Fear the Past

by J M Dalgliesh

  They made their way along and cut through the passage, barely a shoulder’s width of space to the interior. Emerging from the darkness into a courtyard they were overlooked from the rear of the houses in the next street along. Almost all the properties had extended their living space to the rear as well as into the attic space, maximising their footprints. There would be little privacy to be had. Almost every window they looked at was shrouded in net or drawn curtains, despite it being the middle of the day, to ensure prying eyes were kept out. Gardens were fenced off or built up with imposing brick boundaries, each with a gate to allow access for your neighbours to pass through. Turning to their left, Caslin blindly reached up and over, unlocking the bolt at the top of the gate. Presumably, if you didn’t know it was there, you might think the garden more secure than it actually was. Caslin doubted it would deter even the most incompetent of burglars.

  Passing through the first garden they saw no one. Entering into the next, they startled a young woman standing at the window of her kitchen running herself a glass of water before the sink. She didn’t recognise them and the look on her face was more one of surprise than suspicion. After all, they weren’t dressed as you would expect a burglar to be. Hunter brandished her warrant card at the window, encouraging the occupant to come to the rear door for a word. She did so willingly. They exchanged names as well as greetings.

  “Mrs Dempster,” Hunter began.

  “Natalie, please.”

  “Natalie. We’re looking at your next-door neighbour’s house,” Hunter explained, leaving out the fact they had found his body. “Have you seen anyone there recently?”

  “Jody?” she asked. Hunter nodded. “No, I’ve not seen him for a while. To be honest, he’s hardly ever home. Keeps all kind of strange hours and so do I, so I often don’t see or hear him for days on end.”

  “What is it you do?” Hunter asked, making conversation.

  “I’m a nurse at the hospital,” she replied. As if working out why they might be there for the very first time, she asked, “Is Jody all right?”

  “No, I’m afraid Mr Wyer was found dead this morning,” Hunter replied.

  “Oh my God,” Natalie said, glancing away and leaving her mouth wide open. “Poor Jody.”

  “Has there been anything unusual that you have noticed in the last few days or weeks?” Caslin asked. “It may have seemed innocuous at the time but now… perhaps not?”

  Natalie shook her head, “No. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

  “Did you know Mr Wyer well?”

  “Quite well, yes. We would share an evening every now and again,” she explained. “We’re not best friends or anything but I like him. Plus, he gets on with my partner which always helps.”

  “What kind of neighbour was he?” Hunter asked. “Did he socialise much? Have wild parties, guests at all hours, that type of thing?”

  Natalie shook her head, “No, nothing like that. He was a quiet guy. Seemed to keep himself to himself, you know? Shame really.”

  “How so?” Caslin asked, interested.

  “Well… I get the impression he was a little brow-beaten. He was that sort of guy.”

  “Brow beaten? By whom?”

  “It’s just my impression but,” Natalie went on, “some people just aren’t good at socialising, are they?”

  “Did he have any friends? Regular visitors?” Caslin asked.

  “You know what, if you’d asked me that any time in the last two years, I’d have said no but there has been a woman coming by recently. I mean, he never had a girlfriend as far as I knew and I did wonder whether he was more inclined the other way, if you know what I mean?”

  Caslin affirmed that he did, “So, this was a girlfriend? Did you ever meet her?”

  Natalie shook her head, “No, I only caught the odd glimpse of her coming or going. She might not have been a girlfriend. She might have been another type of lady friend, who knows?”

  Caslin considered what she was implying, “A regular visitor… friend with benefits, perhaps?”

  Natalie shrugged, “Maybe. He didn’t strike me as particularly successful with women nor did he seem too bothered about that fact.”

  “What do you put it down to?”

  “Certainly not a lack of character. He was a great guy to be around but I’d say he was carrying a lot of baggage. He always seemed weighed down by life.”

  “Right,” Caslin said, nodding. “Did you get a name for this woman?”

  “No, can’t say I ever did. I’d know her if I saw her again though. She stands out. A redhead - flame red. Natural as well, not from a bottle. Believe me, you’d know her if you saw her.”

