Free A Death to Remember by Roger Ormerod Page A

uncertainty, and had clearly brought up the nucleus of our difficulties that day. He’d been worried about his insurance position in the event of a damages claim.
    ‘ This Colin Rampton...he’d been working on his own car, down in the repair shop?’
    ‘ No fee from him, mind you. Worked for our accountant. You see, try proving he worked for me. Can’t have two jobs at the same time.’
    Then I had it. Of course, Colin Rampton had been Michael Orton’s assistant. I’d met him once or twice at Orton’s office.
    ‘ Cut it out, Clayton,’ I said wearily. ‘So Rampton worked for Michael Orton. So he used the repair shop for free. Right? Can we go on from there?’
    He shrugged, and at last took his eyes from me, abruptly bored with baiting me. ‘This was ten days before you came around, making a nuisance of yourself. Who was working for who! As though that bloody mattered. The other three were regulars, but you had to...’
    ‘ Was Charlie Graham one of the three?’ I suddenly wondered.
    ‘ Yes. D’you want to hear this or not?’
    ‘ Please,’ I said, acting meek.
    ‘ This Rampton character wanted to do some work on his track rod ends...’
    ‘ The steering ball joints?’ I asked that because that was what George Peters had called them in his statement.
    ‘ I suppose, I suppose. But he wasn’t going to wait till the hydraulic lift was clear. Not him. Clever dick. Had to put it on a couple of jacks...’
    ‘ Chocking the back wheels with bricks?’ George Peters had said that.
    ‘ I suppose. I don’t know, do I!’
    ‘ And this was Colin Rampton?’
    ‘ Who else, for Chrissake! Will you listen . There he was, lying on his back right under the sump. The bleeding twit. And the whole bloody lot ran off the jacks.’
    ‘ On its own?’
    ‘ Of course on its own. How else...’
    ‘ And killed him?’
    ‘ With a ton of car on his chest, what d’you think!’
    ‘ And did Charlie Graham see this?’
    ‘ It was him you had the barney with.’
    ‘ Did I? I wonder why.’
    ‘ Mate, you ain’t the only one who’s wondering. Whatsa-matter with you, anyway? It’s straight enough. Didn’t come under my insurance cover.’
    I wasn’t hearing him any more. The accident was right, and it was wrong. Or rather, it was wrong when set against my memory of George Peters’ statement. Desperately, I tried again.
    ‘ It was his chest?’
    ‘ Lying underneath...’
    Not his arm?’
    ‘ His damned chest. It was crushed. He was dead.’
    ‘ I had a statement…’
    ‘ From a dead man,’ he jeered.
    ‘ From a man with a crushed arm. His statement. His accident. You just described it – apart from the other car.’
    ‘ What car?’
    ‘ Something nudged his car off the jacks. What else could that be but a car?’
    ‘ There wasn’t any other car! You don’t know what you’re saying, that’s the trouble. Never did, if you ask me. You’re rambling.’
    ‘ He was alive and he gave me a statement.’ No he didn’t – he made out a withdrawal! my brain shouted.
    ‘ Who? Who did, then? Tell me that.’
    I walked away from his restlessly. Strip it all clear of imagination, and my only item of reality was Charlie Graham. Dearly, now, I wished to meet him again. He was all I had to cling to.
    ‘ You can’t say, can you!’ Clayton shouted. ‘You’re walking away from it.’
    I stopped at the door. I had been walking away. I stopped and looked back. One possibility...Was one of your men – that day, the day of the crushed chest – was one of them named George Peters?’
    His breath came out with a whoosh, and he nearly strangled himself fighting to recover it. ‘George...’ he gasped.
    Was he working in the repair bay when Colin Rampton had his chest crushed?’
    ‘ What! Him!’ He had control of himself, but his eyes glinted before they slid away. ‘George do any work! That’s a laugh.’ He tried to laugh, but it was only a weak cough. ‘You wouldn’t see him around here.’
    ‘ You know him,