Death's Cold Hand by J.E. Mayhew (kiss me liar novel english txt) 📗

all the time,” Blake muttered, standing in the middle of Terry White’s flat. “What do you think brought him here?”

The uniformed police officer standing next to him reddened a little. “We think he came to get his medication, sir,” she said.

“Hadn’t it been logged and taken in as evidence? Jeez, at the very least, it’s hazardous stuff. They aren’t smarties, those tablets, are they?”

“No, sir,” the officer said.

“And you’re certain it was him?”

“He jumped out of the window as we came in. We only caught a glimpse of his back in the distance but there’s no sign of forced entry into the flat, so whoever it was had keys. We were assuming…”

“It doesn’t pay to assume anything, constable,” Blake said, staring out of the window. “It could have been someone acting for him or it may have been someone who stole the keys from him.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“I’m assuming you called for back-up to come and search the area, he can’t have got far if it is him.

“We’ve got people out there now, sir but it’s like he just vanished…”

“Or jumped into a car and drove away.”

“But, I thought he wasn’t able to drive, sir because of his condition.”

“It seems to me more and more likely that he has some kind of accomplice, constable,” Blake sighed. “How could he stay hidden for so long without any assistance and how is he getting around?”

“It would explain why we couldn’t locate him, sir.”

“Check with all the residents of the flat and with the houses over the road. Someone might have seen something.” Blake said. He wandered into White’s bedroom and sat on the bed. The killer was wandering free and Blake didn’t have a clue where he was. If there was an accomplice, perhaps they were connected with Pro-Vets too, all of White’s contacts seemed to have some kind of link to the charity. The pictures on the wall of Paul and Quentin had been photographed and taken down for further inspection and analysis. There had been some files and documents but they revealed little about the inner workings of Terry White’s mind and more about his inability to choose an affordable energy provider. In fact Blake wondered how a man who barely knew how to pay his gas bill could murder three people and avoid arrest for so long. That in itself was something of a conundrum for Blake and the accomplice theory helped solve it. But who in their right mind would help him?

His phone buzzed and he answered it immediately. “Mr Blake,” the vet said. “I’m sorry but I need you to come to the surgery immediately. It’s an emergency.”

Chapter 36

Taking the long route back to the garage cost a bit more in petrol but Noel had plenty of time to check he wasn’t being followed. His ankle throbbed as he pushed down on the clutch and, not for the first time, he declared himself too old for this game. He’d managed to jump out of the window at Terry White’s flat, but he’d landed awkwardly and twisted his ankle. It was a wonder his knees hadn’t given out as well. He was glad he’d parked the van nearby because he was able to hobble up to it and jump in. There was a woman over the road going into her house who glanced over at him but hopefully, she wouldn’t remember much about him, if anything. She didn’t look like her suspicions had been aroused.

Once he was satisfied that he wasn’t being followed, Noel headed for Heswall and the old garage. It sat at the bottom of a long back garden down a narrow, unadopted lane. Feral plum trees and brambles more or less blocked it off from the main house which was in a similar state of neglect. Noel’s mate, Clifford, had made good betting on the horses and bought the house years ago but old age and slow horses had taken their toll on him too. Clifford didn’t mind Noel coming and going. Every now and then, Noel would drop in on Clifford with a few quid or some bottles of ale by way of rent, but Clifford seemed just grateful for the company these days.

Noel drove the van up the overgrown lane and grunted as he got out of the car. Most of Heswall had been smart and suburban for as long as he could remember but there were pockets like this one where neighbours didn’t watch each other or tut at the weeds growing in each other’s gardens, both literally and metaphorically. This was a great hideaway and Noel had stored some pretty hot goods here over the years before selling them on. Not that he needed much privacy, these days. He was more prone to the odd spot of shoplifting food when he was short of cash or had forgotten his card. Wincing, he limped over to the old wooden gate that marked the entrance to the rear of Clifford’s property. It scraped across the gravelly earth as he pushed it open.

Terry was still in the garage, standing at the back as Noel came in. He rocked back and forth nervously.

“Only me, Terry,” Noel said, setting down the pack of medication on an upturned box. “I got your tablets and I picked up some food along the way.” He set himself down in an old camping chair with a groan.

“Are you hurt?” Terry said, nodding at Noel’s foot.

“Bizzies came to your flat while I was there. I had to jump out of the window,” Noel said, pulling his boot and sock off. His ankle was purple already. “What did you do, that they’re so keen to catch up with you?”

Terry sat down and buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know,” he said. “I hit a copper but yesterday, Quentin died. There was blood everywhere…”

“Who’s Quentin, Terry?”

“My friend.”

“And did you do it?”

“No. I don’t know. I can’t remember properly. Everything gets mixed up with the past. Sometimes I’m not sure what’s