soon as possible and by ten Lucie had four of the six lined up for interviews that afternoon. “Sir.” Robbie poked his head around the door. “Mr. Welch and Mr. Johnson are here to give their statements, and the CCTV just arrived.” “Thanks Robbie, I’ll deal with them, I didn’t expect them for a few hours yet, I wonder why they’ve come in early?” Lucie shrugged, “Worry, a guilty conscience?” Realising he wasn’t going to get anything more helpful from Lucie, Cane said, “Keep trying Mr Michaels and Mrs. Gardner. We need to get them in.” 19
“Oh, and the preliminary report from Dr Williams has arrived.” Robbie interrupted the flow of orders. “I’ll read it.” Lucie started to open the email that had popped up on screen while she had been phoning aged archers. “Let me know if you find anything interesting.” “Other than that she was shot with six arrows?” “Other than that.” Lucie nodded and returned to the report in front of her. Lost in concentration, she didn’t hear the other officers leave barely registering D.I. Cane’s admonition to remember to call the remaining archers. She bit her lip when the details of the arrows were listed. Six, all different lengths, and something called ‘spine’. They’d penetrated to different depths, too. She opened a web browser and searched for ‘arrow spine’. The information flooded in. She read quickly, establishing that it was to do with the flexibility of the arrows and was determined by the archers ‘draw length’ and the poundage of the bow. Six different arrows. She looked at the list again. Six archers other than the victim. Lucie sat back. An idea occurred, but she couldn’t believe it.
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Chapter 4 “Well, there we go, between the archers leaving at five thirty and the footballers arriving at six twenty-seven, nobody entered the sports hall.” D.I. Cane said, grimly. “Is it possible someone was in the hall already and waiting for everyone to leave?” Robbie suggested. “Possibly.” Lucie bit her lip. She hadn’t mentioned her idea to the boss yet, but she had printed the pathology prelim. and highlighted the part about the arrows, adding a print out from an archery page about arrow spine. She’d handed it to D.I. Cane while he ate his sandwiches. “Sir, did you read the path. report?” “Oh. Yes, while you and Robbie were at the chip shop. That’s not good for you, you know?” “Yes sir, I do. But I didn’t have a chance to make sandwiches this morning ad Robbie doesn’t have a loving wife at home to make him his pack-up every day.” D.I. Cane looked down at the neatly wrapped remains of his lunch. It was true, Prue spoilt him. “So, six different arrows. I wonder if the killer just grabbed any six?” “Nah, wouldn’t have done that sir, not if they were an archer. Arrows and bows go together, everyone who isn’t a complete newbie has a set specifically for their bow. The cousin explained it to me once. It’s quite complicated, but an archer wouldn’t use an arrow that doesn’t fit their bow,
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because of flexing and length and stuff.” Robbie shrugged. His cousin’s boring lectures had finally become useful. “There was only one bow, other than the victim’s, at the crime scene. We just assumed it was the weapon; what if it wasn’t?” “Hang on.” Lucie riffled through the crime scene photographs. “Here we go, I thought something was strange. Look, it’s a beginner’s bow, and in the background, by that yellow line, there’s a pot, of six arrows.” “So, the bow was set up for a beginner, but the arrows weren’t used?” D.I. Cane spoke aloud for all of them. “It’s not the bow used to shoot the arrows.” Robbie groaned. “We’re going to have to start again.” “Robbie, go over to the sports hall, take a photo of the arrows taken from Ms. Brown-Wilford. I need you to look through the sets of arrows there, see if you can find any that match the ones in the picture.” “Yes, sir.” Robbie left, cup of tea in one hand and photos of the bloody arrows in the other. “We need to interview our witnesses. The footballers weren’t much use but we’ve got everything in writing. Bring Robbie’s time line from the CCTV with you.” “Yes sir.” Lucie smiled. This was the bit she liked, the hunt. They were getting close, she could feel it.
