Classic In the Pits--A Jack Colby classic car mystery

Table of Contents

Cover

Recent Titles by Amy Myers from Severn House

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Author's Note

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

The Jack Colby, Car Detective, Series

CLASSIC IN THE BARN

CLASSIC CALLS THE SHOTS

CLASSIC IN THE CLOUDS

CLASSIC MISTAKE

CLASSIC IN THE PITS

MURDER IN THE QUEEN'S BOUDOIR

MURDER WITH MAJESTY

THE WICKENHAM MURDERS

MURDER IN FRIDAY STREET

MURDER IN HELL'S CORNER

MURDER AND THE GOLDEN GOBLET

MURDER IN THE MIST

MURDER TAKES THE STAGE

MURDER ON THE OLD ROAD

MURDER IN ABBOT'S FOLLY

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First published in Great Britain 2013 by

SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of

9-15 High Street, Sutton, Surrey, England, SM1 1DF.

First published in the USA 2014 by

SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS of

110 East 59
^th
Street, New York, N.Y. 10022

eBook edition first published in 2014 by Severn House Digital
an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited

Copyright © 2013 by Amy Myers.

The right of Amy Myers to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

Myers, Amy, 1938- author.

Classic in the pits. – (A Jack Colby mystery; 4)

1. Colby, Jack (Fictitious character)–Fiction.

2. Antique and classic cars–Fiction.

3. Porsche automobiles–Fiction.

4. Murder–Investigation–Fiction.

5. Detective and mystery stories.

I. Title II. Series

823.9'14-dc23

ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-8355-1 (cased)

ISBN-13: 978-1-78010-500-0 (ePub)

Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.

This ebook produced by

Palimpsest Book Production Limited,

Falkirk, Stirlingshire, Scotland.

To Adrian,
good friend and valued critic

As in Jack's previous cases, my husband James' input on the classic cars featured in
Classic in the Pits
has been the linchpin of this novel, and I'm enormously grateful both for this and for his running the Jack Colby blog (
www.jackcolby.co.uk
) and website on Jack's behalf.

Most of the action in this novel takes place on or near to the North Downs in Kent. It is there that Jack Colby has his classic car restoration business and carries out his car detection work. Some of the settings are fictitious, notably Old Herne's itself (although there was indeed a First World War landing ground in that neighbourhood), Friars Leas and of course Jack's own Frogs Hill. Most are real, however, although all that can now be seen of West Malling airfield is the preserved control tower. Robin J. Brooks'
From Moths to Merlins
was an invaluable source of information on this former airfield, and Fred Ferrier on the Porsche 356.

My thanks also go to my staunch agent and friend the late Dorothy Lumley of the Dorian Literary Agency and to the wonderful team at Severn House, in particular Rachel Simpson Hutchens and Piers Tilbury, whose enthusiasm for classic cars (especially for the Morgan 4/4) has resulted in such superb cover designs.

T
rouble often comes in disguise, but I didn't expect it to arrive through a friendly chat with Liz Potter, former lover and ongoing friend. True, it was a Friday when the Frogs Hill farmhouse phone rang, but it wasn't the unlucky thirteenth, so I wasn't prepared for the disaster she blithely announced. It began quietly enough.

‘Swoosh, Jack! Are you going?'

‘Would I ever miss it?' I was amazed at her even asking me. Swoosh was the one event in the Kentish calendar that no car lover would miss.

‘You have to be there. Heard the news?'

Even then I didn't get too alarmed. ‘Good or bad?'

‘Bad. It will be the last Swoosh. Old Herne's is closing down.'

Closing down?
Old Herne's – more formally the Old Herne Club for Motoring and Flying Enthusiasts – couldn't close down. No more Swoosh? Not possible.

I had just been given a top priority mission to carry out at Swoosh this year, so this was even weirder. I work freelance for the Kent Police Car Crime Unit, and its head, Dave Jennings, had rung me earlier to tell me I was in on a case,
if
I wanted the job. If? I'd almost have done this one for free when he had explained what it was. (I say almost because I depend on my work for Dave to pay the mortgage on Frogs Hill.) This time, he had told me, the job was to hunt down the missing classic Porsche belonging to Mike Nelson, who ran Old Herne's. Amiable, a former racing driver, and generally beloved, Mike was over retirement age, but I heard he had recently taken on a deputy, which didn't indicate any immediate threat. Nevertheless, Liz isn't in the habit of getting things wrong.

Even so, I double-checked. ‘You're sure, Liz?'

‘Got it from Jason.'

This was beginning to sound ominous. Jason Pryde was Mike's son – he took his stage name from his famous grandmother Miranda Pryde, who had been a Vera Lynn singalike in the forties and fifties. Jason, even though he was estranged from his father, would surely not be mistaken about this news. I had never met him, but his reputation was worldwide. He was famous for having been the pop star to end all pop stars in the 1990s. Then his star had waned, and he hadn't reappeared on the scene until a few years ago when he'd reinvented himself with a tribute band to his grandmother – and fallen out with his father. Reason unknown, but that's families for you.

