Sheila frowned and tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair. ‘I suppose we don’t have much in common,’ she said at last.
‘Do some of your other neighbours feel the same?’ Barry said. ‘Were there difficulties with them in the neighbourhood?’
Sheila thought for a while. ‘Well, I have to admit that I didn’t really like them, and neither did a lot of the other people around here. We were all sorry for the young boy, Danny. He’s really nice. Sometimes he does some weeding for me, and I give him a few pounds for it. But the girl, Kerry, can be really abusive. As for the parents, well. He’s very rude and aggressive and she’s drunk a lot of the time.’ Sheila put a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh. I forgot. They’re not here anymore. It was just awful. No one deserves that. No one.’
‘But you’re sure that you’ve seen the man with the dog before? Round here, calling on them?’ Barry said.
‘Well, I think it was him. He was about the same height and build, and the dog looked the same.’
‘Do you know his name, Mrs Drangfield?’ Sophie asked.
Sheila shook her head. ‘No. I stay clear of most of their visitors. Some aunts and uncles used to call round sometimes and they were nice people — you know, much more normal. But I haven’t seen them for ages. The men who come calling on them now scare me a bit. If I’m out in the garden I move round to the back. There’s too much swearing and I don’t like that.’
‘If you do think of anything else that might help us, please phone. I’ll leave my contact card,’ Sophie said.
Walking back, Barry turned to his boss. ‘The youngsters might know who he is, ma’am. Should we ask them?’
‘It’s a tricky one. I don’t want to alarm them, and I don’t want to put them in any more danger, which is possible if whoever did this thought they might be able to identify him. But that’s a threat whether we talk to them or not, and we need to find out what they know. Whatever happens, we can’t leave them in their grandfather’s house. All three of them are too vulnerable. We’re going to have to put them somewhere safe for a while, certainly until this is all sorted. It’s tragic. They’re already in enough turmoil as it is. Have the other neighbours come up with anything useful?’
Barry shook his head. ‘Not a thing. Either no one saw anything, or they’re too scared to speak up. From what Mrs Drangfield said, some of them must have seen these people visiting the Fenners, but my guess is that they’re worried about a possible backlash. That fire-bombing was a pretty stark warning.’
‘Our problem is that while we’re embroiled in Lydia’s investigation, we have to play it slowly. We can’t go hell for leather after these thugs until we know the extent of their involvement. We can’t afford to give them any prior warning and put Lydia’s investigation at risk, particularly since hers is still in the early stages.’ Sophie sighed. ‘It’s a bloody nightmare.’
* * *
Lydia, along with Jimmy Melsom, was collating the information about prison smuggling that was beginning to come in from the police forces in other counties. As it accumulated, she grew ever more convinced that she’d been right. There were just too many similarities for it to be mere coincidence. Times, vehicle descriptions, quantities of materials seized, models of drones, batch numbers of seized miniature phones, even the lawyers used — common features were beginning to emerge. Even more interesting, she’d discovered that Luke Boulden and Liam Fenners had both been in the army, and had possibly left under a cloud. She was waiting for further details from army records. She knew already that both had served in logistics, supplying equipment to front line units. Logistics expertise was the very skill required for sourcing the kind of items prisoners wanted. Maybe it was time to interview Luke Boulden. She’d need the approval of her two bosses first, though. It was a real pig, working for two senior officers. They were both great people, but Kevin and Sophie had different approaches to their jobs. Sometimes Lydia had the feeling that she was constantly running from one to the other.
Her phone rang. She listened in astonishment to Sophie’s account of the house fire that had killed the Fenners.
‘Do we need to move on Boulden?’ Lydia asked. ‘He could be next. And he’s our only other possible lead at the moment.’
‘Is anyone aware of our interest in him?’ Sophie said. ‘Has he been interviewed or anything?’
‘No. Kevin suggested a softly, softly approach.’
