Cherringham--Killing Time

by Matthew Costello

  “Only if you really want to, love, it is a Saturday.”

  “Sure. I know. But a little nosing about, won’t take long. Good practice and all.”

  And Sarah smiled. “Off with you. I should be around later. After Jack pops over.”

  Chloe gave her a quick kiss, then she vanished.

  A few minutes later, Sarah heard her daughter’s car, the small used Fiesta that she had helped her buy. (Though Chloe had strenuously argued for a flashier all-electric Mini Cooper.)

  The beat-up Fiesta? A good starter car.

  Sarah turned back to the frozen image and, expecting Jack soon, she started watching again, from the beginning.

  *

  Clarke took a big drag on his vape, the cloud of cloying sweet vapour blooming in the yard.

  Guess, Jack thought, vaping must be the smoke of choice these days for those trying to give up the real thing.

  He was sure Ray would have some “philosophy” about just that.

  “Not smoking one of those damn machines, Jack. No way!”

  “What can I do you for?” Clarke said.

  Jack guessed the only reason the man was talking to him was because his boss — and benefactor — okayed it. That, and old Ray’s blessing.

  “You did time … for dealing?”

  Clarke took another big drag on his vape. “Yeah. Got sloppy, got caught. Happens.”

  “And in the course of doing all that, you ever have anything to do with Blackwood House?”

  Another drag on the e-cigarette.

  “My level? Not much. The big boys did their dealings there. But—”

  For a moment Seth Clarke, sitting in the morning sun, his apron stained with the marks of his bloody work, looked as if he might want to say nothing more.

  Wouldn’t be unreasonable, Jack thought.

  He was out of prison, sure, but once in that circle you’d probably best watch what you said.

  Kind of a club you never could really just walk away from.

  “Few times, had some big deals. ‘Big’ for me at least. And I got hooked up — friend of a friend — to go over to Blackwood. Get my supplies. So yeah, got a glimpse of things.”

  Jack looked around for a second, thinking, How much of my allotted ten minutes have I used up?

  Then back to Clarke.

  “Seems like someone might have been looking real hard in that place, after everyone left. Something left behind. Maybe cash. Ever hear anything about that?”

  At that, Clarke smiled. “You know, in my bad old days — and even up in Strangeways — you hear lots of things.”

  Strangeways. The nickname for Manchester Prison, Jack knew.

  Every instinct Jack had, told him that Clarke might possibly know something.

  “How about a safe?” said Jack. “Ever hear anything about that? Or why it might have been left behind?”

  Clarke, his meaty arms matching the hunks of beef he laboured over, puffed on his vape, blowing the smoke in rings up into the air. Looked away.

  “Why would anyone leave the place? Okay, from what I heard, people had to scatter overnight. Some made it away, some got picked up. A few others? Well let’s just say they had a more unfortunate end to their days at Blackwood House.”

  His grin widened. A few front teeth missing, the gaps probably a result of battles either inside or outside of jail, Jack guessed.

  “You think people — the dealers, the suppliers — didn’t know something valuable was left behind?”

  And at that Clarke’s eyes narrowed.

  “Oh, that’s doubtful, Mr—”

  “Brennan, Jack Brennan.”

  “Right. Stuff left behind, in the house? Sooner, or later, people would look for it. Maybe get lucky and find it.”

  “It was found. I can tell you that. You got any idea about who might have been looking for it?”

  Clarke folded those big arms across his chest — a clear sign that the interview might be ending.

  But then Jack thought, The man here, starting a new life, clean slate and all.

  Maybe — his drug dealing days behind him — he might just be interested in helping some people out.

  “See, Seth. I got these young people. Lost a good friend. Died right where that safe was. Looked like an accident.”

  Seth looked up.

  “Looked like?”

  “I don’t think it’s an accident. Think something else could have happened there. And the young guy’s friends? They just want to know what really happened to him.”

  Seth used the moment to put his vape away.

  “I wouldn’t know anything about any of that. Accident or not.”

  Jack let the silence linger for a moment.

  Then he watched Clarke lean close. Here in the village centre, these back yards were all huddled tight together.

  Clarke kept his voice low.

  “Turns out — and you better not say you heard it from me — someone in prison with me, he moved big stuff, big numbers, you know what I mean? Well connected to Blackwood House.”

  Jack didn’t rush to say a thing.

  “He said that the house was abandoned, but the rumour was that somewhere in the place was a safe, really well hidden.”

  Jack took a breath.

  This moment, like when that first grey cloud seems to part, showing the promise of blue above.

  “This safe — loaded with money, from deals?” said Jack.

  But Clarke shook his head.

  “No. Loaded with product, man. Street value, couple of million, maybe more.”

  Jack had assumed that the contents of the safe had been cash.

  But the fact that it was drugs meant that they would have to be “moved”, buyers found. That meant that whoever took the safe needed to play a long and careful game.

  They’d be looking to turn all that powder into cash.

  “So, this rumour,” said Jack, “got around the prison, hmm?”

  “Sure,” said Clarke, with a shrug.

  “You think people might have acted on it?”

