Lydia coughed. ‘I know that look of old, ma’am. Can you share with us?’
Sophie gave a wry smile. ‘Of course. The behaviour of our Mr Angry isn’t what you’d expect from someone in charge. Even though Mr Angry was the main man in that group, my guess is that he’s just an underling. There’s someone else running all this, and he’s keeping himself hidden in the shadows. Someone clever. Andrea might even have known who he was. Maybe that’s why she had to be killed, because she was showing signs of wanting out. Maybe the plan was to use the confrontation with you, Lydia, to suss you out as a possible replacement. If so, the boss might have been in the pub but not in that group. Maybe he was watching and listening from the sidelines, to see how you reacted. Can we get the CCTV back from the pub and go through it? If I’m right, he’ll have waited until you and Jimmy left, then followed. He might have joined up with the group, but I doubt it. If he works in the way I think, only a couple of them would know him, maybe Mr Angry and whoever his assistant is.’
‘Boulden?’ Lydia suggested.
‘Could be. If I’m right, the whole thing had a definite purpose. We keep quiet about this, by the way. Just the five of us, plus Kevin and Matt. It’s like everything else in this mess, we don’t know how far their influence has spread in the local team.’
Chapter 24: Inferno
Sunday Afternoon
Young Danny Fenners was in his room, sprawled across his bed and staring at his diary. He read over what he’d just written, checking it for errors. It wouldn’t do to have punctuation and grammar mistakes in it, not if he was serious about becoming a journalist when he grew up.
* * *
I’m glad Kerry’s getting better. She got me to have another look at her cuts this morning. They’ve nearly healed. That was because the school nurse cleaned them up and stuck new plasters on them. I think Kerry was scared by what happened when she broke that window, she hasn’t been out getting drunk since then. That’s really good because she might start concentrating on her school work and pass her GCSEs. She’s been round at Grandad’s even more than me this week. He might have talked her into working harder. She really likes history, but it’s no good only working at that. If she wants to go to college she’ll have to work at other subjects as well. I felt like telling her that but I didn’t. She always swears at me if I try and tell her what she should do.
That woman police sergeant who came round saw the bruises on her face. That was from where Dad hit her. But Kerry didn’t grass on him. She should of. He oughta be in prison for what he’s done. I keep wondering about the other one, the detective. I haven’t told anyone about her, not even Grandad or Kerry. If Dad knew he’d go mental.
Dad hasn’t been around much since Thursday. Somethings going on. It’s those bad people he meets. I think I might spy on them and see what they’re up to but I’m scared. It’s that Tonto Leary and his dog. It always looks at me as if it’s going to rip my throat out. Tonto sniggers.
Our music concert is coming up soon. We’re doing a big band medley. It’s even got some fast tunes in it, Rock and Roll. It’s hard to keep up and I keep making mistakes but so do all the others. Kerry and Grandad said they’re coming to the concert. Mum said she might but she probly won’t, she never does. I told her what Grandad said, about me going to college. She just got angry and said I have to get a job when I’m old enough to leave school. She said the same thing to Kerry. She said we needed the money. But she goes and spends it all on drink and fags. That’s why Kerry sometimes nicks stuff from the shop, like pizzas and things. If it wasn’t for her and Grandad we’d be starving some of the time.
Dad’s just come in. I heard the door bang. I bet he’s in a bad mood. He’s always in a bad mood.
* * *
Danny heard the argument when he was halfway down the stairs. His father’s voice, loud and angry, and Kerry’s shrill, shrieking in response. He wondered what it was about this time. Although did those two ever need a reason to have a go at each other? He sat on the bottom step and listened. Dad was still going on about the police’s visit on Thursday, when they came to check up on Kerry. Someone had obviously needled him about it. Maybe it was that Tonto Leary. Whoever it was, Dad was angry about it. Danny was about to move closer when he heard the inevitable thump, followed by another shriek. It sounded as though Kerry had fallen against the wall. The door was flung open and she came rushing out, her face streaked with tears. She pushed past Danny and fled upstairs to her room. Danny decided to follow.
