NO AGE TO DIE: The release of a dangerous prisoner leads to murder (DCI John Blizzard Book 9) by John Dean (free ebook reader for android .TXT) 📗

‘Bob Lennox and his son. They grabbed me as I was walking up the drive to the manse and bundled me into a car. They said they knew about me and Marian and that Steve was furious.’

‘How did he know about it?’ asked Colley.

‘Lennox told him when he got back after Jamie was killed.’

‘Which explains why they met up before he went home,’ said Colley. He looked at Blizzard. ‘Lennox probably knew it would all come out once we started poking around. So how come you ended up on The Manor, Henry?’

‘They moved me from place to place. They said that Steve would come to see me when you released him. They took me to that awful place on The Manor yesterday.’ He shuddered at the memory. ‘When your officers kicked the door in, I was convinced it was him. I thought I was going to die.’

Blizzard thought for a few moments.

‘OK, Henry,’ he said. ‘For the moment, let’s say we believe you, shall we?’

‘Thank you,’ said the vicar. ‘What happens next?’

‘Well, for starters, you will be charged with the theft from the church and kept here until you appear in court on Monday.’

‘Can’t I go home?’

‘Frankly, I reckon this police station is just about the only place where you are safe right now. Apart from Lennox and his Neanderthal son, plenty of other people out there want to have a go at you. Margaret Hatton has got them in such a state that they’ll have a go at anyone. Read him his rights, David, and get him down to Custody.’

Blizzard headed back to his office and sat down at his desk. He was picking listlessly at the reports when Danny Rowan and Keith Leighton walked into the room.

‘Any news?’ asked the inspector.

The constables shook their heads glumly.

‘Sorry, sir,’ said Leighton. ‘We’ve looked everywhere. I’m not sure we can spend any more time on it, really. Our inspector needs us back on our normal duties.’

Blizzard nodded.

‘I understand,’ he said. ‘Thanks for your efforts, lads. I’ll tell Tom. I keep meaning to go to see him in hospital anyway.’

‘You’d be wasting your time,’ said Rowan. ‘We’ve just come from there and he’s still unconscious. The doctor didn’t sound very optimistic.’

‘Could he die?’

‘The doctor says it’s a possibility.’

Blizzard sighed.

‘Too many victims,’ he said.

Chapter twenty-nine

Sunday is usually regarded as a day of rest – but not if you worked for John Blizzard on a major inquiry. The inspector had arrived early at his office and, having made himself a cup of tea, was thoughtfully eyeing the Post-it note stuck to his computer when Colley limped through the door, sporting a black eye and with a fresh bandage on his injured hand.

‘I take it you played then?’ said Blizzard.

‘Too right we did,’ said Colley. He sat down and stretched out his legs, wincing at the pain. ‘And we won – three-two.’

‘I thought rugby matches had bigger scores than that?’

‘I’m talking about players carried off on stretchers.’ The sergeant roared with laughter. ‘God knows how Broughton will staff their custody suite today!’

Blizzard sighed, pretending to be irritated but the pretence was blatant – deliberately so – and it was obvious to the sergeant that his boss had enjoyed the joke just as much as he had.

‘So, what’s the plan?’ asked Colley.

Blizzard glanced at the wall clock, stood up, downed the last of his tea and grabbed the Post-it note from the computer.

‘We,’ he said, ‘are going to church again. But first, we have to make a hospital visit. Jacob Reed is back in the land of the living.’

‘And why are we heading off to St John’s after that?’ asked Colley. They left the office and walked down the corridor in the direction of the yard. ‘I’ve had enough of the place to last me a lifetime. Jay thinks I’ve found God.’

‘We received an anonymous call saying that every Sunday morning, Bob Lennox lights a candle in memory of his son during the eleven o’clock service. Never misses, apparently. I’m gambling that he thinks we don’t know. I’ve got the cavalry on standby.’

‘Are you thinking that he could be our murderer?’

‘I’m coming round to that idea, yes,’ said the inspector. ‘I think that Margaret Hatton wound him up that tight, he’d have done anything. Mix in the knowledge that the vicar was having an affair with his mate’s wife and it all adds up to a powerful cocktail of emotions targeted at the church. I don’t think he killed Jamie but I do think he attacked Glenda and Jacob.’

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the detectives were walking along a second floor corridor in the general hospital. Halfway along, Blizzard glanced into a side room and stopped walking. He entered the room and looked down in silence at the figure of Tom Raine in the first bed. The old man’s pallor was grey and the breathing shallow, the eyes closed. A man close to death. There was no one sitting by the bed, no relatives, no friends. Blizzard walked back into the corridor.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s talk to Jacob. See if he can shed any light on things. Get this thing wrapped up.’

Lying in a side room further along the corridor, Jacob Reed was a shadow of the young man they had encountered when Albert Macklin was released. Pale, face bloodless, lips almost blue, head swathed in bandages, he had lost a lot of weight and was lying propped up on pillows, hardly able to support himself. As they entered, he turned sunken eyes towards them.

‘Jacob,’ said Blizzard. He sat down on the chair next to the bed. ‘How are you?’

‘Not too great.’

‘You had us worried for a moment there.’

Reed closed his eyes.

‘Are you able to talk?’ asked the inspector.

The eyes