Shooter on the Moor: A Yorkshire private detective mystery (The Yorkshire detective mystery series Book 6) by Ric Brady

Author:Ric Brady [Brady, Ric]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Book Folks
Published: 2024-08-11T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Five

Noel Cleeves was a medium-sized man with a theatrical presence that commanded Jean’s kitchen as he walked in. Shedding his navy pea coat to reveal a Jaffa-orange cardigan, he recounted to Jean a humorous anecdote about a meeting he’d recently endured. However, he stopped mid-sentence and gawped in horror at the unfinished dinner.

“Why… you haven’t finished eating!”

Jean had pre-empted this and stepped behind him, blocking his path to the front door.

“It’s fine, Noel,” she said. “Henry’s eaten his, and I’ve only a bit left that I can finish later.”

“If you don’t mind?” Noel asked, still unsure if he should stay.

“Of course I don’t. Stop being silly. Wine?” Jean asked, pouring him a glass of the chardonnay.

“Well, if you insist.” He almost snatched the glass from her and, sitting down at the kitchen table, looked over Henry. “Ah, you must be the old detective who lives next door?”

“I’m not that old,” Henry grunted.

“Well, we’re all quite old here, aren’t we?” Noel laughed and shook Henry’s hand.

Despite what Noel said about his age, he looked at least a decade younger than Henry. He had thick stubble over his flabby cheeks, which was a similar grey to his stylishly coiffed hair. Henry noted the scarlet tint on his cheeks and the purple spider veins on his nose, suggesting Noel rarely said no to a glass of wine.

Jean tidied away all signs of dinner from the table and then sat down. “I called you over, Noel, as Henry wished to speak to you.”

Noel sniffed his glass of chardonnay as if he was a Parisian sommelier. “Oh yes. I received your phone message, Henry, and was going to call you back, but then Jean phoned me to arrange this meeting… So, what is this all about?”

Jean answered cautiously. “I suppose you know what happened in Ilkley this morning?”

“Oh… that.” Noel’s joviality fled his face as he grimaced. “I heard about it on the news. They only said that a body had been found. No names, but I heard it was him from along the grapevine.”

“I see,” Henry said. “And what did you think when you learned it was Maxwell Birchwood?”

Noel stopped sniffing his wine and took a gulp. His expression suggested he didn’t approve of its taste. “I was very sad for the man. We didn’t see eye to eye on everything, but he was still human and didn’t deserve to die like that.”

“When did you last speak to him?”

Noel raised an eyebrow. “Is that a note of suspicion I hear?”

Jean jumped in. “Henry’s helping the police with their investigation…”

“Okay?” Noel peered at Henry with a look of mild distaste. “And does that allow you to ask me suspicious questions?”

“As a detective, it’s in my nature to be suspicious,” Henry said.

“That mustn’t be much fun for you.”

Henry leant forward, placing his elbows on the table. “My task, as I see it, is to rule out the involvement of key people in Addingham, so the police won’t bother you. So, you can either answer my questions or theirs.

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