The Becket Approval by Falconer Duncan (interesting books to read TXT) 📕

old man with a grey pallor stood in the doorway. He didn’t look well as he stared at her.

‘Mr Peters. Albert Peters.’

‘Who wants to know?’

‘My name is Bethan Trencher. I’m with Scotland Yard.’

‘I was here all night,’ he announced.

‘You know why we’re here.’

‘Those bastard lawyers were on the news.’

‘It’s been on television?’

‘Internet,’ he said. ‘I expected you lot to be along soon enough. They as good as murdered my boy. They got what was coming to them. What do you want with me? I was here all night.’

‘Yes, you said. You sent them several death threats, Mr Peters.’

‘So, what of it?’

‘Do you know who murdered them?’

‘If I did, I’d buy him a pint.’

‘Did the internet say it was a he, and only one he?’

‘A wild guess.’

He moved towards her. She stepped back as if he was going to hurt her. He had no such intentions and stepped past her into the courtyard.

‘That’s where my boy hung ’imself,’ he said, pointing towards the barn. ‘In there. He stood on a chair, tied the rope around his neck and kicked the chair away. That’s how I found him.’ A quiver of emotion ran through him as he relived the moment. ‘He left a note telling me he was sorry he’d failed me. I was at the cemetery that morning, putting flowers on his mum’s grave. I haven’t been able to work the farm for some years now. Tom left the army when he got back from Iraq and took the place on full time.’

Peters faced Bethan, looking into her eyes. ‘He was a strong lad, but he was more like his mother emotionally. And those bastards stitched him up. He never tortured anyone, let alone a bunch of filthy terrorists. Those lawyers caused us to go bankrupt.’ He started to cough but brought it under control. ‘They’ve paid for it now,’ he stuttered.

He started to cough again, but this time couldn’t control it. He moved past Bethan holding his mouth and went back into the house. He disappeared inside and they could hear him coughing violently.

Bethan stepped into the doorway, concerned for him. ‘Mr Peters?’

She could hear the continuous coughing and headed inside. She found him in the kitchen, struggling to open a bottle of pills which he dropped on the stone floor. She picked them up and unscrewed the cap while he continued his coughing fit. She filled a cup with water and held it and the pills out to him. Peters grabbed the water with a shaking hand, took a tablet, shoved it into his mouth and washed it down. He took a deep breath and continued his fight to control the coughing.

Gunnymede walked in. Bethan looked around the room that hadn’t been cleaned in a while. A pile of dirty clothing on the floor in front of a full washing machine. The sink jammed with soiled plates and pots, as was the draining board. The bin overflowing with empty tins. Empty beer and wine bottles littered the place. There wasn’t a clean surface anywhere.

Gunnymede caught her eye and indicated a wall out of view from where she was standing. She stepped to where she could see several pieces of military memorabilia. One of them was an SAS plaque with an inscription. ‘Albert Peters ‘B’ Squadron 22 SAS’.

Beside it hung an old fawn beret with the famous winged dagger cap badge. A vertical row of framed black and white photographs showed a motley collection of white men with several Omanis, all grubby, some with guns, smiling and pally. A young Albert Peters was amongst them. On the bottom of one of the pictures was the inscription ‘The Battle of Mirbat, Dhofar War, July 1972’.

A dagger hung beside the pictures.

Peters finally managed to stop coughing, unaware they were inspecting his artefacts. ‘There are some crimes the law can’t do anything about,’ he said. ‘But what are we supposed to do? Let bastards like those get away with it? Most people have to. But sometimes justice prevails. You can’t complain about that, can you?’ He coughed a couple more times but brought it under control. ‘I would’ve taken an iron bar to them myself if I had the strength.’

Bethan looked at the old man whose sullen eyes were set on hers. ‘Details of the weapon were not released.’

Peters realised his error but smirked anyway. ‘I’m just an old fool, aren’t I. Arrest me if you like. I don’t care about anything anymore.’

Gunnymede left the room. Bethan joined him outside and closed the front door. He looked at her and raised his eyebrows. She did the same and walked on.

They climbed into the car. She started the engine and drove away.

 

 

Chapter 15

The sun dropped out of sight as Gunnymede and Bethan drove into London.

‘Do you have any plans for this evening?’ she asked.

He wasn’t sure about his answer.

‘I’m not hitting on you,’ she said. ‘Well, maybe a bit. I find you interesting.’

‘I’m not playing hard to get,’ he said. ‘My hesitation is a sign of a complicated life at the moment.’

‘That’s code for you have someone I suppose.’

‘As I say, it’s complicated.’

She turned off the North Circular. ‘How long’ve you been in the job?’ she asked.

‘Nine years. On and off – you?’

‘Not counting college and training, three and a half.’

‘You don’t have to take me all the way home,’ he said.

‘I don’t mind.’

‘Any underground will do.’

‘Whatever you want.’

He glanced at her, considering something. ‘Do you want to grab something to eat?’

‘Sure. Actually, I’m not far from here. I could knock something up?’

‘That would be nice. You don’t mind?’

‘Not at all.’

‘I’d love a home cooked meal.’

‘It won’t be anything elaborate.’

‘A homemade sandwich would be more than perfect.’

Twenty minutes