The Games Keeper: The Slim Hardy Mysteries #3 by Jack Benton

Author:Jack Benton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: AMMFA Publishing

34

‘I’ve got nothing substantial for you yet on that abattoir,’ Don said. ‘A negligence case from 1988 where an employee fell off a ladder while at work. Case dismissed. The employee in question wasn’t wearing the required safety shoes. The company was covered by warning signs in the workplace and a line in the employment contract.’

‘A name?’

‘Adam Black. Retired in 1994. Died two years later of a heart attack while on holiday in Germany. And before you ask, I checked it out. Nothing suspicious. He’d had heart trouble for a while and keeled over one evening after a long day of hiking.’

Slim nodded. ‘Keep trying. In the meantime, I’ve got a couple more for you, dates this time. The first is September 6th. It was the date Ozgood was supposed to deliver the money, according to the first blackmail message. I need to know if that date has any significance. It could be a clue. Den’s death, the fire that killed his brother, a significant date in the abattoir’s history. Something like that. The second was October 2nd. He didn’t pay up then, either. Anything at all ’

‘Okay, on it. I’ll add the fee to your tab, as always.’

‘Thanks.’

Don hung up. Slim looked around. He had been walking while he talked and had come to the outskirts of Scuttleworth. A farm lane led off to Slim’s right. A public footpath access sign poked out of the grass nearby, so Slim went that way, preferring the open space of fields to Clora’s cluttered flat, the cold looks of the village residents, and the claustrophobia of the woods.

The lane wound uphill between two hedgerows, turning a corner and opening out onto a muddy farmyard. A couple of chained dogs barked at him. A handful of cows behind a gate gave a tired series of moos. A man walking across the yard gave him a brief wave then disappeared into a barn, rolling up sleeves of a check shirt as he went, Wellington boots squelching in the mud.

Another footpath sign pointed between two outhouses, directing Slim to a stile crossing into a field. A well-trod path led along a hedgerow in an upwards direction, angling for the hill’s crest and a small fenced-off area containing two picnic tables.

Slim climbed over. A herd of cattle far across the field gave him bored stares as they chewed sods of grass. The ground was boggy by the foot of the hedgerow so Slim took a more circuitous route out across the grass. Above the hedge, the view opened out. The village lay below him to his left. Then, as he reached the tiny viewpoint, the landscape to his right appeared, the other valley turning Scuttleworth’s hill into a diamond, with Ozgood Hall on the neighbouring hilltop to the east. From here too, to the south, the passing duel carriageway was visible, and the overpass bridge where, in less than two weeks, Ollie Ozgood was expected to leave two million pounds in cash inside a leather bag.

Slim

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