  “There were some bad blokes in there,” said Clarke. “I mean — real nasty bastids. You know? Do anything for easy money.”

  “Anyone in particular?”

  But Clarke shook his head and stood up.

  “We done here?”

  Jack stuck out his hand, wanting to let him know this chat had been helpful.

  Maybe important.

  “I’ll put in a good word with your boss, Seth. Thanks. And what you told me? And your name? Well, we never met.”

  “Too damn right!” Clarke said, laughing as they started towards the back door that led back into the butcher’s, the smell of just-cut meat replacing the sweet fruit aromas from the vape.

  13. Time to Consider

  Sarah put the kettle on while she waited for Jack.

  Standing there in her kitchen, sunlight pouring through the window, she wished she could get a little “sunlight” on what had happened to Zach Woodcote.

  Like Jack, the more she thought about things, the more she felt that they were missing something.

  Come on, she thought, just one break.

  She heard the throaty rumble of Jack’s MG pull up outside just as the kettle began its impatient whistle.

  Perfect timing. She poured the boiling water into the tea pot.

  Maybe Jack would see something on the video that she had missed?

  *

  She listened as Jack told her about his conversation with Seth Clarke, and the rumours of a hidden stash in Blackwood House.

  “Fits your theory that people had already broken in looking,” she said.

  “Yeah. Definitely. I mean, probably just someone who had a ‘go’ knocking into walls, searching for the drugs.”

  “And failing?”

  “Most likely. But first — the GoPro. You find anything?”

  “Not really,” Sarah said, shaking her head. “When Zach falls — hard to tell if he just goes through the floor, or if t
he hole’s there already.”

  “Guess it all happens so quick …?”

  “So dark in that room too,” said Sarah. “But maybe you’ll see something I missed.”

  “Well,” Jack said smiling, “got my cuppa in hand so all set. Let’s go look what happened to Zach Woodcote.”

  *

  And again, Sarah began to watch the now-familiar video, but this time with Jack sitting at her side.

  “Here we go,” she said, as the video started — an exterior shot of the back of the house, Zach’s gloved hand reaching out to push open the kitchen door and enter.

  “Got the sound up high?” said Jack, picking up his coffee and taking a sip. “Don’t hear any other footsteps.”

  “First thing I listened out for,” said Sarah. “But no sign of anyone else in the house — apart from Zach.”

  She sat back in her chair, arms folded, watching, as the camera explored the ground floor.

  “Room by room,” she said. “Kinda pedestrian when you see it like this.”

  “I guess he planned to put some spooky music over it,” said Jack. “You know — the whole haunted house vibe?”

  Down a long corridor the camera went, turning to explore each of the rooms that led off it, Zach’s hand coming out to push open the doors.

  At the end of the corridor she watched as the camera turned, heading back the way it came, then Jack put out his hand.

  “Wait. Hit pause a second, would you?”

  She clicked the mouse.

  “Now — rewind to that last room, just before he turns.”

  Sarah ran the recording back, then hit forward. Again, the image tracked out of the last room, into the corridor then back the way it had come. She hit pause again.

  “You see something?” she said, noting Jack’s frown.

  “Dunno. Kinda weird. You see the end of the corridor there? That’s the locked steel door to the secret room.”

  “It is?” said Sarah. “I wouldn’t have noticed.”

  “Not from the video, you wouldn’t,” said Jack. “But in reality — walking down that corridor, you’d be crazy not to stop, go to it, investigate.”

  “Right. Okay, so why doesn’t Zach do that? Almost like he doesn’t see it?

  “Or maybe ignores it?” said Jack.

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  Jack shook his head. “You’re right. It doesn’t. Why just walk past the most interesting thing on that whole floor?”

  Sarah couldn’t think of a reason.

  “We go on?”

  “Sure,” said Jack.

  She hit play, and together they watched as Zach trudged upstairs, past the giant clock, the light scanning the rooms in total disarray. Then the grim, deadly fall.

  After a minute, Sarah spoke.

  “Thoughts?”

  “Hate to say it, but — pretty clear what happened. Days before Megan and Luke went in, Zach just … fell to his death.”

  “And the safe?”

  “Guess … dunno. Opened by someone else, some other time? Some con from Strangeways, gets out, hotfoots it down here and nabs the prize.”

  “And the debris in that room where Zach fell — just over the safe — you said was in the wrong place?” said Sarah.

  “Thinking, police or medics must have moved it.”

  She saw Jack looking into the distance.

  Probably, she thought, this is about as big a dead end as we’ve ever hit.

  “One more time?” he said.

  “You think so? Got the thing nearly memorised now.”

  “Never know. One last run.”

  She scrolled the video to the beginning, still on her big monitor.

  And she let Zach’s last walk play out one more time.

  *

  But this time …

  Half way through the video, just as Zach climbed the big staircase to the next floor.

  She stood up.

  Something she had seen, just now.

  Could be nothing really. But before she did anything, she turned back to Jack.

  “Wait a second. I just noticed something.” Jack’s eyes went wide. “Might be nothing. But—”

  She reached out for her mouse and used the scroll bar to take the video back a couple of minutes, to the point where Zach started up the big staircase.

