‘I didn’t.’ Her face crumpled as her lips trembled. ‘He had to leave so early, see, to get to the depot for half past six. I saw him Thursday night – we went halves on a takeaway and watched the telly together. He was in bed by nine o’clock. His alarm goes off at five.’
‘And did you speak to him at all on Friday?’
She shook her head, then rubbed at red-rimmed eyes. ‘No. Thursday night was the last time I ever spoke to my son, and all I did was tell him to make sure he put his laundry in the washing machine before he left for work in the morning.’
Barnes swallowed to counteract the lump in his throat as he closed his notebook.
He stood, straightened his jacket and looked at the shrunken woman who’d curled up in the chair as if trying to escape the evil that had ripped her family apart.
‘We’ll find who killed your son, Mrs Nivens. I promise.’
Chapter Thirteen
Gavin patted down his hair, scowling in the rear-view mirror as a stubborn spike sprang up the moment he lowered his hand.
He ignored the grin on Laura’s face as they got out of the car, and instead peered over the roof towards a picturesque white cottage beyond a wooden gate.
Thick thatch hung over the eaves hugging a red-brick chimney that housed a television aerial and a black metal weathervane in the shape of a stretching cat.
A tall privet hedge growing on each side of the gate gave the front garden some privacy from the lane, and songbirds chirped from within the boughs of a horse chestnut tree above Gavin’s head.
Through an open window on the ground floor he could hear soft music – some sort of acoustic guitar that drifted on the breeze to where they stood.
‘Very nice,’ Laura murmured as she crossed the road beside him. ‘Guess we don’t have to ask her what she did with her half of the restaurant sale.’
‘Don’t forget the book royalties, too.’ Gavin thumbed the cast-iron latch on the gate and swung it open, letting Laura go on ahead of him while he paused to take in the landscaped front garden.
He recognised foxgloves and lilacs – things his mum grew in her garden – but the more exotic varieties huddled amongst dark green shrubs reminded him of holidays in the Mediterranean, South Africa and further afield. Bumblebees hummed around a fragrant display of lavender as he walked up the gravel front path and joined his colleague on the doorstep.
Before Laura had a chance to reach up and ring the doorbell, a net curtain twitched in the window to the right of the door.
Seconds later, the music stopped.
Footsteps clacked on a stone floor, and then Ann O’Connor opened the door.
Dressed in cream-coloured trousers and a white vest top, she folded suntanned arms over her chest and cocked an eyebrow at the sight of the two plainclothes detectives.
‘So, it’s true then? There really was a dead body at Mike’s place?’
Gavin made the formal introductions, then tucked away his warrant card. ‘Could we come in please, Mrs O’Connor?’
‘Call me Ann,’ she said and stepped to one side to let them in. ‘I’m in the process of changing back to my maiden name but the bloody paperwork is taking forever – at least that’s what my solicitor tells me.’
Gavin ducked under the low door frame and into a box-like hallway with a flagstone floor and three doors leading off in different directions.
‘Come through here,’ Ann said, indicating the door to his right.
Entering the room, he heard Laura emit a gasp under her breath and he stood for a moment, admiring the centuries-old inglenook fireplace that took up most of the far wall.
Unlit, and with logs stacked either side of the grate, the hearth was being used to display glass vases filled with lilies and gladioli in vibrant colours.
Through the open front window, he could still smell the lavender and when he looked to his left, patio doors had been incorporated into an extension off the original building, leading out to a paved area and a garden that to him seemed to go on for miles.
Laura paused in the middle of the living room, her eyes full of wonder. ‘It’s a gorgeous place you have here, Mrs––’
‘Ann.’ The woman pursed her lips and gestured to two armchairs facing the inglenook. ‘Please, have a seat. How can I help? I’m sure Mike has told you I have nothing to do with the garage anymore, so I really don’t know why you’re here.’