‘In that case, leave him at present but keep him under surveillance if you can. I’ve a feeling Fenners may have been targeted because we’d shown too much interest in him. It wasn’t just us. Rose Simons from the local uniformed squad called at the house to follow up an incident with the daughter, and I went there and spoke to the son last week. It’s quite possible that one of the gang leaders got jittery and thought Fenners might be about to spill the beans. How are you getting on with your inquiry?’
Lydia told Sophie what she was thinking.
‘All the more reason to take things slowly with Boulden. We can’t afford to lose him as a potential witness. Christ, Lydia, everything would be so much simpler if the two things weren’t so tangled up together. Listen, phone Kevin and bring him up to date with the news from last night. Barry and I will be back in later this morning, so we can have a briefing then. Get Rae to join you and Jimmy looking into the army background, it might throw up some more names. Then get her to keep an eye on Boulden. You know, Lydia, I can’t help thinking that there might be someone clever at the back of all this, pulling the strings and providing the brainpower. And raking in the cash. The people we’ve come across so far aren’t nearly in that league, not even your Mr Angry. I mean, how stupid was that, deliberately causing a confrontation with a police detective? No, there’s someone else behind it all. And he’s not out there getting his hands dirty. We need to find him, whoever he is.’
* * *
Danny Fenners was sitting up in bed when Sophie and Barry returned, wide-eyed and solemn as usual. His grandfather was sitting in a chair reading a newspaper and Kerry was thumbing through social media posts on her mobile phone.
‘Be careful what you post, Kerry,’ Sophie said, taking a seat in a plastic chair Barry had hauled off a stack in the corner.
Kerry gave her a withering look. ‘I’m not stupid, you know. My friends want to know what’s going on, that’s all. I won’t give anything important away.’
‘We’ll be moving you to somewhere safe, all three of you,’ Sophie replied. ‘Once we’ve organised that, you mustn’t post anything that might give a clue about where you are.’
‘I said, I’m not stupid,’ Kerry replied angrily, but put her phone away.
‘Are you both really detectives?’ asked Danny. ‘Like what you said on Wednesday? Who’s the boss one?’
Barry grimaced and pointed to Sophie with a flourish. ‘She is. She’s a detective superintendent, which is pretty high up, believe me. I’m just a sergeant. I drive her around from place to place, and get her some coffee when she needs it. She makes all the hard decisions, and I just go along with them. We’ve got some questions for you, Danny. Both of you, in fact. We want to know about any visitors that have called at your house recently. Maybe workmates or friends of your parents? Or anyone else who you’ve seen in the neighbourhood?’
‘Why?’ Kerry demanded immediately. ‘And all this secrecy and protection, why are you doing it?’
‘Because the fire was started deliberately, Kerry,’ Sophie answered. ‘Someone wanted your parents dead, or one of them at least. Whoever did it didn’t care who else was caught up in the fire. My guess is that it would have suited them if all of you had been killed, which just goes to show what kind of people they are. I have to find out who it was and get the evidence to arrest them before they try the same thing again on someone else.’
Kerry looked at her through narrowed eyes. ‘Okay,’ she finally said. ‘But I don’t know anything about it. I was round at Grandad’s.’
‘I know you were, Kerry. And you were lu
cky. If you’d still been at home, you’d probably be dead. Fires don’t tell one person from another. They kill anyone who’s in the building.’
‘But not Danny. He got out.’
‘That’s why I need his help. Can you tell me everything you remember, Danny? Take me through what happened, minute by minute. Can you do that for me?’
Danny nodded. ‘I think so.’ He described the events of the previous afternoon and evening, from the argument between Kerry and their father to his escape through the kitchen door.
‘Did you see anyone, Danny? Was anyone hanging about or walking by?’
Danny shook his head emphatically. ‘No,’ he said, dropping his eyes. ‘No one.’ He looked as if he wanted to cry.
* * *
Sophie and Barry made their way back to the car. ‘He knows more than he was letting on, ma’am, don’t you think?’ Barry said.
