‘No,’ Clement said. ‘I’m not a police officer and I can’t arrest anyone.’
Trudy, though, was a police officer and she could arrest Ronnie Dewberry anytime she chose. She took a half-step forward and felt Clement’s hand curl around her wrist in a strong, almost punishing grip. Surprised, she halted at once, instinctively trusting his judgement. But much as she respected her mentor, it wouldn’t stop her from doing her duty when the time came. For now, however, she was willing to follow his lead and wait for the right time.
‘What are you talking about, young Janet?’ Ray asked, scowling slightly at her. ‘What’s all this talk about arresting people?’
Clement said, ‘Janet, I think …’
Janet, at the same moment, said loudly, ‘I’ve found David’s diary. He knew who killed Iris. He said so.’ Her chin came up defiantly.
Ray Dewberry nodded slowly. ‘Is that so?’ he said quietly, and looked sadly at his son.
‘Yes, and he said it was Ronnie!’ Janet flashed at him.
Clement saw Ray Dewberry reach for the barrels of his shotgun and snap it back into place, arming the weapon and making it lethally viable once more. ‘Did he now?’ he said ominously.
Ronnie said nervously, ‘Dad …’
Seeing the gun begin to turn in Janet’s direction, Clement knew he had to act, and act fast. ‘Actually, his diary doesn’t say anything of the kind,’ he said. His voice, mild and quiet though it was, had all the effect of a bomb going off.
‘What? Yes it does,’ Janet contradicted angrily.
‘But it does say that,’ Trudy said at the same time.
‘I didn’t!’ Ronnie’s voice added to the hub-bub simultaneously. All three turned to look at the coroner.
‘No, it said that RD killed Iris,’ Clement corrected them. He took a step forward and saw the shotgun begin to swing ominously his way.
As he did so, Trudy couldn’t help but let out a soft moan of frustration at her own stupidity as comprehension suddenly hit her with all the stunning force of a runaway locomotive. ‘Oh no! We assumed RD meant Ronnie Dewberry,’ she said mournfully – or at least, all of them had except Dr Ryder.
‘And yet there’s more than one RD in this case,’ Clement confirmed softly. ‘Isn’t there, Mr Dewberry?’ he said, meeting Ray Dewberry’s mild grey eyes. He forced himself to ignore the double-barrelled shotgun that was now levelled right at his midriff, his mind buzzing like sherbet.
Could he rely on Ronnie to shelter Janet if any shooting started? He thought so. He could at least be fairly certain that the farmer wouldn’t shoot his own son … would he? Clement could step in front of Trudy at any time if he thought the killer of Iris and David was going to shoot her – but that was a double-barrelled gun. One blast would kill him … but the second blast could still be used to kill her.
Damn it, why hadn’t they taken the time to update DI Jennings before rushing off? At least then he could be sure that help was on the way … He judged the distance between himself and the farmer and knew it was too far. Way too far …
Ray Dewberry sighed heavily.
Ronnie Dewberry closed his eyes and gave a soft sort of moan.
Janet, the last of them all to catch on, took a few more moments before she looked at Ronnie’s father and then said, appalled, ‘You? It was you who killed Iris!’
Duncan Gillingham could not believe his luck. After leaving his car back on the track, he’d crept down the lane, bent double at the bottom of the dry ditch that ran beside the hedgerow bordering the farm track to cover his approach. He had taken up position by the entrance to the yard, just behind the low stone wall that circumnavigated the farmhouse.
He’d been in time to hear almost all of what the four of them had had to say, and he’d been gleefully scribbling it all down in his fast and accurate shorthand in his trusty notebook. Janet Baines’s quotes alone had been pure solid gold!
He could almost see tomorrow’s headlines, blazoned across the front page, his own by-line prominently displayed; a first-hand, eyewitness story of a young woman confronting the killer of her friend. This was his ticket to play with the big boys and no mistake! He could see almost all the big daily tabloids squabbling with themselves to get in on his scoop. And a job offer couldn’t be far behind, right?
So when Ronnie Dewberry’s father had turned up, he could have screamed in pure frustration, sensing that the old man would act like a wet blanket, putting paid to Janet’s star turn.
And then, just like that, in no more time than it took to snap your fingers – or so it had seemed – it had all gone from pure gold, to something far, far darker. And much, much, scarier.
Moving inch by inch, desperate not to make the slightest little sound that might betray his presence, he moved forward on his knees and, mouth dry and heart pounding in his chest, risked lifting his head high enough to peek over the low stone wall.
He saw the middle-aged farmer at once, his sandy hair shining in the hot May sunshine, standing in the middle of his courtyard, a shotgun pointing straight at the old vulture. And right beside him, looking pale and tense and also right in the line of fire, was Trudy Loveday.
Duncan felt his heart give a massive lurch.
Bloody hell. Was it really true? Had David Finch written in his diary that RD had killed Iris Carmody? And was it true that it was Ray Dewberry, not his son Ronnie that he’d been referring to? And if so, would he really fire that damned gun? At that short range, the old vulture would be dead for sure. And there were two barrels