Gavin waited until Laura pulled out her notebook from her bag and had a pen poised ready, then turned his attention to O’Connor’s wife who sat on a two-seater sofa the other side of an ornate rug spread across the old flagstones.
‘We’re simply gathering some background information about the garage and its recent history to help us understand why a man’s body was discovered there,’ he began. ‘Whose idea was it to buy the business?’
Ann rested her elbow on the arm of the sofa. ‘Mike’s.’
‘What was the attraction there?’
‘I think he was bored after selling the restaurant and doing nothing for three months,’ she said, then choked out a bitter laugh. ‘He never was any good at golf.’
‘But why a used car dealership?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I think he thought it would be easy after running a restaurant, and he was always good at a sales pitch. He’s a natural when it comes to talking with potential customers.’
‘And you agreed to buy into the business with him?’
‘He couldn’t afford to buy Marcus Tavistock out on his own, and I did own half the proceeds from the restaurant sale, after all.’ She sighed, and ran her fingers over the plush upholstery. ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time. Looking back, I should’ve seen the signs.’
‘Signs?’ said Laura, looking up from her notebook.
‘Yes. I found out that Mike was having an affair just after Halloween. Some woman he sold a car to within the first six weeks of running the place.’
Gavin could hear the bitterness in the woman’s voice, and gave her a moment while she pulled a paper handkerchief from her trouser pocket and dabbed at her eyes.
‘I’m sorry. It still hurts. I feel so stupid.’ Ann sniffed, blinked and then raised her gaze to his. ‘What else do you want to know?’
‘Mrs–– Ann. We understand from Mike that he bought you out last year, but that you’ve contacted him to ask for more money. Why is that?’
Her eyes hardened. ‘Because he still owes me money – did he tell you that? When we started divorce proceedings in December, he paid me half of what I’d put into the business. I might be angry about him cheating but I’m a business person at heart, detective. He needed the rest to get through the winter. It was always the understanding that he’d pay me the balance by the end of the tax year at the beginning of April. Now things are getting… more urgent. I need the rest of that money.’
Gavin glanced around the room, at the lavish surroundings and tasteful artwork that adorned the wall above where he sat, then back to Ann O’Connor. ‘Why?’
‘Because my publisher has decided not to take on a second cookery book from me.’ Ann’s face fell. ‘The past six months’ sales of my first book haven’t been that good. My royalty earnings have dropped off – and I’m locked into the contract for another eight years so I can’t do anything about it. I can’t publish anything that might be deemed competitive to what I’ve already done with them. I need the rest of the money from Mike so I can start up a new business of my own. I don’t know what, though.’ She shuddered. ‘I can’t face working in another commercial kitchen again. Not now.’
‘Do you wish you and Mike hadn’t sold the restaurant?’ said Laura.
The other woman blinked. ‘Do you know what? I used to think I did, but I like it here. I enjoy the peace and quiet. Yes, we did well with that business and we had some lovely customers but I want to do more with my life.’
‘One final question,’ said Gavin, reaching in his pocket for his mobile phone and scrolling through the images. ‘I’d li
ke you to take a look at this photo and tell me if you recognise this man.’
She paled. ‘Is– is it the dead man who was found at the garage?’
‘Yes. We’re trying to work out why he was taken there.’
Ann nodded, straightened her shoulders and leaned forward. ‘Okay. Go on.’
Gavin turned the phone, watching her face as her brow lifted and then softened.
She shook her head and sat back. ‘No. Sorry. I don’t recognise him at all. I’ve never seen him before in my life.’
Chapter Fourteen
‘So, what do you think? Was Carl the target and Will was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, or what?’
Kay sipped from a can of soft drink and flipped through the pages of her notebook as Barnes drove out from Maidstone, her fringe flickering in the breeze from a gap in the open passenger window.
‘Nothing came up on either of their background checks,’ he said, braking at a T-junction before turning right. ‘And no-one’s got a bad word to say about them. So I can’t understand why they’d be targeted.’
