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) 📗

‘I’ll try,’ said Jacob.

‘See, we’re still trying to get things straight in our head about the night you were attacked. Henry Sanders says you confronted him about the missing money but that you gave him the chance to put it back. Are we right?’

A small nod of the head but no words. It was as if even nodding was too much of an effort.

‘However,’ said Blizzard, ‘we don’t think that he’s the one who attacked you. We think it was Bob Lennox. Are we right?’

‘It’s all a haze. I don’t really remember.’

‘What do you remember?’ asked Colley.

‘After Henry left’ – Jacob’s brow was furrowed as he tried to recall – ‘I started to do some paperwork. Then someone came into the room… then… no, nothing after that. I’m sorry.’

He closed his eyes and the nurse who had been standing quietly at the door walked up to the bed and looked at the detectives.

‘That’s all for now,’ she said. ‘He needs rest.’

The detectives started to leave but, as they reached the door, Jacob Reed opened his eyes again.

‘Why would you think that Bob Lennox attacked me?’ he said weakly.

‘He was looking for Albert Macklin,’ said Blizzard. ‘The man who killed his son. There was a lot of anger about that night. People weren’t thinking straight.’

‘But can they not find it in themselves to forgive?’ said Reed sadly. ‘If only they would allow the Lord to touch their hearts.’

Blizzard made no reply and the detectives walked out into the ward.

‘Jesus,’ said Blizzard once they were back in the corridor. He shook his head in disbelief. ‘Do these people never learn?’

Colley grinned.

‘They’re going to love you in church,’ he said. ‘They really are.’

Chapter thirty

They didn’t love Blizzard at church. It might have been his distinctly secular approach to life that annoyed the good people of St John’s, or it might have been his perpetually brusque nature but it was probably more likely to be the presence of a vanload of uniformed police officers sitting outside the church as the faithful filed out of the Sunday morning service. Blizzard and Colley stood at the front gate, watching the congregation leave and ignoring the hostile stares as they scanned the faces. After a few minutes, Edgar Rose-Harvey strode purposefully from the church, a thunderous expression on his face.

‘Mr Blizzard,’ he said angrily. ‘I demand an explanation!’

‘As I think I might have mentioned before,’ said the inspector, ‘when I am running murder inquiries, I do the demanding.’

Rose-Harvey glared at him, hesitated for a moment then appeared to think twice about escalating the confrontation.

‘In which case,’ he said, bringing his emotions under control with an effort. ‘I request to know why you are here.’

‘Because of him,’ said Blizzard.

He pointed to Bob Lennox as their quarry appeared at the entrance to the church, accompanied by his wife. Lennox caught sight of the inspector, his eyes widened and he spun on his heels only to be confronted by a couple of plain-clothes detectives who had emerged from the church having sat through the service. Lennox considered trying to run but thought better of it and shrugged his shoulders. One of the officers cuffed his hands behind his back.

‘How did you know I would be here?’ asked Lennox as Blizzard approached.

‘You might be a toerag but you’re a toerag with a heart,’ said the inspector. ‘Unlike your pal Steve Holdsworth.’

Tears welled in Lennox’s eyes. Blizzard watched for a moment, fascinated yet again by the contrasting mixture of the hard, violent man and the loving father who had never come to terms with the loss of his son.

‘I was pretty sure that you wouldn’t miss it,’ said Blizzard.

Lennox shook his head.

‘Never do,’ he said.

‘Take him away,’ said Blizzard. He nodded to the two plain-clothes officers.

‘Whereya takin’ him?’ asked Lennox’s wife, a bottle blonde in a sheepskin coat.

‘Confession,’ said Blizzard.

Edgar Rose-Harvey watched Lennox being bundled into the police van then turned to the inspector.

‘I take it,’ he said, ‘that this is the last of your antics at this church? I really would like us to be left in peace so that we can return to normal life again. People are already leaving St John’s because of all the trouble. All our hard work is being ruined.’

‘Frankly, Mr Rose-Harvey, I would happily see your church closed down, given what I have seen over the past week or so.’

‘I do hope you do not mean that, Chief Inspector,’ said Rose-Harvey. ‘We have worked too hard to bring the light of the Lord into this church and to give up now because of a few setbacks would undo all the good work that we have done.’

‘I hardly call a murder and two serious assaults a setback!’ exclaimed Blizzard. ‘I call that wicked!’

‘We are all sinners,’ said Rose-Harvey. He assumed the faraway expression that the detectives had seen before, one often replicated on the faces of many of the other young members of the congregation. ‘If only you would open your heart.’

The inspector turned on his heel and stalked off down the path. As he reached his car, his mobile phone rang.

‘Blizzard,’ he said.

‘It’s Chris,’ said Ramsey. ‘Any chance you can pop in on Jacob Reed at the hospital again? He says he didn’t tell you everything when you went to see him earlier. He seems to have remembered what happened.’

‘Hallelujah,’ said Blizzard.

* * *

An hour later, having visited the hospital to see Jacob Reed, Blizzard and Colley were sitting in the interview room at Abbey Road Police Station with Bob Lennox. His solicitor, the paunchy balding Eric Liddle, had said little during the interview. It was a style which made him respected among police officers in the city, not because it meant they had an easier task but