  “A bit of a knockout?” Hunter asked.

  Natalie agreed. “That’s why I’d be surprised if they were a couple. I mean, Jody’s a lovely guy and really successful with his business and everything but… well, he’s not a looker.”

  “You mentioned, Jody was weighed down. Can you elaborate on that? Did he ever say anything about it?”

  “As I say, it’s just my impression. I remember he found it tough when his dad was ill. You know, the getting to and from the hospital, arranging care and stuff? He did a lot for his old dad.”

  “They were close?”

  Natalie frowned, “I’m not sure about that. I mean, he didn’t speak highly of the man. I think it was more of an ingrained sense of duty that he carried… or had drummed into him.”

  “His father was overbearing?” Hunter clarified.

  “I’d say so, yes. Not that Jody ever mentioned it directly but… you pick up on things, don’t you?”

  “Okay, thanks,” Caslin said, glancing to Hunter before looking at Wyer’s house next door. “Mr Wyer lived alone?”

  “Yes, he did,” Natalie confirmed. “Do you need to get in? I have a key.”

  ***

  Caslin unlocked the back door giving access to the kitchen. Stepping inside, he flicked the nearest switch bathing them in a flickering fluorescent light that eventually settled. Entering an empty property for the first time always felt a little eerie. Storm clouds were gathering and in such a built-up area very little daylight permeated the interior. Like the others in the row, Wyer’s property was extended at the rear leaving the middle section of the house to cope with even less natural light. They listened for a moment but quickly decided they were indeed alone. Even so, they had to check.

  Leaving Hunter to explore the ground floor, Caslin made his way upstairs. The treads creaked and groaned under his weight as he climbed them. There were two bedrooms off the landing as well as a family bathroom to the first floor with a narrow staircase curving up towards the converted attic. Casually inspecting both rooms, Caslin noted they were in a decent state of dress. The larger of the two was furnished with a king size bed and lined with contemporary wardrobes. Flicking through them, he found suits and clothing, all neatly pressed and on hangers. Jody Wyer was fastidiously neat with his attire.

  Heading into the second bedroom, located to the rear, he found a spare bed that didn’t appear to be in use at present. There was no sheet or bed covering. Even the associated duvet was curled up and lay at the foot of the bed. One wardrobe filled a corner to the right of the chimney breast and upon closer inspection only housed spare bedding and empty coat hangers. Clicking the double doors shut, Caslin turned and headed back onto the landing and into the bathroom. In contrast to the master bedroom this area needed a thorough clean. Scale was building up on the mixer taps and around the base of the shower mildew was leading to mould along the length of the sealant. Nobody’s perfect, Caslin thought as he opened a mirrored cabinet set above the sink.

  Careful not to disturb anything, he eyed the contents. Alongside the over-the-counter medicines commonly found in family bathrooms, Caslin spied a bottle labelled Paroxetine. From personal experience, he knew that to be a medication prescribed for treatment of depression. Using the end of a pen, Caslin manoeuvred the bottle so as he could fully read the label confirming that it
was indeed Wyer’s and also making a mental note of the dated label. They were recent. The neighbour was correct, Jody Wyer was indeed weighed down by something. Returning his attention to the surroundings, Caslin found his attention piqued by something else. Leaning into the shower cubicle he scanned the toiletries present in the rack. There was an assortment of bottles, shampoo, conditioners, organic facial-scrubs and the like. Hearing footsteps on the stairs he called out so Hunter knew where he was.

  She entered the bathroom. Even with two adults present the room was still a good size. Originally, they’d have been standing in a third bedroom with the only bathroom facilities being the pre-war outside toilet.

  “What do you make of that?” Caslin said, indicating the toiletries. Hunter looked in and immediately clocked what he was referring to.

  “Since when do you guys care about colouring conditioner?” she asked, smiling.

  “Particularly to bring out your natural red…”

  “Wyer has dark hair, doesn’t he?” Hunter clarified, thinking back to the body being pulled from the water.

