BEACHY HEAD an absolutely gripping crime mystery with a massive twist (Detective Rutherford Barnes Mysteries Book 2) by ADAM LYNDON

Author:ADAM LYNDON [LYNDON, ADAM]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Joffe Books crime thriller, mystery and suspense
Published: 2022-09-21T16:00:00+00:00

20

The Avensis had gone by the time they returned to base. Riaz managed about another hour of his shift, but the noise in his head was like a constant, unrelenting whine. He could concentrate on nothing and when he felt the anxiety in his stomach become the beginnings of panic, he told Callaghan he had a migraine and drove slowly home.

He wasn’t in the least surprised when, the second he got in, his phone trilled — a low, inoffensive chirping. He couldn’t stand shrill noises or clever loud ringtones.

“Hello?”

“This is DS Phil Fountain.”

For a second Riaz wondered if the man knew what he was thinking. He couldn’t stop himself from wandering over to the window. He peered out at the boardwalk below.

“We popped in to see you. Where did you go?”

“I’m not at work. I . . . didn’t feel well.”

“Pity. Did you wonder how we identified him so quickly?”

“What?”

“There were four days between the late Mr Januarie handing you that bit of paper and his body washing up on the beach, in the middle of which you dismantled a drugs OCG single-handed and off duty.”

Riaz wondered if the man sounded mildly impressed.

“In the intervening period between then and now you have also, it seems, killed a man.”

Hearing it in these terms caused a feeling like icicles breaking from the ceiling and plunging into his stomach to hit Riaz. He found himself taking deep gasping breaths, and forced himself to listen.

“Listen, we know what it’s like,” Fountain said, all pally now. “You scoop up a body from the bottom of the Head and find three more you hadn’t bargained for. They sit in a queue waiting for the — frankly overworked and underpaid — Coroner’s Office to get around to identifying them. They couldn’t get prints off your man — something to do with his mangled fingers — but the DNA match came back pretty quick. Want to know how?”

Riaz closed his eyes. Through the open window, he heard the sea.

“He’d been reported missing the day before. Reported by the cops.”

He paused. A gang of seagulls screeched outside as they tussled over some unidentifiable feast splattered on the boardwalk.

“Turns out we’d been to his house, found signs of a struggle, and circulated him as a misper. The cop on scene had the presence of mind to seize a toothbrush. Why were we at his house?”

Riaz heard him breathing.

“The reason we were at his house was, he didn’t turn up for jury service. The trial judge took a dim view of that, and demanded that an early-turn unit go and get him out of bed. Guess whose trial it was?”

Riaz closed his eyes. He knew the answer to that one.

“James Reeve,” he said quietly.

“Correctamundo!” Fountain said. “How weird is that? He escapes, kills his partner . . .”

“That wasn’t Reeve. It was somebody else.”

“In either case, he didn’t survive an encounter with you. Let me know if that piece of paper turns up, eh?”

“I told you: I shredded it.”

“It’s a miracle what they can do with that nowadays,” Fountain said, and hung up.

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