As The Crow Flies (The DI Nick Dixon Crime Series) (8 page)

‘Did you see this person again? In the car park perhaps?’

‘No.’

‘What did you do then?’

‘I clipped into the belay at the top and Helen lowered me off. I took all the gear out on the way down and then we dropped back down to the car park to see if we could help.’

‘Did you tell anyone what you saw?’

‘We gave our names to a police officer who arrived.’

‘And no one’s been in touch with you since, I suppose?’

‘No.’

‘Well they bloody well should have been. I’m sorry about that. Clearly your evidence is vital.’

‘I wasn’t sure whether to say anything, really. I can’t be a hundred percent sure what I saw, to be honest, and I certainly couldn’t identify anyone.’

‘I wouldn’t expect you to be able to do that. It must be two or three hundred yards across to the top there.’

‘I suppose so,’ said Carl.

‘Let’s drop back down to the car park. If you don’t mind I think I’d like to get a statement from you now. You’ve probably got an hour so until the rain starts to clear up. What say you we drop down to Costa and get some statements written up?’

‘Yes, that’s fine,’ said Carl.

‘You ok with that, Helen?’

‘Yes, fine.’

Once back down in the car park they climbed into Dixon’s Land Rover. Costa Coffee was only five hundred yards down the gorge but it was still pouring with rain and they had got wet enough up on the terrace. Dixon bought the coffees and they sat in the far corner of Costa, which was practically deserted giving them a measure of privacy. Dixon hand wrote out a detailed statement from Carl Harper and a short statement from Helen. The essential detail was covered thoroughly. The next step would be for Dixon to persuade DCI Lewis to open a murder investigation.

Dixon dropped Carl and Helen back at their car just before midday. It had stopped raining by then. Dixon wished them a good day’s climbing and recommended a route called Morning Glory. Not technically difficult, it took in the full height of the gorge on the south side.

‘It’s a great day out,’ said Dixon. He had done the route with Jake one New Year’s Day many years before. It had proved to be a great hangover cure.

Dixon climbed into his Land Rover and looked at his watch. He needed to be home by 2.00pm to take delivery of a new sofa. Just enough time to have a closer look at the top of High Rock.

Dixon decided that the fastest way to the top of High Rock was to climb. He left his rucksack in the car and put his camera in his pocket. He then walked over to the short slab to the left of the lower car park on the south side of the gorge and looked up. He remembered the slab was very easy. In fact Jake and he had often used it as a descent route but then that hadn’t been in the rain and wearing an old pair of trainers. Nevertheless, he decided to go for it, for old time’s sake.

He made short work of the slab itself and then scrambled over the terraces and through the undergrowth to the foot of a route he knew well. Knights Climb was a route that he had done many times, both in ascent and descent. It is graded Difficult, which Dixon reminded himself is the easiest grade of climb, being one step up from a scramble.

Dixon looked up at Knights Climb and could see water pouring down the route. It followed the line of a chimney moving diagonally right up Acid Rock. That would at least mean that he would be able to stay in balance although he knew that he was going get soaked to the skin and covered in mud.

The climb was surprisingly dry but there was a good deal of loose rock in the chimney and more vegetation than he remembered. Knights Climb was not as popular a route as it had once been. He made short work of the first section before stepping out onto a steep grass ledge. The chimney continued above him and he could see that the top of the route was now in sunshine. He was starting to enjoy it when he arrived at the top of the chimney to find that a rock fall had removed the last twenty feet or so of the route. This was not part of the plan. The line in front of him was broken and loose and it was obvious from the sediment that it had not been exposed to the elements for very long.

He started to panic. He looked back down the route. Reversing Knights Climb was once something he would have taken in his stride but not now. The only option was to keep going. There was only loose rock and mud in front of him. To his left was the blank wall of Acid Rock. He looked to his right. A heavily vegetated gully offered him an exit and so he took this option. It was his only option. He launched himself into the bushes and arrived at the top a few minutes later. His hands and face were covered in scratches but, all in all, he had enjoyed it.

