Hot Seat (8 page)

I dropped my knife and raised my hands. Her gaze flicked past me to the mess in the living room.

‘It's not what you think,' I blurted.

My words must have gotten lost in translation somewhere along the way. Her expression tightened, distorting her attractive face into something ugly, as if I'd promised to kill her and her family. She reached into her shoulder bag and charged at me.

I kept my hands up and retreated into the living room.

‘Really, it's OK.'

I tripped on something and fell backward. In the time it took me to land on a CD player that caught me across my kidneys, the blonde was upon me. She sprayed me in the face with something that smelled floral but burned my eyes like acid. I yelled out and clutched my face as she delivered the
coup de grâce
by kicking me in the balls.

So much for my escape plan.

M
y vision was in shreds, but I recognized the beeping sounds of buttons being pressed on a mobile phone.

‘Stop,' I choked out. I palmed at my eyes, but it did nothing to clear my vision or stop the burning. ‘I can explain.'

‘Do you want another kick in the nuts?'

‘Jason's brother, Andrew, sent me to check in on his place.'

She stopped dialling. ‘What?'

I looked her way, but she remained a blur. I fished for the door key Gates had given me and held it out. ‘I came by and found this place turned over. I heard the door and thought it was the burglar coming back.'

She was silent for a long moment. I hoped she was deciding not to call the cops and kick me in the balls again.

‘You're a friend of Andrew's?' A heavy note of contempt edged the question.

‘Not really, but he's not the kind of guy to take no for an answer if he asks you to do something.'

‘That's for sure.'

‘Look, can you help me up? That crap you sprayed me with is melting my eyes.'

I held out my hands and felt hers take hold. She guided me to the kitchen sink, where I doused my eyes. I groaned as the pain ebbed away and my vision returned.

‘What was that crap?'

She held out a small can of extra hold hairspray. ‘Pepper spray is considered an offensive weapon. Hairspray isn't and works just as well.'

‘Good to know,' I said wiping my face with a paper towel. ‘How'd you discover that nugget?'

This time she smiled. ‘A cop told our self-defence class about it and how it wouldn't be classed as a weapon if we used it.'

‘Who are you?'

‘I'm Carrie Russell. Jason's girlfriend. Well, ex-girlfriend.'

‘Ex?'

‘We broke up three months ago. His idea. Not mine.'

The break-up hadn't been serious enough for him to take his door key back. That explained the second toothbrush in the bathroom.

‘I'm Aidy Westlake,' I said and offered my hand.

She eyed it for a moment before taking it. I'd yet to fully earn her trust. I needed to give her something to win her over.

‘I suppose you know about Jason.'

She nodded when the word yes wouldn't come.

‘Could I talk to you for a minute? Please. I'd really appreciate your help.'

‘With what?'

‘With what happened to Jason. I was the one who found him that night.'

She paled and put her hand to her mouth.

‘Let's sit down.' I righted the sofa and we sat on its slashed and shredded cushions.

‘I talked to the police,' she said. ‘They said someone from another team found him.'

I nodded. ‘I drive for Ragged.'

‘Did he say anything before .?.?. y'know?'

‘No. I tried to save him. I didn't know what I was doing. I was just trying stuff I'd seen on TV. I felt so useless.'

‘You aren't a doctor.'

‘I know, but I should know the basics. We all should.'

‘We should know a lot of things that we don't.'

Tears clouded my vision and I palmed them away in some lame attempt to hide the fact from Carrie.

‘So why are you here? And more importantly, how are you involved with Andrew Gates?'

‘He wants me to find out what happened to his brother.'

‘Why? Did you know Jason?'

‘No, but I found him next to the Ragged Racing team transporter. That and the fact that I drive for them was enough for Andrew to decide that I'm the person that can find something out. He doesn't trust the police.'

‘Typical of him.'

No love lost between Carrie and Andrew. I thought that could help me. ‘I think Jason was looking for something when he was killed.'

Carrie's eyes flashed recognition.

‘What is it?' I said.

