Ralph had been granted the one year’s unpaid leave of absence that he had pressed for and Katie had accrued enough time from conferences and weekend teaching for her to accompany Ralph on the race.
Two-handed racing was not Ralph’s first choice as he knew how exhausting it could be, but he had rationalized that it was not as tough as ocean sailing; with plenty of stop-overs in various ports around Britain it was manageable.
They had been working hard at getting the boat ready when Ralph got a call from Bob Wyman, his reporter friend.
“Ralph, I heard that you were back and working your socks off over at the Marina.”
“Bob. Good to hear from you. We’ve been trying to get the boat ready for a trip.”
“If you need a break, then I have something that you might be interested in.”
“Sure. What’s going on?”
“Remember the Daniel Kaminsky case?”
“Yes, now you mention it, I do remember. You were going to write a follow up article about it when we spoke back in the spring. Something about what people do with the money when they get a windfall, if I’m not mistaken.” Ralph tried to play down his interest; hoped he did not sound over eager. “Seems a long time ago now.”
“Things have moved on a bit since then,” Bob said. “A friend of mine who does a lot of charity work for the Samaritans tells me that she’s been getting an increasing number of calls from people who’re suffering from drug abuse, and the number of potential suicide calls has increased as well. She thinks that someone’s bringing drugs into the area.”
“From what I recall about The Samaritans, they don’t report anything people tell them to the police,” said Ralph. “So what’s that got to do with the Kaminsky case?”
Having said it, he realised that it sounded a bit rude, but Bob must have not been put off. He continued.
“Anything that happens around North Devon is news, Ralph. All of that stuff about increased drugs and suicides seems to be focused on the area around South Molton and I think it may somehow be linked to Daniel Kaminsky.”
He paused. Ralph recognized the technique. The reporter throws out a remark and then waits for you to fill the gap.
“I’m not with you Bob,” Ralph replied.
“Well, the Coroner’s report said that a drug called Palfium was found in Kaminsky’s stomach. I heard that you’d been asking a few questions about the Kaminsky case around Brayford and just wondered if it had come up about his drug use, that’s all.”
Ralph wondered what had been said in the village about his visit to Long Acre Farm. He doubted if Ann Bishop had told her father about the photos, but it was likely that he had boasted to his pals about how he had dealt with police harassment.
“You still there, Ralph?”
“Sorry, I was distracted for a minute. Anyhow, you were saying about the Kaminsky case?”
“Yes, that’s right. When I heard that you were down from London again, it just occurred to me that you might have stumbled across something that might link Kaminsky to this drugs business.”
Ralph sensed that Bob would not let up until he got some answers and his hunch was correct. Bob carried on.
“I understand that you know James Bradley’s fiancé, Marian Watts. I dug up a piece about that business at Canary Wharf and that ISIS attack and thought you might be on the sleuthing trail again; you know, trying to help her out. The case against Bradley seems pretty strong. I doubt the police will be looking too hard for anyone else. Bradley was seen arguing with Kaminsky, and next thing you know, he’s dead. It didn’t take long to work out that you were doing a bit of your amateur detective work again.”
“Look, Bob, I know it’s your job to speculate on these things, but I don’t see how someone like James Bradley would set out to poison Daniel Kaminsky with a drug overdose. If there’re drugs involved, then maybe Kaminsky was just on something when he crashed.”
“You’ve got a point, Ralph, but if you think it’s just a stitch up and you want to get Bradley off the hook, why not come over to Brayford with me? I want to take a look around the local scene and I thought I’d start with The Bell pub, maybe find out who’s pushing drugs around there.”
“But I still don’t understand why you want me involved,” Ralph said.
“To be honest, I could do with a bit of help. I’m known over at South Molton and Brayford. I thought you might agree to be my cover. You know, pretend that I’m trying to get a story from someone down from London. What with the treasure being found at Sherracombe and a dead body lying there for almost a year, people have been coming out of the woodwork with stories.”
“Okay, Bob, why not? So long as you don’t want me to wear a disguise or anything.” They both laughed. They chatted a bit more about the problems with declining trade at Bridport and development of the off-shore wind farm project Then Bob rang off.
***
The next evening Bob picked Ralph up at the entrance to the Marina. The Land Rover came into its own once they had left the main road and headed up the country lane towards Brayford. Bob was good company and they chatted about how the tourist numbers were up and about the havoc caused by the winter storms and flooding.
“You’ve got just the right balance, Ralph. Winter in London, and then down here for the spring and summer.”
Ralph considered telling Bob about his chat with Ann Bishop, but thought better of it. Bob might be a friend,
