Kickback (20 page)

Dixon closed his eyes and put his hands over his head. He could hear the on course commentator in the distance and Mary Mayhew sobbing. He felt the ground vibrating beneath him, as the horse got nearer. Then silence. He opened his eyes and looked to the right just in time to see a pair of aluminium racing plates sailing over his head. He waited. Westbrook Warrior landed on the other side.

‘Good lad,’ thought Dixon.

He looked back down the course. The chasing pack was still over a hundred yards away. Dixon took his chance. He jumped up, grabbed Mary Mayhew by the coat and dragged her back under the railings. They got clear by the narrowest of margins just as Gladbig crossed the line in second place.

Dixon fell back onto the tarmac concourse. He looked up. A crowd had gathered around the scene. He could see Dave Harding standing over Brian Mayhew. He looked at Dixon and shook his head. Jane ran over and handcuffed Mary Mayhew.

‘Mary Mayhew, I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Brian Mayhew...’

‘And Noel Woodman,’ said Dixon.

‘He was blackmailing him. And Brian was too spineless to do anything about it.’

When she spoke, the image of a rattlesnake spitting venom flashed across Dixon’s mind. He nodded to Jane.

‘Mary Mayhew, I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murders of Brian Mayhew and Noel Woodman. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something that you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’

‘I told him I’d kill him if his sordid little secret ever came out. He laughed at me. Well, he’s not laughing now is he?’

More venom.

A siren drowned out the on course commentary.

‘Ambulance’s on its way, Sir,’ said Jane.

‘Bit late,’ replied Dixon. ‘Get her out of here.’

‘Yes, Sir.’

Mark Pearce and Louise led Mary Mayhew away to a waiting police car. Jane helped Dixon to his feet.

‘What the bloody hell were you playing at?’

‘A horse will never tread on a human if it can avoid it, Jane,’ said Dixon, brushing the mud off his trousers.

‘How do you know that?’

‘Saw it on a John Wayne film once. Can’t remember which one.’

‘Idiot.’

‘Thank you, Constable.’

‘How’s the shoulder?’

‘Fine.’

They watched as Brian Mayhew was placed on a stretcher and the blanket pulled over his face. The paramedics carried him over to the waiting ambulance.

‘He never even got to see his horse win,’ said Dave Harding.

‘What on earth is going on?’

Simon and Jean Somerville were trying to push through the crowd, which was being dispersed by uniformed officers and racecourse marshals.

‘What’s happened to Brian and Mary?’

‘Sort them out, will you, Dave?’

‘Yes, Sir.’

Dixon looked over to where Brian Mayhew had died. The white railings were dripping with blood and the sand on the crossing was stained deep red. He had seen too much blood stained sand recently.

The tannoy crackled into life.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, we regret to announce that due to an incident, racing for the day is abandoned. Please make your way home safely and your tickets will remain valid for the next meeting. Thank you.’

Dixon sat on the metal steps leading up to the finishing post. He was covered in mud and blood. Jane sat next to him.

‘I’ve got the local lot getting names and addresses.’

‘Good thinking,’ said Dixon. ‘There’ll be no shortage of witnesses.’

‘Plenty of camera footage as well, don’t forget,’ said Jane.

Dixon shook his head.

‘Fancy dying live on Channel 4...’

Twelve

Dixon and Jane arrived back at Bridgwater Police Station to find a large crowd gathered around the television in the corner of the CID Room. They were watching BBC News24. Nobody noticed them arrive, so they crept into Dixon’s office and closed the door. Dixon leaned back in his chair in the dark and closed his eyes.

There was a knock at the door. It was DCI Lewis.

‘Staying out of the limelight?’ he asked, switching on the light.

‘I don’t feel much like celebrating, Sir.’

‘Why not? It’s all over the TV news...’

‘It was an arrest that went wrong...’

‘Rubbish. How could you possibly have known his own wife was going to do that?’

Dixon looked out of the window. He had known Mary Mayhew had not been as drunk as she made out when he had met her at Ferndale House the day before. And the marital bliss at the racecourse had been an act. But that was it. He turned back to DCI Lewis.

‘I didn’t know she was going to do that, no.’

‘There you are then. Don’t beat yourself up about it.’

‘Thank you, Sir.’

Dixon knew he wouldn’t do that. But he still didn’t feel like celebrating either.

