Drink With The Devil

by David Woods

  “And he insists he’s a friend of your sister.”

  “Absolute rubbish. She would never associate with the likes of him.”

  “I agree it does seem unlikely.”

  “Unlikely! Just about impossible. Listen inspector, I want that evil bastard put away forever.”

  “Don’t worry. He’ll be put away all right.”

  “Good. Jail’s far too good for him.”

  “How is your sister?”

  “Still in a coma, I’m afraid.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Sir.”

  “So am I. That gypo’s got a lot to answer for.”

  “Did you know he was living in your wood?”

  “No, I didn’t. My father couldn’t have known either or he d have thrown him out.”

  “Well, judging from a list of items found to-day, it seems he’s been there for some time.”

  Garry marched off to see his farm manager, and the inspector sat in his car reading reports, one of which he read twice. A farm worker stated he had seen Grainger leading a horse away from the stables at considerable danger to himself. He read the list of items found in the lodge again, and realised the wild looking man could be telling the truth about having lived in the lodge.

  Jim was taken to court and the charge of murder was read out. A lawyer chosen for him said his client would not be applying for bail as he was of no fixed address, and without any means of raising money. The judge ordered him to be detained in custody until further notice.

  He was then taken to a remand centre and put in a cell on his own, as he was considered to be dangerous.

  Once again a steel door banged behind Jim. He paced up and down the cell like a wild animal. The only release from misery was sleep, which was filled with nightmares of being locked in a small room forever. He was getting thinner and weaker due to continually refusing food, and after a few days when the inspector visited him he was shocked at the change in his appearance. He could only walk slowly. He collapsed in a chair and fixed his eyes on the policeman. “I’ve already told you all I know. What d’you want now?”

  The inspector sat down and said slowly, “I believe your story.”

  Jim perked up. “Do you really?”

  “Yes. You should have told me about the horses.”

  “What about them?”

  “It seems you may have saved their lives.”

  “I couldn’t let them suffer. Especially Gemma.”

  “Gemma?”

  “The horse Angela rides. The other one is an older mare.”

  “So you really are friendly with Miss Osborne?”

  “Yes. Very. How is she?”

  “The news is still bad, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh, my God. That’s terrible. I can’t stand to think of her lying ill in hospital.” Tears came to his eyes, which he managed to hold back. “Did you know she fell off Gemma a few weeks ago and hit her head?” I found her on the bridleway and took her back to the lodge until she felt better.”

  The inspector made a note in his book and nodded. “It’s a pity she’s so ill. Her evidence would be very valuable.”

  “What happens now?”

  “We’ll change the charge to manslaughter.”

  “Does that mean a lighter sentence?”

  “Yes, but we may need your help to catch the real murderers.”

  “What can I do?”

  “You can try to identify the man you saw looking at Briggs.”

  “Who’s Briggs?”

  “Harry Briggs is the man you killed.”

  Jim shuddered. “I didn’t get a very good look at him.”

  The inspector got up and asked Mike Evans to come in, and the sergeant put a large folder of photographs on the table. Jim looked carefully at hundreds of mug shots, but did not recognise anyone. Tea and cake was brought in, and Jim ate and drank without thinking.

  The inspector smiled as he saw the cake disappear. “Well done, Jim.”

  “But I haven’t done anything.”

  “Yes you have. You’ve eaten all the cake.”

  Jim smiled for the first time since the afternoon with Angela. He gave the best description he could, and was taken back to his cell, feeling as though there was some hope left in his life. He ate a meal that evening. Later he fell into an exhausted sleep.

  Sergeant Evans spent a week searching for John Briggs. His last known address in Southall was occupied by an Asian family, who had never heard of him. The local police had no information, but were given his description along with that of the other man involved.

  The wreckage of the burnt out house was sifted through again for evidence, but the heat had been so intense very little was left. The only certain thing was all the diamonds and other hard-stone jewellery were missing, as they would have survived the fire and should have been found.

  The inspector visited the burnt-out house as the search was completed, and was accosted by Garry, who appeared from the farm office and marched across to the police car. Brian Green looked at the tall, dark-haired thin man, who looked older than his twenty-four years. He was frowning and looked angry.

  “When’ll your men ever get finished here?”

  “When we’re satisfied there’s no further evidence.”

  “What d’you need it for? You’ve got your man.”

  “We’ve got a man who killed one of the robbers.”

  “What d’you mean?”

  “I don’t believe he robbed and killed your parents, or hurt your sister.”

  Garry nearly exploded. “Who the hell did then?”

  “We think it may have been the dead man’s brother, and one or more accomplices.”

  “Have you picked them up yet?”

  “No. We can’t find them.”

  “What evidence have you got, then?”

  “Very little. Only one eye witness.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Grainger.”

  Garry let out a mirthless laugh. “So you’ve no evidence and you’ve been taken in by that gypo?”

  The inspector got out of his car and stood firmly in front of the young man. “You’ll have to accept that Grainger knew your sister quite well.”

  “I’ll accept nothing of the sort. You’re talking absolute rubbish.”