Kay sighed and put the notebook away as Barnes slowed the car approaching the village outskirts. ‘I’ve never come across anything like this one.’
‘How are Gavin and Laura getting on?’
‘Laura texted to say they’ve spoken to Ann O’Connor, and now they’ve split up in order to get around the other shops on the route before the end of the afternoon. Neither of them has reported anything yet but I’ve asked her to make sure they request security camera footage as they work through the list, just in case.’
‘Okay, there’s the place Carl made his last drop at.’ Barnes pointed at a newspaper rack and a bucket containing bunches of flowers on the pavement a few metres ahead, a familiar mini supermarket logo emblazoned across a bright-green sign above the door. ‘There’s a parking space along here.’
Moments later, Kay paused on the pavement and shaded her eyes while she looked along the street towards the shop.
She spotted one security camera on the brickwork above the signage and another on the opposite side of the street closer to her, above the doorway to an antiques shop.
Pointing them out as Barnes joined her, she jerked her thumb up at the camera above the antiques shop they passed.
‘Remind me to pop in there afterwards, Ian. With any luck, that camera’s got a view of the pavement outside the convenience shop.’
‘Looks like Carl would have parked on the opposite side of the street to the shop to unload,’ he said as they drew nearer. ‘There isn’t enough room outside the door with all those display racks.’
‘So there’d have been a brief time when someone could’ve slashed those tyres.’ She eyed a fox terrier tied to a lamp post outside and gave it a wide berth. ‘Okay, let’s see what we can find out here.’
Kay stood aside to let an elderly man exit the shop, a newspaper under his arm and a hessian tote bag filled to the brim with fresh vegetables, and by the animated way the dog greeted him, he’d also purchased something from the meat counter advertised on the front door.
She stepped forward before the electronic glass doors could swish closed and spotted two tills to her left that were placed either side of a counter display of cakes and pastries.
A woman hovered at the nearest till, her squat form covered by a branded black polo shirt and matching trousers and offset by a shock of short red hair. Her eyebrow raised as Kay approached.
‘Can I help you?’
‘Detective Inspector Kay Hunter, and my colleague DS Ian Barnes. Could I have your name please?’
‘Alison North – I’m the owner.’
Kay gestured to the shelves surrounding her. ‘This place is bigger than I thought.’
‘We cater for this village and two hamlets, and we look after our customers.’
Kay noted the pride tingeing the woman’s reply. ‘We’re hoping you can help us – you had a delivery made here on Friday afternoon for frozen food. Could you confirm what time the driver was here?’
‘Carl? He turned up at about three-thirty, same as always.’ Alison beamed. ‘He’s one of the more reliable ones.’
‘Where would he take the delivery? Through the front door, and…?’
‘Out through there.’ Alison pointed over the shelves. ‘That’s our cold storage area.’
Kay followed her gaze to an open doorway draped with plastic blinds, next to which stood three floor-to-ceiling refrigerated units with glass doors and an open chiller cabinet.
The shelves were lined with frozen ready meals, bags of vegetables and – in the chiller cabinet – cheeses, soft drinks, and more.
‘Does he only do the one drop per week?’ said Barnes.
‘That’s pretty much all we need.’ Alison tapped the top of the till with her hand. ‘This links to a central stock system so we can see what we need to order, what’s more popular around here – it saves on wastage. Running a business like this, you don’t want to be throwing anything away. Can’t afford to.’
‘Have you had any issues recently? Any problems with your deliveries?’ said Kay.
‘No, none at all.’ Alison’s eyes travelled to a display of free newspapers on the counter, then widened. ‘Oh my God. Was Carl the dead man that was found yesterday?’
‘He was, yes.’ Kay lowered her voice as a woman entered the shop and stared at the two suited detectives at the counter before she scurried away towards the wine selection at the far end. ‘The CCTV camera you have outside – is the footage accessible here, or do we have to contact head office?’