He spent the afternoon interviewing Mary Mayhew. She confessed to both killings, which made for a short interview, at least as far as double murders go.  It had not been the money. What Noel had demanded was ‘small change’, as she put it. No, she had suffered what she regarded as the ultimate betrayal by her husband, with public humiliation soon to be heaped on top, and she had exacted her revenge. Dixon got the distinct impression that she found the public humiliation the harder to bear. And she was clearly proud of what she had done.

A thorough search of Ferndale House was undertaken that same afternoon. A horse shoe and the charred remains of a cricket bat handle were found in an old oil drum used for burning garden rubbish at the bottom of the orchard, just as Mrs Mayhew said they would be. Brian Mayhew’s computer had been seized and was on its way to the High Tech Unit for examination.

It was just after 5.30pm when Mary Mayhew was charged with the murders of Noel Woodman and Brian Mayhew. Dixon was surprised when she began to sob as the charges were read to her by the Custody Sergeant. Perhaps the full implications of what she had done had hit home. No more horse racing and champagne.

Dixon and Jane watched her being led back to the cells.

‘But for a chance meeting in the Zalshah, she’d have got away with it,’ said Jane.

‘And Brian Mayhew would still be alive...’

‘You heard what Lewis said?’

‘I did.’

‘What do we do now?’ asked Jane.

‘Exeter Prison.’

‘Jon Woodman?’

‘I’ve got to tell him that his brother wasn’t a well intentioned whistleblower after all. Just a blackmailer.’

‘Nice.’

‘Give me five minutes.’

Dixon sat at his desk and rang DCS Collyer. Voicemail. Dixon left a message.

‘This is Nick Dixon, Sir. Bridgwater CID. We talked about the horse lorries at Gidley’s Racing Stables being used to import drugs. On the roof of the large blue one is a storage box. It’s full of spare saddles according to Hesp. But they’re not racing saddles. Racing saddles are flat pads. These are old dressage and jumping saddles. You’ll find the drugs stitched into the panels.’

Dixon stood in the doorway of his office.

‘There are going to be sixteen racehorse owners looking for a new trainer very soon.’

Jane smiled.

‘C’mon, let’s get out of here.’

Two days later, Dixon was sitting at home flicking through the channels on his new television. He had a new DVD player too but, much to Jane’s relief, had not yet replaced his film collection.

‘I’m off to see my parents. Back about fiveish,’ said Jane.

‘Ok,’ replied Dixon, without looking away from the screen.

He continued flicking through the channels and landed on Channel 4 Racing. He watched the 12.35pm from Haydock, followed by the 12.50pm from Lingfield. He looked at Monty sitting on the sofa next to him.

‘What d’you think, matey?’

Dixon reached for his laptop and powered it up. Then he opened Internet Explorer and logged in to Bet29.com.

He could feel his credit card burning a hole in his back pocket.

As The Crow Flies

Damien Boyd

Detective Inspector Nick Dixon’s former climbing partner, Jake Fayter, is dead. Killed in a fall whilst practising a new route on High Rock, Cheddar Gorge. Convinced that Jake would not have made such a simple mistake, Nick Dixon starts digging and uncovers a web of intrigue and criminal activity that will rock the sleepy seaside town of Burnham-on-Sea to its core.

As the body count rises, Dixon is forced to break every rule in the book and put his own life on the line to bring the killer out into the open.

A fast paced crime thriller that will leave you gasping for breath, As The Crow Flies is a spine tingling introduction for DI Nick Dixon and a spectacular debut novel from crime fiction writer, Damien Boyd.

To buy As The Crow Flies, click
here

Head In The Sand

Damien Boyd

The discovery of a severed head in a bunker on Burnham and Berrow golf course triggers a frantic race to find a serial killer that brings the seaside town of Burnham-on-Sea to a standstill.

When the connection is made with a series of unsolved murders over thirty years before, Detective Inspector Nick Dixon finds himself chasing ghosts from the past in a race against time that takes him the length and breadth of the country.

The brutal killing of an elderly man in a flat on Burnham seafront raises the stakes and, as he closes in, Dixon begins to question whether he is chasing one serial killer or two...

A fast paced crime thriller and the second in the DI Nick Dixon Crime Series, Head In The Sand follows on from As The Crow Flies, which has been described as 'gripping'.

To buy Head In The Sand, click
here