  “Okay, hang on. Going to go very slowly.”

  “Must say, Sarah you do know how to build suspense.”

  Sarah moved the scrollbar at the bottom of the screen just the slightest amount, so every step that Zach took played out as a moment in slow motion.

  Up one step, another, turning, looking, coming to the midway landing.

  To the grandfather clock.

  And Sarah stopped.

  Amazed that she hadn’t noticed it before.

  “There. You see it?”

  “Big clock,” Jack said. “And we are paused because …?”

  She turned to him. “Look. The slight glare. The reflection of Zach’s headlamp on the pendulum.”

  That pendulum, hanging straight down, unmoving. The oval, brass weight at the bottom.

  Not a perfect mirror, to be sure.

  But a reflection nonetheless.

  Jack leaned closer into the screen.

  “Oh, yeah, got it. Just here.”

  He pointed at the bottom of the pendulum, the few inches wide oval, the pendulum’s weight clearly reflecting light. “Doesn’t seem to tell us much.”

  “Hang on a minute. These videos are HD, meant for Zach’s YouTube channel. Got it paused and can now …”

  Sarah’s hand was locked on the wireless mouse, as she first made the cursor hover right on the smooth golden orb at the bottom of the pendulum, and then, fingers moving — again so slowly — to enlarge the image.

  And as she did …

  “Whoa. That’s amazing.” Jack said. “I can see … a head. Yeah, reflected on the pendulum. A red helmet, the light on top.”

  But Sarah couldn’t say anything, because now she had goosebumps.

  “Zach’s face, I guess,” Jack said.

  At which point Sarah turned to him.

  “No it isn’t.”

  *

  “What?” said Jack, seeing Sarah’s face flushed with the moment. “I don’t get—”

  Sarah took a breath. “Jack, you remember I went to Alan? Saw the forensic photos?”

  “Yes.”

  “Saw Zach, on the ground. Dead.”

  “I know. Tough stuff.”

  “Alan even let me grab some pictures — of the official photos.”

  He watched Sarah take her phone from the desk, flick through some screens.

  Then, she passed the phone to him — and for a second all logic seemed to disappear from the investigation.

  Because what he was looking at made no sense whatsoever.

  Zach Woodcote — lying on the debris in that fateful room, his limbs at an angle — and on his head a yellow helmet.

  “You see?” said Sarah.

  “Holy …”

  Jack turned and looked back at the computer screen, and though the image was distended by the curvature of the pendulum weight, there could be no doubt. This helmet — bright red.

  “God,” he said. “Then … this person making the video … isn’t Zach.”

  Sarah turned back to screen. “Can’t make out the face. That’s not catching any light. But we now know one very important thing. Someone did this walk and made it look like it was Zach behind the camera …”

  “Gotcha. But then — what? The fall? How’d they fake that? They plant the video on Zach’s helmet? That even do-able?”

  “Sure,” said Sarah. “Just take the data card out of one camera, slot it in the other.”

  “Making it all look — nice and neat — like an accident.”

  “When it clearly wasn’t.”

  Jack took another look at the screen.

  “That’s why they didn’t explore the door to the secret room. Make
it seem like Zach never noticed it.”

  “Exactly. Didn’t want to draw attention to it on the video,” said Sarah. “Clever.”

  “And somehow they carefully avoided mirrors, windows, so no reflections.”

  “Except — they made one mistake. A grandfather clock.”

  “Easy mistake to make,” said Jack. “Who would expect a pendulum to capture your image?”

  Sarah stood up, and Jack watched her go to the French windows, look out at the garden.

  “Jack,” she said, after a minute, turning around. “This raises so many more questions I hardly know which to ask first.”

  “I’m with you on that,” said Jack. “But, you know, it does answer one. No way was Zach’s death an accident.”

  “You’re right. Somebody went to a lot of trouble to recreate his video. But who?”

  “That’s the big question.”

  “And why?” said Sarah.

  “Oh, I think I can guess at that one. Because the real video had them on it — or at least, it incriminated them.”

  “But how the hell did they do it?” said Sarah, coming back to her chair. I mean — was it planned or—”

  “Right now, we don’t know.”

  “Whoever it was they clearly know about urbexing — about Zach’s videos, how they work.”

  “You’re right,” said Jack.

  “I guess at least we still know one thing for sure — it’s not one of the urbex gang. Their alibis are rock solid.”

  Jack looked at her and shook his head slowly in disbelief as the implications of what they had discovered began to take shape.

  Then an idea began to form.

  “Hey,” he said, “seem to remember Daniel used to have a GoPro? Showed it to me a while back?”

  “Yes. Right! Somewhere,” said Sarah.

  “Think you can find it?”

  “That might take a while. State of his room, you know?”

  Jack knew that though Daniel was away at college, when he dropped by at weekends tidying wasn’t his strong suit. Like a hurricane hit his bedroom.

  “Give it a shot?” said Jack. “While you’re doing that, I’ll make us some coffees.”

  He watched her as she pushed back her chair and went upstairs to her son’s room to find it.

  He went into the kitchen to sort the coffees — hoping his suspicions were wrong.

  14. The Killer Amongst Them