'Hallo, it's only me. He's gone. Thompson. Well, he was asking all sorts of questions about Kim Catchpole, and about the Sharringford thing. No, I pretended I didn't know about Kim. It wasn't too difficult. What? No, of course I didn't tell him about you. What do you take me for? After everything you've done for me? Will I see you tonight, or are you spending more time with that new woman? Good, because we still have to find that letter. I can't say any more now, just in case they have the telephones tapped. You never know. I don't really want anyone listening in on us, it's too risky. All right, you carry on searching and I'll see you tomorrow. Yes, of course I do.'

She put the 'phone down and sat, just thinking. If Thompson ever remembered the full extent of what had happened in Sharringford, she would be in real trouble. She had taken good care of Ken Hargreaves, everything he had turned up about her had been destroyed, she had watched him do it. Wasn’t she glad to have had something on him! Best to cultivate Thompson as well, just to be on the safe side, she thought. In any case, she was genuinely attracted to him, he was tall, quite good-looking, and being a senior police officer there were things he could do that no one else could. She had no way of knowing, of course, that he was on sick leave.

If it came to it he would be a useful person to have on her side. Getting him on her side would be child’s play.

She closed her eyes and smiled.

Thompson would be easy.

If it came to it, that was.

Five

PETER BELLAMY

Thompson drove back through the villages towards town until he came within sight of the timber yard where Peter Bellamy worked. He parked the car in front of the portakabin that served as an office, and knocked loudly on the door. Eventually the young girl who had been talking on the 'phone, finished her conversation and opened the door.

'I'm looking for Peter Bellamy,' Thompson said.

'I think he's out the back somewhere, having a fag.'

'I'll find him.'

'You'd better wait here while I get the foreman....'

'Don't bother, I know where to find him,' Thompson said with a disarming smile, and started to walk away.

The girl tumbled anxiously down the steps and ran after him.

'You're not allowed......'

He stopped abruptly, turned round and fished his warrant card out of his inside pocket.

'Police. No need to alarm anyone, it's just a routine enquiry.'

Oh, how he loved saying that, no matter what the occasion!

The girl was still not happy, and started dancing from foot to foot in an attempt to keep herself warm.

'Look, I'll get Harry, he's on the circular saw.....'

'It's no bother. I don't want a big fuss, I just want a couple of minutes with him, then I'll be gone. You run on back into the office.'

'Are you sure?'

'Quite sure. Off you go.'

'All right, then, but I don't like it. I'm not supposed to let anyone through that gate.'

'Say I sneaked in while you were on the 'phone. I won't tell anyone you let me in.'

'I didn't!'

'Of course not! The very thought!'

Reluctantly the girl scrambled back into the office and watched as Thompson disappeared through the small security gate. He found Bellamy sitting on a pile of pallet boards. Like she said, he was smoking. His cigarette was hand-rolled, exactly like the one Thompson had taken from Kerry's ashtray. If the opportunity arose, he would try to get an end from the yard where Bellamy sat, and he was quite sure that forensic would be able to confirm that the contents were not ordinary tobacco, but something much stronger, and perfectly illegal.

Bellamy had served a little time for drug-related offences, and he was still as yet only in his early twenties. His future looked bleak from where Thompson stood, but recently he had managed to keep relatively trouble-free.

Thompson suspected that he was a hardened addict, and a pusher, but there was no evidence, and the man had developed a cunning that had kept him out of the hands of the law for many months now.

He was unaware of Thompson's approach.

'Peter, how are you?'

Bellamy looked up, startled. He recognised Thompson immediately.

'What do you want?'

'A word, just a word about you and Kerry. Seen much of her lately?'

'No.'

'Not during the last week?'

'Didn't say that.'

'When, then?'

'When what?'

'When was the last time you saw Kerry Macklin?'

'Dunno. Before the weekend.'

'You sure?'

'I'm sure.'

'You haven't spent any time with her this week?'

'I don't think so.'

Again Thompson said, 'Are you sure?'

It was fairly obvious that they had agreed their stories, and he was certainly under the impression that Kerry had kept to hers. If Thompson claimed that Kerry had said he had been with her, he would simply deny it. For the time being.

'There was an ashtray full of your 'brand' on her coffee table. Probably about twenty fag-ends.'

'Not mine,' Bellamy said instantly. His eyes never flickered. He was a hardened liar.

'They look like yours,' Thompson said softly.

'I told you, Copper, they're not mine!'

'Does that mean Kerry is seeing someone else?'

'You tell me! You've got all the answers!'

'Not for you, I haven't. Well, so you have not been with Kerry Macklin this week, and those were not your cigarette ends in her ashtray?'

'I told you!'

'Well, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but those are illegal substances, and I'm going to have to charge Kerry with possession.'

For a fraction of a second, Bellamy's expression changed. Just as quickly, it hardened again.

'Do it. What's it to me?'

Thompson shrugged. Time to ask him about Kim Catchpole.

