we didn’t take them seriously. Jon’s a property developer and in some people’s eyes that makes him
Satan’s right-hand man. What they don’t realise is that he intends to build affordable housing for local people. We didn’t
want to call out the police and waste their time. And isn’t wasting police time a crime or something?’
‘You wouldn’t have been wasting our time, Mrs Bright,’ Rachel chipped in. ‘We take any kind of threat very seriously. You
do know about the burned body that was found on your husband’s land?’
‘Of course. It’s terrible. But it can’t have anything to do with the threats I’ve been getting. They’re from the Pure Sons
of the West. Ever heard of them?’
‘We have now.’
‘Well, they’re just a bunch of pathetic inadequates who have a few drinks too many and start spouting off. They’ve never actually
done anything. All mouth and trousers, as my gran used to say.’
‘They threatened to burn you alive then a woman isburned alive in Grandal Field. You’re not worried?’
She took a deep breath. ‘When you put it like that … But it can’t be these Pure Sons of the West. It’s not their style. They’re
harmless.’
‘What makes you so sure?’
‘It’s common knowledge. They’ve never done anything but talk. You must know that from your records.’
‘You can’t think of anyone else who might have a grudge against you?’
She shook her head.
Gerry glanced at Rachel. He had to admire this woman’s courage but he had an uneasy feeling that a little caution wouldn’t
come amiss.
‘How did they threaten you? In a phone call or a letter or …?’
‘I received two letters with Morbay postmarks. You know the sort of thing – words cut out of newspapers. How corny can you
get?’
‘You’ve still got them, I take it?’ Gerry asked hopefully.
But Sheryl Bright shook her head. ‘I put them on the fire. If you start taking that sort of thing seriously, they’ve won,
haven’t they. It was just someone playing games … and I wasn’t going to join in.’
‘Have you ever met any of these Pure Sons of the West?’ It was Rachel who asked the question.
‘No. Of course not,’ she said quickly.
‘You’re sure of that?’ Gerry asked.
Sheryl Bright nodded. But there was an uneasy look in her eyes. She wasn’t a good actress and, from herreaction, Gerry began to suspect that she was more concerned than she cared to admit.
Gerry took the opportunity to look around the room. It was comfortable and stylish but there were magazines and papers strewn
around and an empty coffee mug stood on the sideboard. Not show-house tidy, but at least it had a homely, lived-in feel. The
walls were filled with watercolours of local scenes – good ones. The artist had talent.
‘Nice pictures,’ he said.
Sheryl gave a modest smile. ‘Thanks. They’re mine actually. I’ve got an exhibition soon in Neston.’ She picked up a couple
of cards from the sideboard and handed them to Gerry and Rachel. ‘Do come along if you get the chance. The more the merrier.’
She wiped her hands on her shirt. ‘Can I offer you a cup of tea or …’
Gerry thanked her and said he’d love one. And he’d have a go at unblocking her sink when he’d finished. Having met both Brights,
it seemed to him that they were an incongruous couple. Sometimes opposites attract but he was intrigued.
She disappeared into the kitchen and returned five minutes later with a tray of steaming mugs. When the tea had been drunk
Gerry glanced at Rachel. He knew she’d understood the signal. Keep her talking while I’m in the kitchen. Find out all you
can.
He stood up, took off his jacket to reveal the badly ironed shirt beneath and made a show of rolling up his sleeves. ‘I’ll
have a go at that sink then, love. Give us your plunger.’
Sheryl had left the plunger on the coffee table. She picked it up and handed it to the chief inspector. As he made for the
Satan’s right-hand man. What they don’t realise is that he intends to build affordable housing for local people. We didn’t
want to call out the police and waste their time. And isn’t wasting police time a crime or something?’
‘You wouldn’t have been wasting our time, Mrs Bright,’ Rachel chipped in. ‘We take any kind of threat very seriously. You
do know about the burned body that was found on your husband’s land?’
‘Of course. It’s terrible. But it can’t have anything to do with the threats I’ve been getting. They’re from the Pure Sons
of the West. Ever heard of them?’
‘We have now.’
‘Well, they’re just a bunch of pathetic inadequates who have a few drinks too many and start spouting off. They’ve never actually
done anything. All mouth and trousers, as my gran used to say.’
‘They threatened to burn you alive then a woman isburned alive in Grandal Field. You’re not worried?’
She took a deep breath. ‘When you put it like that … But it can’t be these Pure Sons of the West. It’s not their style. They’re
harmless.’
‘What makes you so sure?’
‘It’s common knowledge. They’ve never done anything but talk. You must know that from your records.’
‘You can’t think of anyone else who might have a grudge against you?’
She shook her head.
Gerry glanced at Rachel. He had to admire this woman’s courage but he had an uneasy feeling that a little caution wouldn’t
come amiss.
‘How did they threaten you? In a phone call or a letter or …?’
‘I received two letters with Morbay postmarks. You know the sort of thing – words cut out of newspapers. How corny can you
get?’
‘You’ve still got them, I take it?’ Gerry asked hopefully.
But Sheryl Bright shook her head. ‘I put them on the fire. If you start taking that sort of thing seriously, they’ve won,
haven’t they. It was just someone playing games … and I wasn’t going to join in.’
‘Have you ever met any of these Pure Sons of the West?’ It was Rachel who asked the question.
‘No. Of course not,’ she said quickly.
‘You’re sure of that?’ Gerry asked.
Sheryl Bright nodded. But there was an uneasy look in her eyes. She wasn’t a good actress and, from herreaction, Gerry began to suspect that she was more concerned than she cared to admit.
Gerry took the opportunity to look around the room. It was comfortable and stylish but there were magazines and papers strewn
around and an empty coffee mug stood on the sideboard. Not show-house tidy, but at least it had a homely, lived-in feel. The
walls were filled with watercolours of local scenes – good ones. The artist had talent.
‘Nice pictures,’ he said.
Sheryl gave a modest smile. ‘Thanks. They’re mine actually. I’ve got an exhibition soon in Neston.’ She picked up a couple
of cards from the sideboard and handed them to Gerry and Rachel. ‘Do come along if you get the chance. The more the merrier.’
She wiped her hands on her shirt. ‘Can I offer you a cup of tea or …’
Gerry thanked her and said he’d love one. And he’d have a go at unblocking her sink when he’d finished. Having met both Brights,
it seemed to him that they were an incongruous couple. Sometimes opposites attract but he was intrigued.
She disappeared into the kitchen and returned five minutes later with a tray of steaming mugs. When the tea had been drunk
Gerry glanced at Rachel. He knew she’d understood the signal. Keep her talking while I’m in the kitchen. Find out all you
can.
He stood up, took off his jacket to reveal the badly ironed shirt beneath and made a show of rolling up his sleeves. ‘I’ll
have a go at that sink then, love. Give us your plunger.’
Sheryl had left the plunger on the coffee table. She picked it up and handed it to the chief inspector. As he made for the
Similar Books
