Free Night Fall by Frank Smith Page B

now in the quiet of his office, Paget remembered how thrilled Jill had been when Matthew and Amanda announced their engagement.
    â€˜He needs the steadying hand of someone like Amanda,’ she’d said. ‘I’m so pleased.’
    Paget pushed his chair back and stood up. So what had gone wrong, he wondered. How long had their relationship been in trouble before either he or Jill had become aware of it? How could this woman, Jill’s best and closest friend for years, so callously and so deliberately walk away without a word of explanation, and leave Matthew in such despair that he’d committed suicide?
    Would he ever know the truth, he wondered as he stepped out into the night. A few leaves scurried before a fitful wind to find refuge in a corner behind the steps, and another leaf fluttered past his face as he made his way to his car. Change was in the air, he thought . . . and not only with the weather.
Friday, 14 October
    The investigation into the killing of Billy Travis had all but ground to a halt due to lack of both evidence and apparent motive. The suspicion that he had been the victim of mistaken identity was beginning to take hold, so while every facet of Billy’s life was still being examined under a microscope, and background checks were being done on virtually everyone he had ever known, the case was at a standstill.
    While a comprehensive search on the police national computer for crimes of a similar nature produced a number of cases involving the use of duct tape, beatings and/or killings, none included plastic cable ties or dropping the victim from a bridge or high place of any kind, nor was there any mention of a letter of the alphabet carved on the victim’s forehead.
    â€˜Unless someone comes forward with new evidence, I’m dropping back to normal weekend staff levels,’ Paget told Amanda that afternoon. ‘I wish there was more that we could be doing, but at least it’ll keep the overtime down, so that should please Mr Brock.’
    But Chief Superintendent Morgan Brock was not pleased. Sitting in his New Street office, surrounded by his beloved charts and graphs, he did not relish trying to explain the lack of progress to the chief constable.
    He read the brief report from Detective Superintendent Pierce again, half hoping he would find something he’d missed, but the message was plain and simple: without a motive, without physical evidence, and without a single witness, the investigation was at a standstill. In fact there was even some doubt that Billy Travis was the intended victim.
    Brock tossed the report onto his desk. Blunt words and not an auspicious start for Superintendent Pierce, he thought dourly, but then he’d had his doubts about her suitability for the job from the very beginning. But political correctness was what it was all about these days, and when your chief constable tells you, in confidence, that he’s ‘rather in favour of the idea’, it pays to take that into consideration when casting one’s vote.
    The woman did have an excellent record, but under normal circumstances Paget would have been the clear choice: he had the background and he knew the job. On the other hand he could be a bit headstrong and hard to manage, and he couldn’t always be persuaded to see the big picture and the need for compromise, so perhaps the appointment of Amanda Pierce had some merit after all. Only time would tell.

SEVEN
Saturday, 15 October
    R on Jackson shrugged into his coat as he came out of the house and looked up at the sky. ‘Looks like a good one,’ he said to his son, Jimmy. ‘Ready to go, are you? Got your hammer and your goggles?’
    â€˜Here, Dad.’ The boy held up a satchel. ‘And Mum did me a sandwich and some water.’
    â€˜Good lad. Give your mum a kiss, then.’ Ron turned and gave his wife a peck on the cheek.
    â€˜And you be careful,’ Alice Jackson warned her son for at