‘Hang on, I’ll get Malcolm to show you.’
With that, Alison walked to the end of the counter and bellowed the man’s name.
Kay turned to see a stocky figure appear from a door at the far end of a shelving unit stocked with pasta sauces and cereal.
‘Yes?’ he said, his brow creasing.
‘Detective Hunter, this is my husband, Malcolm – he’ll be able to show you the footage.’
‘Thanks.’
She introduced herself to the man, having to raise her chin to meet his eyes as an enormous hand clasped hers in greeting, then Barnes’s.
‘Come through to the office,’ he said. ‘What exactly do you need?’
He gestured to a desk beside an open filing cabinet brimming with paperwork, a laptop computer open at an accounting package.
‘Sorry about the mess – it’s our end of year so I’m in the middle of trying to get everything ready for our accountant. Are you okay to stand? I can’t fit any more chairs in here.’
‘We’re fine,’ said Barnes, and pointed at the screen. ‘Does the camera feed record on that?’
‘Yes. Did I hear you say something about Friday?’
‘We’re trying to trace your delivery driver,’ said Kay. ‘We’re investigating his murder.’
Malcolm swallowed. ‘Right. Okay. Hang on.’
Kay hovered at the man’s shoulder while he scrolled through a list of files to the left of the screen.
‘Carl was here about three-thirty on Friday, so would half an hour before that be useful?’ he said eventually.
‘Perfect. Can you speed this up so we can watch it at double speed or something?’
‘Here you go.’
The man offered his chair to Kay, showed her where the “play” button was, and moved to the doorway. ‘I’ll let you have some privacy – just give me a call when you’re done.’
‘Thank you.’
Barnes dropped to a crouch beside her. ‘Right, let’s see what we’ve got here.’
Kay was already staring at the screen, watching the occasional car drive past the front of the shop as the clock ticked away in the bottom right-hand corner of the black and white images.
As the time reached three twenty-five, a boxy truck appeared in the left of the camera frame and eased to a standstill on the opposite pavement.
Its rear end cleared the screen a fraction before the driver switched
on the hazard lights.
‘Here he is,’ she murmured.
Carl Taylor opened the door to the cab and dropped to the floor in a practised jump then sidled down the side of it as another car passed by.
Reaching the tailgate, he pulled open the back door on the left as a lanky youth joined him.
‘That’s Will,’ said Barnes, his voice barely above a murmur.
‘I wish they’d parked farther forward – I can’t see anything beyond the door.’ Kay said, then held her breath.
Seeing the two men laughing and joking together as Will lowered a trolley to the ground before they started loading it with boxes brought the reality of their perilous situation crashing into her mind.
Within hours of the images before her eyes, both men were dying in horrific circumstances.
‘He looks too young to be twenty-odd,’ said Barnes, resting his chin on his arms as he watched.
The two men checked the road for traffic, then crossed to the shop. A second camera placed above the till showed Carl wave to Alison, then point out the direction of the cold room to Will.
‘Keep an eye on the street while I watch them,’ Kay said.
Carl followed his young trainee along the length of a shelving unit stocked with cereal packets and savoury snacks before they disappeared from view.
They returned five minutes later, ambling back through the shop towards the door.
‘Anything?’ Kay said as she turned her attention back to the camera facing the street.
‘Not that time.’ Barnes stood and stretched his legs, his gaze never leaving the screen. ‘Next load’s on its way.’
Kay didn’t bother watching the images from within the shop this time, instead concentrating on the truck parked in the street.
She watched as Carl got into the back of the truck, his arms appearing every few seconds with a new box of supplies that he passed down to Will.
Once the trolley was full, the trainee walked across the road towards the shop with it, Carl following with his arms laden with two more boxes.
‘There – what was that movement by the door?’ Kay reached out and paused the recording, found the button to reverse it and stopped it when she saw a dark shadow flit between the left-hand side of the image and the truck door.
A Darker Place Page 6