Death Sentence (The DI Nick Dixon Crime Series Book 6)

by Damien Boyd

  The road was closed, but their warrant cards had got them past the patrol car, and they walked out across the Clifton Suspension Bridge, the huge supporting cables towering above them. The bridge was moving in the wind, but then it was supposed to, Dixon reminded himself.

  They walked towards a group of fluorescent jackets huddled around a briefcase on the pavement just inside the railings, a third of the way across on the north side.

  Dixon stepped over the crash barrier on to the pavement and looked at the suicide fence that had been placed inside the old railings. It had five strands of wire along the top and was overhanging, designed to be difficult to climb over no doubt.

  Not difficult enough.

  ‘Detective Inspector Dixon?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Sergeant Edmunds, Sir.’

  ‘What time was it?’

  ‘Just after 3.30 p.m.’

  ‘We were still out on the M5, Sir,’ said Louise, shaking her head.

  ‘She stood on her briefcase, then jumped up and over,’ continued Edmunds.

  ‘Have you looked in it?’

  ‘Yes, Sir. There’s a file and some other papers. And a sealed envelope addressed to her husband.’

  ‘Have you informed the coroner?’

  ‘Yes, Sir.’

  ‘I’d like a copy of the letter when you open it, please.’

  ‘Yes, Sir.’

  Dixon nodded.

  ‘C’mon, Louise, let’s get back. We’ve still got to find Joel Kandes.’

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Dixon arrived back at Express Park just before 6 p.m., having picked up Monty on the way and dropped Louise at home, remembering just before he got back on the M5 that he was supposed to be giving Jane a lift home from work.

  ‘How’d you get on?’ she asked, pulling her handbag out from under her desk.

  ‘She jumped off the Clifton Suspension Bridge half an hour before we got there,’ replied Dixon. ‘It’s a sod of a long way down. I never really noticed it when I used to go climbing in the Avon Gorge.’

  ‘She must’ve known you’d make the connection when you picked up Tamsin.’

  ‘It was just a matter of time.’

  ‘Did she leave a note?’

  Dixon nodded.

  ‘Four murders,’ said Jane shaking her head.

  ‘Three,’ replied Dixon. ‘She had nothing to do with Fletcher’s, not that it makes much difference now.’

  ‘Did she have children?’

  ‘Two.’

  ‘Poor buggers,’ muttered Jane, opening the door of Dixon’s Land Rover. ‘That just leaves Joel then.’

  ‘If you were going off the grid, where would you go?’

  ‘Oh, I dunno. It’s too cold for camping. A guest house perhaps, paying cash. What about you?’

  Dixon’s reply was lost in a yawn and a shake of the head.

  ‘What?’ asked Jane.

  ‘Nothing.’

  One junction north on the M5 and then home. Dixon would be in bed within fifteen minutes and unlikely to wake up until the morning.

  ‘Switch your phone off when you get home.’

  ‘I can’t do th—’ Dixon stopped mid-sentence and turned to Jane. ‘I know exactly where I’d go to get off the grid.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Climbing bunkhouses. Five quid a night, cash in the tin, no names, false names. Who cares?’

  He reached forward and opened the glove box.

  ‘Check the torch is all right, will you?’

  Jane took it out and switched it on.

  ‘It’s fine, why?’

  ‘Fancy a trip up to Priddy? We could have a bite to eat at the pub.’

  ‘What’s up there?’

  ‘The Wessex Cave Club hut.’

  ‘How d’you know he’ll be here?’

  ‘I don’t, but it’s got to be worth checking. The place is deserted with Swildon’s Hole closed, and as far as he’s concerned everybody thinks Alison Crowther-Smith’s death was an accident. He won’t know about his sister and Fiona Hull yet either.’

  ‘Well, be careful,’ said Jane.

  ‘I’m just going to see if anyone’s there, that’s all. Don’t panic.’

  ‘He’s got a gun you said.’

  ‘If he’s there, we’ll call for backup. All right?’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘If not, we can try the Mendip Caving Group place further along the top.’

