Free Dead Reckoning by Patricia Hall

if people always rush to report things to us. I’d like to think they did but …” He shrugged. They both knew that some of the Asian community were as suspicious of the police force as they were of the extreme right wing youths who stoked up violence on the streets from day to day.
    â€œRight, keep me up to speed on this one. It could turn nasty. And what about the Earnshaw murder? As if one politically sensitive case isn’t enough we get landed with two. I take it you’ve told the Press who the victim is?”
    â€œThe Press Office have issued a statement,” Thackeray said.

    â€œI used to play golf with Frank Eamshaw until he transferred his affections to that new country club out at Arnedale. Along with the bloody Assistant Chief Constable, no less. We could do without that beggar Ellison watching our every move in a murder investigation. How the hell did this lad come to get pushed off a cliff?”
    â€œAmos Atherton says that’s not the way it happened,” Thackeray said mildly. He was determined not to let the Earnshaw family’s local status cloud his judgement now or later. “We were supposed to think he slipped over the crag, but Amos says he was already dead when he fell or, more accurately, his body was dropped over the edge. He died somewhere else. God knows where. Given the time scale it could be anywhere in the county, or even further away. He’d been dead at least twelve hours by the time he was found and the cold is making an accurate timing difficult.”
    â€œLeads?” Longley asked.
    â€œNot yet, it’s early days. I’ve got a team searching his flat. There’s supposed to be a girlfriend, but apart from messages on the answerphone there’s no sign of her yet. The victim’s car is missing, so we’ve got a call out for that. His university colleagues aren’t due back in Bradfield until tomorrow but we’ve located his tutor and will interview him later today and then chase up his mates. And I’m going to talk to the family myself this afternoon, parents and brother — and there’s a grandfather still around too.”
    â€œOld George Earnshaw, aye, I remember him,” Longley said. “I didn’t know he was still alive. A big noise, he was, in the wool trade, when there was a wool trade. Still, give him his due, he kept that mill alive when most of them were going spectacularly bust. This could be something as simple as a robbery that went wrong, presumably? Someone
mugged him and chucked his body somewhere they hoped it wouldn’t be found for a while?”
    â€œHe was dressed in jogging gear. It’s unlikely he’d be carrying anything of value, except perhaps a Walkman or a mobile phone,” Thackeray said.
    â€œOr his car keys,” Longley said. “Perhaps he was mugged for his car keys, he was hit too hard, his body dumped and chummie escaped in the car? A car-jacking? Feasible?”
    â€œCertainly feasible,” Thackeray said evenly, refusing to allow himself to be irritated by Longley’s persistence which he knew only too well arose from the fact that the superintendent already felt assistant chief constable Peter Ellison’s hot breath down his neck. “I’ve got the lads looking for tyre tracks right across the top of the crag. It’s been out of bounds for months so if there’s anything fresh up there they’ll certainly find it. I’m ruling nothing in and nothing out at this stage.”
    â€œOf course not,” Longley said quickly. “There’s the trouble at the mill to bear in mind, too. I suppose it’s feasible someone there’s got it in for the family. Worth a look, maybe?”
    â€œAs I understand it Simon Earnshaw has nothing to do with the business any more. He bailed out some time ago.”
    â€œCould be a way of getting at his father,” Longley suggested.
    â€œI gather industrial relations are