‘Kim Catchpole was supposed to be staying with Kerry. You didn’t see her, I suppose?’

‘I told you, copper, I haven’t been near Kerry lately. And I haven’t seen Kim either. Why all the questions?’

‘Kim has been murdered.’ Thompson watched Bellamy’s eyes for any sort of reaction to the news but there was nothing. Not a flicker. Or was there? He couldn’t be sure.

‘Nothing to do with me. Like I said, I haven’t seen her.’

Thompson noticed for the first time that Bellamy was favouring his right arm.

'What did you do to your arm?'

'Mind your own business!'

Thompson shrugged.

'Accident?'

'I don't go around breaking my arm because I like it!'

'Drug dependants do a lot of things that might not seem rational to normal human beings, Peter. Drugs make you funny, make you lose your mind, do funny things. Where did it happen? Is it broken?'

‘What's it to you?'

'Did it happen at work?' Thompson persisted.

'Might have.'

'In the accident book, is it?'

'Might be.'

'You might be entitled to compensation. You could buy some more drugs,' Thompson suggested.

'Get knotted, Copper!'

'Please yourself.'

'I will. You got nothing on me!'

'No, probably not. You say you haven't seen Kerry or Kim all this week?'

'That's what I said. How many more times? Look, I gotta get back to work. You finished with me?'

'One more thing. Have you seen anyone suspicious hanging around? Someone you haven't seen before?'

Bellamy considered the question momentarily, then shook his head.

'No.'

'You're sure?'

'I said, didn't I?'

‘And you haven’t seen anyone suspicious?'

Bellamy removed the cigarette from his mouth and tossed it from him in disgust.

'I've had enough of this! I haven't seen Kerry since last week, I haven't seen anyone suspicious, and I had nothing to do with Kim Catchpole's murder!'

He spat on the ground, aiming between Thompson's shoes, and succeeding in hitting his target. Thompson was unmoved.

'I didn't suggest you had,' he said quietly.

Bellamy started to walk away. Thompson called after him.

'Don't leave town, will you, Peter?'

He turned round and stared at the detective, glowering.

'Is that a joke, or what?' he demanded, with as much venom as he could muster.

'No. It's no joke. Until the murderer is caught, I want you to stay where I can find you.'

Bellamy shrugged and turned away. Thompson watched him disappear into the workshop, then took a tissue from his pocket and picked up the butt that Bellamy had discarded, put it in another envelope. Let's see what forensic make of you two, he said to himself, momentarily forgetting himself, patting the two envelopes that now nestled in his overcoat pocket. In order to get forensic work carried out on the cigarette ends he would need to enlist Ken’s help again. Was it worth it? Why not just have his colleagues arrest Bellamy? If he had his way, he would get them to lock him up and throw away the key. What a worthless little piece of shit Bellamy was!

He started to walk back to the car. As he neared the portakabin a burly man with an unshaven face and very little hair on top of his head was barring his way.

'Who let you in there?'

'I let myself in. Detective Inspector Thompson.'

He flashed his warrant card in the man's face.

'I can do you for trespass,' the man muttered.

'And I can do you for concealing drugs and aiding and abetting a criminal,' Thompson retorted. 'Which of us has the better hand, I wonder?'

He pushed past the man and got into his car. The man knocked on the car window. Thompson wound it down.

'You want to speak to my staff, you ask me first.'

'If you're around, I'll ask you. I don't have a lot of time, I have a murderer to catch.'

'Murderer? Is Bellamy involved?'

'Probably. Very probably.'

'Christ!'

'Tell me something, Harry. I assume you are Harry?'

Harry nodded.

'Did Bellamy hurt his arm at work?'

'Did he say that? He's after industrial injury compensation, the little bleeder! I'll have him....!'

'No, he wouldn't say where or how he did it. Did he do it here? While he was working?'

'No. He came in like it. Yesterday morning.'

'And did he say how he did it?'

Harry shook his head emphatically.

'He showed it me. Badly bruised, it were. But he didn't want to say how he did it. We all asked him.'

'Was it properly bruised, you know, black and blue? Or was the flesh discoloured, as though he might have done it recently?'

'No, it weren't black and blue, it was red. Anyway, he must have done it recently, it wasn't like it Monday. He phoned in sick Tuesday. Yesterday was his first day at work.'

Thompson nodded.

'Thanks, that's extremely helpful.' Best to have Harry on his side, just in case.

'Do you think he did it?'

'He might have. When you're high on drugs most of the day, there's no telling what you might be capable of.'

'Is he dangerous?'

Thompson smiled mysteriously.

'All addicts and pushers are dangerous. Watch your back.'

'I'll get rid of him, that's what I'll do!' Harry decided suddenly.

'That's your privilege. Just watch your back. If you're worried about him, let me know when and where he gets his stuff. We'll pick him up.'

'I'll think about it.'

'You do that.'

'You likely to want to talk to him again?'

'Very likely.'

'Clear it with me next time.'

'If you're around. See you, Harry.'