Did Not Finish (7 page)

I wasn’t the only one with tears in my eyes. Alison’s eyes glistened.

‘There’s something we want to do,’ Mr Fanning said. ‘Motor racing robbed my wife and me of our son. Alison lost her husband-to-be. We should be crusading for the end of motorsport, but I know how important racing was to Alex. He knew the risks and still he raced. I can be upset by what happened, but I can’t be bitter.’

He was talking about Alex’s death in terms of an accident. Did he still not know of Derek’s death threat?

‘In that spirit, the last race of the series will be the Alex Fanning memorial race. Myles has given it the OK. There’ll be a special prize fund for the winner each year.’

I smiled and said it was a great idea, but I didn’t like it. I foresaw Derek winning next year’s race. The idea of him winning a race honouring the person he killed was abhorrent.

‘Vic Hancock has offered to dispose of the car,’ Mr Fanning said. ‘He has the facility and he’s more than happy to take care of matters for you.’

I couldn’t let that happen before I got to see the car. ‘No, I’d like to do it. I know several of the other drivers would like to be involved. It would be our way of saying goodbye to Alex.’

Mr Fanning smiled and nodded his agreement. ‘You understand more than most about what we’re going through. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to lose your parents.’

‘And I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose a son.’

‘But we all understand an untimely loss.’

There was no dispute there.

Mr Fanning held out an envelope. ‘Myles asked for a release giving the car to you.’

I took the envelope. I had my first piece of evidence. ‘Thank you. I really appreciate this.’

‘No, thank you. You’re looking out for my son even after none of us can. I appreciate that.’

I nodded and rose to my feet. ‘I should be going. I’ve intruded enough on your time. Please pass my condolences on to your wife.’

Mr Fanning stood, squeezed out a pained yet grateful smile and shook my hand.

‘I should be going too,’ Alison said.

‘I’ll run you over to the railway station,’ Mr Fanning said.

‘No, that’s OK,’ she said. ‘Do you mind giving me a ride to the station, Aidy?’

The request surprised me. ‘Sure. No problem.’

‘I’ll just say goodbye to Laura before we go.’

‘I’ll wait for you in the car,’ I said.

Mr Fanning insisted on shaking my hand again and telling me what a great guy I was. The atmosphere inside the house was stifling and I had to get out. I wanted Alex’s car for all the right reasons, but I was deceiving these people. I thanked him one last time and walked over to the Capri.

The blast of afternoon wind cleared the nausea that had been building. I sucked in the cool air. It cleansed me of my guilt.

I got behind the wheel. The car was cold and uninviting. I gunned the engine and turned on the heater. It was a couple of minutes before the warmth spilled over me. I released a relieved breath.

Alison stepped from the house a few minutes later. She wiped at her eyes with a tissue as she climbed into the car. She kept her gaze dead ahead.

‘Which station?’

‘London Road.’

I pulled onto the street and accelerated away. Alison looked back over her shoulder at the Fanning’s house. When I turned onto the next street, she turned around and sighed.

I felt for Alison. She was trapped in an awkward situation. She was a final connection to the Fanning’s son, but the connection that made them family no longer existed. Alex was the glue that had tied them together. Without him, there was no bond.

‘Do you think you’ll stay in touch with the Fannings?’

‘For now, yes. We need each other. Who knows in the future? It depends on how we heal. You know better than all of us. Do you ever get over something like this?’

‘No. Not really. Alex will always be a part of you. You’ll always be reminded of something he said or did. You’ll wish he was around when something great or terrible happens. It won’t stop you from living your life, but you’ll never let him go.’

We said nothing after that. I drove, threading my way through the streets of Guildford over to the London Road railway station. As I stopped the car, a train slowed as it headed into the station.

‘That’s my train,’ she said.

‘OK,’ I said. ‘Have a safe journey home.’

The station announcer’s voice drifted across the air. ‘The three-twenty service for Waterloo is now approaching.’

I waited for Alison to move, but she remained seated.

‘You’re going to miss your train.’

She said nothing.

