Murder on the Farm (Detective Inspector Skelgill Investigates Book 21) by Bruce Beckham

Author:Bruce Beckham [Beckham, Bruce]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lucius
Published: 2023-07-09T23:00:00+00:00

13. PRESS GANG

Mountain Café, Keswick – 11.00 a.m. Saturday 31 July

‘Oh – it’s you.’

‘Don’t mither yourself – I’ve bought you some coconut shortbread.’

‘Well – that’s very generous of you, Inspector.’

Kendall Minto is somewhat breathless. The attic café is situated in a hanging mezzanine on what is the fourth storey of the outdoor gear store, and perhaps expecting what he believes might be a more receptive audience he has put on a little sprint for the final flight; head down, he has been watched by Skelgill from his eyrie overlooking the balcony.

‘I could have sworn that the meeting request came from Emma’s phone.’ He sweeps back his hair with the fingers of both hands and smiles artlessly at Skelgill. ‘Perhaps she couldn’t make it?’

Skelgill glares; there is the suggestion that the use of the familiar might have offended him.

‘I reckon if you checked DS Jones’s phone you’d find no text.’

Kendall Minto’s gaze falters under Skelgill’s steely stare. He has not been invited to sit, but now he gasps as though he is sweltering and swings his trademark leather jacket onto the back of the free chair opposite the police inspector. He tugs his mobile phone from his hip pocket and places it upon the table.

‘In fact this meeting’s not even taking place.’

Before Kendall Minto can react, Skelgill reaches across, snatches up the handset and tosses it over the banister rail.

‘Aargh!’

The young reporter lurches to look – just in time to follow its trajectory as it lands fifteen feet below in a large dump bin of cut-price fleece tops.

‘Collect it on your way out.’

Kendall Minto regards Skelgill pleadingly.

‘I – er – I wasn’t recording.’

‘Now I don’t need to wonder if you were.’

Kendall Minto seems entirely disoriented. Rather giddily he takes his seat. He has been outflanked. Not least that Skelgill has apparently used his subordinate’s mobile phone to lure him to a clandestine rendezvous. And Skelgill’s choice of seat commanding the approach – that he flung the handset without even looking – suggests more than a modicum of malice aforethought.

But the cub reporter is astute. He rather suspects that had he transgressed in some way – perhaps in relation to DS Emma Jones – he would already be nursing a black eye. The eccentric detective has summoned him for a reason – and if it is not about his female colleague, it must be business. And he must want something. Ergo, his own position cannot be so disadvantaged – he surely holds a half-decent hand of cards.

He reaches a little gingerly for the coffee that stands with the shortbread on its side plate.

‘Thanks.’

Skelgill acknowledges with a faint nod.

And, now, a little curiously, he seems reluctant to begin.

A combination of nerves and the irrepressible journalist in Kendall Minto comes to the fore.

‘Is this about our joint venture with Turnpike Media?’

‘Got it in one.’

Kendall Minto grins ingenuously, but there is no change in Skelgill’s manner; he remains severe and unforthcoming. Kendall Minto pats his pockets a little ostentatiously, as if to demonstrate he is out of something.

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