‘If the bastards want something and break into it, they’ll find fuck all,’ he said. Maybe he was right, but it didn’t matter because the old estate car was waiting for her on the edge of the building site.
Her breath was starting to tear at her lungs now and her legs were starting to burn. She looked round and Roly-poly was nowhere to be seen.
She got the keys out, keeping a firm grip on them. This wasn’t a pathetic film where the daft lassie drops her keys and the vampire steps round the car and bites her. The key was into the lock in one smooth motion and the door was open.
The engine started first time. There was a big JCB in front of her, a few car lengths away. She squinted through the windscreen at the cab of the big yellow machine as its engine revved hard and black smoke chugged out of its exhaust.
It was facing away from her, its back bucket suspended in the air like a cat that had lifted a paw and was about to strike.
Before she could wonder any more, the machine was moving towards her, the bucket rising fast. She panicked and put the car into reverse, but it stalled.
She looked up and saw the machine coming closer. Her last thought on earth was of her dad. She shouted out for him in the confines of the car, knowing she wasn’t going to get away.
The metal sliced through the windscreen of the car, ripping away the A pillar on the side, and ended Shona Gibbons’ life.
Ten
Thomas Deal leaned back in the chair and smacked his lips together. ‘Damn fine cup of tea that.’
‘Glad you enjoyed it,’ Harry said to him. Dunbar was making notes on a pad. This station didn’t have a camera recording system, nor an audio system for that matter.
What they did have was an old tape recorder that Dunbar had asked about, assuming it had been rejected by Noah before embarking on his trip on the ark.
The room was small, with a window set up high. The beige walls had scrapes on them like battle scars. There was a stale smell about the room, as if nobody had been questioned in here since the Kray Twins ruled London.
‘Right then, Mr Deal,’ Dunbar said, putting his pen down and looking at the old man. ‘We need to know why somebody would want Clive Wolf dead.’
‘I agree, but where to begin? I haven’t a clue.’
‘You were the family solicitor in all personal matters?’ Harry asked. Already his back was starting to bother him, and his arse was about to follow suit. The chairs in this little room had been found by a surly uniform who looked like he could have carried them on his forehead.
‘I am indeed.’ Deal sat up again. ‘I am totally shocked by Clive’s death.’
‘Did Clive leave a will that you know of?’ Harry fidgeted in his chair.
‘Yes. He left everything to Shona. Now that he’s dead, I will have to execute that will.’
‘Did Shona know that she was the beneficiary?’ Dunbar asked.
‘I haven’t a clue. If she did, she didn’t hear it from me.’
‘Did Clive Wolf have enemies?’
‘Not that I’m aware of. He lived here on the island, in the big house with his father, before Oliver passed on. He ran the hotel. It was a simple life, but he enjoyed it. I can’t think of anybody who would have wanted to harm him.’
‘The problem we have,’ Harry said, ‘is this: did Clive interrupt somebody who was breaking the wall to uncover old Murdo, or was he doing it, and somebody else interrupted him and killed him?’
‘I can see the predicament.’
‘If it was Clive who was there breaking the wall, how did he know old Murdo was buried there?’ Dunbar said.
Deal hung his head for a second before looking at both men. ‘I was a young man back when Murdo disappeared. I was good friends with Oliver. He was only two years older than me. We’d met at university; hit it off right away. I became a friend of the family after that, and Murdo welcomed me with open arms, especially since my own father was dead. When he disappeared that night, Oliver and I were both gutted. It was unreal. The kids were little, all of them under the age of ten.’
‘Do you remember what happened that night?’ Harry asked.
‘Like it was yesterday,’ Deal answered.
‘Why don’t you tell us about it.’
Thomas Deal looked past the two detectives for a moment, staring at the wall as if a film were being shown there.
‘Everyone was excited about Christmas…’
Eleven
1985
‘Oh, bugger, it’s a cold one, alright,’ Murdo Wolf said, rubbing his hands in front of the log fire in the great room. ‘Where’s that lazy bastard with the wood?’
Oliver Wolf, his son, sat in one of the luxurious leather wing chairs with his friend, Thomas Deal, on the other side, each of them straddling the large fireplace, a drink in their hand.
‘Is that a hypothetical question?’ Oliver said.
‘No, it bloody well isn’t,’ the old man snapped. They all looked as the door at the side of the fireplace opened and Crail Shaw came in with an armful of wood.
‘Boxer! Where the hell have you been? I’m freezing!’ Murdo said, his face contorting into a look of disgust. ‘Is that what I pay you for? To slack off? Get those bloody logs on the fire. It’s already dark and I don’t want this place getting cold while we’re over at the hotel.’
‘Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,’ Boxer said, walking forward with the wood. He knelt down and began putting the logs onto the flames, sparks spitting back out at him.
Murdo stepped back and addressed his son again. ‘The guests will be getting ready for dinner. We should get over there. Are you fit, Thomas?’
‘I’m raring to go, sir.’
‘Good man! My son is a lightweight when it comes to drinking. Maybe a good steak inside of him will fill