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Chapter 5 Robbie stood at the back of the room, a bundle of arrows in an evidence bag. Six sets, each with only five arrows. He’d checked them against the others in the store room; there was six in each set. They were all here now, all except Michaels and Gardner, who still hadn’t answered their phones. The PCSOs had been sent to knock on doors. D.I. Cane and D.S. Burns smiled at the four. They had interviewed each one, smiling politely and listening for inconsistencies. They all claimed to have left at different times, although the video footage showed them leaving together through the front door. The cameras in the reception and sports hall hadn’t been working but they could definitely prove the group had arrived half an hour after Ms. Brown-Wilford and left at half five, together. They had all been carrying bow cases. They’d split up outside the door, except Michaels and Gardner, who’d left together. There was a ruckus from outside the police office, in the civil hall reception centre. Robbie brought his collection of arrows forward and laid them out on the desk. Mrs Jones paled. “I’ll go and see what that’s about, sir.” “Good lad.” D.I. Cane watched Robbie open and close the security door with his identity badge. He turned to his suspects. “Thank you all for coming, we’re still waiting for Mr Michaels and Mrs Gardner, I don’t suppose any of you know where they’ve got to, do you?” Four heads shook. 23
“I see. And you all left at different times yesterday?” They nodded, as though in formation. “Well, I don’t believe you, so we’re arresting you all.” “What?” Celia Jones clutched her hand to her breast. “Celia Jones, Ron Herbert, John Picksmith and Harry Reynolds, I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Cassandra Brown-Wilford yesterday afternoon. You don’t not have to say anything, but anything you do say may be taken down and used as evidence against you in a court of law.” Lucie spoke clearly, handcuffs at the ready. Robbie banged open the door, a wheelchair in front of him. It was empty. “Sir, we’ve got a runner. Mr Michaels. Mrs Gardner has handed herself in but Mr Michaels disagreed, and legged it.” “He won’t get far.”
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Chapter 6 “Well, that was worth the trip out into the sticks.” D.I Cane sat at his own desk at headquarters. Lucie stood in front of him, a stack of statements in her arms. Once they’d been arrested, the suspects had given everything up. “Michaels was the ringleader, he really didn’t like Sandra BrownWilford.” “No, he didn’t. Who’d have thought anyone could hold a grudge for thirty years?” It had all tumbled out, once Michaels had been caught trying to get to his car. He’d forgotten the keys were in Gardner’s handbag, on the back of his wheelchair. Cassandra Brown, as she’d been at the time, had been a junior solicitor in his practice and he’d harassed her out of her job. She’d sued and won a case against him under new anti-discrimination laws. When she’d turned up at the archery club over a decade ago, twenty years older and divorced, she’d thrown herself into running things and then helped set up the Afternoon Archers. Michaels had quietly nursed his anger at the embarrassing case. It hadn’t helped that she’d turned out to be a far better archer, and had had a glittering career in anti-discrimination and domestic violence work in London while he remained a country solicitor. “The others had their own reasons.” Lucie listed them in her head – jealousy, rejected romantic advances, bigotry. “Michaels was definitely the driving force. Without his encouragement they’d never have gone so far.” 25
“It all seems rather petty. Ms Brown-Wilford refuses to step down as Secretary and retire from the club, so they decided to shoot her.” D.I. Cane shook his head, folding his hands on his desk. “Terrible.” “People kill for petty reasons, sir.” “They do indeed.” He looked away. “Robbie will be joining us as a Trainee-Investigator. I thought he deserved it after his efforts. Got it all cleared with them upstairs.” “That’s good sir.” “And my brother-in-law has a flat you can rent in town.” “Sir?” “You can’t go on living out of your car and sleeping at your desk, D.S. Burns. You aren’t getting enough sleep, I could take a week’s worth of clothes on holiday in the bags under your eyes.” “Sir? How did you know, sir? “Well, I am a detective, Lucie.”
The End, Or, more precisely, The Beginning of D.S. Lucie Burns’ investigations in Lincolnshire.
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