‘I’m pissing off out of here. I can’t take any more of this shit,’ she cried as he came into her bedroom. She was hauling clothes out of drawers and stuffing them hurriedly into a bag. ‘I’m going to Grandad’s. If you’ve got any sense, Danny, you’ll do the same.’
Then she was out of the door and away. Danny was even more scared than usual. With Kerry gone, he’d be left to muddle along as best he could by himself. The thought made him feel sick. He went back to his room, crawled under his duvet and went to sleep.
When he finally woke it was dark and silent, with faint moonlight coming in through his open bedroom curtains. It was well after midnight and he was famished. He opened his bedroom door and crept along the landing, past his parents’ room. He could hear them both snoring loudly. He made his way carefully down the stairs, avoiding steps seven and eleven (the creaky ones), along the narrow hallway and into the kitchen. The main lightbulb had failed several weeks earlier and neither of his parents had yet bothered to replace it. Kerry had brought down a small lamp from her bedroom and by this dim light Danny searched out two slices of bread and popped them into the toaster. He then collected a plate from the cupboard, a knife from the cutlery drawer and went to the fridge to pull out a jar of peanut butter.
He heard a gentle clunk from the front of the house and froze for a moment but there was no other sound, so he continued preparing his snack. The toast popped up, and he spread each slice with a thick layer of peanut butter. He took several large mouthfuls, swallowing hungrily. Strange. It didn’t normally smell like this, did it? There was a cloying sweetness in his nose. Had it gone bad? He held the open jar up to the light but could see nothing wrong.
He heard a sudden strange sound coming from the hallway — a whump, followed by a thundery, roaring noise. Afraid, he wondered what to do, finally edging to the door and pulling it ajar, looking for the possible cause.
He found it. The end of the hall closest to the front door and the bottom of the stairs was a roaring inferno, with flames reaching the ceiling. Danny backed away in horror, his skin already smarting from the heat and his chest starting to tighten. Thick, black smoke was billowing towards him at ceiling level. He backed into the kitchen, pushed the door shut and, in total panic, ran to the back door, madly trying to heave it open before remembering that it would be locked. The roaring was getting louder, and smoke was seeping around the door from the hallway. He finally managed to manipulate the key in the lock and pulled at the heavy door. It opened a few inches but got stuck on the mat, which had somehow managed to curl up around his feet. He tried to slide out through the narrow opening and tripped on the doormat as he squirmed through the gap, sprawling onto the small patio outside the door. He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and caught sight of a dark figure passing a gap in the hedge and walking briskly away. Danny crawled back into the small rear porch, fumbling for his saxophone case, which was stored in the corner. The kitchen was already ablaze, smoke starting to billow out through the open doorway above his head. His mum and dad were still in there.
Chapter 25: Bacon Sandwiches
Early Monday Morning
Sophie Allen arrived at the scene of the blaze just after four in the morning. Fire engines were still lined up along the road and an ambulance was sitting outside the Fenners’ house. There was little activity by now. The fire had been put out, damping-down procedures were in progress, and many of the personnel were busy stowing their equipment back into the fire trucks. As she hu
rried towards the house, Sophie could see several fire-crew members still moving in and out. Rose Simons was standing at the front gate, arms folded, looking serious. George Warrander was a few yards away, talking to a cluster of onlookers. Several other groups of people were standing about chatting quietly, their faces still wearing expressions of shock and horror.
She reached the untidy hedge, some of its leaves curled and browned by the intensity of the heat from the burning building. The front of the house was a complete mess, every window blackened, timber frames charred and misshapen. Part of the roof had collapsed.
‘Not a pretty sight, ma’am,’ Rose said.
‘The family? Did anyone get out?’ Sophie asked.
‘The boy. For some reason he was downstairs at the time, otherwise there’d have been no hope for him either. The girl, Kerry, wasn’t in at the time. She was at her grandfather’s house. They’re at the hospital with the boy. He’s getting a check-up, but word is that he’s okay.’ She paused. ‘It’s the parents. Both dead. They had no chance.’