  Dixon switched his headlights off as he turned into the drive, which followed the back of a farmyard on the left before opening out into the car park. Snow was settling on the bonnet of his Land Rover, but he was able to pick out the line of the concrete drive by following the post and rail fence on his right.

  ‘There’s a light on upstairs,’ said Jane. It cast an eerie glow across the field, but was just enough.

  Dixon switched off the engine and allowed the Land Rover to coast into the car park, the crunch of the gravel beneath his tyres the only sound. He turned and parked on the left, under a large tree and next to an old camper van.

  ‘I wonder who that’s registered to?’ he whispered.

  ‘D’you want me to check?’

  ‘Yes. And wait here.’

  Dixon opened the driver’s door and slid out of the Land Rover. He closed the door behind him, making only the faintest click as he leaned against it, and then tiptoed across the car park towards the entrance to the changing rooms. It was locked.

  The upstairs light had gone out by the time he came round the corner, but he remembered the scaffolding tower on the grass in front of the hut just in time. He paused, hoping his eyes would adjust to the darkness a bit more. Then he crept up the garden path and tried the front door. It was open.

  He reached in and switched on the light in the hall. The door was open into the lounge, but the light was off, although the dying embers of a fire were still glowing in the hearth. The smell, a mixture of log fire and curry, was welcoming. There was even an empty can of beer on the table in front of the sofa.

  Dixon looked along the corridor to his left, which led to the stairs and then the changing rooms, both in darkness, so he stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him.

  He was standing in the hall when the light on the landing came on. He turned to look at the noticeboard in front of him and listened to the footsteps coming down the stairs.

  ‘Hello,’ said Dixon, turning when the footsteps reached the bottom step.

  Short brown hair, a full growth of beard and a long sleeved fleece. It could be. It just could be.

  ‘I just popped in to see if there were any meets coming up,’ continued Dixon, turning back to the noticeboard.

  ‘Cancelled,’ said the man. ‘Swildon’s is closed.’

  Was that a Canadian accent? Well disguised if it was. Mid-thirties, the right age bracket.

  ‘Where are you going?’ asked Dixon.

  ‘Eastwater.’

  Definitely an accent there, but what?

  ‘On your own?’

  ‘No, my mate’s coming tomorrow.’

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Joel Kandes, but then you knew that.’ The movement was quick, smooth, almost rehearsed, and Dixon found himself looking down the barrel of a gun. ‘I’ve used it before. And I’ll use it again.’

  ‘I have no doubt about that, Joel,’ replied Dixon. ‘D’you prefer Lundy or Kandes?’

  ‘Kandes.’

  Dixon nodded. He looked at Kandes’s right wrist, the tattoo revealed now his arm was extended holding the handgun.

  ‘Give me your phone,’ said Kandes.

  Dixon took his iPhone out of his pocket and threw it to Kandes. He caught it and turned it over in the palm of his hand.

  ‘What’s the code?’

  Silence.

  ‘What’s the code?’ he screamed, jabbing the gun at Dixon.

  ‘Three-two-seven-five.’

  Dixon watched Kandes tap in the code, checking for recent calls.

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nbsp; ‘I was expecting to see 999 in there,’ said Kandes, shaking his head. He dropped the phone on the floor and stamped on it, shattering the glass with his heel. ‘You won’t need that where you’re going.’

  ‘I’m curious,’ said Dixon.

  ‘What about?’

  ‘I can understand why you killed Fletcher, but why the lawyers?’

  Kandes smirked. ‘They should’ve settled the case, shouldn’t they? They had the chance.’

  ‘The brick dust was a nice touch, but if you hadn’t done that I wouldn’t be here now and you’d have got clean away.’

  ‘Would I?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’re assuming I want to.’

  ‘Did you know you had an aunt? Your father’s sister. Only Tamsin seemed a bit surprised when I told her.’

  ‘Happy families, eh?’ asked Kandes, grinning.

  ‘Well . . .’

  ‘Shut the fuck up!’

  Kandes was becoming agitated now, the gun waving from side to side.

  ‘This way,’ he said, gesturing along the corridor with the barrel. ‘Go in front. One wrong move and it ends.’

