Joe followed. He wanted to get it over with before anyone came out and saw him. Seth walked along the Brayford Road facing the oncoming traffic. A mist hung over the woods bordering the road and a pale watery moon slid easily in and out of the clouds. Joe eased himself behind the wheel of his truck, gently turned the key in the ignition and slid into first gear. He let the engine warm up before he slowly edged out onto the roadway. As soon as he was on the road he accelerated. He saw Seth ahead. He swung his truck across the narrow road. Seth bounced off the ‘bull-bars’ that Joe was proud of. Joe stopped and ran back down the road. He had to get that money back or what was left of it. He had heard that the police could trace numbers on bank notes and it was his money. He felt the revolver press against his side as he bent over the inert body that lay in the grass.
Seth was dead. His neck was twisted right around and he was not moving. Joe wrenched the money from Seth’s pocket and pushed his body into the ditch.
As Joe drove slowly through the country lanes back to Lynton he felt relieved. He would never tell Bruce, he thought. There was still the problem of the Seth’s sister, Megan. She might say something to the police when she heard about her brother and he could not take that chance; she had to be silenced. He locked the garage doors and put the gun back in the drawer. He opened the safe and looked at his gold and silver.
***
“You say Seth Raines was drinking until late, sir’?” The young PC leant on the bar of The Bell as he made his notes.
“No more than usual. I remember he left before I could get the regulars to drink up. Hit and run they said on the radio, officer?”
“We’re checking, sir. Did he have a row with anyone that night?”
“No. Well not that night as far as I recall, though he’s had one or two bits of trouble over the years mind.”
The publican continued polishing a glass, holding it up to the light to check for smears.
“Won’t offer you a drink, officer, but there’s some coffee on. I’ll get you a cup.”
“No thanks, sir. Would you say Mr. Raines had any enemies? Someone who might want to do him harm?”
“No, none I can think of. Everyone knew Seth and had got used to his ways. Although now I think about it, he said he’d won some money on the horses. He bought a round of drinks for the lads. I saw him flicking through a wad of bills at the bar. Looked like at least a thousand. He paid me with a 50 pound note; I ran my forgery pen over it.”
The policeman thanked him and went outside to his patrol car where Sergeant Jones waited.
“Everything alright, Constable? No trouble?” The Sergeant wanted to gradually ease the newest member of his team into the neighborhood.
“Funny thing, Sergeant, the publican said the man had a wad of money on him, buying drinks for everyone. When we found him he had nothing on him except a pipe, a pouch of tobacco and an empty envelope that was stuffed in his jacket pocket. The tire tracks of whoever hit him were on the wrong side of the road, according to the police doctor’s report of his injuries. Whoever it was must have come up behind him. Around here everyone knows to walk facing the on-coming traffic. The tracks in the grass showed that a vehicle stopped and as it drove off, it crossed back over the road. They must have known they hit something. Maybe they went back and mugged him and then just left him there to die. Could have been someone who followed him from the pub.”
“What about the vehicle?”
“Looks like a truck by the tire tracks, Sergeant. Marks on the body were consistent with being hit by a vehicle fitted with bull-bars. Lots of the lads around here fit them; claim they’re to stop the radiator getting busted in if they hit a deer at night.”
“Any relatives?”
“Still checking on that, Sergeant. The pub owner said he had a sister who lives over in Lynton. I’ll check that out. And he had a tack shop up at Brayford. My wife used to take her saddle there for stitching. Mr Raines must have looked forward to a pint on a Saturday night; not much else for a bloke like that to do around here. The publican said that he had a lot of money on him that night.”
“So, where did a man like that get enough to buy everyone drinks? If, it’s as he told the publican and he won it at the races, where did he even get enough for a large bet? At 100:1 it might be possible with a small stake, but not many bookies giving those odds, Constable. Check the local bookies. And get over to see Megan Raines. I’ve checked, and she’s his sister; his only relative. She may know something about his winning streak.”
“Not so lucky for him, Sergeant.”
“Let’s get back to the station, Constable. Around here Police work is 20% action and the rest is routine; that includes the paperwork.”
______________________
Chapter 8
Ralph and Katie were glad to be back in Devon. Samantha Tulle, their tenant at the cottage, had asked if she could stay on until the first week in August and then she would be off to France with her daughter. That suited them both. Ralph wanted to get Gypsy Lady ready for the Round Britain and Ireland sailing race which would start at Cowes, on the Isle
