A BODY DOWN THE LANE a gripping Welsh crime mystery full of twists by P.F. FORD

Author:P.F. FORD [FORD, P.F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Joffe Books crime thriller, mystery and suspense
Published: 2022-11-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

‘Okay,’ said Morgan, ‘where are we going first? Mrs Gilbert’s or Sheila Brown’s?’

Norman started the car. ‘Sheila’s house is nearest, so we’ll head there first.’

When they pulled up outside Sheila Brown’s house, Morgan was first to speak.

‘She’s not back yet,’ she said, pointing at the empty drive alongside the house. ‘The car’s not there.’

‘Dammit,’ said Norman. ‘I bet she’s done a runner.’

‘Maybe she came back and saw the team of SOCOs in next door’s garage and it spooked her.’

‘If she did that, it would prove she had something to hide. If I’d thought to take down her registration number, we could have asked the traffic guys to track her down.’

Morgan turned a knowing smile in Norman’s direction.

‘Did you get it?’ he asked.

Morgan patted her jacket pocket. ‘I’m not one for taking selfies and crap like that, but the camera on my mobile phone has its uses.’

‘Any particular reason?’

‘I knew you’d want to check her out, eventually.’

‘Do you take photographs of everyone’s car?’

‘Only when I think the owner has something to hide.’

‘So, does that mean you have the locksmith’s, too?’

‘Most definitely. I’m sure he’s got lots to hide, and I intend to find out exactly what it is when he comes in for his interview.’

‘You really think he’ll come in?’

‘Oh yeah. I can be pretty persuasive when I try.’

‘You mean you threatened him?’

‘Let’s just say when I mentioned HMRC, and how I knew a VAT inspector, he became very keen to help with our enquiries.’

Norman nodded approvingly. ‘Like the boss said, we’ll make a DS out of you yet.’

‘D’you want to track her down?’

Norman put the car into gear and pulled away.

‘Give the control centre a call and pass them the number. Tell them we need the lady who owns the car to help with our enquiries.’

* * *

Ten minutes later, they were back at Mrs Gilbert’s crumbling old farmhouse, but this time there were no chickens running to greet them.

‘That’s strange,’ said Morgan. ‘Hungry chickens will normally approach anyone for food, even a grumpy old guy who doesn’t like them.’

‘With any luck, Colonel Sanders called by while we were away,’ said Norman.

This time, they ignored the front door and went straight to the side.

‘The door’s ajar,’ said Morgan.

‘That’s not good,’ said Norman. ‘Be careful, my gut’s telling me something’s not right here.’

Morgan pushed the door slowly open.

‘Hello? Mrs Gilbert,’ she called. ‘It’s the police again.’

They both stopped to listen.

‘Nothing,’ said Norman. ‘We’d better look inside, just in case something’s happened to her.’

Cautiously, they entered the house, making their way slowly down the hall towards two closed doors, one on either side. Norman pointed to Morgan and then to the one on the left, then indicated he was going to take the other.

Morgan nodded and crept forwards stopping to listen at the door before slowly turning the handle and easing it open. She peered around, but there was no one in sight.

Meanwhile, Norman was easing the door open on his side of the hall. He looked around it, stepped into the room, and took in his surroundings.

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