Murder on Page One

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Authors: Ian Simpson
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like Jumbo would have scared the shit out of him. Now he saw him as an arse-licking barrel of dripping with a squeaky voice. It had been a laugh to get Baggo’s name wrong. He had twisted Palfrey’s tail and Jumbo’s trunk in one go. It was after knocking-off time. Before Palfrey could catch up and give him a bollocking, he headed for his favourite Indian restaurant.

9

    ‘Even if he can walk, he couldn’t drag a body.’ Flick was definite. After Osborne had told the team that the top brass wanted an arrest, she and Baggo debated whether Wallace was a real suspect.
    ‘I’m not so sure, Sarge. Gov, please may I stage a re-enactment?’
    ‘As long as I’m not the bloody corpse,’ Osborne growled.
    ‘Danny, could you play dead, please?’ Without waiting for a reply, Baggo took Peters’ arm and led him to the far wall. He placed his chair in the middle of the room and sat on it. ‘I am Wallace,’ he explained. ‘My chair has castors, so it is my wheelchair. I am waiting in the driveway of the garden where Burke was found. Danny, Mr Burke, walks by without paying attention to me. Go.’
    Obediently, Peters walked by Baggo. As he passed, Baggo raised his right hand and aimed his extended index finger.
    ‘Bang, bang. Note the upward and leftward trajectory of the bullets. Please fall down dead.’
    Peters lowered himself to the floor.
    ‘You will win no Oscar for that,’ Baggo commented. ‘Now lie still and face down, a dead weight.’ He got up, turned Peters on to his back and, gripping under his armpits, lifted and dragged him until he was sprawled across the chair, which, using a foot, Flick kept still. Baggo lifted Peters’ legs so they were off the ground then wheeled the chair a short distance. With the gothic exuberance of a dentist in a silent movie, he mimed the tongue-forking. Then, with Flick acting again as the handbrake, he pulled Peters off the chair and sat him on the floor, his arms by his side. He gently manipulated him into the position in which the body had been found.
    ‘It could be done,’ he said.
    ‘With difficulty, and depending on his disability,’ Flick said.
    ‘Well, we can’t eliminate him,’ Osborne said. ‘Danny, you get in touch with the army and find out what happened to him. Did you learn anything yesterday afternoon?’
    Peters brushed himself then sat down. ‘Just that our killer planned it beautifully. 32 Kitchener Crescent, where the body was found, is owned by Mrs Hazel Montgomery. She’s ninety-two, deaf and half blind. She refuses to go into a home. The house is a tip, and it’s a real curtains-on-the-window-no-sheets-on-the-bed job. Maybe fur-coat-no-knickers as well, but I didn’t go that far.’
    Osborne muttered, ‘Thank God for that. Jumbo would explode.’
    ‘The bottom line is, she sat at the back of the house all Friday evening, as she usually does. And even if she’d been at the front, she wouldn’t have seen much. The next door house is a repossession. It’s been empty for three weeks. There were lots of different footprints in the front garden. Our killer knew Burke’s route home and selected a great place to ambush him then hide the body. After work, the deceased went for a drink with colleagues. A pub in St James’s Street. He left them just after six and would have got to Kitchener Crescent between half past and quarter to seven. Oh, and there’s nothing useful from the lab as of this morning.’
    ‘So, Felicity, are you going to see the sexy lady?’
    ‘Today.’ She nodded at Baggo. ‘She lives in a village near Peterborough, so we’d better get going.’
    ‘We need a break, Sergeant. Let’s hope you learn more than how to rid the world of nasty men. How many more suspects have you got from your competition?’
    ‘One or two. The entries closed this weekend, so we’ll get the rest of the stuff very soon.’
    Osborne shook his head.
    * * *
    Brankton Hollow was a picture-postcard English village, south-west of Peterborough. The

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