We watched the people climb aboard the train. It paused for a moment for that one final passenger and when that person didn’t arrive, its diesel engine growled and it pulled out of the station.

She waited until the last carriage passed the end of the platform before speaking. ‘Why are you going to all this trouble?’

She fixed me with an expression that wasn’t hostile, but was certainly demanding.

‘I guess I understand loss,’ I said, sticking to my cover story.

Her expression tightened, squeezing the softness from her face. ‘I get that, but it seems a little excessive.’

‘Alex was a friend.’

She nodded, but her tension failed to leave her. ‘Funny, I don’t remember Alex ever mentioning you. What were you, pen pals?’

There was no point in deceiving her anymore. ‘You’re right, Alex and I weren’t really friends. From what I knew of him, he was a nice guy and for that, I liked him. I talked to him just before the race. It might sound stupid, but we shared a guy moment. He told me about getting married to you and his plans. Two hours later he was dead. One moment Alex had a future, the next he didn’t. It affected me. I had to do something.’

I left out the part about Alex retiring from racing as a wedding gift to her. She was putting on a tough act to get me to talk, but her façade was eggshell thin. It would shatter in a second if she knew. I didn’t know anyone who could handle the news that a loved one was killed an hour from walking away from the thing that killed them. To tell her would be a cruel punishment.

What I said seemed to work. She sank into her seat and the softness returned to her face. She looked like herself again, except sad. I wished I could put a smile on her face instead of pain.

‘So that’s why you’re doing this.’

‘Yes.’

‘It has nothing to do with Derek Deacon saying he’d kill Alex? I saw you and Mr Beecham arguing at the church.’

It was stupid on my part to assume she hadn’t heard about the death threat. There was no way Alex could shield her from it. ‘OK, it does.’

‘So you think Derek killed Alex?’

‘I don’t know for sure.’

‘Don’t give me that.’

I was trying to be kind. It wasn’t working. Alison had probably had enough kindness in recent days. She needed someone to be honest with her.

‘Yes, I think he killed Alex. I can’t prove it, but I’m trying to. Derek shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.’

We were silent with each other. Only the drone of the engine filled the void.

‘I didn’t think you knew,’ I said.

‘I didn’t have much choice. Everyone was eager to let me in on the news. Like I wanted to hear my fiancé had been marked for death.’

‘Did you say anything to Alex?’

‘Yes. He told me not to worry about it.’ She shook her head. ‘He said none of it mattered and the best man would win.’

Alex couldn’t have been more wrong.

‘What about his parents?’

‘Eric knows. He hasn’t told Laura. She’s not taking this well.’

‘What does Mr Fanning think?’

‘He thinks it was an accident. He believes all racecar drivers are honourable and do right by each other.’

‘Is that how you feel?’

‘No.’ Alison shoved the car door open and walked over to the railway station.

Lap Eight

I
spent the rest of my Sunday at home with the photos I’d taken at Stowe Park. I printed out all the images I’d shot and spread the sheets out on the dinner table. I arranged them in storyboard fashion, showing the sequence of the crash from beginning to end.

‘So that’s how it happened,’ Steve said over my shoulder.

I’d been too absorbed to hear my grandfather come in. He’d been on a make-up date with Maggie.

‘Yeah,’ I said.

He nudged me aside to get a better look at the photographs. ‘How’d you get on with the Fannings?’

‘They gave me the car. I’ll pick it up next weekend. I should be able to see where Derek’s wheels made contact with Alex.’

Steve nodded. He picked up the picture of the wall showing the imprint of Alex’s impact. He examined it for a long moment. He’d witnessed a lot of fatal crashes working the pits. The sixties were a dark time. Safety measures were primitive to say the least, and track deaths were commonplace compared with today. He’d been there when Bruce MacLean died at Goodwood. It had been hard to get him to work the pits with me. The deaths of Mum and Dad were still too raw for him, but he relented. He needed to be there to watch over me like he had with Dad. He returned the picture to where he’d found it.

‘So you’ve got a public death threat, the car and these skid marks,’ he said tapping a picture. ‘It’s a start. What else have you got?’

