Back-Slash by Bill Kitson Read Free Book Online

Ask if they know the victims.’
    ‘I’ll do that if you want, Jack,’ Ruth volunteered. ‘You’ll be needed here for a while, I reckon.’

    Sean Parker, on the Layton Estate, wasn’t as good a gamekeeper as Barry Dickinson. If he had been, the row would never have happened. If he’d been more confident he’d have organized the guns in time, insisted they get into position.
    It was the Layton estate’s shoot on New Year’s Day. The first drive was due to commence at 8.30. Myers had agreed to help. He rose early and sent Nell outside whilst he made a cup of coffee. He listened to the radio, using the time signal to set his watch.
    The first drive would begin from the strip of forest adjacent to Woodbine Cottage. The plan was for Myers to walk through the wood with Nell, pushing any pheasants to the far end where the guns would be waiting. If they took flight early they would alert others, and there would be a steady flow of birds over the guns. The result would be an impressive show for the start to the visitors’ day.
    Myers got into position and checked his watch. At exactly 8.30 he set off, thrashing to the left and right with his stick, and making strange noises he hoped would prove startling to pheasants . ‘Hey, hey, hey, whoosh, whoosh,’ he cried as he slashed at the thick briar and tapped at tree trunks. Nell knew her part in this game and dashed to and fro seeking out and scenting any pheasants still cowering in the undergrowth.
    They moved slowly through the collar of woodland, pushing the birds steadily before them. A couple of cock pheasants took off followed a few seconds later by four more. Each time the pursuers halted, unwilling to flush too many at once. After the first two rises, Myers was puzzled by the lack of responsefrom the far end of the wood. Had the birds gained too much height, or had they slipped out sideways, flying out of range of the waiting guns?
    He knew he could do nothing about that, but as rise followed rise without response from the guns he grew more perplexed. By the time he reached the end of the strip he was convinced something had gone wrong. As he came out of the wood he saw what the problem was. The visiting guns, that should have been in position fifteen minutes earlier, were just arriving in a string of 4 x 4 vehicles. Parker was already there, as was his boss, Piers Layton. Parker’s face darkened with annoyance as he saw Myers appear. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he bawled angrily. ‘You shouldn’t have set off yet.’
    ‘I set off at 8.30 as agreed.’
    Layton, an irascible man in his middle years, glowered. ‘I don’t care how it happened but this drive is ruined. The guns will demand a share of their money back. Between the two of you this has probably cost me the thick end of ten thousand pounds.’
    ‘It’s ruined because Myers is incapable of listening to instructions ,’ Parker shouted in a tone that was not as convincing as he hoped. ‘I told him 8.45, not 8.30.’
    Myers knew this to be a lie. Also knew that Parker was terrified of losing his job. Contradicting him would only make matters worse. ‘I’m sorry the guns will be disappointed, and I’m sorry if it costs you money, Mr Layton,’ he said quietly. ‘As I’m incapable of listening to instructions the best thing I can do is leave.’
    He whistled Nell to heel and strode off in the direction of Woodbine Cottage, leaving the two men staring after him. Something in Layton’s expression boded ill for the hapless Parker.
    Myers was now restless. His injuries were healing well but he knew anything too strenuous would jeopardize the recovery. The rest of the day was spent doing very little. He tidied the cottage. That took five minutes. He prepared his evening meal, which accounted for half an hour. After that he decidedto exercise the dog. Even the couple of hours’ walking failed to quell the discontent he’d begun to experience. He sat down with a mug of coffee and tried to