Free The First Betrayal by A. M. Clarke Page A

wasn’t, and shouldn’t be, his problem. Living on an island was a real cosy deal if you had some real life security in the shape of a police station, but when that moved on, shouldn’t the rest follow. These islands were a strain on the mainland’s recourses, and they could barely afford them as it was. This for example was a silly mundane marital dispute, it happened all the time on the main land, and he didn’t see why it would be any different here. He had been lumbered with a wet behind the ears rookie. Seems a boat accident had happened a couple of days previous, and a little more information from the locals might be useful, or so he had been told. The rookie it seems was to be a diversion, gathering Intel from sleepy villagers, who couldn’t possibly have seen anything, while he investigated a Mr and Mrs Smith marital dispute. He was beeped in the early hours, told to get the first ferry, told it was a domestic, and told to deal with it. It wasn’t until he arrived at the ferry that he met his travel companion, Wallis. He appeared nice enough, if a little green. Truth be told, he was a bit peeved to have Wallis foisted on his case, even if it was beneath his pay grade.  Since Ruder turned fifty-five, his caseload had been decidedly trivial, bordering on catatonic. If recent history were any indication, this would be no different to the usual marital melodrama.
     
     

Chapter Thirty Three
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    They decided to bring both cars, in case they needed to separate. It was unlikely that there would be a taxi on the island and Rudder did not intend to be at someone else’s beck and call. The ferry ride was a half hour of small talk and awkward silences. Rudder told Wallis to go on ahead and he would meet him in the village hotel. Checking his watch, and seeing it was only 10am, he decided there was time for a quick one in the harbour inn. It was during his second malt that fire engine sirens disturbed the muted voices of the few die hard drinkers. 'Probably a cat stuck up a tree' he thought cynically. A few minutes later, a very distraught looking man burst through the doors. The bar tender, recognising him shouted.
    ‘What’s up Lenny, you look bloody awful.’
    ‘There’s been a terrible accident, give me a brandy, a double mate.’
    ‘Sure thing Lenny, coming up.’ Lenny dropped onto the nearest stool, and gratefully sank the brandy in one gulp. The bar man gave him another generous shot before pushing for info.
    ‘Ya know the old folks home back up the hill, they were all going to the ferry in the community bus when a black Volvo ploughed head long into them. Only one chap in the car, well, out of it now, but the bus was crammed full of old dears. By the look of it, all dead. Bodies all over the road. Hit me again mate.’
    Rudder ran out of the inn, jumped in his car and drove towards the village. Of course, he knew it was Wallis before he reached the scene. It was only a few minutes up the road, and when he arrived and flashed his badge, the fire chief confirmed what Lenny had correctly guessed. No survivors. They had put partitions up around the mangled vehicles, and blankets over the bodies, but Rudder could see Wallis dangling from the hood. The wristwatch Wallis had checked numerous times on the ferry crossing peeked from under the blanket. The fire chief also informed Rudder that a witness saw the bus speeding down the hill and the driver looked as if he had lost control, a possible brake failure. They had also called the undertakers, but they only had one vehicle. Rudder rang back to his station and broke the news of Sergeant Wallis’s death, he also asked for the coroner, a large coroners van and extra body bags to be sent on the next ferry. His boss came on before he had a chance to hang up, and had to lie about why Wallis was on his own. 'Anyone would think he wanted me in the car with Wallis' When he got off the phone the fire chief told him that he had arranged with a buddy to bring