The Piggy Farmer (The Barrington Patch Book 3) Emmy Ellis (notion reading list TXT) š
- Author: Emmy Ellis
Book online Ā«The Piggy Farmer (The Barrington Patch Book 3) Emmy Ellis (notion reading list TXT) šĀ». Author Emmy Ellis
I know the feeling. It was the same with Lou.
āAnd,ā Jimmy went on, āto think I was scared of him that night you came to my flat. He showed me his gun, you know; it was in a holster. Now, heās just pitiful, no one to be frightened of at all. The tables have turned, because now Iām the one with the gun.ā
Was Jimmy saying he was glad he was the scary one now? It sounded promising. Sheād make a hardman out of him yet.
Cassie got a flash of Jasonās ruined face in her mind. āHmm, he is a bit of a state, and I told him off about the gun business, he should never have done that. Anyroad, Iāve decided heāll be dead tonight, so you wonāt have to be here anymore. Well, not once weāve removed the body.ā
Jimmyās eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Cassie got there first.
āDonāt worry. Iāll treat this as if youāve killed him and give you the twenty grand.ā
āFuck me.ā
āMuch as I like you, Jim, no thanks.ā
He laughed and reached for his drink. āI didnāt meanā¦ Shirl would kill me if I touched you like that.ā
āSo would I.ā
They chuckled for a bit, and it was good to release some tension, good heād taken what sheād said as banter. Laughter was apparently the best medicine, and whoever had originally said it, they could be onto something. Cassie didnāt have much to laugh about, though, or maybe she wasnāt looking hard enough, trying hard enough to find the bright spots in life. How could she when murder and treachery were all around her, taking up her time?
Drink finished, she sighed. āRight, weād best be getting on then. Prepare yourself, because this wonāt be pretty. Not only will you watch me kill him, but youāll be coming to see Marlene with me. And if you breathe a word about who she is, Iāll give you to her.ā How quickly sheād banished the bonhomie, but Jimmy needed to know she was serious.
āI wonāt say owt,ā he stuttered. āI swear it.ā
She smiled again, nicely, none of that tight-lipped rubbish. āI wouldnāt either if I knew I was getting twenty K, tax free.ā
Chapter Seventeen
Forty-five-year-old DI Gary Branding stood in the light from three halogens on tall stands placed around The Lionās Head yard. Forensics milled about doing their thing, white-suited and sombre, hoods up, masks on, booties covering their shoes. Pale spectres, that was what they looked like, sent to haunt the crime scene, searching for clues to bring the killer to justice. Another team were still at the allotment, working beneath the cover of a white tent, sifting through the burnt remains, although Gorleyās husk of a body had been removed.
A tent was in the process of being set up here, too, and another one would follow, shielding the bodies from any snow should it come down, but most importantly, anyone who gawped out of the pubās rear windowsāthey were still being questioned by PCs and DC Strong in the bar area, but it wasnāt uncommon for a nosy wanker to drift away from distracted officers, on the guise of using the toilet, to have a butcherās. The side driveway had been cordoned off, blocking entry, and a PC stood there with the log for signing in and out of the scene.
He silently thanked the landlord for clearing the yard of snow. The logistics involved in preserving the scene had it been covered in white was something Gary didnāt want to think about.
It could be any one of the murder situations heād found himself in over the years. Except it wasnāt. The whole thing had an extra layer of iffy, and heād need to have his wits about him to get through itāand heād have sleepless nights worrying whether heād missed owt. He was the appointed Senior Investigating Officer, thank God, and would be on hand to divert his colleaguesā attention away from things they shouldnāt be aware of if the need arose, but he couldnāt keep an eye on them all the time, couldnāt know every piece of evidence written in their notebooks until the full reports came through. And then? He could hardly tell them to change their findings, exposing himself as bent, which meant heād have to chat to the team in incident room briefings so he could steer those clues in another direction prior to reports being written: away from the truth.
The Dracula-lookalike pathologist, Evan Merton, crouched beside the male victim, whose grey trousers and red boxers bunched around his ankles. Male victimāGary had to think of him as that while studying him in order to remain objective; just a body, no one in particular. Heād done the same at Gorleyās scene, finding it difficult to hold back emotions regarding his ex-superior, whoād been a good friend, stuffing his feelings deep down, bringing his detective heart into playāand his criminal one now he worked for Francis and Cassie.
Two of their own, DC Simon Knight and DS Lisa Codderidge, had been murdered a few metres away from the pub. Had this been on the Barrington, heād suspect people in the boozer had been warned to keep their mouths shut, to lie, too scared to do otherwise, but this was the Moor estate. Althoughā¦ Codderidgeās face was a bloody, ripped-up mess, so this could be Cassieās doing, using her barbs. Why would she kill more officers, though? If sheād killed Bob. Francis hadnāt said whether the man was dead, hadnāt warned him of owt like this going down either, and heād like to think she would have, seeing as sheād employed him to cover up any dirty work. All sheād spoken to him about was Bob, that he was āmissingā, but that implied death, didnāt it? With Gorley and these
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