The Destruction of Evidence by Katherine John

Author:Katherine John [John, Katherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Mystery, detective, Murder, Police, Vendetta, killer, blackmail, Crime, judgement, inspector, killing, Thriller
ISBN: 9781906373832
Amazon: 1906373833
Publisher: Accent Press
Published: 2013-08-08T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

Trevor left the cottage and crossed the yard of the old coaching inn. He went to the archway that connected with Main Street, leaned against the wall and looked up and down the street. Lamps burned in the darkness, lights shone out from behind screened and curtained windows. A fox slunk out from an alleyway that ran beside one of the larger houses on the opposite side of the road. It headed swiftly down towards the bridge and the river. Music blared, muted by distance but still raucous and irritating. If Trevor’d had to make a guess he would have said it was the theme tune of one of the dumbed-down reality TV shows Lyn and he couldn’t stand and swiftly switched off.

He looked up towards the Pitchers’ house. The accountant’s offices between the pub and the house would have been unoccupied on the night of the murders but there were lights on across the road in what appeared to be residential properties. Had one or more of the Pitchers screamed when they’d been attacked? Or had they all been overpowered and silenced before they could make a sound? If one of them had cried out why hadn’t anyone reported hearing them?

The kitchen door of the pub opened behind him. Tim Pryce walked out. He dropped a bag of rubbish into one of the wheelie bins in the yard, closed it and joined Trevor. ‘You’re standing where we left Larry Jones that night. If I’d known then what I know now I would have killed the bastard.’ There was venom in his voice.

‘You’re that certain he’s guilty?’

‘You buggers have arrested him.’

‘Not for murder, only arson, handling stolen goods and breaking parole. And, it’s innocent until proven guilty,’ Trevor said flatly.

‘Stupid bloody maxim where the Garth Estate Joneses are concerned. You’ve heard of the rotten apple? Well the whole bloody barrel of Larry’s family are rotten; every single one of them and, to the core. It’d be a favour to society to drown them at birth.’

‘Did you convert the old stables into cottages?’ Trevor didn’t have to hear any more about Larry Jones’s family to picture them. There were families like them in every town and city in the country. It was easy for a less than scrupulous copper to pin all the crimes within a ten-mile radius on them. He’d rather not think about how many files had been closed by officers using the simple expedient of bribing a none-too-bright “Larry Jones” clone to sign a list of “past misdemeanours to be taken into consideration” with false promises of leniency in court.

‘My predecessor converted the stables but he didn’t go in for mod cons. Most of his customers were the outward bound, camping sort who regarded a roof as a luxury. The cottages didn’t even have inside lavatories when I arrived. I built the kitchen and bathroom extensions. Do you have everything you need in yours?’ he asked Trevor defensively.

‘Apart from a few more inches of headroom in the bedrooms and living room.

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