A New Dawn Rising (12 page)

'Can I ask a couple more favours, Rich?'

Sam had a list of things that needed checking out. He tried to clear his scrambled mind. What were the most important things he needed to know?

'I can't, buddy.'

Sam swallowed Richie's tentative reply uneasily. Was his old friend copping out on him?

'Why's that then, Rich?' he asked. 'I mean, if I'm asking too much of you, just tell me. I'll understand if it's too risky-'

'No, it's not that.'

'Okay. So, what is it?'

Sam didn't want to ask. Nor did he want the reply. But he felt compelled to hear the words.

'I think it's best if we don't talk for a while,' said Richie. 'Let this investigation blow over. You've been through a lot recently.'

You've been through a lot.

The exact words Mason had used.

Richie thought he was guilty, too.

First, Mason. Then, Molly. Lucy. Now, Richie.

Sam ended the call.

He decided to take a detour back to the car. Cutting through the shopping precinct, he headed for Rigbys auction house. All the way, he used shop windows to watch his back. The figure in the duffel coat kept appearing, confirming Sam's suspicion he was being tracked. Now, he just had to decide how to play it.

Exiting out the other side of the precinct, Sam ignored the persistent rain and walked up to a small island. On the other side of it stood Rigbys. It was a large, imposing building, with a small parking bay out front, big enough for one vehicle at most. Sam watched a lorry crawl around the island and take the turn-off that ran down alongside the auction house. Sam decided to follow it. He walked round the island and down the same road. The wagon turned into Rigbys delivery yard. Sam read the sign on the entrance wall.
Rigbys Auction House-All deliveries and collections to be undertaken at the rear of the building.

He peeked into the yard. It was a spacious area, large enough to park a number of vehicles in. He watched the wagon driver drop down from his cab and walk to the back of his vehicle.  At the same time, shutters covering the back entrance of the auction house began to roll up. Sam reckoned the warehouse must be in there. It was too dark inside for him to tell. A forklift truck appeared from beneath the shutters and scurried over to the wagon.

Sam remembered his conversation with Peter Canning. The gardener had told him he dropped off Carl's valuables at the front of the building. He even moaned about how difficult it was to park there. So, why not use the rear? Sam could see no reason for unloading expensive goods onto the pavement, in the middle of a busy street, when there was a secure area at the back leading straight into the warehouse.

It was another mystery he couldn't answer.

Deciding not to return to his car just yet, Sam doubled back on himself, going around the small island and into the precinct once again. Just as he dared to hope his shadow had disappeared, the figure in the duffel coat and woolly hat re-appeared on his tail. Sam wanted to make certain before making his move, so he spent the next few minutes going in and out of various shops, browsing like any other shopper. When he was satisfied it was time, he selected a suitable location to carry out his plan.

He chose a crowded bargain store, the type that sold cheap tack no-one really wanted but bought anyway. Pushing his way into the store, he forced his way down a crowded aisle, towards an entrance door at the far end of the shop. He nipped out of that, jogged around the back of the store and turned into an alley.

At the far end of the alley, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, was the man in the duffel coat. He was still watching the front of the bargain store, totally unaware Sam had left it. Sam sneaked up behind him, and in one fluid movement, grabbed the man by the coat, turned him around and threw him up against the wall. The startled man had no time to resist.

'Now, why are you-'

Sam stopped talking when he realised who he had in front of him.

It was Peter Canning.

Sam was stunned.

Why was Carl's gardener following him around?

Sam didn't waste time finding out the answer.

'Why are you following me?' he growled, emphasising each word with a violent shove in Peter's chest. Pinned up against the wall, Peter had nowhere to go. He had his hands up in submission, glancing furtively up and down the alley, hoping some assistance would appear.

'Take it easy, Sam.' he pleaded. 'I can explain.'

This only inflamed Sam further.

'Take it easy!' he shouted in Peter's face. 'Take it bloody easy! You tell me what you're up to and then I'll let you know if I'm going to take it easy!'

'Oi! What are you two doing?'

Sam looked around and in that split second Peter shrugged himself free and ran off down the alley. Sam went to give chase, but a pair of hands grabbed his arm.

'Hold it right there!'

He tried to break free, but someone took hold of his other arm as well. Sam watched helplessly as Peter disappeared out of sight. Rage built up inside him. All the frustration of the last couple of days came to a head. His inability to prevent the fire from spreading and claiming Carl's life. The way he had been interrogated and blamed by the police in the aftermath. He had been chased down country lanes, stalked around town and threatened by total strangers. His home had been ransacked, he had been lied to and people were queuing up to disown him. He had even suffered the ignominy of being expelled from a public building by a spotty kid!

Then, when the opportunity to get answers had finally presented itself, some interfering do-gooders had stuck their noses in and blown it for him.

Hands were tugging at Sam, trying to restrain him.

He was livid. So angry, he swung his arm back in an attempt to release himself. He felt his elbow connect with bone. Someone yelled in pain.

'Right, that does it! You're nicked!'

***

'You broke a policewoman's nose!'

'I told you it was an accident.'

Sam had been hauled into Bursleigh police station for the second day running. It was beginning to feel like a home from home to him.

'I really don't believe you,' said DI Mason, shaking his head incredulously. 'Not only do you go and visit Molly Renshaw straight after I told you not to, you then assault a police officer in a totally separate incident. You're already up to your neck in it with the Renshaw murder.'

Sam had been in custody for hours. For most of that time, he had been left to stew in a holding cell. Every so often, Mason would drag him out for one of these tiresome diatribes.

'Detective, why have you got it in for me?' he asked. 'Why are you so convinced I burned down the factory and killed Carl?'

Mason laughed.

'You can't see it, can you, Sam?'

'Go on, enlighten me.'

