One Last Lesson Read Free

he’s saved up for the papers, he’ll be spending the rest of the day in the detention suite.’
    ‘I bet you would too.’
    ‘ Gerry, see if you can round up a few uniforms and start house-to-house on all the properties that surround the golf course. Doctor Singh thinks the body has been here for three or four days max, so ask if anybody saw or heard a strange car late at night or spotted anyone acting suspiciously anywhere near the golf course on Wednesday or Thursday night. I imagine it’s safe to assume the killer came here at night as he wouldn’t want to be dumping a body on a busy golf course in broad daylight, would he?’
    ‘I asked at the clubhouse,’ Hobbs said ‘and when the players aren’t on, there’s usually a maintenance team or ground staff milling about.’
    ‘I don’t think it’ll take long,’ Henderson said, ‘I didn’t see many houses on my way over; we seem to be out in the sticks here.’
    He turned to Seb Young, a thin, six-footer with a pale complexion and acne-marked skin, looking as though he could use a good meal but with the appetite of a horse. ‘I know it’s a long shot Seb, but find out where the nearest CCTV cameras are and take a look at the pictures for Wednesday and Thursday night.’
    Young nodded. ‘If I can’t find one on the roads around here, and I didn’t spot any when I came here, I’ll try petrol stations and car parks.’
    ‘Good man.’ He looked at his watch. ‘After we talk to Ferris, Sergeant Walters and me will head back to Brighton and I’ll set up the first meeting of the murder investigation team for six, that should give you guys enough time to make some inroads.’
    ‘I wouldn’t hold my breath boss,’ Hobbs said. ‘This place is in the middle of nowhere and if I know anything about country folk, they’ll have seen nowt.’
    *
    Henderson walked back down the track towards Mike Ferris. He was big man in many ways; tall, only a couple of inches below the DI and he was six-two, well built and with a bit of a beer belly. His hair was short, revealing a boyish, handsome face, tanned and lightly lined but marred with numerous scratches and small scars.
    In contrast to the self-possessed and taciturn pathologist, Mike Ferris could talk for England. While he was prattling on, Henderson was watching him closely and assessing his suitability as a witness or a suspect. He was a keen student of criminal psychology and knew most of the theories, including one often billed as the ‘Morse Theory’ after the TV detective, Inspector Endeavour Morse, which suggested that the person reporting the crime was most likely the perpetrator. While not subscribing to this theory wholeheartedly, he recognised there were situations when it might apply, especially if the criminal was caught red-handed or was still hanging around afterwards, admiring all the fuss they had created.
    Ferris was an excellent witness as he could recall each stage of the discovery of the body in meticulous detail and poor Walters was having a hard job scribbling it all down in her notebook; but he also made a good suspect. He was big and powerful with large hands that looked as though they could easily wield a baseball bat or a hammer or whatever was used to batter that girl to death, and he was loud and aggressive, evident from the way he leaned forward to make a point or waved his big arms in the air to indicate the direction he had come. In addition to the fresh scratches on his face and hands, there were scratches, bruises and scabs on both hands and when he finally paused for breath, Henderson asked about them.
    ‘I’m a builder; see. The older bruises happened when we were smashing up old sinks in council houses in Crawley. See, the outfit I work for have a contract with Crawley Council to take out all the old fittings before the houses are renovated. The fucking brambles in the woods caused these new ones when I went in looking for the dog. Like I told you, I never knew there was no