Duncan felt his heart begin to pound. If the silly old fool tackled him and the gun went off, it could blow him, Duncan, in half!
‘And don’t you think people deserve to know the truth?’ he said loudly, desperate to think of something, anything, that would keep the man distracted. ‘After all, there are bound to be other girls like Iris out there, right?’ he asked, anxious to appease the farmer, who was, in his opinion, definitely not right in the head. And what could appeal more to a mad-man than the chance to talk about the object of his mania? ‘Other beautiful but rotten girls, all set to destroy other men, unwary men like you, without a single thought. Don’t you think they need to be warned, Mr Dewberry? Surely it’s your duty to do so, and people will even thank you for it.’
Trudy finally caught on to what he was trying to do, and turned to look at the armed man, trying to see if Duncan was succeeding in reaching him. And, she thought, he actually might be.
At least the scowl was gone, and Ray was looking at him more thoughtfully now.
Duncan thought so too, for he swept on encouragingly. ‘Just think of it, Mr Dewberry – everyone would read your story in the paper and all of them would understand then, wouldn’t they? Your neighbours, and strangers alike. You can’t be the only man taken for a ride by someone like Iris, can you? So they’d all know how it must have been, yes? And they wouldn’t judge you for it.’
Ray nodded. ‘Don’t reckon they would,’ he conceded slowly.
Trudy held her breath and began to hope.
Clement, although still stalking the man with the gun, slowed slightly, giving the sweet-talking young man a chance to work his magic.
And Duncan wasn’t about to disoblige him! He wanted the man to put down the shotgun more than anyone, since it was aimed right at his chest. ‘And girls like Iris don’t really fool other women, have you ever noticed that Mr Dewberry?’ he cajoled. ‘I’d bet you any money you like that the women in the village all said that Iris was no good, didn’t they?’ That he knew was true, since he’d interviewed his fair share of them.
Ray again slowly nodded. ‘Aye, they did. None of the womenfolk liked her.’
‘There you are then,’ Duncan said brightly. ‘If you tell your story, all the women who read it will understand. And isn’t that what you really need, now, more than anything? For people to understand how all of this wasn’t really your fault?’ He again waved his notebook in the air. ‘So why don’t we just sit down somewhere quiet, and you can tell me everything, and I’ll write it down, and then everyone will understand. All right?’
Ray sighed. ‘It’s all going to hell in a handcart, ain’t it?’ he conceded sadly.
‘I’m afraid so, Mr Dewberry,’ Clement said quietly, and when the farmer swung his way, Duncan almost felt his knees give way in relief to no longer be looking down the barrels of that shotgun.
Now that he had the elder Dewberry’s attention, Clement held out his hands in a what-can-you-do gesture. ‘With Mr Gillingham on the scene, there’s no way you can win now, is there? Not only are you hopelessly outnumbered, but his newspaper will know where he’s gone. And when he doesn’t turn up … besides, your son and Janet have, by now, already called the police and told them what’s happening.’
At this, Ray started and looked wildly around, only then realising that Ronnie and Janet were, indeed, missing.
For a moment Ray quivered, a bit like a lurcher dog spotting a rabbit, so tense and alert and ready for something to happen that he was actually trembling with the need to act.
And then, just like that, it all seeped out of him. Maybe his son’s desertion was the final straw. His head lowered fractionally and the gun barrels dipped until they were pointed at the ground. Eventually he nodded.
Trudy managed to drag in some much-needed air, unaware until then that she’d actually been holding her breath.
‘So I’ll take the gun then, shall I?’ Clement said calmly, holding out his hand, moving carefully forward. ‘Whilst you and this young man get to work.’ He let his gaze move sardonically over Duncan. For although he would have to acknowledge the debt they owed to him, he was under no illusion. The reporter might have helped save their lives, but he’d done it with one eye on an exclusive interview with a killer – and all the fame and kudos that would net him.
‘Yes, we need to do it quickly,’ Duncan agreed, having no trouble reading the old vulture’s mind – and feeling resentful, as always, at his perspicacity. The old sod had never liked him! ‘If the police are on their way, we won’t have much time, and I need to get down all of your story.’
Over the killer’s shoulder he shot the coroner a hostile look.
For another moment, Ray Dewberry wrestled with the inevitable. Finally he gave a long, forlorn look around at the place where’d he’d lived all his life – and would never see again – then sighed, and wearily broke the shotgun open and half-heartedly offered it to Clement, who moved on rubbery legs to accept it.
Trudy came to stand beside her friend. She didn’t have any handcuffs on her, so making a formal arrest seemed pointless. Besides, she was sure it would go a long way to appeasing DI Jennings’s wrath if she left it to him to do the honours.
Also, as she watched Duncan scribble in his notebook whilst Ray Dewberry began to unburden his soul, she knew she hadn’t the heart to do anything that would stop him from getting his precious story. When all was said and