‘Yes. The classic signs. My guess is that he’s scared. The family set up must have been odd, Barry. Those three seem so close, so natural together, even though he’s their grandfather rather than a parent. So what was wrong with their relationship with their real parents? They’re displaying so little grief. Their grandfather was clearly upset but he’s trying hard not to show it. Those two kids, though, they’re not sad at all. Maybe the fire did them a favour. Kerry had already walked out, and my guess is she intended it to be permanent. I wonder if she hated her parents? Could it have been an abusive relationship? We’ll need to follow it up. Danny’s autism means that he’ll show less emotion than an average child of his age, but even so. Maybe he was terrified of his parents too. From the interview we had with their father, I can’t say I’m surprised. He came over as an out and out thug.’
Barry frowned. ‘Could we be barking up the wrong tree, ma’am? If what you’re suggesting is true, it’s possible that those two youngsters could have started the fire, just to give themselves an escape route from an abusive home. Is it possible?’
‘We have to consider it. I don’t think Danny could have done it, or even been involved in any direct way, but the girl is totally keyed up and tense. She reacted defensively to almost everything I said. And according to Rose Simons, she has a history of erratic behaviour. Maybe we should get Rose to have another chat with her. I think you’re wrong, though. That fire was too well planned, too callous. It was cold-blooded murder, not the reaction of a sullen teenager. Inexperienced sixteen-year-olds don’t start fires in that way.’
Chapter 27: Sausage and Chips
Late Monday Afternoon
Simon Osman locked the door of his town centre office and made for his car, ready for the short drive home. A heavily built man suddenly materialised beside him, sliding out from the shadows cast by the nearby shrubs, and making him jump.
‘Christ. Why did you have to appear like that, Bill? You scared the living daylights out of me.’
‘You know why. I can’t afford to be seen talking to any of you, and the cops are probably still watching your house. I wondered if they were watching this place too, but it doesn’t look like it. I’ve been checking the area out for the last ten minutes and didn’t spot any obvious signs. Thank God for police funding cuts. They’ve made our job a lot easier. There aren’t enough nosey cops left on the payroll to watch everyone they’re interested in all the time.’
Osman was still jittery. ‘What happened to Fenners? I heard his place was fire-bombed. Was that really necessary?’
‘Ask no questions, hear no lies. Move on, Si. Let’s not dwell on the past. You’re the one who’s always said that.’
Osman glanced around, but they seemed to be alone and unobserved. Pinpricks of perspiration glinted on his forehead, despite the cool early evening breeze. There were a lot of questions he should probably be asking, but his mind seemed stuck in a loop. His throat felt dry.
‘The cops might be back, Si. If they’re doing the job they’re paid for, they’ll come calling on you again. You’re the only link they have now, and there was nothing to tie you to her death. Just don’t panic. Stick to the story we rehearsed, okay? They’ll have to give up in the end ’cause there’s nothing to go on. I made sure of that.’
Finally, Osman summoned up the courage to ask what had been bothering him for hours. ‘But why kill Fenners like that? His wife’s dead as well. His kids could have been caught up in it.’
‘You didn’t need to know. But since you’ve asked, there were too many cops calling on him and I guessed he was gonna break. My sources told me they were gonna offer him a new identity somewhere up north, with protection, if he gave evidence. It was all too chancy for us, Si. But there’s no need for you to worry, not if you stick to what we agreed. We can keep going just like before. The cops have got nothing on us, trust me.’
And then the dark-clad figure was gone, back into the shadows. Simon Osman shuddered. He hated fire, and burning homes filled him with horror. It took him a while to calm down enough to walk the few yards to his car and clamber unsteadily inside. Even then it was several minutes before he felt calm enough to start the engine. What had gone wrong? More importantly, was there some slight chance that he could extricate himself from this violent, tangled mess? He had no idea if there were other local cops who were in on the scheme, watching with redoubled intensity now that Andrea was dead, cops who were far cleverer than she ever was. If he tried to make contact with the police, he might be walking into the very trap that he’d just been warned about. Fuck. What a complete mess.
