I winced in sympathy.
‘How many people did this to you?’
‘One, I think, but I’m not sure.’
‘He took the tape?’
‘Yeah. After he beat me, he dragged me inside here. He wanted the tape. I told him I didn’t know what he was talking about. He beat me again when I said that. I wasn’t trying to play dumb. I really didn’t know. All I could think about was why someone was beating me. Then he asked for the tape of the race with Alex’s crash. I gave it to him.’ Tears leaked down Paul’s face and he palmed them away. ‘I had to, Aidy. I think he would have killed me if I hadn’t.’
‘That’s OK. You did the right thing. I would have done the same thing myself.’
‘It doesn’t feel like the right thing.’
Even Paul was having doubts about Alex’s death. No matter what Derek tried, he wouldn’t be able to keep his crime a secret. It was going to come out. I wished Paul had watched the tape. It might have turned things around.
‘Did you go to the police?’
Paul shook his head. That spoke volumes about who he thought was responsible.
‘Did he tell you not to?’
Paul nodded.
‘Do you know who did this to you?’
Paul didn’t answer.
‘Paul, he could have killed you. Who did this to you?’
Still, Paul didn’t answer.
His lack of a reply told me all I needed to know.
Lap Fifteen
The Mygale car Hancock had leased for the Formula Ford Festival arrived at Archway on Saturday. The chassis was pristine in every way from the gleaming bodywork to the fresh rubber on the tires. It was all new. Untouched. Perfection. I buzzed with the kind of confidence that knocked half a second off lap times.
The engine Hancock had leased from Armstrong’s had arrived the day before. Engines are a commodity of their own and they don’t come with the car. Hancock must have pulled some strings to have gotten one built by Armstrong’s. They were one of the top engine builders in the country and you just didn’t get one by asking for it, regardless of how much money you had.
With the Festival two weeks away, I didn’t have much time to get this car prepped and tested before it would be go time. Dylan came over to help Steve and me and the three of us jumped on the Mygale. With all of us working, it didn’t take long to get the engine connected up to the chassis. Hooking up the pipes and wiring took a little longer. My plan was to have the car functioning on Saturday and set up in racing trim by Sunday night. I hoped to grab some track time the following week.
We broke for lunch around two. Seeing as I was taking up everyone’s Saturday, I went and picked up lunch. We sat and ate around the car. None of us could take our eyes off the damn thing. This was a glimpse into the future where racing with the latest equipment and fresh engines built by the likes of Armstrong’s was commonplace. It was a blissful moment and of course, someone had to break it.
‘We’re going to have to change tactics if we want to prove Derek killed Alex,’ Dylan said.
I didn’t want to talk about this, but it wasn’t like deciding my next move wasn’t a constant thought at the back of my mind. ‘Change how?’
‘Derek has done a nice job of shutting you out.’ He counted off on his fingers. ‘He’s leaned on witnesses, he’s got the cops on his side, he’s got the tape of the race and he proved he can get to you whenever he wants. And what have we got?’ He jerked a thumb at Alex’s wreck hiding under a sheet. ‘Alex’s car and that doesn’t tell us much.’
‘So what do you suggest?’ I asked.
‘We focus on something Derek can’t intimidate or eliminate. Derek himself.’
‘That sounds a lot like trying to tame a lion by putting your head in its mouth.’
‘Maybe, but it makes sense,’ Steve said. ‘You need to catch Derek in the act.’
In the act of what? The only thing I could see Derek doing was coming after me again. ‘There’s nothing to catch him in the act of. He killed Alex and he’s got the witnesses, evidence and police covered. What else is there?’
Dylan frowned.
‘You’re assuming he’s got everything covered. You don’t know that,’ Steve said. ‘Derek might like to pretend he’s in control, but his stunt on the track yesterday and beating up Paul are signs of a desperate man. Desperate men don’t think straight. They overthink the situation and do dumb things. He could be making moves on someone as we speak or destroying something he believes is relevant. If we do nothing, then we’ll never know.’
I tried to imagine a desperate Derek Deacon and couldn’t conjure the image. All I could see was Derek with a shotgun and Derek grinning at me from under his helmet. Both of these versions of Derek were confident men, but Steve had a point. Everything Derek did was reactive, in response to something I did. My poking my nose in Derek’s business got me a shotgun jammed in my face. My talking to Paul got him beaten up. Even Alex’s murder was reactive. He saw Alex as a threat to his crown, so he killed him. Derek was like that on the track too. Despite his wins and championship titles, he never led from the front. He battled for the lead.
This trait worked in my favour. Derek would fight me every step of the way, but if I kept a couple of steps ahead, he’d never catch me. It was a nice theory that could work but it would be putting me and those close to me in harm’s way.
‘I think we should follow him,’ Dylan said.
‘Surveillance?’ I said.
‘Yeah. He won’t be expecting that. Who’s to say where he’ll lead us?’
Dylan was getting far too excited.
‘Dylan, his friends pulled a gun on you a week ago. You up for that again or worse?’
Dylan coloured and looked at his food instead of me. The shame of that day wasn’t going away in a hurry.
‘We’re beyond the point of no return,’ Steve said. ‘Derek has you marked as a target. He can’t trust you to forget this. He has only one option and that’s to come after you. It’s better you get something on him before he gets to you.’
The idea of being in Derek’s sights scared me. He’d proved he could get to me any time. I wasn’t safe. Not on the track and not away from it.
‘Dylan’s right. We should follow him. He won’t be expecting it.’
I wasn’t sure I agreed, but I didn’t have any other ideas. ‘We’re going to need a car. He’ll recognize the Capri and the van.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Steve said. ‘I’ve got that covered.’
Within a few hours, Steve had gotten us a Subaru Legacy wagon. It was a few years old and came with a couple of dents to prove it. It was the kind of car that blended in well with rural and urban settings, but had some power behind it to get us out of trouble should it present itself. Steve had borrowed the car from a client with a used car dealership. The guy didn’t look like he had a pot to piss in, but it was all part of his act as a used car salesman. Steve maintained his collection of classic MGs.
Dylan and I set off after Derek, while Steve stayed behind to continue working on the new car. Even in an unknown car, I didn’t like the idea of tailing Derek in daylight. The man was a predator, not the prey. We arrived in Wiltshire just after five. It was already getting dark and I liked that the cover of night added to our anonymity.
I didn’t know how much Derek knew about me, but I knew little about him. I knew he raced, worked as a long distance lorry driver, was married and lived in Chippenham. I remembered his address from the initial fund-raising drive I’d done with Myles and Eva Beecham.
On the drive down, I remembered one other thing. His wife ran a stall at the Saturday market at the circuit. We arrived at the circuit too late for the market. It had closed. All that was left was the last of the stallholders packing up. Derek’s wife wasn’t one of them.