‘Is he going to be there?' I asked. He'd been conspicuous by his absence at previous Swooshes.

‘You bet. He's billed to give a concert.' A pause. ‘His singing partner's gone down with a virus and, guess what, I'm standing in for her.'

‘That's terrific, Liz.'

Liz has a great singing voice and a great stage presence but she's not a professional singer, so it was indeed a triumph for her to be singing with celeb Jason. Swoosh wasn't just a meeting place for classic car lovers but for devotees and veteran airmen of Second World War aircraft as well – hence the name Swoosh, which covers the thrills of both modes of transport. Swoosh puts on entertainment for veterans, fans and their families. A Jason Pryde concert was going to be an enormous plus.

Swoosh was always held on the first Sunday in June, and this year that was in two days' time.
The last one?
I still could not believe it. After all, I was supposed to be a car detective, and I'd heard nothing of it. I'd been away for a week or so, but surely this crisis could not have flared up in a week? First, that Porsche was stolen, and now this.

Dark clouds were gathering and I was heading right their way.

The theft of the Porsche was a high-profile case because of the car's pedigree. This curvy silver Porsche 356C coupé, with its Carrera 2 four-cam engine and its disc brakes, had been Mike's pride and joy during and since his racing days in the sixties and seventies. It was now kept permanently on display at Old Herne's and had become the club's icon, known to every Porsche lover in the world. For starters, I doubted whether there were even half a dozen 356 Carreras in the UK today. Its disappearance had to be taken very seriously indeed. Mike without his Porsche would be a sad and lonely figure, and if he had to add the possible closure of Swoosh to this blow I couldn't imagine what he must be going through.

First step: discuss it with Len. I was still reeling on the Saturday morning when Len Vickers and then Zoe Grant arrived for an emergency stint in the Pits – our name for the converted barn workshop where they form the crucial part of Frogs Hill Classic Car Restorations Ltd. I, Jack Colby, am merely the owner, although I'm permitted to pay their wages and even occasionally contribute a comment or helping hand. Both of them are welded to their jobs, Len being the engine and Zoe the spark plug. That makes for a great team although there's a forty-year age gap between them. And here was I about to prise them away from their work on a Lea-Francis to discuss the emergency over Swoosh.

I took a deep breath. I was about to ruin their day.

‘There's a ridiculous rumour that tomorrow is the last Swoosh,' I ventured casually. ‘Old Herne's is closing.'

I expected uproar. There was none. It was Len who for once replied. ‘Looks like it.'

Len is taciturn by nature and not inclined to the bright side of life so even then I didn't take the threat too seriously. It was when Zoe put her grinder down and proclaimed: ‘That's what Rob says too,' that I really got worried. Rob Lane is the layabout man in her life and comes from a background that gives him a passport into whichever circles he cares to stroll.

‘It's just not possible,' I pleaded.

Len glared at me. ‘Got the news from Tim Jarvis.'

Then it was serious indeed. Tim was one of the old-school volunteers at Old Herne's, having been on the scene since the year dot – or more precisely the year it opened, which was 1965. Tim oils so much of the everyday machinery that goes into its running that without him it would have ground to a halt long ago.

‘I'll nobble Mike Nelson,' I said. ‘I've got to have a word with him anyway.'

‘About that Porsche?' Zoe enquired.

‘
The
Porsche,' I confirmed. ‘The Porsche to end all Porsches.' Although Mike had bought his a year or two after it had proudly left its makers in 1963, it still had the original Carrera engine in it. Quite something.

‘Not having much luck, what with that and Old Herne's going,' she commented.

‘Still seems weird,' I said, trying to make sense of this googly that fate was threatening to bowl at the car community. ‘The place could do with a facelift but it's Mike's whole life – he can't seriously be thinking of closing, especially since he's taken on this deputy.'

Len had a face of doom however. ‘Arthur Howell's flown over,' he said succinctly.

This was ominous indeed. Arthur Howell, US oil billionaire and former Second World War US Thunderbolt fighter pilot, was a delightful gentleman, but his arrival across the Pond at Old Herne's added weight to the story of its closure. He must be at least ninety now, and makes few appearances in Kent, leaving the running of Old Herne's to Mike. Arthur had founded Old Herne's way back in 1965, handing it over to Miranda Pryde and her husband Ray Nelson to run after their singing careers ended. Their son Mike had taken over when Miranda died in the early nineties and Ray retired. The whole caboodle still belonged to Arthur, however, although I gathered it was tied up in some kind of trust. I'd met him once and taken to him, even though his sharp eyes had summed me up quicker than Len can diagnose faulty engine timing, which is saying something.