“You see I knew tha’ if Daniel were caught on tha’ bike of ‘is and they foun’ he was on the stuff they’d put ‘im away for a stretch. I was selling the farm and me an’ Ann could be away and get us a new life.”
“So you gave it to my Danny,” Ann said accusingly.
Bishop realised that his actions had cost him his daughter. He broke down and told them everything. He explained how Daniel had told him about his row with some big shot from Exeter whom he was blackmailing over some photos. He also admitted that he had given Daniel one of the packets of the extra strong heroin, and how Daniel had snorted the lot and gone roaring off on his quad bike.
“He musta lost control takin’ the short cut through the forest by Sherracombe Ford to get to ‘is cottage. I never knew he’d get killed.” He turned his gaze from the fire to plead with his daughter.
“You old fool,” she shouted at him.
Bishop slumped back in his chair.
She stormed out of the house and slammed the door.
“James Bradley’s is facing a murder charge for Daniel’s death,” Said Bob. “You’ve got to tell the police what you did to Kaminsky and who your supplier is.”
Fred mumbled that he wanted to get it all cleared up and then Ann might forgive him. Bob called the station at South Molton.
Ralph went outside to walk around and try to calm down before the police arrived. Ann was nowhere to be seen. Not even a barking dog interrupted the silence. It was as though the life had suddenly been drained out of the farm and all of its inhabitants.
After no more than ten or fifteen minutes a police car pulled into the yard. It was the same PC who had stopped the fight in the lane. Ralph explained what had happened and told him that Bob Wyman was in the house with Bishop. The constable went inside, and returned a few minutes later with Fred Bishop.
“I guess you must be that Professor Chalmers,” the PC said. “My Sergeant mentioned you the other day. He said you were mixed up in all of this, sir. I’ll have to ask you and Mr Wyman to come down to the station tomorrow and make a formal statement.”
“We’ll be happy to,” Ralph assured him.
“Then I’ll say goodnight to you, sirs. Drive carefully; these lanes can be a hazard when the moon is full.” Ralph thought he detected a hint of a smile, but he could have been mistaken.
With that, the constable eased Fred Bishop into the back of the police car and drove off.
“Shall we lock up or something, Bob? And what about the girl?”
“This is village life, Ralph. They’re a lot tougher than you think. She’ll be with her mates by now.”
Bob drove slowly back to the main road and then to Bridport Marina.
Ralph invited Bob to come aboard and meet Katie. It was late, but he knew that she would be waiting up. Over cups of tea, Ralph explained to Katie what had happened. He knew that when Bob left that he would need to fill in more of the details.
“We must do this again, Professor,” Bob joked as he waved goodnight. “Thanks for the tea and sympathy, Katie.”
Ralph leant back against the cushions as he sipped his mug of tea while Katie tried to apply a few plasters to the worst of his cuts.
“We should phone Marian with the good news, Ralph.”
“You’re right. She’ll be pleased to hear that it’s all over, or as good as. No. On second thoughts we should leave it to the police. I’ve got to go over to South Molton to make a statement about what happened tonight. That Inspector Fletcher will be annoyed enough that I’m involved after he warned me to keep out.”
“Well he didn’t actually say that, Ralph. You couldn’t very well help it if a bunch of thugs tried to hassle you and Bob. And as for Bishop, from what you told me, he just crumpled like a wet towel when you asked him about Daniel Kaminsky. It’s not like any of this was your fault. It was just Ralph Chalmers doing his thing.”
She ducked as he pretended to throw a cushion at her. It had been a long day. Ralph loved the quiet of sleeping on a boat in harbor. He found the occasional slap of a halyard against the mast and the creaks as the boat strained at its moorings quite comforting. As he dozed off the images of Ann sitting by the fire in that gloomy old farmhouse faded as the movement of Gypsy Lady rocked them both to sleep.
_______________________
Chapter 9
It was getting on towards the end of August. Warm summer days could still be expected for at least the next four to five weeks and then it would be autumn. Then the late holiday-makers to North Devon would mainly be hillwalkers and those couples whose kids had grown up and moved out, and who were experiencing a revival of their own youth.
Joe, true to his promise, had traveled to Heathrow to meet Bruce’s plane. It had meant leaving Lynton at midnight for the 5 hour drive. He had drunk three Starbucks to keep himself awake. He waited at the arrivals barrier for the passengers to come through. He looked up at the board: BA016 landed at 04.50. As the trickle of people coming through the swing doors turned to a flow, he spotted his friend. He had somehow expected a cowboy hat with corks to ward off the flies, but it was the same old Bruce. A large trolley bulging with suitcases suggested that his friend had managed enough time in Sydney to stock up on Australian goods. He was always going on about how he missed Vegemite sandwiches for his lunch or mid- morning snack.
An old man came through the double doors just after