She said nothing.

‘Obviously, Jason was on to something and whatever it was got him killed. Whatever he had or knew, he didn't give it up, so someone came here looking for it. I think they found it. Someone burned up printed pictures from a computer in the bathroom. Jason's printer is here, but I can't find a computer.'

Carrie jumped up and clambered over the wreckage to the corner of the room where the cheap office desk rested on its side. ‘His laptop's gone?'

I followed her. ‘What's going on? What was Jason up to, Carrie?'

‘I don't know. He wouldn't tell me.'

She sifted through the cast-aside papers, books and belongings.

‘It's gone, Carrie.'

‘I know. I'm looking for a picture. Help me find it? It's a print of Nigel Mansell racing in the rain.'

I knew the picture. It depicted Mansell's second-place finish at the 1988 British Grand Prix in the vastly underpowered and temperamental Williams Judd. It has to be one of the top ten drives of the modern era. I found the framed print, or what was left of it, by the kitchen. The glass had been broken and the back ripped from the frame.

I held up the ruined picture. ‘Found it.'

‘No, no, no.' She scrabbled across the room and snatched the frame from me. ‘It's gone. They've got it all.'

‘What's gone? Who's got it all?'

She let the frame slip between her fingers and hit the ground. ‘Jason wouldn't tell me what he was doing. I just know something happened with his team.'

‘Townsend Motorsport?'

‘No, Ragged Racing. It was why he left. He wouldn't talk about it, but he was very upset.'

Ronson thought Ragged was cheating. Had Jason caught Rags in the act a year ago? Gates claimed that Jason was straight. If that were true, he wouldn't have wanted anything to do with cheating. If Jason was trying to get evidence, it explained why he'd been trying to break into the transporter that night. If he'd gotten it, that would have been a problem for Rags. It's easy to deal with a spy or blackmailer. You slap one around and pay the other off. An honest man is different. There is no paying off that kind of person. Rags' reputation was massive. He couldn't risk seeing that destroyed. Jason's murder would make sense under those circumstances, which seemed like a stretch at this point.

‘Jason has been digging into Ragged Racing for a year?'

‘No. Only the last few months, I think.'

So, Jason walked out on the team a year ago, did nothing for months, then went on a private crusade. Why the time gap? I tried to make sense of that. Rags could have promised to be a good boy, then when Jason found out he wasn't, he made it his aim to expose the truth. It was a nice theory, but that was all it was – a theory. I needed something to back it up. If I told any of this to Gates, it would be Rags hanging from an engine hoist.

‘And you don't know what set Jason off?'

‘He wouldn't say. He cut me out of his life, saying it was for my own safety. I hated him for it, but it looks like he was right. Silly sod.'

‘Jason had been gathering evidence. Did you ever see any of it?'

‘Not really. I knew he took some pictures and hid them in the frame. I walked in on him and that was when he said it was over between us.'

‘I didn't find a camera.'

‘You wouldn't have. He didn't have one. He used the one on his phone.'

Jason should have had his mobile on him when I found him. ‘Did the police give you Jason's belongings?'

‘No. I'm not next of kin.'

But Andrew Gates was.

‘OK, thanks for your help. I have to go, but do you want a hand tidying up?'

She reclaimed her purse and pulled out her mobile. ‘I'm calling the cops.'

‘Maybe we shouldn't. I'm sure Andrew wouldn't want that.'

‘No. Andrew definitely wouldn't. Are you going to scurry back to him to tell him all you learned?'

‘Yes. I don't have a choice.'

‘Just leave my name out of this.'

‘Why?'

‘What did he tell you – that he sacrificed his life so Jason could live an honest one? Don't believe it. If he told you they were close, he's a bloody liar. They hadn't spoken in a year. Are you really going to find Jason's killer?'

‘Yes. In spite of Andrew.'

Carrie smiled and raised her phone. ‘I'm calling the cops, but I won't tell them you were here.'

I headed for the door.

‘Word of advice, Aidy. Jason loved his brother, but he didn't trust him. And you shouldn't either.'