‘Any word yet as to how it happened?’
Rose shook her head. ‘No. But there’s a lot of activity around what remains of the front door. The fire chief’s there with a couple of the guys. Their faces are a bit of a giveaway, if you ask me. My guess is that they’ve found something suspicious.’
‘Okay, Rose. Thanks.’
Sophie, donned her white overall and walked towards the group standing at the entrance. She managed to catch the eye of the fire chief. She took the hard hat a nearby fire officer offered.
‘Hi, Natalie,’ she said. ‘What are your thoughts?’
The fire chief looked at her grimly. ‘Petrol. And plenty of it, poured through the letterbox. The two asleep upstairs had no chance. It would have been an inferno within a minute of ignition. We think it was a burning rag that got pushed in.’
‘Rose said that the two children got out. Could you confirm that?’
Natalie Smith nodded. ‘The lad was outside at the back when we arrived, with the neighbours looking after him. He was incredibly lucky. He was in the kitchen at the time, we think, and managed to escape just as it began to take hold. He inhaled some smoke, but nothing serious. We sent him for a check-up anyway, but I don’t think he’ll be kept in. He was in shock though. Completely catatonic. We couldn’t get a word out of him.’
‘He might be slightly autistic, maybe Asperger’s,’ Sophie said. ‘This would be beyond his ability to cope. Are the parents’ bodies still inside?’
‘Yeah. We’re just finishing checking through the place and looking for structural damage. There are still one or two hotspots that need damping down first before we can let anyone else in. We’ll probably get their bodies out at first light, then I’ll give the place a final check. If it’s safe at that point, I’ll hand it over to you. Okay?’
‘Of course.’ Sophie looked around her. The onlookers were beginning to drift away back to their own homes. Sophie wondered if any of them would manage to get back to sleep.
‘I’ll head off to the hospital and see how the boy is. You can pass on any information via Rose Simons over there.’ She looked at Natalie. ‘I know I’ve said this before, but I don’t envy you this task. It must be the pits.’
Natalie looked at her grimly. ‘At least the kids weren’t caught up in it. That’s when it really wipes me out. They so nearly could have been, Sophie. It’s sheer good fortune that we don’t have four bodies in there. Whoever did this, they don’t deserve any leeway. It’s pure bloody evil.’
* * *
Dorchester Hospital’s Accident and Emergency department was serenely quiet for once, with only three people waiting in the seated reception area. Sophie showed her warrant card to the duty nurse and, a few moments later, followed a second member of staff into a small examination room that held the Fenners' youngsters and their grandfather. Young Danny looked at her, wide-eyed, as she entered. He seemed to shrink back slightly.
‘It’s you,’ he whispered.
The elderly man and the teenage girl glanced from Danny to her, looking puzzled and suspicious.
‘I’d better explain,’ Sophie said. ‘I met Danny a few days ago outside the house. I was hoping to see his father, but he wasn’t there.’ She turned to the girl. ‘You must be Kerry. I think you met one of my officers, Sergeant Rose Simons, recently? She’s at the house now with the fire crew.’
‘Is there any news?’ asked the elderly man sitting beside the bed.
‘You must be Mr Bailey. Is that right?’
He nodded slowly. ‘Charlie. These two are the lights of my life.’
Sophie chose her words carefully. ‘There is news, Mr Bailey, but it isn’t good.’ She looked at the two youngsters. ‘I’m afraid your parents didn’t survive the fire. It’s awful news, I know, but you have to be told. It’s better coming from me than hearing about it from the news or gossip. What I can tell you is that they probably didn’t suffer in any way. They’d have been overcome by the smoke while they were still asleep. They may not even have woken up.’
Kerry and Danny’s reaction wasn’t quite what she expected. There were few outward signs of emotion, no tears. Danny reached for his grandfather. ‘Does that mean we can come and live with you now, Grandad?’
The old man put his arms around his two grandchildren, tears welling up in his eyes. ‘Of course. We’ll manage, the three of us, won’t we?’
