Mortal Men (The Lakeland Murders Book 7) by J. J. Salkeld Read Free Book Online

even be both. Or neither.
    ‘So let’s talk about where you were, today. Between ten in the morning and three in the afternoon.’
    ‘Walling, up on Kirkstone there.’
    ‘Was anyone with you?’
    ‘Aye, first thing and last thing, like. The gaffer and a couple of the lads helped shift some stones.’ ‘But they weren’t with you between the times I mentioned? You were on your own then?’
    ‘Aye, I would have been.’
    ‘No witnesses?’
    ‘Just the wall.’
    ‘I’m tempted to say that it wouldn’t stand up in court’ said Mann, smiling.
    ‘Very good, aye. But that’s where you’re wrong, though. I did three yards today, you can ask anyone. That’s my witness, like. A proper day’s graft. Bloody hot it was too. There’s not much shade from a wall you’ve not built yet, see?’
    ‘I do. Did you have your vehicle with you?’ Mann looked at his notes. ‘The Subaru pick-up?’
    ‘Aye, parked down at the wall end, like.’
    ‘And you didn’t leave the job all day?’
    ‘No, and like I say there’s ten foot of new wall that’ll bloody back me up on that.’
    ‘So your pick-up never moved all day? You’re certain? We won’t find it showing up on a camera somewhere?’
    ‘No. Like I said, I was grafting all day. On the walling job, like. From half eight until half four. It’s pretty simple, is that.’
     
    Mann looked down at his file, then back at Tyson.
    ‘So let’s talk about the victim, Frankie Foster. You knew him?’
    ‘You know I did.’
    ‘When did you last see him?’
    ‘I saw him in the pub in Troutbeck every once in a while.’
    ‘When did you last speak to him?’
    ‘Not for years. Nothing to say to him. He knows, I mean he knew, what I thought of him, like.’
    ‘And what was that?’
    ‘Not much.’
    ‘Would you care to expand on that?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘You must have hated him, after he grassed on you and your mates like that. I know I would have.’
    ‘Aye, well…’
    ‘My client has already answered that question, DS Mann. So if you wouldn’t mind moving on it would be much appreciated.’ Jean Porter didn’t look at Mann, nor at her client.
    ‘So you’ve never been to Mr. Foster’s house?’
    ‘No, not in years. We used to be mates, like, but I’ve not been round there since I got out of prison.’
     
    Mann nodded. ’All right, John. Now, let’s talk about shotguns.’
    ‘I’ve not got a shotgun. I’d never get a licence now, would I?’
    ‘But your employer, Mr. Irving, he has shotguns, doesn’t he?’
    ‘Aye, he does. For controlling vermin on the estate, like. But I don’t use them. I’m not allowed to.’
    ‘But some guns were stolen from your employer’s farm office, just over two years ago?’
    ‘Aye, you know they were. Look, I was spoken to at the time. You searched my house, my truck, everything. I didn’t even say you’d need a Warrant. I don’t know anything about it. I’ve never touched any of the gaffer’s guns.’
    ‘So would it surprise you to learn that the weapon was used today to kill your old friend was one of those very shotguns?’
    Tyson looked up sharply, and thought for a long moment before he replied.
    ‘Maybe aye, but maybe no.’
    ‘What do you mean by that?’
    ‘What if someone….No, it don’t matter.’
    ‘Go on, Mr. Tyson. Say what you’re thinking. It might help us find the person who killed Frankie Foster.’
    ‘Why should I care about that?’
    ‘Because if we find the person who did this, and it isn’t you, then we’ll lose interest in you, and all of your doings. But if we don’t find out, then you’re going to be very much in our thoughts from now on. And you know what that means, don’t you?’
    Tyson glanced at Jane. ‘Maybe I’m being framed. That’s what I was going to say.’
     
    Mann sat back, and feigned a look of surprise.
    ‘Really? I hadn’t thought of that, to tell you the truth. So who do you think might have framed you?’
    Tyson hesitated. ‘I dunno. You’re the