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Back False Witness Save as PDF
Chapters (100)
  1. Cover
  2. Title page
  3. Dedication page
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. 80
  84. 81
  85. 82
  86. 83
  87. 84
  88. 85
  89. 86
  90. 87
  91. 88
  92. 89
  93. 90
  94. 91
  95. 92
  96. Acknowledgements
  97. DEAD GUILTY
  98. 1
  99. FALSE WITNESS
  100. Also by Michelle Davies

At nine o’clock he rose from his seat on the pretext of going to the toilet. He’d only had a couple of pints, less than usual, but he pretended to be weaving drunk as he crossed the snug, as was his typical state most evenings at that time. If he got a shift on, he could be back before anyone noticed he’d disappeared. And if anyone did ask, he’d say he fell asleep on the loo, which he’d done once or twice before when he was bladdered, so nothing out of the ordinary there.

But instead of going into the men’s, Alan pushed open a door marked ‘Private’. It was the entrance that led upstairs to Doug’s personal quarters, but there was also a door that went outside into the back yard. To Alan’s relief it wasn’t locked, so he slipped out.

On the other side of the yard was a pair of double wooden gates leading into the street beyond but, as he expected, these were bolted shut and fastened with a padlock. He scanned the gates, then around him. He could probably get over the top of them if he had something to stand on . . .

Barrels. There were a couple of empty ones in the corner next to the wall. Alan managed to heave one across to the gates without making too much noise. Then he hauled himself up and reached for the top of the gate. His fingertips had just managed to make contact when he heard someone clear their throat behind him.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’

His hands betrayed him, letting go before he was ready, and he landed heavily on the barrel. It wobbled but stayed upright. Deflated, he rested his forehead on the fence.

‘Alan?’

The voice was next to him now. He looked round.

‘I’m sorry, Doug. I know I shouldn’t be out here. I just –’ he could feel tears building – ‘I want to put things right. I thought I could do it without anyone seeing.’

Doug helped him down off the barrel.

‘This about the Pavilion?’

‘Gus wants to reopen it tomorrow night. I can’t let him do that.’

Alan told him his plan and Doug stood there for a moment, thinking. Then he pulled out a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the padlock on the gates.

‘If anyone asks where you are I’ll say you’ve passed out in the loo. I’ll lock one of the cubicles from the outside.’

‘That was going to be my excuse,’ said Alan with a shaky grin. Overwhelmed with gratitude, he gripped the landlord’s hand and shook it. ‘Thank you.’