Mason got out of his chair and paced up and down the interview room. He stopped and looked smugly at Sam.

'You've lost it,' he sneered. 'You're out of control. The last two years have fried your brain. Just look at your behaviour today.'

Sam had already explained about Peter Canning and the reason for accosting him. Mason didn't want to know, making it clear he thought it was another one of Sam's fairytales.

'You pop up from nowhere and worm your way into Carl Renshaw's life...and within a day or two the man is dead and his business burned to the ground.'

'You're starting to sound like a broken record,' said Sam. 'Have you got any evidence yet?'

Mason narrowed his eyes at Sam.

'It's only a matter of time, believe me. In the meantime, we'll be charging you with assaulting a police officer.'

Half an hour later, the cell door opened. Sam looked up, expecting to be escorted to the custody desk for charging. Instead, DCI Carter stuck his head round the door.

'You're free to go, Sam.'

'What are you talking about? What about-'

'The assault charge has been dropped. You're walking out of here.'

Carter held the door wide open, and with an exaggerated sweep of his hand, invited Sam to make his exit. Sam couldn't fathom it out.

'Is this your doing?' he asked, getting off his bunk.

Carter didn't reply. A small smile played on his lips. He continued to wait patiently at the door for Sam to leave.

'I don't know what's going on here, Detective Chief Inspector, but it smells rotten, and I seem to be caught up in the middle of it.'

Carter looked up at the ceiling.

'Okay, suit yourself,' said Sam, walking past Carter and out of the cell. 'Give my regards to DI Mason.'

Darkness had fallen and the rain was coming down even heavier as Sam left the station. A howling wind swept the streets. People scurried past him, collars pulled up against the storm. He walked briskly through town to the car park, grateful for the cash Carl had given him the other day. The Capri had been parked up for hours. It was going to cost him a small fortune at the ticket machine.

Sam mulled over his sudden release from the station. He was sure it hadn't been Mason's decision. It must have come from higher above. Was Carter responsible? It was possible. He was sniffing around this case like a bloodhound. But as far as Sam could see, the case was out of Carter's jurisdiction. Sam was certain of one thing, though. Somebody in the police force had a hidden agenda.

The whole thing left him uneasy.

***

Dudsbury was an archetypal country village, containing a convenience store, pub and little else besides quaint thatched cottages. It was the nearest residential area to Sam, several miles from his cottage, just inside Bursleigh's district border.

Sam parked the Capri outside the convenience store and gazed along the main road running through Dudsbury Village. It was deserted and awash with rainfall. Small rivers of water gushed along the gutter, running into overflowing drains already struggling with the downfall. The wind battered the sign hanging outside the pub across the road. Sam watched it swing backwards and forwards violently in the gale, creaking noisily under the strain. Bracing himself, Sam dived out of his car and into the store.

The young woman behind the counter smiled sweetly at him.

'Horrible day, isn't it?' she remarked, reaching behind her and pulling a bottle of whisky down off the shelf. She held it up shyly. Sam nodded in amusement. The staff had him down to a tee. If he walked straight up to the counter, all he wanted was the whisky. The shop's employees had enjoyed plenty of practice. He had been in here practically every day for the last eighteen months.

'Yep, shocking weather,' he replied. 'Keeping everyone off the streets.'

She took his money, opened the till and handed him his change.

'Thanks,' he said. 'See you again.'

She didn't reply. She just stared at him thoughtfully.

'Are you okay?' he asked her.

'I think there's something you ought to know.'

'You're not closing down, are you?' joked Sam, dropping the change into his pocket. 

'No, the police were in here asking about you.'

***

Sam watched Katherine serve two teenage girls. The youngsters were soaked to the skin. Rain water dripped off them at such a rate small puddles had formed at their feet. They appeared oblivious, linking arms and giggling happily as they left the store. Sam waited until they had shut the door behind them.

'So, Katherine...'

She blushed.

'How do you know my-'

She looked down at the name badge on her chest.

'Oh, yeah. Sorry.'

Sam could see she was flustered.

'Katherine, it's okay,' he said reassuringly. 'Just take your time and tell me what the police wanted.'

'There were two of them. Detectives, I think they said they were. They came in this morning with a photo of you, wanting to know if I recognised you.'

'What did you say?'

Katherine chewed nervously on her lip.

'I told them you came in regularly. I hope you don't mind.'

Sam watched her shift uncomfortably on the spot. She was watching him warily.

'No, I don't mind,' he said. 'You were only telling the truth. You didn't catch either of their names, did you?'

'One of them was called Haskell...or was it Hoskell-'

'Hoskins?'

'Hoskins!' she repeated, beaming proudly at Sam. 'That's it, Hoskins!'

Sam frowned. That meant Mason had his men nosing around the local area.

'Did they ask anything else?'

'Yeah, they did,' replied Katherine, more at ease now. 'They wanted to know if you ever came in with anyone.'

Sam let out a sigh. Mason was trying to find out if he had an accomplice. A partner-in-crime. DI Mason really was clutching at straws. It was pathetic.

'I told them you were always alone, and that you nearly always bought a bottle of whisky.'

Sam looked at Katherine with chagrin. He wanted to ask her why she had felt the need to divulge that information. It was only going to fuel Mason's imagination.

But he couldn't say anything to her.

Not with the way she was gazing at him, an innocent smile spread across her face.

A friendly face was a rarity in his world right now.

***

Katherine watched him leave the store and get into his car. Her heart fluttered. She spent every morning looking forward to the moment he walked in through the door, however fleeting the visit may be. She had told all her friends about him. The quiet, rugged man. Her own dashing knight in armour. She did worry about the alcohol, though. Crossed her fingers it was not always for him. And now there was the police.

She hoped he wasn't in any trouble.