  “Second toothbrush as well,” Caslin stated, pointing at the cup sitting beside the basin. Hunter looked over, curious.

  “What about clothing?” she asked.

  Caslin shook his head, “No. All the cupboards and drawers are full of Wyer’s… unless she has a masculine style.”

  “That’s not the impression Natalie gave us.”

  “No. It certainly isn’t,” Caslin agreed. “Did you find a mobile or laptop downstairs?”

  Hunter shook her head, “No. You?”

  “Still one more floor to go,” Caslin said, gesturing towards the upper staircase.

  They made their way up together. The attic was set out as a home office with a desk at the far end, butting up against the chimney stack. Several filing cabinets lined the adjacent wall and a large cork board was attached to the wall opposite. Hunter inclined her head to say she would check out the desk while Caslin inspected the notes pinned to the board. There were several sticky notes with single words or times scrawled upon them. They made little sense without context. What drew Caslin’s eye was a map, unfolded and pinned up. This was an ordnance survey map. The area covered began just south of Middlesbrough and stretched down the east Yorkshire coast ending just past Scarborough. Inland, the map went as far west as Pickering.

  Many weekends of Caslin’s youth were spent walking the moorland and coastal paths of that region and therefore he also knew this wasn’t a map picked up off the shelf of any tourist information office. This was a custom order, one purchased directly from the national mapping agency of Great Britain. On it, Wyer had placed pins in certain areas whereas other points were circled in red pen. The significance of these locations was unclear but Caslin found himself curious. Initially, he wondered whether this was related to the divorce case Wyer was working. Could they be locations of trysts between illicit lovers? That theory was quickly disregarded unless the couple had a fetish for old quarries, cliff-top paths or abandoned lime kilns. The random nature of the locations only served to intrigue him further.

  “Any sign of his tech?” Caslin asked over his shoulder not taking his eyes from the map.

  “No,” Hunter confirmed. “I have a charger, hard wiring for access to his hub but no computer. I can’t find a note pad, diary, mobile, or anything that tells us what his plans were. If I had to say, I reckon his office has been swept clean.”

  “They didn’t clear all of this,” Caslin said softly. Hunter came to join him just as he took out his mobile phone. Stepping back, Caslin ensured he got the board in focus and took a few shots with the camera.

  “What is it?” Hunter asked, inspecting the board.

  “No idea,” Caslin declared. “But I’ll wager this is what he’s been spending time on.”

  “What did Donna say he was working? Divorce case, embezzlement and car insurance scams, wasn’t it?” Hunter asked.

  “That’s what she said,” Caslin agreed.

  “I don’t see how those cases fit in on this map, do you?”

  Caslin shook his head, “No. I wonder if Wyer was doing something off the books.”

  “That’d make sense,” Hunter agreed. “Broadfoot said he was working something big. That doesn’t sound like a divorce case or an insurance scam.”

  “And they had only recently taken on the embezzlement case and Broadfoot said he’d been working on something for a while.”

  “Whatever it was, it could have been what got him killed. Do you think this redhead might have something to do with it?”

  “We’re going to have to track her down and ask,” Caslin replied. “Even for a quiet guy, you’d think he would have mentioned her to someone.”

  “Mind you, do you think his colleagues know he was offering information to Kyle Broadfoot?”

  Caslin raised an eyebrow, “Perhaps he’s very good at keeping secrets.”

  Further conversation was halted by Caslin’s ringing mobile. Taking it out of his pocket, he glanced at the screen and saw it was DC Terry Holt back at Fulford Road.

  “Sir, uniform have located Jody Wyer’s car.”

  “Good. What state is it in?”

  “I’ll text you the address.”

  “Any joy from the networks regarding his mobile phone?”

  “I’m still waiting, sir.”

  “In the meantime, can you dig out as much as you can regarding Tony Mason? He’s a former DI at Acomb Road as well as Jody Wyer’s business partner.”

  “Will do, sir. What is it I’m looking for?

