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“What’s his name?”
“Brian Parsons.”
Patrick had never heard of him. “Where did he get it?”
“I don’t think he did. He just said he knew a friend of a friend who was selling a guitar for another friend who had moved to Portugal.”
That sentence nearly gave Patrick Edwards a headache. It was growing more complicated by the second. “This friend of a friend wouldn’t happen to be called Manny Walters, would he?”
“No,” said Stephen. “The bloke who was selling it came to work during my dinner hour. He had a big van with an amp inside so I could test it. I think his name was Baz Ronson.”
Patrick had heard of him.
Chapter Thirty-two
Cragg returned the phone to its cradle. “I’m pleased you’re back, we’ve got a problem.”
“Another one?” Gardener asked.
“Go on, then,” said Reilly. “It’ll keep all the others company.”
“We need to make a trip out to Bedlam Rocks.”
“Where’s that?” asked Gardener.
“About as far north as you can get without crossing the border into the North West.”
“Love the answer, Maurice, but I’m still none the wiser,” chipped in Reilly.
Cragg rose from the chair and shuffled into the incident room, drawing Gardener’s attention to the map on the wall, and pointed.
Gardener rolled his eyes. “I’m guessing this has something to do with our investigation?”
“Not sure,” Cragg replied. “A young couple hunting for buried treasure stayed the night because he’d detected something. Started work first thing this morning and discovered a body.”
“When?”
“About seven o’clock. He did the right thing, called the police. A North Yorkshire team went out. They called Fitz, he’s called us.”
“Why?”
“He said to trust him.”
That was the one sentence Gardener did not want to hear. His stomach rumbled again as if to remind him that he may not be able to go much longer without food. He checked his watch. “How long will it take to get there?”
“If I come with you, about an hour,” said Cragg.
“If you don’t?” asked Reilly.
“You might not be back this side of Christmas. Maybe you can fill me in on the way about how you got on with Carrie Fletcher, assuming you found her?”
Gardener nodded. “Phone Fitz back, tell him we’re on our way.”
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, following a drink and a sandwich, Gardener grabbed another PC from the Bramfield team and the four of them hit the road. The weather grew steadily worse. There had been some blue sky when they set off; upon reaching Bedlam Rocks, it was stark grey, a wind had reared, and the temperature had dropped at least three degrees.
Reilly parked the pool car in a clearing, and as they approached on foot, Gardener saw two more police cars, the vehicle Fitz used, and an ambulance.
