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Chapters (38)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Chapter One
  4. Chapter Two
  5. Chapter Three
  6. Chapter Four
  7. Chapter Five
  8. Chapter Six
  9. Chapter Seven
  10. Chapter Eight
  11. Chapter Nine
  12. Chapter Ten
  13. Chapter Eleven
  14. Chapter Twelve
  15. Chapter Thirteen
  16. Chapter Fourteen
  17. Chapter Fifteen
  18. Chapter Sixteen
  19. Chapter Seventeen
  20. Chapter Eighteen
  21. Chapter Nineteen
  22. Chapter Twenty
  23. Chapter Twenty-one
  24. Chapter Twenty-two
  25. Chapter Twenty-three
  26. Chapter Twenty-four
  27. Chapter Twenty-five
  28. Chapter Twenty-six
  29. Chapter Twenty-seven
  30. Chapter Twenty-eight
  31. Chapter Twenty-nine
  32. Epilogue
  33. Afterword
  34. Next in Series
  35. Canelo Crime
  36. Newsletter
  37. About the Author
  38. Also by Nick Louth

‘No, I think not. According to the family liaison officer, Mrs Arrowsmith had propped up a stepladder against the back fence behind the shed where it couldn’t be seen, and when her husband was released from hospital they climbed the fence and into an adjacent cul-de-sac. Thames Valley thinks they may have taken a taxi. She’s of Italian extraction and they’ve got some bolthole in Italy, so wouldn’t be surprised if that’s where they are heading.’

‘Do you need any help from me?’

‘I don’t think so. Nowak’s team has notified all the nearest airports and the ferry ports. I don’t think they’ve got false ID. There was a big series of cash withdrawals across Mrs Arrowsmith’s various bank accounts yesterday, so it has clearly been planned. Every other part of the raid is going ahead as expected. It will be weeks if not months before we know the full extent of the fraud, but we can now be sure that Arrowsmith was a major part of it.’

She hung up. Some things were falling into place. The Ticketts were double-crossed by Arrowsmith and Blanchard. The two water company employees had different strategies to cope with the unravelling of the fraud. Blanchard had disappeared, while Arrowsmith cast himself as gamekeeper, not poacher. All this made sense as far as it went. But what about Rissington Man, killed by an Anglo-Saxon blade in a room in Rev Matt Cleaver’s house? The mysterious young man, murdered, buried, then dug up, moved and reburied to be discovered again. How did that fit in?

Chapter Twenty

Earlier that afternoon

Ray Slater was sweating as he headed north towards the M4. He was in his Nissan, following in the satnav cradle a trace from one of the phones he’d sold to Vicky Willow. He’d already watched her leave the pub at half-three in the afternoon, get into her aged Citroën C3 and drive away. Leaving a few minutes later, dressed in a subtle wig, stained overalls and engineer’s boots, he followed. The Google map of her position appeared on his own satnav, so he didn’t have to keep her in sight. She was a smart and perceptive woman and might recognise his car.