Free CXVI The Beginning of the End (Book 1): A Gripping Murder Mystery and Suspense Thriller (CXVI BOOK 1) by Angie Smith

over.
    “Umm… it’s not that much like Mr Brunt,” Woods said,
passing it to Barnes.
    “Who’s he?” Jacobs asked.
    “I suspect he’s an innocent member of the public.”
    “How’s the investigation going?”
    Woods updated him.
    “Oh, there’s one other thing I need to tell you,” Jacobs
said. “You know I’m still in contact with Shaun Higgson? Well, I went for a
drink with him last night and I mentioned that Mateland had been murdered and
there were roman numerals found at the scene — McLean told me yesterday —
anyhow it turns out that Shaun investigated a death a few weeks ago where a guy
hanged himself off Scammonden Bridge and wrote numerals at the end of an e-mail
he’d used as a suicide note; they depicted the time the e-mail was sent.”
    “What were they?” Woods demanded, his senses on high
alert.
    “Shaun didn’t tell me what the numerals were, but
the time the e-mail was sent was sixteen minutes past eleven. 11.16 p.m.”
    “That’s MCXVI; the numerals on the footbridge were
CMXVI. Chris, that’s no coincidence; two motorway bridges and nearly identical
numerals. Is Higgson based at Huddersfield?”
    “Yep,” replied Jacobs. “I… I didn’t know what your
numerals were, otherwise I’d have asked Shaun to ring you.”
    Woods was already on his way out of the Incident
Room. “Come on, Maria, chop, chop,” he shouted. “We’re going to Scammonden
Bridge - that is, after we’ve picked your predecessor up from Huddersfield
Police Station.”
     
     
    On the way to Huddersfield Barnes
first contacted McLean about Brunt. Then protocol dictated she telephone
Higgson and inform him to expect them around eleven thirty; he’d promised to
have the case file on Hussain’s death ready for them.
    “What’s my predecessor like?” she asked as they
waited for him in reception.
    “Not as smart as you. He’s sloppy and he should
never have been promoted to inspector, but. . .”
    Higgson came through the door and Woods stopped
speaking. He immediately went over and shook Higgson’s hand. He introduced
Barnes and then Higgson asked them to follow him to one of the interview rooms.
There were no pleasantries or offers of refreshments and it was clear to Barnes
that there was history between the two of them. When seated, Higgson passed the
case file, which he held tucked under his left arm, to Woods who read it
thoroughly and then handed it to Barnes.
    “Can you take us up to the dam?” Woods asked. “I’d
like to have a look around.”
    Higgson agreed, and they were driven there in his
car. On the way Barnes finished reading through the case file. Sitting quietly
in the back of the vehicle she mulled over the facts; something didn’t quite
add up.
    When they arrived at the car park it was just after midday
and it was deserted, bleak and windswept. Barnes looked around at the discarded
sandwich packaging and drinks cartons, then at the half empty rubbish bins. She
tut-tutted and stepped out of the car. She was immediately cold. Woods joined
her; he wore no overcoat, only his suit jacket over a cotton shirt. He buttoned
up his jacket. “This would be around the time Hussain and Noble used to have
lunch here,” he said looking at Higgson, who nodded.
    “Let’s walk round to the bridge,” Woods said.
    “It’s easier if we go in the car,” Higgson offered.
    “And warmer,” Barnes added, shivering in the strong
Pennine winds.
    “I’m walking,” Woods said. “You two go in the car
and I’ll see you up there.”
    Barnes thought Woods looked totally incongruous, dressed
in his suit and city shoes striding off down the lane, his trousers flapping
against his rake-thin legs, as she and Higgson drove slowly past him; but he appeared
oblivious to both them and the cold. When he finally caught up with them and walked
onto the bridge they jumped out of the car and joined him. She was still
shivering and it was starting to rain; the wind was driving, and she had to
hold up her hands