‘You’ll be kept safe here for a few hours more, all three of you. One of my officers is on guard outside this ward for as long as you’re here. I’ll be back later on once I’ve decided what’s best, but meanwhile you mustn’t leave. I need all three of you safe. Okay?’
* * *
Sophie sent a message to her unit members telling them she wanted an early start in the morning to initiate a house-to-house inquiry in the immediate vicinity of the fire. Then she returned to the scene of the burned out house. Several of the fire tenders had already gone, leaving a scene of brooding depression. She called to Rose and George and asked if they’d picked up any useful information from the neighbours.
‘Nothing substantial,’ Rose said, ‘but a neighbour who lives a few doors away saw someone walking away from here a few minutes before the fire broke out. She was closing her bedroom curtains at the time. Apparently it was someone with a dog, but not wandering slowly like you’d expect for a late night dog walker. George has the details.’
Sophie noted the details of the neighbour, a pensioner who’d returned to her house an hour earlier. Probably better to leave interviewing her until later in the morning. It was now five, and the woman might have managed to get back to sleep. The thought of bed made Sophie yawn. If she set off for home now she could hardly expect to arrive much before six, but at least she’d have time for a shower and a change of clothes before returning to start another working day. She’d already realised with some embarrassment that the trousers she’d hurriedly hauled out of her wardrobe in semi-darkness were her decorating jeans, all spattered with dried paint. No wonder the grandfather had been eyeing her oddly — they didn’t exactly match the thin, animal-print, mohair jumper, nor her tan leather jacket.
Home at last, she put the kettle on and made a pot of tea before taking the longed-for shower. She was wondering whether Martin was awake and would appreciate a mug of tea, but when she returned to the kitchen, he was already up, laying the breakfast table.
‘I heard you come back in,’ he said. ‘There was no point in staying up there by myself, so I thought I’d do something useful. I didn’t hear you go out though. When was that?’
‘Three,’ she replied. ‘I was surprised my mobile didn’t wake you.’
‘I’ve got used to your snores over the years,’ he said, ‘they drown everything out. Even thunder doesn’t wake me now, which is a blessing. I thank the Lord every time you turn onto your back in your sleep and the tractor sounds start up. Bring on that thunderstorm, I say. We’re immune in this household.’
F
or once, Sophie was silent. Martin looked at her closely. ‘Sorry. Have I said the wrong thing? What was the call-out?’
‘House fire,’ she replied. ‘Two dead. It was deliberate.’
Martin moved behind the kitchen chair where she’d sat down, and massaged her shoulders. ‘Bacon sandwich?’
‘Mmm. That would be nice,’ she replied. ‘Plenty of ketchup, please. I need some comfort food.’
‘What is it with the police and bacon sandwiches?’ Martin asked. ‘I’m convinced that police work in this once great country would fall apart if the national bacon supply disappeared.’
Chapter 26: Questions
Monday morning
Sheila Drangfield was adamant. She’d seen a man walking quickly away from the Fenner house only a minute or so before the flames started flickering behind the front door. She hadn’t managed to get a look at his face — he was walking away from her house — nor could she tell what colour his clothes were. The street lighting here was a little dim.
‘What were you doing up, Mrs Drangfield?’ Sophie asked. ‘Wasn’t it rather late?’
‘Just one of those age things, dear,’ she said. ‘My son tells me I go to bed too early, so it’s no wonder I often wake up in the early hours. I just make myself a cup of tea, take it back to bed and read for a while. I usually drop off again within the hour.’
‘The constable you spoke to said you were pulling the curtains. Is that right?’
‘Yes. I hadn’t closed them properly and the moon was shining in on me, so I got up to adjust them. That’s when I saw him.’
‘Had you ever seen him before?’ Barry asked.
‘Well, that’s the thing. I’m sure I’ve seen a man like him around here a week or two ago, with his dog. But I don’t like to pry. They’re not people I talk to very much, the Fenners.’
‘Is there a reason for that?’ Barry said. ‘They’re right opposite you, after all.’
SHADOW CRIMES a gripping crime thriller full of twists Page 13