The Chairman by Will Thomas

Author:Will Thomas
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
Published: 2022-05-14T00:00:00+00:00

30

“Hello, it’s Andy Beaumont speaking.”

Dunn cursed as the voicemail greeting continued. “I’m sorry I’ve missed you but please leave a message and I’ll come back to you as soon as I can.”

“Bugger,” said Dunn. If I could just have a word to him, I could at least tell him to be careful, he thought. He looked at the fixture list and could see that Beaumont was due to play for Surrey against Derbyshire at Chesterfield a couple of days hence. After considering his options, he figured a call to Simon Feast, one of his old mates from the Met who lived up that way, would at least provide him with some surveillance without scaring any of the cricketers unnecessarily. Feast agreed to wander down to the team hotel later that evening and Dunn was comfortable that for his time in Derbyshire, Andy Beaumont would be looked at, even he couldn’t guarantee he would be looked after. As for the rest of his ’potentials ’list, he wasn’t really in a position to warn the authorities in other parts of the world. He had to hope that his hunch was right and that the killer was still in England.

Dunn began to feel a tad peckish so decided to prepare dinner. That meant thumbing through the flyers from the assortment of restaurants in the area and he settled on some Indian from a local restaurant, Shiva. It was a ten-minute stroll and he needed a bit of time to ponder and get a bit of the tension out of his body.

As he threw on a baseball cap and opened his front door, his phone rang. Let this be Beaumont, he mentally pleaded. No such luck.

“Sir, It’s Jolian Ford-Robertson here. I was speaking to Gordon Landolfi earlier and as you instructed, I’ve been looking at flights from Kingston to London. Most come via Miami, so things get a bit blurry. I’ve got a group of New Zealanders going from Kingston to Miami – there has been a Golden Oldies cricket tournament on in the West Indies – but none have connected direct to London. Most headed to Los Angeles and back to New Zealand but a few went to Chicago and New York. Only one person travelled on to London from the group – a carpet magnate who has been here on business. He is legitimate, sir, we’ve checked him out thoroughly.”

“OK, well done, Jolian. Not sure if Gordon mentioned it but you’re going to have to start sifting through customs records.” He knew there would be thousands of Kiwis coming in and out of London but it was all he had.

“You have the profile. I need a name. Good luck.” He hung up a little abruptly, not through any dissatisfaction with Ford-Robertson but frustration of having the killer remain a critical step ahead at every turn. His one bright point was that no one matching the profile he had developed had left the country – at least not since a day after Faxon-Jones was found.

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