The Murder Exchange Read Online Free PDF Page B

appreciated. It made me feel
guilty that I'd only intended to pay him three
hundred quid for the night's work. It didn't seem a
lot to die for.
    I stood up, wondering what the fuck had gone
wrong and how we could have been betrayed so
completely. Eric had three kids, all grown up, and
four grandkids too. But he was also long since
divorced. This meant that it was unlikely anyone
close to him would know where he was that night. I
was in a difficult position. If I went to the law and
told them what had happened, I'd be leaving myself
open to all kinds of questions, particularly regarding
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the shooting of Tony, and the unlicensed firearm I'd
been carrying. I could end up going down for years
if my story wasn't believed, and, to be honest, who
would believe it? The alternatives, it has to be said,
were almost as bad. Drive out of there in a damaged
vehicle registered in my own name and leave behind
three bodies in the hope that no-one would ever
connect them to me. Or hide the bodies somewhere
and deprive Eric of a proper burial. That was, of
course, on the basis that they remained hidden.
    It was at times like this that I needed a cigarette.
It wouldn't have done a blind bit of good but somehow
smoking had always helped me think straight.
I tried to fathom out what Tony's plan had been.
Kill us all and get rid of the corpses, I assumed.
Then what? Joe knew that he'd been there with us
so he could hardly just walk around as if nothing
had happened. Perhaps he'd had plans to disappear.
But that still didn't help to supply any sort
of motive.
    One thing, however, was certain. This wasn't
something he could have put together on his own,
and whoever else was involved might well be in the
vicinity. I decided that by hanging around I was
putting myself in needless danger.
    I went round to the rear passenger side of the
Range Rover and opened the door. Fowler's
crumpled body tumbled out, landing in an
ungainly heap on the floor. He was very definitely
dead, and, if he hadn't been, I'd have killed the
bastard myself. Whatever else might have been a
mystery, I was pretty damned sure that Fowler had
been the architect of his own demise. A slimy
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bastard like that was always going to make
enemies.
    I thought about moving the body somewhere less
conspicuous, but without gloves it wasn't an
option. I was just going to have to leave all three of
them there and front it out. It was the only thing I
could do, at least for the moment. Maybe Joe would
have some ideas.
    The damage to the car was superficial: two small
holes in the window, surrounded by spider-web
cracks. I could knock the whole thing out and
replace it easily enough. Fowler had bled inside a
little bit but not as badly as might have been
expected.
    I shut the door, went round switching off all the
lights, then walked back round to the driver's side.
The keys were still in the ignition so I got in and
backed out of the warehouse, before dragging the
two doors shut and hoping above hope that no-one
opened them again for a long, long time.
    Now there was only one thing left to do. I
jumped back in the car and drove slowly down the
road, following the route we'd come in on, until I
got to the bush in front of Canley Electronics where
Fowler had hidden the briefcase. I stopped the car
and, leaving the engine running, jumped out. This
was one mystery I could at least solve. I paused for
a moment and listened. Still no sound, bar the continued
hum of city traffic and the odd call of a night
bird. High in the sky a three-quarter moon stared
impassively down, unmoved by the events below.
    I jogged up to the bush and knelt down where
Fowler had been only minutes earlier, then reached
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    i
into the foliage and felt about, knowing that I was
in the right place because I'd been careful to watch
him earlier.
    My hand touched something solid. A handle.
Bingo. I pulled it out, feeling an irrational excitement.
I had to know what was so important that
men I knew, men I liked, had had to die