  “Mr. Osborne. Did your sister have a fall a few weeks ago?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t here.”

  “Well I think you’ll find she did. And Grainger knew about it.”

  “That doesn’t prove anything. You’ve been taken for a ride by that evil bastard.” He was getting very agitated and red in the face.

  The inspector stood still, calmly observing the young man’s temper rising. “I’m sure there’s some jewellery missing. The fire wouldn’t have melted diamonds, and that means they were taken by the intruders.”

  “Ha. It means you can’t find them amongst all that debris.”

  “We’ve searched very carefully.”

  “Now, you listen, inspector. I don’t care about the jewellery. I’m only interested in the good name of my family, and my sister in particular.”

  “The truth’ll have to be told.”

  Garry moved closer and stared into the inspector’s eyes. “If you or anyone else suggests my sister was involved with that murdering gypo, I’ll sue for slander.”

  “That’s up to you, Sir.”

  “And now get your men and yourself off my property immediately.” Garry turned and stormed off towards the farm office.

  The inspector instructed the sergeant to call off the search, and the men gathered in the farmyard. Inspector Green saw a farm worker with a bucket in each hand walking towards them. “Can I have a moment of your time?”

  “Only a second Sir, or I’ll be in trouble.”

  “Did Angela Osborne fall off her horse a few weeks ago?”

  “Oh, yes, Sir. We were all called out to search for her.”

  “And where was she found?”

  “In the wood. On the
bridle way.”

  “Thank you. I won’t keep you any longer.”

  He watched as the man ran off towards the cowshed and wondered if he had been told not to talk to the police.

  Garry watched the police car and van leave and turned to his manager. “I don’t want any of the men wasting their time talking to the police.”

  “Yes Mr. Osborne. You told me before.”

  “Well, it obviously didn’t sink in, did it?”

  Peter French was depressed at the thought of having to work for this arrogant young man, and was missing Angela’s help in the office. Paperwork was piling up, and he was hoping Garry would go back to London so that he could get on with his job.

  The murder of his father and mother occupied Garry’s mind, although he had grown apart from them in latter years. The thought of his sister having an affair with a wild man obsessed him, and he was desperate to see the man convicted and imprisoned for life.

  Inspector Green and Sergeant Evans drove back to the station together. During the journey Evans broke the silence. “The person to gain most from the fire is Garry Osborne.”

  “Yes. And he’s very obstructive.”

  “And desperate to blame Grainger.”

  Chapter Six

  The weeks dragged by slowly for Jim, left alone in a small cell. He spent many hours looking out of the small barred window gazing at the clouds in the daytime and the stars at night; wondering about Angela and if she could see the same stars! His thoughts frequently returned to their last day in the forest, imagining he was making love to her over and over again. When reality returned he was pitched into deep depression, certain that Angela would not want to associate with an ex-convict.

  At first the prison food made him ill, but slowly he grew accustomed. His fellow inmates kept a respectful distance from him at meal times, knowing he had killed a man, and his appearance did not help as his beard was getting shaggier and his hair even longer. The only visitor he had was his solicitor, gathering information for a trial in which he had agreed to plead guilty to manslaughter, hoping the mitigating circumstances would result in a lighter sentence. The date was eventually set for four months after that fateful night.

  After three weeks on the farm, Garry convinced himself his efficiency drive was paying off. He observed the men working harder, and the farm was neat and tidy. He also noticed the men avoiding him as much as they could, with even Peter French having a good excuse for disappearing to the other end of the farm as soon he arrived in the morning.

  After another two weeks he announced, “I’ll be returning to my flat in the City, and will come down to the farm at weekends.”

  Peter kept a straight face, whilst secretly heaving a sigh of relief. “I expect you want to catch up with important business,” he said as seriously as he could.

  “Yes. I’ve been away too long.”

  The will was read in a solicitor’s office in the City, and Garry was not surprised to learn he had inherited the majority share holding in his father’s stockbroking and financial services company, Osborne and Partners. Together with a small holding of shares, he also inherited the farm. His sister inherited a substantial holding of stocks and shares and a large house on the farm, know as Home Farm House, and formerly inhabited by Andrew and Ruth Jones. Garry was delighted to find that death duties would only swallow up his small holding of shares, because the large amount of liquid funds accumulated over the years by his father in various insurance policies would pay the majority of this.

  On returning to his London office, Garry was greeted by the senior partners, who offered condolences and commiserations at the passing of his parents. He took over his father’s grand office and began to find out how things had progressed since his father’s death. Within a couple of days he called the senior members of the company together and announced, “I’m very disappointed with the company’s performance. In future I’m to be consulted before any substantial purchases of shares on behalf of clients.”

  They looked grim faced and a senior employee spoke for them. “Do you want to attend our buying policy meetings?”

  “Yes. Of course I do.”

  “But Sir William rarely attended.”

  “I’m not Sir William. Besides it’s obvious you’re not doing a good enough job on behalf of this company.”

  “We’ve achieved a steady growth over the years, which your father found satisfactory.”

