Brass in Pocket (Inspector Drake 1) by Stephen Puleston

Author:Stephen Puleston [Puleston, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-12-19T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

Tuesday 15th June

Drake kept the car in a low gear, the engine screaming, until he reached the A55. Then he accelerated hard in the outside lane, blasting the horn at frightened motorists in his path.

‘Where is this beach, sir?’ Caren said, fumbling with the folded sheets of a roadmap.

‘It’s on the southern side of the island. See that sand-coloured section,’ Drake said pointing to an open part of the map on Caren’s lap.

‘Looks remote.’

‘Very popular.’

He pulled down the visor against the sun streaming through the front windscreen, cursing himself for having left his sunglasses at home.

The call from Area Control had given him just the bare details of where the car had been found. Drake guessed that it would have taken at least half an hour for local officers to arrive at the scene. He crossed the Menai Strait but found his impatience growing as he slowed behind a caravan. He drew the Alfa hard up against the tailgate then pulled out when he thought it safe to do so and flashed the driver who suddenly braked, allowing Drake to overtake.

Drake accelerated along the narrow country lanes, cursing the drivers that slowed his journey and flashing his lights at the oncoming cars who pulled into the grass verge out of his way. It was the middle of summer and he’d driven this route many times to the beach but today there was an urgency that made the caravans and tractors an irritation. He could feel his annoyance building.

He had his mobile pushed at an angle into the cradle on the dashboard. He rounded a corner and came to a stop abruptly as a farmer stood in the middle of the road hand raised as a tractor manoeuvred out of a field. The mobile rang as the farmer finished and Drake saw Price’s number.

‘Sir,’ Drake said.

‘Have you arrived yet?’

‘Caught in traffic.’

‘It’s a mess. Uniform are doing what they can to preserve the scene and the CSI team are ahead of you.’

‘Any more details?’

‘It was a young woman officer on the scene first. A member of the public saw the blood. That’s about it really. Call me as soon as.’

‘Any messages?’

‘No.’

‘Song lyrics?’

‘Not yet. No.’

They passed two officers standing by a marked police car at the end of the road leading to the beach. Every speed bump slowed their progress down the road through the forest and Drake’s thoughts turned to the killer. There had to be a reason for choosing the locations of his crimes. The Crimea was an isolated mountain pass and he’d killed Mathews and Farrell in the middle of the night, but Roderick Jones had been killed in broad daylight in a café full of people, and now a car with a body in the middle of a forest and a vast open beach. Maybe there was no significance at all.

There were more uniformed officers visible as he approached the car park; groups of tourists milled around cars and camper vans. The Scientific Support Vehicle was parking near a red car – another red car – and he saw Mike Foulds changing into a forensic overall.

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