From The Ashes (DI Nick Dixon Crime) by Damien Boyd

Author:Damien Boyd [Boyd, Damien]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2024-06-04T00:00:00+00:00

‘Colonel Mustard, in the sitting room, with a knife.’

Dixon sighed. The pathologist from Yeovil Hospital had got there first and seemed to think he was a bit of a comedian. Either that or he was trying to lighten the mood.

‘Do we wait for the crime scene manager?’

‘We do,’ replied Dixon.

‘I’ll be in my car, in that case.’

Uniformed officers had ushered the neighbours back inside their houses and cottages; the dog walkers had been moved on too. The lane was blocked at both ends by patrol cars, one of them reversing to allow a Scientific Services van through.

Another car appeared at the top end, and Dixon watched the animated conversation before a uniformed officer came jogging towards him. ‘The daughter’s here, Sir,’ she said.

‘A detective superintendent?’ was the only response to his warrant card. ‘What the bloody hell’s a superintendent doing here? What’s happened to my father?’

‘Let’s sit in the back of this patrol car, shall we?’ said Dixon. ‘Constable, see if one of these neighbours of Mr Pannell’s would be kind enough to make Mrs West a cup of tea.’

‘Yes, Sir.’

‘There’s no need to bother with that,’ said Dixon, when Mrs West began putting on her seatbelt in the back of the patrol car. ‘We’re just sitting here to get out of the rain and for a bit of privacy.’

‘Oh, right.’

‘There’s no easy way to say this, Mrs West, so I’ll just come straight out with it.’ He turned in his seat to face Pannell’s daughter. ‘I’m afraid your father’s been murdered.’

‘How? Why?’ She started to cry, as quietly as she could.

‘The pathologist hasn’t been in yet, I’m afraid, but I can tell you that he’s been stabbed.’

‘Who would do such a thing? An old man, sitting in his chair.’

‘You may have seen on the news we’re investigating a series of murders, and all of the victims were members of the Somerset bridge team that went to the Regional Qualifier in 2003. There was a fire at the Palace Hotel, Torquay, which was the venue for the tournament.’

‘I do remember that,’ said Mrs West, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. ‘I was at uni and was home for the holiday. Dad was really into his bridge. Good at it too. He was county champion the year before, I think it was, and that qualified him and his partner for the regionals the following year. Something like that anyway. His bridge partner was a woman and that was always a source of tension between my parents, if I’m being honest. Weekends away in hotels, you can imagine what my mum thought.’

‘Was anything going on between your father and his bridge partner?’

‘I don’t think so.’

The car door opened and a mug of tea was handed in, first to Dixon, then across to Mrs West. ‘Betty at number 6 says you’re welcome to sit with her when you’ve finished, if you want to get out of the rain,’ said the uniformed officer, before closing the car door.

‘Can’t I go in the house?’ asked Mrs West, turning to Dixon.

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