Hendrix dealt with the white-faced man, guiding him gently backward until he was using the wall of the container for support, then making him bend from the waist to get his head lower than his heart. ‘What’s your name?’ she asked.
Still bent at the waist with the redhead supporting his shoulders, came his muffled reply, ‘Lee Oliver.’
The name made Albert scrutinise the man more closely. It was dark inside the container, but there was enough light for Albert to see that he knew the young man; he was one of the competitors, here with his father from Oliver’s Bakery – the bunch from Wetherby. Albert scratched his nose in thought.
Meanwhile Wilshaw and Washington freed Alan from his bindings. He collapsed into Wilshaw’s arms, the strong, young officer having to take his entire bodyweight until Washington pitched in. Together they lowered him to a seated position on the floor next to the chief inspector and his constable, Ferris, who were checking the condition of the third man.
Ferris looked up from checking the man’s pulse with a negative expression on his face. ‘No pulse,’ he announced quietly. With Chief Inspector Doyle giving the commands, they made to flip him onto his back to give CPR but when they attempted to move him, his head flopped at an impossible angle.
‘Did I kill him?’ asked Lee Oliver with Hendrix quietly. His words were full of remorse, killing the man hadn’t been his intention. ‘I only hit him once.’
‘You’re a hero,’ Alan proclaimed from his position sitting on the dirty floor.
The chief inspector got back to his feet. ‘I shall need statements from you both once you are recovered enough.’
Ferris was fishing around inside the dead man’s jacket, looking for a wallet. Finding it in the right back pocket of his jeans, Ferris flipped it open, checked the picture on the driver’s license against the figure on the floor and said, ‘Warren Bradley. Anyone know the name?’
The chief inspector did. ‘He’s a nasty piece of work. Last I heard he was doing time for breaking arms. He used to do debt collection work, the type where he cuts off pinky toes as motivation to cough up.’ He was looking directly at Alan, when he asked, ‘What did he want from you, Mr Crystal?’
‘He wanted me to give him the prize money,’ Alan stuttered, still holding his gut. I think he’s been following me, actually. I’m sure I spotted him once or twice in the last few days.’ Albert made a mental note but didn’t say anything. ‘He grabbed me when I went to the gents,’ Alan snivelled, the memory of his attack affecting his emotions. ‘He put something over my mouth, chloroform maybe. All I know is I woke up in here and he kept hitting me. I thought he was going to kill me, until I saw Lee creeping through the door with the mallet in his hands.’
‘How did you come to be here?’ CI Doyle asked, his eyes pinning Lee Oliver to the spot.
Looking terrified, Lee gulped. ‘My dad is entered in the competition. I just came outside for a cigarette. He was hitting Mr Crystal when I found them,’ Lee said. ‘The big man, that is. I could hear something happening inside, it sounded like a fight but when I saw what it was, I knew I had to do something to help.’
‘Why didn’t you call for help?’ the chief inspector wanted to know.
The man was still bent over slightly and leaning against the interior wall of the container. He gave a half shrug. ‘I was going to, but I knew it would give me away and I couldn’t be sure anyone would hear me. I spotted the mallet on the ground outside, I guess it was used to hammer in the marquee pegs.’
Albert had his breath back and a bucket of questions so full that it was threatening to overflow. Before anyone else could speak, he pushed off from the door frame, taking Rex’s lead from Gary’s hand, and moved into the container. He’d been watching Rex whose eyes hadn’t left Lee Oliver at any point. He knew his dog and Rex suspected something.
‘Let me at him, please,’ said Rex, tugging forward against his lead again and growling in a deep bass note.
‘What’s with him?’ asked the chief inspector. ‘I think, Mr Smith, that you should take your dog back outside.’
‘I have to get to the competition,’ whimpered Alan, trying to get up as well, but falling back with his hands holding his abdomen. ‘It should be entering the final rounds soon and I’ve missed some of the heats!’
Albert exchanged a glance with his son and drew in a deep, thoughtful breath as his mind swirled. The truth of it all. He had a few missing pieces still to identify, but the picture was almost complete. The competition would draw to a close soon, and with it his chance to solve the mystery. With a nod, he tugged Rex back and said, ‘Chief Inspector, I believe we should let these two men get back to the competition, don’t you? That is if you are up to it, Alan?’
All eyes swung to take in the event organiser, still holding his gut and looking in pain. Using the officers either side of him for support, he struggled back to his feet. ‘I feel I must. So much has gone into this event, so many people entered the competition that I cannot let one man spoil it all. The people of York deserve to toast their winner.’
‘That’s the spirit,’ cheered Albert.
Alan’s attitude got a, ‘Here, here,’ from Gary and other noises of encouragement from the other police officers.
CI Doyle said, ‘Hendrix, Wilshaw, go with Mr Crystal. Escort both these gentlemen back to the