  “I can see I’ll have to remind you again. I’m not Sir William.”

  The meeting broke up with his associates leaving the office looking shocked and muttering in low tones. The news that Garry would be a hard master soon filtered through the company, and the staff were nervous and edgy when he walked around the various departments with a frown on his face. Even his old colleagues just nodded and smiled weakly when he approached.

  Garry was pleased to be living in his Belgravia flat again. It was well furnished, with one large bedroom, a lounge, kitchen and bathroom. He had lived there, usually alone, for four years, since leaving university with a degree in economics. Several girlfriends had stayed for short periods and left when they could stand his aggressive manner no longer. This detrimental aspect of his character was well known to his father, who had kept him in check at work by placing him in the charge of a strong minded manager. His evenings used to be spent at clubs with old university chums or at home reading, but now he was the boss, he took work home and studied, hoping to find ways to increase the company’s profit.

  One morning he was drinking coffee in the office whilst glancing at the newspaper, when suddenly he sat bolt upright, spilling coffee into the saucer. “What the hell are the police playing at?” He said aloud to himself. The paper reported that a trial was to take place the next week. The defendant, James Grainger, was charged with the manslaughter of Harry Briggs. The article added that the police were still investigating the murder of Sir William and Lady Osborne, who died on the same night. Garry marched up and down his office getting more and more angry. He shouted at his secretary in the adjoining office. “Carol. Get me our solicitors on the ’phone.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she replied nervously.

  A meeting was arranged for that afternoon. Garry tried to stay calm as he explained, “my sister’s identity must be kept out of the press in order to preserve the family’s good name.”

  “But, Mr. Osborne, we can’t stop the court producing whatever evidence it wants to.”

  “Then we must sue for libel.”

  “But that will only make matters worse.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the Sunday newspapers will have a field day.”

  Garry left the office feeling bitter and angry and returned to his flat to pour a large brandy, followed by several others. Sitting in his favourite leather armchair and thinking about his sister lying in hospital, he imagined her helpless body being ravaged by a hairy giant of a man with bad teeth and ragged clothes. He pictured his parents being burned alive and screaming for help. The more brandy he drank, the worse his fit of depression became, until he finally fell asleep.

  The next morning Garry woke up still in the armchair, and tried to think how he could stop any adverse publicity, but his head ached badly as well as his stomach. He decided to stay at home until he felt better and, after a light breakfast, went for a walk in a nearby park to clear his head. He had only walked a hundred yards in the sunshine when he noticed a beautiful blond girl coming towards him, whom he recognised from a party he had attended a few months ago. “Hello Jane. How are you?”

  “Garry Osborne. I haven’t seen you for ages.”

  “That’s true. I don’t go to many parties these days.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “Have you got time for coffee and a chat?”

  “Yes. That’d be nice.”

  They walked together through the trees to a small cafe. Garry found he could talk easily to this tall slim girl, whose voice seemed to calm his nerves. They sat and chatted for an h
our, and then walked to a park bench.

  Jane looked into his eyes and whispered. “I’m very sorry about your parents. It must have been a terrible shock for you.”

  “Yes it was. And poor Angela’s still in a coma, despite all the efforts to revive her. I visit her at weekends, but of course she doesn’t recognise me.”

  “That’s terrible.” She moved closer and linked her arm with his.

  “It’s diabolical. And the evil swine who did it looks as if he’ll get away with it.” His body was tense as he stared at the ground.

  Jane squeezed his arm. “Come on, let’s go for a walk. I can see you’ve been under a great strain, but it’s no good dwelling on it.”

  Garry changed the subject as they walked. “How are your parents?”

  “Mum’s fine, but Dad’s feeling the strain of business.”

  “I bet he is. Trying to run Blakesbuild almost single handed.”

  “Yes. We’ve all tried to get him to delegate, but he won’t.”

  They had lunch together and arranged to meet again that evening for a drink. Garry felt light-hearted as he returned to work in the afternoon.

  The evening was a success with Jane inviting Garry to her flat for a drink. As they sat chatting on the sofa together, he felt very attracted to her as he gazed into her eyes, whilst she explained how her father’s large building contracting company was started. She noticed his expression. “You’re not listening, are you?”

  “Yes I am. Only I’m distracted by your lovely eyes.”

  “They’re horrible and grey.”

  “I think they’re gorgeous.” He ran his hands through her beautiful hair and she moved closer. They kissed and he held her tight, but after a few moments stood up together with Garry looking at his watch and discovering it to be very late. “I must go, but when can I see you again?”

  “What about tomorrow night?”

  “Okay. I’ll look forward to it.”

  The next day Garry attended a meeting of senior managers, and sat at the head of the table studying the agenda, which he then pushed aside. “I want you to carry on as if I wasn’t present.”

  They looked at each other and one manager said, “Very well, let’s proceed.”

  Garry sat still, watching and listening for an hour, and after the last item had been dealt with he said. “I can see you’re all doing what you think is best for our clients, but no one has suggested ways of acquiring new customers.”