Bloodline

‘What real story?’ he asked, slightly concerned.

‘Whoever it was trying to kill me had another go on Sunday night and they killed a friend of mine instead.’

He stared at me. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Absolutely,’ I said.

‘Which friend?’

‘Someone called Emily Lowther.’

He was already typing her name into his laptop.

‘The Three Horseshoes, Madingley,’ he said, reading from the screen.

‘Very impressive,’ I said. ‘How do you do that?’

‘Coroners’ database of reports for the Department of Justice. It records every case referred to a coroner in England and Wales. If this Emily Lowther was killed in Madingley on Sunday night then the coroner for the area would have been informed of her death, probably yesterday, or this morning at the very latest. Either way it’s now been entered on the database.’

‘Is it legal for you to have access to it?’

‘Probably not,’ he said. ‘So I don’t ask.’ He read the details on his screen. ‘This entry doesn’t say anything about you.’

‘That’s probably because I didn’t die,’ I said. ‘Not quite.’

‘So who was Emily Lowther?’ he asked.

‘Just a friend.’

‘Was she that flash bird I saw you with at Newmarket last Saturday?’

‘Do you spy on me all the time?’ I asked.

‘No, not always, but it was a bit difficult not to notice.’ He laughed. ‘Not the way you were pawing each other all afternoon.’

‘Yeah, well.’ I sighed deeply, trying hard not to lose my composure. ‘It was her who was killed, but I think it was really me who was the target.’

‘Why do you think that?’ he said.

‘I just do.’ Although I remembered what Angela had said about Emily’s husband having a motive to kill in order to inherit her house.

‘How was she killed?’ Jim asked.

‘Run down by a car with no lights in the pub car park. I went over the top, she went under the wheels. I lived, she died.’

‘Do you want me to write about this as well?’

‘Not really,’ I said.

‘Then why are you telling me?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said with another heavy sigh. ‘I just needed to tell someone. I seem to be living a nightmare at the moment. First Clare, and now Emily, and the police don’t seem to be getting anywhere. They’re even suggesting that it might have been a hit-and-run accident in the pub car park, when I’m quite sure it was premeditated murder. And I’ve got the broken ribs to prove it.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Let me know if there’s anything I can do.’

I deduced from his tone of voice that Jim must also believe that the car hitting us was probably an accident. The alternative just seemed too far-fetched.

‘Jim,’ I said. ‘Can I tell you something off the record?’

‘Not if it’s a news story,’ he said.

‘It’s about Toby Woodley.’

‘What about him?’

‘You know you said he had an uncanny knack of sniffing out real stories amongst all the gossip. Well, I think I know how he did it.’

‘Tell all,’ Jim said, his journalistic antennae starting to quiver madly.

‘I’m not certain, but I think that if Toby Woodley had even the slightest thought that someone had been up to no good, he would send them a blackmail note asking for a paltry sum like two hundred pounds or he would go to the authorities.’

‘So?’ said Jim.

‘If they paid then he knew he’d been right.’

‘Bloody hell!’ Jim suddenly shouted. ‘The bastard did it to me.’

‘You’re kidding?’

‘No, I’m not,’ he said. ‘I got this note last year from someone saying that they knew I’d used phone hacking to get a certain story and, if I didn’t pay them two hundred quid, they would go to the press complaints people and report me.’

‘What did you do?’

‘Well, as it happens, I hadn’t used hacking to get that particular story so I ignored it. But, I remember being really worried. I had used some information obtained from hacking to get another story around the same time, so I very nearly paid just to shut him up.’

‘But you didn’t?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I was even told where and when to leave the money but, in the end, I decided not to pay, and I never heard another thing. I’d all but forgotten about it.’

‘I think Woodley did it to everyone and, when someone took his bait, he then demanded more, writing a story in his paper that was close to the truth but without mentioning anyone by name. I believe the stories were solely designed to give his victims the incentive to pay him the new, larger amounts.’

‘And do you think that’s what got him murdered?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I do.’

‘The little creep,’ Jim said with feeling. ‘Got what he deserved, if you ask me.’

‘But there’s someone else,’ I said.

‘Someone else what?’ he asked.

‘Toby Woodley was murdered last Wednesday evening at Kempton, and I know of two people who have received blackmail demands that must have been posted after he died.’

‘Who?’ he asked eagerly.

‘Ah, no,’ I said. ‘I’m not telling you that, on the record or off it. Suffice to say, they are both reliable sources.’

‘So who is this someone else?’ Jim asked.

‘I don’t know, but I think it must be someone who was themselves being blackmailed because they seem to know Toby Woodley’s payment method, and I also think it’s the same person who killed him.’