He followed the top of the cliff to the trees at the top of High Rock. He found the tree that Jake would have used as a belay to abseil over As The Crow Flies. He could see what he thought were marks on the bark left by Jake’s tapes and so he took several photographs for his records. Then he followed the line of the trees diagonally and back right to the foot of the small outcrop. He found himself on a path that lead round to the right of the outcrop and up over the back of the gorge. Clearly, this had been the escape route.

Dixon was back at home just in time to take delivery of his new sofa. When the deliverymen had gone, he opened himself a beer, sat down and reached for his phone.

‘DCI Lewis.’

‘Nick Dixon, Sir.’

‘This had better be good, Dixon. England are playing South Africa and the second half is about to start.’

‘I’ve got a witness on the north side of the gorge who says he saw a figure running away from the top of High Rock at the time Jake fell.’

‘Bloody hell.’

‘I’ve got a detailed statement from him, Sir. He will say that he saw a figure crouched and running back from the edge of High Rock.’

‘Well done, Nick. Take the rest of the day off, get a good night’s sleep and I’ll see you in the office at 10.00am sharp tomorrow morning.’

‘Thank you, Sir.’

‘You’re a tenacious bugger, Nick.’

‘Thank you, Sir.’

‘You have your murder investigation. I’ve cleared it with the Chief Super. Steve Gorman and Jane Winter can come with you on it but I think we’d better leave Dave Harding on Magpie at the moment. He can finish that off.’

‘A fourth person would be useful.’

‘I can let you have Mark Pearce. He’s a young detective constable. Very keen and very able from what I can gather.’

‘Do I know him?’

‘Probably not. I don’t think you’ve worked with him yet.’

‘What about the Weston-super-Mare lot? It’s their patch, really.’

‘You leave them to me. I suggest you schedule a briefing for 10.00am tomorrow morning. That’ll leave you time to make a few calls first. And don’t forget the coroner for heaven’s sake.’

‘I’ve already left him a message, Sir.’

‘Cheeky sod.’

Dixon spent the afternoon putting all of his papers into one file. He printed off the photographs, photocopied the statements and put them all into a box file. For some reason, even in this digital age, he still felt more comfortable having a paper copy of everything.

He sent emails to the new team attaching scans of all of the witness statements, the photographs and also the video footage. Hopefully, they would be reasonably familiar with the case before the briefing tomorrow morning. He included the statements from Carl Harper and his girlfriend, Helen, as well as notes of his conversations with Jake’s girlfriend, Sarah Heath.

Dixon then rang PC Cole at Cheddar and left a message for him to bring all of the evidence being held there to Bridgwater Police Station first thing in the morning. PC Cole was scheduled to come on duty at 8.00am. Dixon left him in no doubt that he expected the evidence to arrive at Bridgwater in time for the briefing at 10.00am.

Dixon suddenly found himself sitting at his desk looking for things to do. He realised that he was putting off going home but knew he could do so no longer. John and Maureen Fayter needed to know what was going on and he would call in to tell them on his way.

Maureen Fayter answered the door.

‘Nick, come in. John, it’s Nick.’ She looked pleased to see him.

John Fayter appeared in the doorway of the sitting room.

‘I’m assuming you’ve got some news for us, Nick?’ he said, looking less than pleased to see him.

‘I have, but I’m afraid you’re not going to like it.’

‘We need to hear it all the same, Nick,’ said Maureen, ‘and we’d rather hear it from you.’

John and Maureen Fayter sat side by side on the sofa in the sitting room holding hands. Dixon sat in the armchair opposite them.

‘There’s no easy way to say any of this so I’m just come straight out with it, if you’ll forgive me.’

‘Go ahead,’ said John.

‘Jake’s death is now the subject of a murder investigation.’

Maureen started to cry.

‘Keep going,’ said John.

‘We’ve got a witness who says that he saw a figure running away from the top of High Rock at precisely the time Jake fell.’

‘I bloody knew it,’ said John.

‘There’s no evidence to corroborate this statement yet and sadly the witness didn’t get a clear view of this person but it does look as though Jake’s ropes were interfered with.’

‘Why?’ said Maureen. ‘For God’s sake why?’