  Dixon nodded and walked along the corridor slowly.

  ‘Hands where I can see them.’

  Dixon put his hands behind his head, interlocking his fingers.

  ‘In there,’ said Kandes.

  Dixon kicked open the door of the changing room and switched on the light. It looked much the same as before. Dirty caving equipment piled up everywhere. The floor was at least dry this time.

  Kandes took a coat off a hook and put it on one arm at a time, careful to keep the gun pointed at Dixon. Then he picked up his yellow caving sack and slung it over his shoulder.

  ‘Out.’

  Dixon turned to face the back door, his back to Kandes.

  ‘Aren’t you going to put a quid in the tin?’

  He heard the crack before he felt the pain explode across the back of his head. He pitched forward, stumbling on to a large cardboard box full of wetsuits, warm fluid trickling down the back of his neck. His head was spinning, but the first searing pain had gone, replaced by a dull ache.

  ‘Get a move on.’

  Dixon opened the back door and stepped out into the snow, his hands back behind his head, if only to stop the bleeding. Kandes put on a helmet and switched on the lamp. He also switched on a handheld torch.

  ‘Over that wall,’ he said, slamming the door behind him.

  Dixon glanced across to the Land Rover without turning his head. Monty was standing up at the rear window, snarling and butting the glass with his head, but there was no sign of Jane.

  ‘I’ll deal with him when I get back,’ muttered Kandes.

  Dixon stepped over the wall at the bottom of the garden and walked along the track behind the hut, Kandes behind shining the torch at the ground in front of him and pointing the gun in the middle of his back, with the occasional prod to remind Dixon it was there.

  ‘What had Alison Crowther-Smith ever done to you?’ asked Dixon as he climbed over the first drystone wall.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘She had young children.’

  ‘Whatever.’

  ‘She was just doing her job.’

  ‘And I was doing mine.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ asked Dixon.

  ‘She was advising the Crown to fight the case. It was business, purely business.’

  Another prod in the back with the gun barrel, more of a jab this time, catching Dixon right on the spine.

  ‘No-win, no-fee,’ he said, wincing.

  Silence.

  ‘Whose idea was that?’

  ‘Mine. Like it, do you?’ asked Kandes.

  ‘Very inventive,’ replied Dixon. ‘And Fryer?’

  ‘His replacement wanted to settle. Now that was progress.’

  ‘So, when did you find out about your father?’

  ‘My mother told me about him before she died,’ replied Kandes.

  ‘Tamsin didn’t have a good word to say about him.’

  ‘She doesn’t understand. Blames him for dying. He knew how to die. And so do I.’

  ‘What about Fletcher then? Tamsin wanted him dead because he stopped her father from getting away. But you, why did you kill him?’

  ‘My father should’ve won the VC for what he did. He was a fucking hero. And it was that twat’s fault he didn’t.’

  The snow was settling fast as Dixon trudged across the fields, and their footprints were inches deep.

  ‘Not business then?’ asked Dixon, waiting for Kandes to climb over the next drystone wall.

  ‘Strictly pleasure that one,’ said Kandes, grinning. ‘Till he went and had a heart attack on me. Useless tosser. He got in touch with Hagley, would you believe it? Wanted to know what he could do to help them win the case.’

  ‘And what did Hagley tell him?’

  ‘To meet me at the pillbox. I’d got it all mapped out too. Two in the chest, one in the leg and one in the shoulder. Just like my old man.’

  Dixon nodded.

  ‘You liked the brick dust then?’ continued Kandes. ‘I thought it had a sense of irony.’

  ‘You were doing all right up to that point. A caving accident and a random killer pushing someone under a train. No one had made the connection.’

  ‘I’m still doing all right.’

  ‘Not really. Your sister’s in custody.’

  ‘She won’t say a thing.’

  ‘What d’you think I’m doing here?’

  ‘But how many people know you’re here? Eh?’

  ‘And Fiona Hull’s dead. So you won’t be getting any money now, will you?’

  Silence.

  ‘She jumped off the Clifton Suspension Bridge, Joel.’

