murder at the Ferris and Brewer strike in ’82.
Dani had been too young to remember the news coverage at the time, but had certainly watched documentaries about Duff since his death. He was gunned down by a shipworker at Ferris Brewer called Eddie Lambert, who’d been driven half mad by trying to support his large family on strike pay.
Lambert went into hiding after the shooting but was found by police at the home of an associate in Govan a week later. The man was convicted of murder in the spring of 1983. He died of lung cancer in Barlinnie in ’98.
She shook her head solemnly. The entire situation struck her as tragic. These men were fighting to cling onto an industry that was doomed. The British government in the eighties was hell-bent on closing the yards. Just like the miners in ’84, these workers were fighting a futile battle. It was the families who suffered most. Whether it was a battle that still needed to be fought depended upon your view of history.
Dani finished her glass of wine and stood up, deciding she may as well get an early night. Then came a sharp knock at the door. James had his own key and would simply have let himself in if he was returning earlier than planned.
She pulled her oversized cardigan more tightly around her body and padded down the corridor, placing an eye up to the spyhole, pausing for a fraction of a second before opening up.
Sergeant Sam Sharpe stood on the doorstep.
‘Is there something wrong with your hotel?’ Dani wanted to be jovial, but this nocturnal visit was most unwelcome.
‘No, it’s great, actually. There’s been a development, can I come inside?’
Dani took a step back, sighing with resignation as she allowed the American to brush past her into the flat.
Chapter 12
H e stood squarely in the middle of the kitchen, not making any move to take off his dark blue jacket.
Dani slowly took in Sam’s appearance. The jacket was smart and although he wasn’t wearing a tie, she could tell that the open-necked shirt was an expensive one. ‘It looks like you’ve been somewhere special?’
‘I’ve been at the Royal Concert Hall. But the evening was a blow-out.’
The DCI crinkled her brow.
‘When I gave Vicki Kendrick my card the other day, it had my cell number on the back. She called me up yesterday afternoon.’
Dani frowned even further, wondering why she was only just hearing about this.
‘Vicki said she wanted to talk more about Dale. She said that the shock of hearing about his death made her clam up when we were in her office.’ Sam cleared his throat. ‘She invited me to a recital she was giving this evening. Tickets were put aside for me at the door. The plan was to talk afterwards, over dinner.’
Dani wasn’t sure why she felt so uncomfortable about this arrangement. Sam Sharpe was perfectly entitled to go on a date with whomever he chose. He might even have got more information out of the woman this way. ‘Go on.’
‘The gal was a no-show. We sat in that auditorium for a good forty five minutes before an embarrassed theatre manager came out to tell us the recital was cancelled, ‘due to a last minute illness,’ he said.’
‘Okay, so Vicki’s been taken ill. I don’t quite see what that’s got to do with me at ten o’clock in the evening.’ Dani hadn’t intended to sound so cranky.
‘I’ve tried calling her dozens of times and there’s no reply – either on her cell or home number. If I were back in Richmond
Dani had been too young to remember the news coverage at the time, but had certainly watched documentaries about Duff since his death. He was gunned down by a shipworker at Ferris Brewer called Eddie Lambert, who’d been driven half mad by trying to support his large family on strike pay.
Lambert went into hiding after the shooting but was found by police at the home of an associate in Govan a week later. The man was convicted of murder in the spring of 1983. He died of lung cancer in Barlinnie in ’98.
She shook her head solemnly. The entire situation struck her as tragic. These men were fighting to cling onto an industry that was doomed. The British government in the eighties was hell-bent on closing the yards. Just like the miners in ’84, these workers were fighting a futile battle. It was the families who suffered most. Whether it was a battle that still needed to be fought depended upon your view of history.
Dani finished her glass of wine and stood up, deciding she may as well get an early night. Then came a sharp knock at the door. James had his own key and would simply have let himself in if he was returning earlier than planned.
She pulled her oversized cardigan more tightly around her body and padded down the corridor, placing an eye up to the spyhole, pausing for a fraction of a second before opening up.
Sergeant Sam Sharpe stood on the doorstep.
‘Is there something wrong with your hotel?’ Dani wanted to be jovial, but this nocturnal visit was most unwelcome.
‘No, it’s great, actually. There’s been a development, can I come inside?’
Dani took a step back, sighing with resignation as she allowed the American to brush past her into the flat.
Chapter 12
H e stood squarely in the middle of the kitchen, not making any move to take off his dark blue jacket.
Dani slowly took in Sam’s appearance. The jacket was smart and although he wasn’t wearing a tie, she could tell that the open-necked shirt was an expensive one. ‘It looks like you’ve been somewhere special?’
‘I’ve been at the Royal Concert Hall. But the evening was a blow-out.’
The DCI crinkled her brow.
‘When I gave Vicki Kendrick my card the other day, it had my cell number on the back. She called me up yesterday afternoon.’
Dani frowned even further, wondering why she was only just hearing about this.
‘Vicki said she wanted to talk more about Dale. She said that the shock of hearing about his death made her clam up when we were in her office.’ Sam cleared his throat. ‘She invited me to a recital she was giving this evening. Tickets were put aside for me at the door. The plan was to talk afterwards, over dinner.’
Dani wasn’t sure why she felt so uncomfortable about this arrangement. Sam Sharpe was perfectly entitled to go on a date with whomever he chose. He might even have got more information out of the woman this way. ‘Go on.’
‘The gal was a no-show. We sat in that auditorium for a good forty five minutes before an embarrassed theatre manager came out to tell us the recital was cancelled, ‘due to a last minute illness,’ he said.’
‘Okay, so Vicki’s been taken ill. I don’t quite see what that’s got to do with me at ten o’clock in the evening.’ Dani hadn’t intended to sound so cranky.
‘I’ve tried calling her dozens of times and there’s no reply – either on her cell or home number. If I were back in Richmond
Similar Books
