Cherringham--A Fatal Fall by Matthew Costello Read Free Book Online

sudden silence, and closing time nearing, maybe it was time for that wake to end …
    “Time to head home,” Jack said. He stood up.
    And then, surprisingly, Kevin stood up as well, putting on his coat.
    “Me too …”
    And he followed Jack out to the cold night.

8. A Favour
    Jack stood in the car park and pulled his hat tight around his ears. A heavy frost coated the cars, and his breath billowed white in the still night air.
    “Not coming for a curry, Jack?” said Kevin, walking a little unsteadily over from the pub doorway.
    Bit of food might just help that wobbliness …
    “Kind of you to invite me Kevin, but curries are one part of the English way of life that I haven’t yet … adopted.”
    “Ah well, maybe see you down here for another pint one night?”
    “I’m sure you will. Thanks for talking to me … could be helpful.”
    Jack waited for Kevin to head off, but the man seemed to have something more to say.
    “So Jack … will you be attending the funeral on Friday?” said Kevin after a pause.
    “If I’m welcome,” said Jack. “Is it in the church?”
    “St. Francis’s,” said Kevin. “Though I don’t remember Dylan having much use for priests …”
    “I’ll make a point of it. Kind of feel like I know this McCabe now …”
    “I’d appreciate that,” said Kevin. “I doubt there’ll be much of a crowd. Sparks has given me a couple of hours off — since I knew him best — but the other lads will be hard at it.”
    “No family I suppose?”
    Jack watched Kevin shake his head.
    “One other thing …”“Hmm?”
    “Dylan had a van and caravan down at Iron Wharf. Far as I know, no one’s even been and sorted it, but …”
    “You’re thinking it might be worth me having a look, huh?”
    “Dylan had me down as his next of kin — the eejit — so the police gave me these …”
    He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag with keys and a wallet. He took out the bunch of keys and handed it to Jack.
    “To be honest, Jack, I couldn’t bring myself to sort it.”
    “I understand,” said Jack.
    He saw the big man swallow hard.
    “You said Dylan might have had some gambling debts,” said Jack. “Any idea who he played with?”
    “Well, you didn’t hear it from me. But there’s a bunch of rough guys working up on the motorway build — you know the new bypass? Word is they run an all-night poker game — real serious — over on the big caravan park up near Emmingham service station.”
    “Think they might have put the squeeze on him?”
    “If he was behind, dodging them … as I said, real rough bastards. Don’t want to mess with them.”
    “Guess they’d know their way round a building site too?”
    He saw a look in Kevin’s eyes, getting the implications. “Sure.”
    Jack thought about this. “If I need to go and talk to anyone up there — would you come along?”
    “If you think that it might have something to do with Dylan’s death — you bet.”
    “Appreciate that. One other thing — did Dylan have a phone on him?”
    “Police didn’t say. You think it might be important?”
    “Maybe — maybe not,” said Jack.
    Though he knew from experience that in Sarah’s hands a phone might unlock all kinds of useful information on a case.
    “Right you are then,” said Kevin, wiping his gloved hand across his nose. “Anyway — it’s too damned cold for me out here. I’m off for that curry. See you at the funeral.”
    Jack watched him head back across the car park to his three mates, then turned, and started to walk down the hill towards the bridge, and the river path that led to the Grey Goose.
    *
    As Jack walked, the only light on this moonless night came from the occasional car that drove past, heading down to the toll bridge and out of the village.
    He passed the little Catholic church and the track which he knew led to the Convent of St. Francis. The church was dark and though the convent was just through the trees, he couldn’t