Cold Justice (Willis/Carter #4)(49)

Carter drank his beer. He watched Raymonds as he smirked into his glass. He was pleased with himself. Arrogant git, thought Carter. If it was Raymonds who had pushed him off the cliff he’d have had to run pretty fast to get to where Pascoe had seen him from the helicopter. It was a good mile over the cliffs, but he could have done it. Carter decided to change the subject. He wanted to keep Raymonds on the back foot if he could.

‘How do people feel about the lack of a police station here now? The nearest help is, what, twenty miles away?’

He shook his head. ‘Disgrace.’

‘Pisses you off?’

‘Yes, of course it does. You pay peanuts, you get monkeys. I want proper coppers here again, not specials. But . . . there’s no money, is there?’

‘Not like in the old days.’

‘Like in the days when people knew who the troublemakers were, policemen knew their locals; knew where to head at the first sign of mischief.’

‘Something you prided yourself on?’

‘You’re bloody right, I did, and why shouldn’t I? I took over as sergeant here and I knew everyone in this place. I knew the good, bad and the fucking ugly. All of them answered to me.’

‘Pretty impressive.’

‘Bloody right it was, and we never had any trouble here. Never had to call for help then. We sorted things out, kept it contained.’

‘Forgive me for saying, but Jeremy Forbes-Wright was a strange choice of friend for you as an outsider, a Londoner, coming down here and throwing his weight around.’

‘Ah well. He paid his dues – he knew how to respect the community.’

‘How do you mean?’

Mawgan had finished collecting glasses. Raymonds watched her as she walked back towards the kitchen door around the side of the bar by the steps up to the games area. Her eyes flicked up to meet his before she disappeared. ‘Yes, everyone had respect in those days. Now we’re lucky to see a real copper here at all. It’s all unpaid policemen – specials, or whatever you call them now. They’re about as useful as a eunuch in a brothel.’ He looked back at Carter, a glint in his eyes.

Carter glanced towards the kitchen door now shut and smiled back at Raymonds. ‘Looks as if it’s still your job, to look after things here?’

Raymonds took a drink and span the beer mat around his fingers as he studied Carter. ‘What did you hear about me?’

Carter grinned, shrugged. ‘Nothing but praise.’

‘Yeah – bullshit. Can smell it a mile off, lad.’

‘You must have known what I’d find out – you were a little too quick with your temper at times. You were a bit too physical. Old school.’

Raymonds bowed his head as he pushed back and straightened his arms. He tilted his head and lowered his voice as he forced Carter to lean a little and listen to what he had to say.

‘I got things done. I never asked for back-up, or had to be wet-nursed by some girly. People had respect for the police in those days. You won’t find one person who’s willing to say anything against me.’

There was a challenge in his voice. Carter smiled into his beer as Raymond finished his.

‘You know where I am if you need me, but don’t waste your time on the wrong people. You won’t find the boy here. You want to look closely at the dad; Jeremy Forbes-Wright always hinted that there was something strange about his son. They never got on. We caught him here once, messing about. I had a good mind to lock him up for a few days but his dad persuaded me he’d see the error of his ways. That’s what I mean about Jeremy – he respected the way we did things down here, he understood.’

‘What was the problem?’

‘He got nasty with a girl, a local girl.’

‘What do you mean, nasty?’

‘He raped her and gave her a beating while he was at it. She was a mess.’

Raymonds glared at Carter.

‘What happened? Didn’t she press charges?’

‘No, they were both young, she was only fourteen, he was a year older. She decided she didn’t want to give evidence. But Toby didn’t come down here again. Jeremy was very apologetic and he made amends.’

‘Did you investigate it? I mean, it’s quite something to accuse a fifteen-year-old boy of rape.’

‘Well, view it any way you want, but we had enough evidence. If the girl had wanted to, we could have made a strong case against him.’

‘Was there forensic evidence?’

‘There would have been, but we didn’t bother wasting money if she didn’t intend to press charges.’

Raymonds pushed himself away from the bar and picked up the car keys he had left on the bar top.

‘Take care, sonny.’

Carter watched the locals as they all followed Raymonds out. Jago and Marky were the last to leave.

Jon Weston, the bar landlord and hotel owner, washed up silently as he waited for Carter to finish his drink.

‘Excuse me, mate . . .’ Carter walked along the bar until he was level with Weston. ‘Can I have a word?’

Weston put down his cloth. ‘Sir?’

Carter showed his badge for the first time, although he didn’t doubt that Weston knew exactly who he was. When he had booked the room he hadn’t mentioned it.

‘Problem with your room, sir?’