‘This is where it gets more complicated, I’m afraid.’

‘Why?’

‘We have to look for possible motives. I’m afraid that I have found two.’

‘What?’

‘Well, it looks as though Jake was involved in small time drug dealing. He was buying and selling ecstasy tablets for small change, really, but that’s one possible motive.’

‘We wondered where his money was coming from, didn’t we, Maureen?’ said John.

Maureen couldn’t speak.

‘It also looks as though Jake was involved in stealing birds eggs.’

‘Birds eggs?’ said Maureen.

‘That’s right. Peregrine Falcons to be precise. If you can keep the eggs alive, and get them to the Middle East, they’re worth seven thousand pounds each.’

‘The trip to Jordan?’ asked John.

‘He didn’t go to Jordan at all, John. He went to Dubai where he sold ten eggs.’

‘That’s seventy thousand pounds!’ said John.

‘It is. More than enough motive for murder I’d have thought. It looks like he was planning to do it again as well because he’d fitted an incubator into the rear seat armrest of his car.’

‘We wondered how he afforded to buy that car,’ said Maureen.

‘I’m afraid it’s going to have to be impounded. I’ll arrange for it to be collected tomorrow.’

‘So, who killed him?’ asked John.

‘I don’t know yet but, in the first instance, I’m looking for his contact. Jake could steal the eggs but he’d have no way of selling them without help. It’s that person we need to find.’

‘You do what you have to do, Nick,’ said John.

Maureen appeared to have gathered her composure.

‘Jake bought the Subaru when he got back from Jordan or Dubai or wherever it was he went. So why did he fit the incubator in the armrest?’

‘He did it again, Maureen. More eggs and another trip to Dubai. Only something went wrong. I haven’t got to the bottom of what yet but he didn’t go.’

‘He never knew when to quit,’ said John.

‘Falconry is big business in the Middle East, John.’

Maureen started sobbing again.

‘I think I’d better leave you to it,’ said Dixon. John Fayter nodded.

‘I’ll show myself out.’

It had been an early start. Dawn and dusk had always been the best times to catch pike but these days it was a rare occasion when he got out of bed much before 9.00am at the weekend. This morning his alarm had gone off at 5.00am. It was still dark. He had made a thermos flask of coffee and had stopped at the petrol station to get some sandwiches and chocolate. He had put his fishing tackle in the car the night before and had arrived at Gold Corner Pumping Station before sunrise.

He parked in the muddy car park opposite the farm and walked through the wooden five bar gates. He followed the muddy farm track over Powder Sluice on the River Cripps and then climbed over the five bar gate into the field. He was now behind the farm and the pumping station and walking along the South Drain, his favourite pike fishing venue.

He followed the north bank for about eight hundred yards towards the metal bridge that took the farm track over the drain. There was a slight bend at this point with sluices bringing small streams into the drain on either side, creating small bays. Ideal features for pike. This had always been a favourite spot.

He put up his large umbrella to get some shelter from the wind and tackled up by the light of his head torch. By sunrise, he was ready to start. He was fishing two rods and cast one into the bay opposite and the other along the nearside bank. Each had a small mackerel on the hook that he hoped would take the fancy of any pike roving along either the far or the near bank.

The wind had dropped and in the morning light he could see cows in the fields behind him and opposite grazing gently on the wet grass. He could hear the buzz of the electricity pylons and spotted several vapour trails glowing red in the morning sun. A buzzard was wheeling overhead.

By mid afternoon he had caught three good-sized pike, the largest weighing in at just over 17lb. It was turning out to be a good day.

He could see a figure walking along the bank towards him. He was wearing dark trousers and a blue coat. It would be the Environment Agency bailiff coming to check his licence. A regular occurrence and nothing to worry about. He reached into his pocket to check that his licence was in his wallet.

‘May I see your licence, Sir?’

He turned to find himself looking straight into the barrel of a gun. He didn’t have time to look up. He saw the trigger finger twitch. He felt a sharp pain in his right eye and then darkness began to take him. He felt numb. Suddenly he was falling forward. He heard a splash. He could not breathe but there was no panic and no pain. He felt cold.