I
had Archway to myself the following morning since Steve had gone out on a parts run. The problem with maintaining cars thirty and forty years after production has ceased is that replacement parts are a rarity, but luckily Steve had Grant Smith. Grant was a classic-car parts dealer. He was the Indiana Jones of lost car parts. If he didn't have it, he'd make it his quest to track it down. He was worth his weight in gold to Steve.

The Brabham was finished and back in the loving arms of its collector, so I cleaned up the workshop, sweeping the floor and returning tools to their rightful places. The task helped me think and I had plenty to think about. Yesterday's revelations had served only to muddy my situation. I was wedged firmly between a rock and a nutcase. Rags could be dirty and so could Andrew. That left me in an ugly position. I had to watch myself with both of them. I could throw myself at DI Huston's feet and plead for mercy, but she didn't seem like the merciful type.

I had my back to the workshop door when it creaked on its old hinges. I turned expecting to see Steve, but a uniformed police officer stood in the doorway instead.

He smiled. ‘Hello. I'm Sergeant David Lucas, Surrey Police. I'm looking for Mr Stephen Westlake. Is that you?'

I leaned the broom against a bench and picked up a rag to clean my hands. ‘No, that's my grandfather. He's out at the moment. Can I help?'

‘Maybe you can. Does he own a white Ford Transit van?' He flipped open a slim file folder and read off the number plate.

‘Yes. Is there a problem?'

‘I'm afraid so. The vehicle was involved in a traffic incident.' Sergeant Lucas studied me for a second then referred to his notes. ‘The incident occurred last Friday evening at approximately four thirty p.m.'

Suddenly, I understood the meaning of the curious look. ‘Where did the incident take place?'

‘Staines.'

‘With a Renault hatchback?'

Sergeant Lucas took a step closer. ‘Yes.'

‘Steve wasn't driving the van. I was.'

Sergeant Lucas smiled at my admission. I think my honesty passed his test. I didn't see the need for a test, since I couldn't see why my roundabout near miss warranted police intervention. I guessed that angry Renault woman must have been pissed off enough to report my number plate to the police. I supposed I deserved a slapped wrist for the inconvenience I'd caused.

‘You were. Good. Then you're the man I need to talk to. What's your name?'

‘Aidy Westlake.'

‘Do you have somewhere we could talk, Aidy?'

I led Lucas up to the crow's-nest and we both took a seat.

He looked up at the memorabilia on the walls. ‘You like motor racing, I see.'

‘It's what we do. My grandfather was a grand prix mechanic in his day. He restores racecars and sports cars now.'

‘Really? Wow. And you work for him?'

‘I just help out.'

‘So what do you do?'

‘I'm a racing driver.' A blush followed my admission. I hadn't gotten used to the idea that I'd graduated from someone who raced cars to a full-time racing driver. My chosen career sounded so pretentious without a championship title under my belt.

‘Really? That must be exciting.'

‘It has its moments.'

Sergeant Lucas showed no sign of recognizing my name or a connection to my father's career. It made for a refreshing change.

‘Obviously, you know why I'm here, yes?'

‘Over the traffic jam we caused on the Runnymede roundabout.'

Lucas squeezed out a pained smile. ‘I'm afraid it's a bit more than that, Aidy.'

‘What do you mean?'

Lucas held up his hand and opened up a notebook. ‘I just have to get this part out of the way before we go any further. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.'

‘Are you arresting me?'

‘No, it's just a caution at this stage, but I do have to make you aware of your rights.'

‘What's all this about? I want to know why you're cautioning me. What am I being accused of?'

‘Whoa, slow down. One thing at a time. The victim alleges—'

‘Victim?'

‘Please, Aidy. Just calm yourself. You'll have all the time you need to respond, but let me get through the basics first. OK?'

What had Miss Angry Renault said that had brought the police to my door?

‘The victim in question alleges you crashed into her at the roundabout then drove off. When you didn't stop, she pursued you and you proceeded to run her off the road.'