* * *
Late that afternoon, Danny Fenners was declared fit and ready to be discharged from hospital but he, Kerry and their grandfather didn’t leave by the main entrance. While press officers from both the police and the hospital made a public statement to the waiting reporters, photographers and film crews, the trio were led out of a rear exit and into waiting, unmarked police cars. Barry and Sophie travelled with them in the lead car, and a small group chosen from Greg Buller’s security unit, including several firearms officers, trailed along behind in a nondescript van.
‘They’re officially called the security unit,’ Barry told Danny as Sophie steered the car out onto the main road, ‘but we call them the Snatch Squad. They’re a pretty tough bunch, believe me. Anyone who tries to mess with them will come off second best.’
Kerry did her best to appear bored and unimpressed. ‘Where are you taking us?’ she asked.
‘You’ll still be in Dorset, but well away from the Weymouth area. It’s probably only for a couple of weeks, maybe less. Once we get things sorted out and we’ve made a few arrests, you can go back home.’
‘My concert is on Saturday. I can’t miss that,’ Danny protested.
‘Okay, leave it with us and we’ll organise that for you.’
Kerry looked at Sophie shrewdly. ‘It’s more than just the fire, isn’t it? You wouldn’t be doing this just because some nutter burned our house down. Dad was up to something, wasn’t he? Is it like some kind of gang war, the type they talk about on the telly? Guns ’n stuff?’
Danny turned to her. ‘Shut up, Kerry. You’re talking too much.’
His sister looked daggers at him but lapsed into silence, chewing her fingernails.
‘I wish I could explain, Kerry, but it’s too early in our investigations. You’re on the right track, though. That’s all I can say at the moment. That’s why it’s so important that you tell us anything that might help us. I want both of you to have a think about it. There’ll be someone with you all the time, so if you do remember anything else, just tell them.’
They drove to a quiet cul-de-sac in Wareham, where the police service owned a secluded safe house a little apart from the other residences. Greg Buller kept his van back on the main road, so the only vehicle that pulled in at the house was the unmarked car. Rose Simons and George Warrander were already inside, having arrived much earlier to check the area. They waited while the group assembled in the sitting room.
Kerry was not pleased to see Rose, even though the police
sergeant was temporarily in plain clothes.
‘Not you as well,’ she complained. ‘What is this? I’m being victimised.’
‘I’m deeply hurt,’ Rose said with a smile. ‘I’ll have you know that I’m well known for my loving and caring attitude towards small, furry, homeless creatures. And I brought chocolate.’ She took a packet of assorted chocolate biscuits out of her bag and spread them onto a plate on the nearby table.
‘Don’t think you can bribe me into doing what you want,’ a surly Kerry replied. ‘I’m not stupid.’
Coming in behind them, Sophie sighed. ‘You’ve told us that three times now, Kerry. None of us think you’re stupid. We’re just trying to keep you safe and make you feel welcome. Why not relax a bit and give us a chance?’
Kerry curled her lip but said nothing.
‘Rose and George will stay for a few hours, and then they’ll be replaced by one of my officers who’ll stay overnight. Remember, no one must know you’re here. It’s possible that all three of you are in danger. I told you that the fire was started deliberately. It’s what we said earlier, in the car. We think your father might have been involved in something illegal and that he was thinking of coming to us to give evidence. Someone guessed and decided to stop him. Whoever it is, they’re still out there, and they might think you know about them.’
‘But we’re just kids,’ Kerry said, thrusting her hands into the pockets of her jeans. ‘No one would bother with us.’
‘You’re sixteen now, Kerry. Your evidence would count in court. That changes things.’
Meanwhile, Barry was watching Danny. The young boy was pale and he stared at his feet, squirming. His grandfather, Charlie Bailey, saved the situation. ‘Let’s all have a nice cup of tea. I’m parched. And those choccy biccies look too good to ignore.’ He picked one up and took a large bite. The two youngsters followed suit, while George Warrander went to make tea.
‘Danny and I’ll have coke,’ Kerry called after him. ‘Make mine a diet one.’ She stared challengingly at Rose.
SHADOW CRIMES a gripping crime thriller full of twists Page 14