  The beams of light illuminating the way ahead stopped and Dixon turned round. Kandes was standing in the snow, breathing hard, the gun in his right hand pressed to his forehead.

  ‘You.’ Kandes pointed the gun at Dixon. ‘You fucking . . .’

  ‘She had two children, Joel.’

  ‘Just keep walking.’

  Dixon arrived at the wall at the end of the track leading to the entrance to Swildon’s Hole. He hesitated.

  ‘Go!’

  ‘Another caving accident, is it?’ asked Dixon.

  ‘Three lawyers and a copper. I’m the one who should get the damn medal.’

  ‘Posthumously?’

  ‘Keep moving,’ replied Kandes, shaking his head.

  Dixon watched the beam of Kandes’s headlamp lighting up the woods above them, the snow settling now on the branches. A scene from a Christmas card perhaps. Then the hedgerow on the right. Barbed wire and brambles – no way through even if he could get away.

  ‘Down you go,’ said Kandes, pushing Dixon in the small of the back with the gun barrel. Below them was the stone blockhouse at the entrance to Swildon’s Hole.

  A second caving trip had not been on Dixon’s agenda, and certainly not with a gun in the small of his back. Nor was it how he expected his life to end. A fall from the north face of the Eiger perhaps, not that he had ever gone anywhere near it, or Cheddar, like Jake. But down a hole?

  Fuck that.

  ‘I want you a couple of yards ahead of me. Any closer and it ends with one in the back of your head. Understand?’

  Dixon nodded.

  ‘All right,’ said Kandes, nodding towards the entrance. ‘Get in there.’

  ‘I won’t be able to see where I’m going.’

  ‘Tough.’

  Dixon sat down on the edge of the hole in the concrete floor with his feet dangling over the stream below. Still a trickle, mercifully. Then he felt a solid blow to his lower back and he fell feet first into the hole, landing on the rocks below.

  ‘Keep going!’

  There was just enough light from Kandes’s headlamp and the torch in his left hand, although the beam of that was dancing around all over the place as he climbed down into the hole himself.
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br />   ‘Not under the big boulder. We’ll go in through the Zig-Zags so I can keep an eye on you.’

  The rock wall dropped away to the left just before the large boulder that Dixon had squeezed under on his last visit, so he followed the narrow shaft, crawling on his hands and knees. Not easy without gloves and knee pads, but that was the least of his worries.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘You’ll know when we get there.’

  ‘If you’re hoping people will think I came down here on my own and got stuck, you’re—’

  ‘Will you just shut the fuck up!’

  The same metallic smell invaded his nostrils. It had taken him days to shift it last time. His arms and legs were saturated, his knuckles bloody and bruised, and they’d only been in the cave a matter of minutes. And the cold? No fleece undersuit and caving suit this time. He gritted his teeth to stop the chattering; not that he could hear much over the running water echoing all around him.

  He waited for the beam of Kandes’s torch to light the way ahead and then moved, pausing until the beam swung back again, all track of time lost.

  Then the Zig-Zags opened out into another passageway, and he was at the bottom of the slab that he had climbed down only a few days before. At least he knew where he was now. Twenty minutes to the Thirty Foot Pot, he remembered that. And it might give him a chance to jump Kandes.

  ‘Stop.’

  Dixon looked over the drop, but it was impossible to see much more than a few feet in the light reflecting from Kandes’s headlamp. The waterfall cascaded over the edge, but soon disappeared into the darkness, landing on the rocks thirty feet below.

  ‘Here,’ said Kandes.

  Dixon turned just as Kandes threw him a coiled up wire ladder.

  ‘Clip that into the bolt and then down you go.’

  ‘But . . .’

  ‘Get on with it.’

  Dixon clipped the karabiner on the end of the ladder into the bolt that had been drilled into the rock at chest height, just above the waterfall. Then he dropped it over the edge, watching it uncoil into the darkness below.

  ‘What about a rope?’

  ‘Down!’

  Dixon began climbing down the ladder, remembering to have his hands behind it to stop himself swinging out. Once he was over the edge there was more light as Kandes looked down into the void, his teeth glinting in the glare from his headlamp as he grinned at Dixon.