IMPOSTURE: Hunters become the hunted in this gripping murder mystery by Ray Clark (good romance books to read txt) 📗

“No,” said Reilly, “and judging by her face, and the state of the body, both of which look untouched, I don’t think she’s been dragged over here by the vehicle.”

“So what has happened to her?” asked Gardener, standing up. He then turned to the old gent. “Can I ask why you were out so late, Mr Makepeace?”

“I’m afraid I can’t sleep; quite common when you get to my age,” replied Edward. “My wife died recently and I find it impossible to settle. I miss her terribly. Going for a walk helps clear my mind.”

Gardener nodded, accepting his explanation. He knew what Edward was going through. He asked Roberts to take a full statement.

He turned to his partner. “I think we need to go over there and see if that scene tells us anything.”

Chapter Two

Gardener noticed branches strewn across the road. Mixed in with those were pieces of plastic in various colours, and rubble and bricks from the wall of the nearest cottage, one section of which had virtually been demolished.

Reilly had a torch with him despite visibility being good, and a nearby street light allowing them a clear view.

Gardener studied the road and the deep, black tyre marks.

“What do you think?” he asked his partner.

“Something big judging by the width of the tyres and the mess that wall is in.”

Gardener glanced above his head; a number of broken branches hung loosely, which could drop at any minute.

Reilly shone his torch on a section of the wall that still remained intact. Deep gouges and scratches – if that’s what you could call them – decorated the surface.

“Conditions are good,” said Gardener. “Why would a vehicle suddenly go out of control here?”

“Could be any number of reasons, boss. Drunk driving comes to mind first.”

“An argument, maybe? One of them grabs the wheel… they lose control,” offered Gardener.

“Not sure I buy that one. I’d wager someone was over the limit here. This accident probably sobered him or her up which is why they’ve done a runner.”

“Unless the driver took a call on the mobile.”

“Texting, more like,” said Reilly.

Gardener peered at the wall. It was Yorkshire stone, five bricks high but at the moment, a large middle section around fifteen feet long was missing, and only two bricks high. “I’d say the vehicle was not only big but must have been going at some speed. Look at the damage: bricks everywhere, broken branches.”

Reilly shone his torch into the garden behind the wall, glancing at more mess. “Especially for the bricks to have travelled that far. Which might rule out texting.”

The sergeant moved the torch to his right, giving him a wider view of the area, before shining it further down Main Street.

Realising there was little either of them could do, they scurried back to the body.

Staring down, Reilly said, “Let’s assume she wasn’t hit by the vehicle, she’s still dead, so how did that happen?”

“Good question, Sean,” replied Gardener. “More than anything we need identification.”

Reilly approached the handbag, slipped on a pair of latex gloves, picked up the bag, and glanced inside. He withdrew a purse, opened it and removed a credit card. “Ann Marie Hunter.”

He placed the handbag back on the ground and approached the body, examining her neck and head very carefully, stopping rather quickly.

“She’s got a hell of a lump on the back of her head. She’s bumped into something she shouldn’t have done.”

“Someone, you mean.”

Reilly nodded. “There’s a lot more to this than meets the eye. She hasn’t been hit by a vehicle.”

“Maybe she was a witness to an accident,” suggested Gardener, “and someone’s tried to silence her.”

Reilly stood up, glancing around. His eyes suddenly stopped and focused on something behind Gardener.

“You might just be right.”

Chapter Three

Reilly shone the torch toward a green enamel electric box about twelve feet away from his partner, across a grass verge, located next to a fence leading into a field. The beam picked up a pair of feet.

Gardener scurried toward the box. The only noise he registered in the dead of night was the buzzing of the damaged street light, which created an eerie atmosphere.

At that point, a car on Ilkley Road approached the roundabout and Gardener could quite clearly see from the signal that the driver wanted to enter the village via Main Street.

“Can you stop him? Send him back the other way,” Gardener asked PC Roberts, who quickly ran off.

The second body that no one had noticed was mostly in the shadow behind the electric box, as if someone wanted it hidden. Either that or they were drunk and had passed out, which he seriously doubted.

As Reilly shone the torch, Gardener noticed a pair of legs, dressed in trousers that almost certainly belonged to a suit. Peering further in, he caught sight of a sensible pair of walking boots, both of which were soiled with mud and grass stains to name but two. He wore a thick camel hair coat and his clothes spoke of money so it was very unlikely he was intoxicated, or here of his own accord.

Had they found what Ann Marie Hunter had been a witness to?

The gap between the electric box and the fence was narrow. Gardener took the torch from Reilly, leaned in closer, casting the beam further. One arm was by the victim’s side, the other draped across his stomach. The left hand had a wedding ring and bore scratches but from what, Gardener had no idea. A hat covered the man’s face.

Gardener pointed the torch at the man’s chest. He could see no movement, indicating he wasn’t breathing.

“Hello,” said Gardener, feeling stupid. “Are you okay?”

No response.

Gardener pulled a pair of latex gloves from his pocket, slipped his hands into them and carefully removed the hat. He detected no breathing and asked