Making A Killing (The Romney and Marsh Files Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

someone.’
    ‘Or collect something.’
    ‘Or trade something.’
    The DI smiled at Marsh then, an acknowledgement and sharing of the realisation that they had to consider more possibilities than he would have liked. The paradox was lost on neither officer that the location, being isolated and remote, instead of suggesting something quite specific had instead thrown up as large a number of variables as it would have done if the man had been murdered in the middle of a city. Perhaps it did suggest something unambiguous, but until they discovered what it was the possibilities would remain as great as they would for anywhere.
    ‘Let’s get the victim formally identified.’ Romney turned back to the pathologist. ‘Any sign that his hands were tied?’
    The pathologist threw back the sheeting once more catching the police officers off their guard. Marsh tensed noticeably. He lifted up each wrist turning it carefully, inspecting the flesh. He shook his head. ‘No bruising. Nothing to suggest he was restrained and there would be.’
    ‘Identification? Wallet?’
    ‘Already checked. Nothing.’
    As the covering was replaced , Romney said, ‘Do we know whose vomit that is?’
    ‘The golfer’s , I believe.’
    ‘Is that right? I’d better have a word with him, I suppose.’
    ‘Good luck. I understand he’s suffering not only from the shock, but also from his self-administered medication to deal with it.’
    Romney was frowning. ‘So I heard.’
    Duncan Smart was sitting with his back to the green, staring blankly out over the expanse of the Channel stretching away in the distance below them. His golf bag lay carelessly discarded on the turf beside him along with an empty vodka bottle. He still clutched his putter.
    Romney’s form cast a shadow over the man. ‘Mr Smart?’ Smart looked up squinting and shielding his eyes from the sun at the policeman’s back. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Romney. Are you drunk?’
    ‘A bit. Would you mind moving a little, please?’
    Romney obliged by stepping to the other side of the man. ‘Do you normally take a bottle with you when you play a round of golf?’
    ‘There’s no law against it.’
    ‘True. But you wouldn’t be thinking of driving home would you?’
    The man managed a tired smile. ‘Of course not.’
    ‘You found the body?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Did you touch anything? Remove anything? Will our forensic team find any trace of you on or around the body?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Do you know him?’
    ‘With his head like that?’
    ‘Do you often play golf alone this early in the morning?’
    ‘Yes. Best time of the day. I drop in on my way home from work. I work nights on the boats.’
    ‘Were you alone today?’
    ‘Yes. I’m always alone.’
    ‘Up to telling me how it was?’
    Smart took a moment to find a place to start. ‘Place was shut when I got here. Not a soul about. No sign of anyone. Same as usual.’
    ‘How do you get in?’
    ‘It’s only a five-bar-gate. I climb it. You know what? I was having a bloody good round. I was only five over. Well, that’s bloody good for me after twelve. I didn’t have to touch him. I could see that he was dead. I’ve seen dead people before.’
    ‘Where was that?’
    ‘I was in the army for twelve years. Three tours of Northern Ireland.’
    ‘You didn’t ring the emergency services. Why not?’
    ‘I’d rather leave that to someone else. There wasn’t anything to be done for him. There was no emergency. I know my responsibilities – sit and wait for you lot.’
    ‘And get drunk?’
    ‘Seemed like a good idea at the time.’
    Romney softened slightly. ‘You need a ride home?’
    ‘Thank you. That would be most welcome, Inspector.’
    Romney indicated that Marsh should arrange it.
    Slowly and awkwardly Duncan Smart got himself upright. He stood his bag up and gently slid the putter in to join the other clubs. ‘Inspector, I’ve been receiving anonymous threatening phone calls.’
    ‘Threatening