Brothers' Tears Read Online Free Page B

lips. ‘Entirely possible. A single bullet through the temple. No wasted ammunition. No extra noise. Mind you, even an amateur would have realised he was dead after one shot. This was a Smith & Wesson. You don’t need two slugs with those. Not when you hold the pistol against a man’s head.’
    â€˜The bloke who lives in the entrance lodge didn’t see any vehicle drive out. Not until much later, when everyone left.’
    â€˜I wouldn’t rely too much on that. Johnny Wilson lives in the lodge; he was always a dozy bugger.’
    An ex-copper whom they both knew. Many ex-officers took on low-level security jobs when they left the service. Peach grinned ruefully. ‘One of the doziest. And he wasn’t even on duty at the time.’
    Chadwick said thoughtfully, ‘If I’d been hired to kill O’Connor, I don’t think I’d have brought a car on to the site. There are plenty of quiet spots around the edge of the property where you could leave a car and enter on foot, if you were up to no good. Vehicles give people away.’
    â€˜Thanks, Jack. You’re making this very easy. I gather it was well into the next day before Tommy Bloody Tucker got you out there.’
    Chadwick joined with enthusiasm into the condemnation of inefficiency from above. ‘He hasn’t a bloody clue, that man. Tucker let the lot of them go without questions, I’m told. He makes you look like a genius, Percy.’
    â€˜Geniuses need help, Jack. Or should that be genii? What can you give me?’
    Chadwick shook his head gloomily. ‘Bugger all, probably. We’ve got the slug, so forensics will match it to the weapon if you ever find it – which I don’t believe you ever will. We’ve got prints from the door-jamb and the handle, but some of them are sure to be O’Connor’s and I’d lay five to one that none of them is chummy’s. A man like O’Connor is going to have lots of enemies; you’ll have lots of candidates for your killer.’
    Chadwick left on that thought, with a smile which evinced considerable satisfaction.
    It was happening, at last. It seemed a long time since Jim O’Connor had been so brutally removed from her. Sarah had been expecting to speak to the police ever since then; she knew enough about these things to know that they always spoke with the wife first. She would be the leading suspect, until they knew otherwise. That chief superintendent hadn’t seemed to know what to do. She’d been surprised when he’d allowed them all to go home, even more surprised when the next day had dragged past without any request to see her.
    Jim had died on Monday night. It was midday on Wednesday when the police finally came to see her. The senior CID man who came seemed anxious to make up for lost time. Perhaps because she had watched too many TV series, she had somehow expected a grave, experienced man nearing the end of this service. This man wasn’t particularly young, but he was a bouncing rubber ball of energy who seemed to have to force himself to sit still and speak to her quietly. The tall black man he introduced as Detective Sergeant Northcott looked as hard as nails, but he stood very still until she asked him to sit, a calming presence compared with his chief.
    Detective Chief Inspector Peach apologised for disturbing her at a time like this, but assured her it was essential. He said she must surely know about Mr O’Connor’s enemies and would thus be a vital source of information for them.
    Sarah O’Connor felt an immediate need to distance herself from the death. ‘I’m sure he had business enemies. I know very little about his business dealings. We both preferred it that way.’
    â€˜Did you, indeed? That’s a pity, from our point of view. But I’m sure you’re as anxious as we are to find out who fired that bullet.’ Peach made it almost a question, as if there were