Free As The Crow Flies (The DI Nick Dixon Crime Series) by Damien Boyd

Poor bastard.’
    ‘What about Helen?’
    ‘She saw much the same as me. She was holding my ropes and watching me at the time. Or at least she bloody well should’ve been!’
    ‘Do you live locally?’
    ‘No, we live in London. Well, Surbiton actually. We’re members of the Surbiton and Kingston Mountaineering Club. Helen’s parents live in Wells, so we come down and stay with them. We’re driving down tomorrow night as it happens. The weather forecast looks good for the weekend.’
    ‘I’d like to have a word with you both, Carl, if I may. You’ll be in the gorge Saturday?’
    ‘Yes, we will.’
    ‘Could you both spare me half an hour at, say, 9.00am. I don’t want to ruin your day but I really do need to get a clear understanding of what you saw.’
    ‘No problem at all.’
    ‘Thank you. Could we meet at the foot of High Rock, perhaps? In the car park.’
    Carl Harper agreed to meet Dixon on Saturday morning at 9.00am. Dixon made a note of Carl’s full name, address and telephone numbers.
    ‘One final question.’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘What route were you on?’
    ‘Dinner Date.’
    ‘I’ll see you Saturday, Carl.’
    Dixon looked at his watch. It was just after 5.30pm. Just enough daylight left for a walk on the beach at Burnham and then a beer in the Clarence.
     
    Dixon parked at the end of Allandale Road and walked towards the town. He would usually walk in the other direction, towards the Lighthouse, but tonight was different. Monty was tearing up and down in pursuit of his tennis ball. He still hadn’t got the hang of bringing it back but he made short work of catching it when Dixon kicked it along the beach.
    Dixon walked until the new sea defences reared up like a huge wave above him. He still thought of them as new even though they had been built over 25 years ago. He remembered the storm that had destroyed the old Esplanade. He walked as far as the second set of steps, put Monty on his lead, and walked onto the top of the sea wall to find himself opposite the Royal Clarence Hotel. He had taken the precaution of checking that Sarah Heath would be behind the bar that evening.
    Very little appeared to have changed in the ten years since Dixon was last in the Clarence. To his left was the lounge bar and to his right the public bar. Straight ahead he could see the manager’s office, currently occupied, with the passage leading through to the toilets at the rear of the building. To the left of the manager’s office was a doorway, which Dixon remembered lead up to the guest accommodation.
    He walked into the public bar and could see that the whole far end had been opened out to create additional seating and a games area with two pool tables and a dartboard. Gone was the old skittle alley. Sarah was behind the bar to his left. She did not look pleased to see him.
    ‘Got time for a chat, Sarah?’
    ‘No. I’m on my own.’
    ‘I saw the manager sitting in his office when I came in.’
    ‘That’s the owner.’
    ‘He won’t mind covering the bar for ten or fifteen minutes.’
    ‘What do I tell him?’
    ‘You tell him that there’s a police officer here wanting a quick chat with you in relation to the death of your boyfriend. If it’s a problem, I could have a word with him?’
    ‘No, it’s no problem. Give me a minute.’
    Sarah reappeared a few moments later.
    ‘That’s fine. I’ve got fifteen minutes.’
    ‘Would you like a drink?’
    ‘I’ll have a small lager if you don’t mind.’
    ‘Not at all.’
    Sarah poured the drinks, a small lager for herself and a beer for Dixon, and then they both sat in the window where the jukebox had once been.
    ‘Did you know Jake was dealing drugs?’
    Sarah hesitated. Dixon waited.
    ‘Yes, ecstasy.’
    ‘Where was he getting them from?’
    ‘Some bloke he had known since school.’
    ‘Name?’
    ‘He never told me his name.’
    ‘Where does he live?’
    ‘Above a shop in the High Street, I think.’
    ‘So, we’ve got possession with intent to