  “Anything and everything, Terry. Thanks. I’ll catch-”

  “Sir?” Holt interrupted him. “Some of the guys back here are asking why we took over the Wyer case?”

  “Which people?” Caslin asked.

  “Oh… you know, people, people.”

  “When I know, you’ll know, Terry,” Caslin said, hanging up. Hunter looked at him with a quizzical expression. “Tongues are wagging about our interest here.”

  “I must admit, I’m curious too,” she replied. Caslin smiled just as his phone beeped. It was a text from Holt.

  “Come on. Let’s take a look at Wyer’s car.”

  Chapter Seven

  Jody Wyer’s Seven-Series BMW cut a solitary figure in the car park of the pub. Perhaps it was the police presence combined with the onset of rain that kept the footfall low. Only a handful of punters were propping up the bar as Caslin looked out of the window, seeing the liveried police car maintaining the integrity of the crime scene.

  “How long has it been there?” he asked the landlord, a round-faced twenty-something dressed in a black tee-shirt and jeans.

  “It was here two nights ago when we locked up and hasn’t moved since.”

  “Do you know the owner? Was he a regular?” Caslin asked, glancing around the interior. It was clean, tidy and distinctly lacking in character. This was a chain pub resulting in a décor that was bland and inoffensive whilst trying to tip its hat to a bygone age. In his opinion they’d failed miserably.

  “Yeah, I’ve seen him in here,” the landlord stated, acknowledging a customer who was waving an empty pint glass in his direction. “Can I get you a drink?”

  Caslin declined, “Was he here the other night, when you first noticed the car?”

  “Aye, yes he was.”

  “What time did he leave?”

  “I don’t know exactly but it was early. Well before closing.”

  “Did he leave with anyone?”

  “No idea, sorry,” he replied with a shrug. “Any idea how long until I get my car park back?”

  “No idea,” Caslin replied with a shrug. “Sorry.”

  The landlord frowned and turned away and crossed to the opposing counter to serve the waiting patron.

  “He was helpful,” Hunter said. “Shall we take a look?” Caslin nodded and the two of them left the bar and walked out into the car park. The rain was steadily falling. Not persistent enough to dr
ench you but hard enough to become very quickly irritating. Caslin turned his collar up and thrust his hands into his pockets as they crossed the saturated tarmac, rainwater pooling on the patchwork, uneven surface. Approaching the black car, they both donned latex gloves. Caslin eyed the interior. There was a jacket lying haphazardly across the back seat as if it were casually thrown there. Apart from that, there was nothing in view. The car was as neatly presented as Wyer’s house. Caslin lifted the handle on the driver’s door and found it unlocked. Casting a glance across the roof of the vehicle towards Hunter, he opened it.

  Dropping to his haunches, he inspected the interior of the cabin. The side pocket of the door was empty without even a discarded fuel receipt or crisp packet. Hunter opened the opposing door and examined her side. Checking the lining of the upholstery, Caslin looked for any telltale indications of a struggle – blood stains, a scuff to the edge or a tear in the stitching – but there were none. Meeting Caslin’s eye following her initial inspection, Hunter shook her head.

  “Not a lot here is there?”

  “He keeps things clean, doesn’t he?” Caslin replied. “Glove box?” Hunter opened it, rifling through the contents. She pulled out the owner’s wallet containing the service record and maintenance manual. Putting that aside, she took out an in-car charging kit for a mobile phone and what Caslin assumed was the locking wheel nut.

  Shrugging her shoulders, Hunter blew out her cheeks. “That’s it,” she said, disappointed. Caslin popped the manual boot release and they both walked to the rear of the car. Lifting the lid, they found what they were expecting – a clean, carpeted lining with nothing present that didn’t belong. Closing it again, Caslin turned and looked around them, surveying the scene.

  “We’ll have to confirm that this was where the office outing took place,” Hunter said, thinking aloud. “But it stands to reason. He either met someone here in the car park and left with them or he decided to walk from here.”

  “Didn’t take his coat though,” Caslin said.