The pictures looked damning, but only because of what Derek had said. To an outsider, the police, a jury, these were merely skid marks. They didn’t show malice. These pictures told a story, but without a narrator, the story was meaningless. ‘Nothing.’

He pulled out a seat alongside me and sat. ‘We can’t do this alone, Aidy. I understand this is important to you, but we don’t have all the answers and we have little influence over the outcome.’

I wanted to argue, but I’d never be able to twist Derek’s arm into confessing and I didn’t have the power to secure the raw video from Redline. I wasn’t trying to bring Derek down by myself. I just wanted to produce some evidence that would turn the investigation in the right direction. Looking at the photos now, I saw I had little capability of swaying anyone, even myself. I reached over and picked up the pictures.

Steve put a hand on my shoulder. ‘You’re doing the right thing, Aidy. People are trying to make this all go away for some reason. That’s not right. Someone needs to speak up. It looks like it’s going to be you.’

‘So what do I do; call Derek out?’

‘No. Talk to the cops.’

‘They’ve closed the case.’

‘Because they don’t know any better most likely. They aren’t motorsport people. They need to be educated. Find the cop in charge and tell him what you know. It’ll turn things around.’

I nodded. It seemed like a smart plan.

‘Just know though, if you talk, it won’t win you many friends.’

It wouldn’t, but I didn’t see what choice I had. Alex’s death couldn’t go unpunished. Someone had to stand up for him. I just wished it didn’t have to be me.

‘Yeah, I know, but it has to be done.’

Steve smiled. His pale grey eyes sparkled under the ceiling light. ‘Good, lad. Call them tomorrow.’

‘I won’t have to. I’ll be able to do it in person on Tuesday after I finish the press conference.’ There’d been a message from Myles on the answering machine telling me to be at Stowe Park Tuesday morning for a press conference about the Alex Fanning appeal. He’d gotten the motorsport press and TV to turn out.

I arrived at the track Tuesday morning. Myles had set the press conference for ten thirty and I arrived just in time. A bunch of cars and a BBC news van were clustered around the race control tower. I parked next to the BBC Bristol news van. It didn’t appear there’d be any national coverage for this story and my hope that Redline would attend went unanswered too. As I got out of my car, two other vehicles stood out for me. Mr Fanning’s Range Rover and Derek’s aged Ford Granada.

Whose idea had it been to include Derek; Myles or Derek himself? I could see either being responsible for this move. Neither of them wanted me airing dirty laundry. They had nothing to fear. I wasn’t going to say anything. Steve was right. I didn’t have enough. Yet. I was biding my time.

It was a beautiful day. Bright, clear skies, but bitterly cold. A biting wind sliced across the track. I hurried inside the building and everyone looked my way. Mr Fanning and Alison were among them.

‘Now that Aidy’s here,’ Myles said, ‘I think we’re ready to start.’

Myles led everyone upstairs into the control tower. Once there, the BBC cameraman ordered us around. He put Myles in the middle with Mr Fanning, Alison and Vic Hancock on Myles’s right and Derek and me on his left. We were positioned with our backs to the track in order to have a panoramic view of the circuit in the background.

While the BBC set up, we ran through the interview with
Pit Lane
magazine and
Motorsport News
. These two publications accounted for everything motorsport related in the UK. I didn’t recognize Andrew Marsh from
Motorsport News
, but I knew Fergus Kane from
Pit Lane
. He raced VW Beetles and worked in the ad sales department at the magazine. He’d been hustling for a reporter gig and it looked as if he’d gotten his wish. He smiled at me.

Marsh got things rolling. ‘You want to tell us what’s going on here today?’

‘As you all know, we lost a promising competitor in Alex Fanning,’ Myles said. ‘It’s a loss we all share and one we’re not willing to forget. That’s why I’ve been collecting donations all weekend from drivers in the Clark Paints Formula Ford Championship in Alex’s honour. The money will be going towards safety improvements for our paramedic crews here at the track. The initiative was spearheaded by Aidy Westlake.’

‘What made you do this, Aidy?’ Fergus asked. ‘Does it have anything to do with your father’s untimely death?’