The wrong mark. Part 2

Forensics had arrived only shortly after DI Jenkins before them and made nearly as much noise. They put up a small tent to keep their ‘on the spot’ examination away from the prying eyes of the Press.

“She appears to have been shot with a .22 rifle,” said the pathologist as he made a preliminary report to the Inspector, “but that’s not really possible, the bullet would carry the distance perfectly well, but would have been tumbling by the time it reached her and made a real mess of her head. The entry wound is small and neat and unless it’s a complete fluke, there’d not be much chance of hitting any part of her, let alone the perfect spot for a kill.

The firearms expert had been listening patiently as the pathologist made his report.

“There are high powered .22’s available, but they’re very noisy, surely someone would have heard the bang!”

DS Smith shook his head, “There was too much noise from the audience at the moment of the shooting!”

“Well I suggest you make some enquiries to see if there’s a rifle club in the area. Ask if any of them has a ‘running deer’ range. It’s a competition derived from hunting,” continued the firearms man. “The rifles used are very high powered small bore weapons. 300 yards or so is practically point blank for an expert shot, although where he fired from is a problem for you boys in blue.”

The boys in blue looked at each other.

“Right Smith, organise a house to house to see if any locals engage in this type of sport or had any motive to kill the lady, I’ll make a search at the edge of the wood, there might be some clues there left by the killer.”

Jenkins left the estate and found the road leading to the pasture where the sheep grazed. Then he and his driver went to look for any clues. With the stage in plain view it was possible to approximate the area from which the rifleman must have fired.

Within five minutes he found a telescopically sighted rifle clamped in the fork of a tree. The rifle itself looked a little odd to his untrained eye. A strange mechanism was secured round the trigger guard. It looked vaguely electronic and a pin stuck out from one side resting in contact with the trigger.

“Keep in touch with me on your radio,” he ordered his driver, “and don’t touch anything, I’m going back to the stage to stand where the body fell, let me know what you can see through the sights.”

Once in position, DI Jenkins contacted his driver. “Your neck is absolutely dead central in the sight sir,” came the reply.

Jenkins looked carefully at the ground round his feet. It didn’t seem logical that an immobile rifle could be aimed so accurately without some sort of mark other than a human head to aim at. After all heads could easily move about and who was to know in advance whereabouts this particular head would be during the play?

He began walking round in small circles, examining the ground as he walked. Then he saw it! At one angle as the sunlight fell on the grass a chalk mark in the shape of a cross could just be seen. He kept walking and soon spotted another mark further to the right from the point of view of the rifleman. As he continued his survey he found yet another cross on the ground, this one could be easily seen but was on the extreme left of the stage.

Now that he knew what to look for, he was soon spotting crosses in various states of visibility all over the stage area. There was nothing else for it; he would have to ask one of the players in the production what the hell was going on. He called up his driver, asked him to arrange for a firearms unit to pick up the rifle and then get over to pick him up as soon as possible.

----O----

DS John Smith had taken on the job of checking out the local rifle clubs personally. The first one he visited was actually on the outskirts of Lower Wharton. They didn’t have a running deer range, but told him the address of the nearest club that did.
Fortunately the Great Benton club was open and John was able to speak to the officer of the day. He found there were only three members from Lower Wharton in the club, who competed in running deer competitions. One of them happened to be Penny the barmaid from the pub; she was also an exceptional shot.

“What’s so special about running deer competitions? John asked.

“On competition days a deer shaped target is bolted on to a trolley and allowed to run down an inclined railway track,” the OOD told him. “The trolley runs behind a brick wall which has a short gap in it and competitors only have time to fire one round as the target moves across the gap. It calls for quick reflexes and great accuracy.”

“Are there any rifles missing from the club?”

“Of course not,” said the OOD taking him to the strong room in the club house. A large brick built box stood in the middle of the floor. The OOD pulled a bunch of keys from his pocket and opened a heavy metal door set in the nine inch thick brick work. Inside was another metal door this time part of a strongly made metal box, placed inside the outer brick work. Once this box was opened a row of rifles with several gaps in it could be seen chained to the wall, while above them was a shelf containing boxes of ammunition.

“We’re very security conscious here, there’s no way a weapon could be stolen from here without us knowing about it.” said the OOD, “as you probably know, a police firearms Inspector comes out once a year to check the arrangements.”

John didn’t know, but he was quite happy to learn and nodded wisely as he was given the information.

“Weapons are only taken or replaced here under the supervision of a committee member. That’s strange,” continued the OOD, “Penny’s not here today but her rifle isn’t in its usual place. It’s most irregular and if she’s taken it without permission I shall have to have very strong words with her.”

As the enquiry was still ongoing DS Smith said nothing as the two men returned to the clubhouse, where the OOD confirmed with the man on the desk that Penny hadn’t bought any ammunition for a couple of weeks but only a week or so ago had been allowed to take her rifle home for cleaning.