Read Online As The Crow Flies (The DI Nick Dixon Crime Series) by Damien Boyd - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Damien Boyd
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of it about in London.’
Dixon sat on the rear passenger seat for several minutes, his mind racing. An incubator could mean only one thing. Eggs. And the need to keep those eggs alive. Dixon jumped out of the car and ran into the bungalow.
‘John, do you mind if I have another look in Jake’s room?’
‘No, you go ahead.’
Dixon went into Jake’s bedroom and looked under the bed. The telescopic golf ball retriever was still there.
He poked his head around the sitting room door.
‘Mind if we get the dog to sniff around Jake’s room?’
‘You do what you have to do.’
Dixon went outside and placed Jake’s computer and the telescopic golf ball retriever on the front seat of his Land Rover. He then motioned to the dog handler to follow him into the bungalow. They repeated the same procedure with the springer spaniel in Jake’s bedroom. This time there was no result.
The dog handler left taking the eight tablets, which would need to be booked in back at Bridgwater. Dixon went into the sitting room.
‘I think we need to have a chat, John.’
John Fayter took the news that his son had been a small time drug dealer and illegal birds egg collector badly. He found the drug dealing more difficult to come to terms with than the egg collecting. Dixon did not mention that Jake was suspected of having supplied the fatal dose that killed a teenage girl at a nightclub in Bridgwater. He felt sure that John and Maureen Fayter would find this out for themselves in due course and they would have enough to deal with at this stage.
Dixon explained that the car would need to be impounded for forensic examination. John Fayter put it back in the garage, locked it and gave both sets of keys to Dixon.
‘What about his death, Nick?’
‘At this stage, I’m still looking for a motive. Although I’m thinking I may have found two possibilities.’
‘Drug dealing and egg collecting?’
‘Yes. I’ve had the photographs and video footage from the tourists and they prove that Jake’s weight was off the rope long enough for the knot to have been undone. That’s if it was undone. I still have no real evidence that it was anything other than an accident.’
‘I don’t know what the hell I’m going to tell Maureen.’
Flat 4, Burnham-on-Sea High Street turned out to be above Roly’s Fudge Shop and was accessed via a metal staircase at the rear. It was just after 11.00am when Dixon rang the doorbell. He could hear music playing and rang again when there was no answer. The door was eventually opened by a small man with short blonde hair and a spider tattoo on his neck. He wore crocs, tight jeans and a white collarless shirt.
‘Conrad Benton?’
‘Who wants to know?’
‘Detective Inspector Dixon, Bridgwater CID.’
‘I'm, Benton. You’d better come in.’
The flat opened into a small hallway and then, from there, into a large open plan living area that extended the full length of the building. There was a kitchenette along the rear wall with a table and chairs against the wall to the left and then the sitting room area. Three steps led up into the bedroom at the front.
Benton turned the music down.
‘I wanted to talk to you about the death of Jenna Williams.’
‘I gave a statement about that.’
‘You did but I just want to go over it with you again.’
‘If you must. I thought Jake was dead though?’
‘Just tying up a few loose ends, Conrad, if that's ok with you?’
‘Fire away.’
‘When was the last time you saw Jake before that night at Rococo’s?’
‘I don't know exactly. I saw him from time to time. Burnham-on-Sea is a small place.’
‘How well did you know him?’
‘Just to say hello to, really. He wasn't a friend or anything like that.’
‘You were at school together. Is that right?’
‘Yes, we were both at King Alfred's. He was two years above me.’
‘Did you have much to do with him at school?’
‘No, not really.’
‘Where was Jake standing when he handed the
Dixon sat on the rear passenger seat for several minutes, his mind racing. An incubator could mean only one thing. Eggs. And the need to keep those eggs alive. Dixon jumped out of the car and ran into the bungalow.
‘John, do you mind if I have another look in Jake’s room?’
‘No, you go ahead.’
Dixon went into Jake’s bedroom and looked under the bed. The telescopic golf ball retriever was still there.
He poked his head around the sitting room door.
‘Mind if we get the dog to sniff around Jake’s room?’
‘You do what you have to do.’
Dixon went outside and placed Jake’s computer and the telescopic golf ball retriever on the front seat of his Land Rover. He then motioned to the dog handler to follow him into the bungalow. They repeated the same procedure with the springer spaniel in Jake’s bedroom. This time there was no result.
The dog handler left taking the eight tablets, which would need to be booked in back at Bridgwater. Dixon went into the sitting room.
‘I think we need to have a chat, John.’
John Fayter took the news that his son had been a small time drug dealer and illegal birds egg collector badly. He found the drug dealing more difficult to come to terms with than the egg collecting. Dixon did not mention that Jake was suspected of having supplied the fatal dose that killed a teenage girl at a nightclub in Bridgwater. He felt sure that John and Maureen Fayter would find this out for themselves in due course and they would have enough to deal with at this stage.
Dixon explained that the car would need to be impounded for forensic examination. John Fayter put it back in the garage, locked it and gave both sets of keys to Dixon.
‘What about his death, Nick?’
‘At this stage, I’m still looking for a motive. Although I’m thinking I may have found two possibilities.’
‘Drug dealing and egg collecting?’
‘Yes. I’ve had the photographs and video footage from the tourists and they prove that Jake’s weight was off the rope long enough for the knot to have been undone. That’s if it was undone. I still have no real evidence that it was anything other than an accident.’
‘I don’t know what the hell I’m going to tell Maureen.’
Flat 4, Burnham-on-Sea High Street turned out to be above Roly’s Fudge Shop and was accessed via a metal staircase at the rear. It was just after 11.00am when Dixon rang the doorbell. He could hear music playing and rang again when there was no answer. The door was eventually opened by a small man with short blonde hair and a spider tattoo on his neck. He wore crocs, tight jeans and a white collarless shirt.
‘Conrad Benton?’
‘Who wants to know?’
‘Detective Inspector Dixon, Bridgwater CID.’
‘I'm, Benton. You’d better come in.’
The flat opened into a small hallway and then, from there, into a large open plan living area that extended the full length of the building. There was a kitchenette along the rear wall with a table and chairs against the wall to the left and then the sitting room area. Three steps led up into the bedroom at the front.
Benton turned the music down.
‘I wanted to talk to you about the death of Jenna Williams.’
‘I gave a statement about that.’
‘You did but I just want to go over it with you again.’
‘If you must. I thought Jake was dead though?’
‘Just tying up a few loose ends, Conrad, if that's ok with you?’
‘Fire away.’
‘When was the last time you saw Jake before that night at Rococo’s?’
‘I don't know exactly. I saw him from time to time. Burnham-on-Sea is a small place.’
‘How well did you know him?’
‘Just to say hello to, really. He wasn't a friend or anything like that.’
‘You were at school together. Is that right?’
‘Yes, we were both at King Alfred's. He was two years above me.’
‘Did you have much to do with him at school?’
‘No, not really.’
‘Where was Jake standing when he handed the
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