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“I don’t intend to go public with your files,” said Gardener. “Every single one of them will be treated in the strictest confidence, but I have a job to do, and I have to explore every avenue. Maybe none of them had a connection to Nicola Stapleton, but I would only need to find one to prevent any further deaths.”
Chapter Thirty-six
The second email from The Man in Black was sitting in Vincent’s inbox. Since leaving the two detectives – who had refused to take him seriously – he had spent the journey home glancing over his shoulder, and in dark corners where he suspected someone could creep up on him, and staring more intensely at people than he would normally have done.
The rest of the day had been spent sitting in front of his computer, searching for information about the clues he had been given with regards to the murders. As early afternoon had approached, he’d felt it wise to concentrate on the one that affected him personally.
Lunch had been a cold beef sandwich, a sausage roll, and two apple and custard doughnuts, washed down with some more of that Belgian beer from Morrisons. During the evening he had cracked open a bottle of the hard stuff. Two glasses of Glenmorangie later, he was pretty sure he was making real headway:
Clue No:3 is the key to your destiny, Vincent, or perhaps I should say demise. The sum of the year adds up to 21 and involves an engine driver with the Midland Railway Company. Do you know what happened?
He did, and he was far from happy.
The engine driver in question was a man named Samuel Birchall who had worked for the Midland Railway Company. At the tender age of fifty-five he had committed suicide by poisoning himself with opium in 1866, the sum of which added up to 21.
Like Vincent, Birchall had been addicted to horse racing for most of his life and had been described as a man of very dissipated habits.
Someone knew Vincent very well. Was it Steven Cooper? If not, who else could it be?
Vincent reached for his glass of whiskey before opening his second email. The message contained within was shorter, but far more disturbing than the first:
Hello Vincent,
Guess your little trip to the cop shop didn’t get you very far. Can’t have done, because I’m still at large. So I reckon you gave them duff information.
Let’s recap, shall we? The Mystery Of The Missing Jug. My guess is, you went and told them you thought Steven Cooper was responsible. Not such a good move, my friend. All you’ve done is sent them on a wild goose chase. Don’t you think they have enough to do, investigating those two in Batley?
Let me give you some more help, see if you can work out who the man in black really is. Mind you, I would have thought a detective in your class would have been nearer to the truth now.
Anyway, here goes. All these references are from one of your favourite country songs, which also happens to be the snifter of your choice: a nice little Scottish number. Keeping up so far?
Clue No:1 She broke your heart, Vincent. You spent your whole life trying to forget.
Clue No:2 Put the bottle to your head and pull the trigger.
Clue No:3 Is the title of the song.
I’m going now, Vincent, as time is short, for you and for me. I have three more little jobs to take care of, and you’re one of them.
Good luck.
The Man in Black
As Vincent read through it, he drained his glass, realizing he now had a very big problem. It was no longer funny.
Clue number three, the title of the song was easy: Whiskey Lullaby by Brad Paisley. Clue number one was no problem either. A tear formed in Vincent’s eye as he recalled Julie, the one and only love of his life.
Julie had been Mickey Rushworth’s daughter. They had met at Mickey’s stables in Rothwell in their teens. Nothing had developed until Vincent was twenty and he had managed to uncover the jug scam, which could have cost the stable money and jobs. Julie saw Vincent in a different light, and the pair became close, started dating.
Mickey had no problem. Julie had discovered Vincent’s true strength when her father Mickey had been unwell for months, and Vincent had persuaded him to go to the doctor for a check-up. Mickey had bowel cancer, and it was far too late to do anything about it.
Julie and Vincent announced their marriage the same day. When they’d told Mickey, he’d wanted a big wedding. His present to them was a quarter share in the stable. Mickey died before the ceremony took place. Further tragedy struck on the morning of the big day when Julie, rushing into the town centre for some very last-minute preparations, was hit and killed instantly by a bus.
It took Vincent years to recover. He did, however, end up with a smaller than planned share in the stable of ten percent. It wouldn’t keep him in the lap of luxury, but did generate an income, enough for him to find somewhere else to live because the memories were too painful.
Vincent slammed his empty glass on the desk. He was furious now, and the twitch in his left eye was becoming uncontrollable. He was going to have to try and work out what was going on. The police would have to take him seriously. His life was in danger, as were others. The Man in Black reckoned he had three more jobs to take care of, and Vincent was one of them.
He quickly sobered up, and started to think long and hard about the evasive second clue. You wouldn’t put a bottle to your head and pull the trigger. That suggested a gun, and the only thing to come out of a gun was a bullet.
