A Darker Place

by Rachel Amphlett

  ‘How long have you worked for Alan Trentithe?’ She draped her suit jacket over the back of the plastic chair before crossing her arms over her chest as she glared at the man. ‘Well?’

  He shrugged, a gesture that was accompanied by a surly downturn of his mouth.

  ‘Answer the question, Barry,’ said Kay.

  She eyed the solicitor next to him, recognising him as one of the regular duty solicitors on call for clients who didn’t have their own legal representation.

  Henry Franks wore a bored expression and fiddled with the cap of his fountain pen, the lines streaking across his cheeks and around his eyes showing all of his sixty-four years.

  A weariness emanated from him as if his client’s situation was all too familiar, and she wondered whether his bloodshot eyes were an indication of the hours he was working, or an underlying health issue caused by the stress.

  Franks turned to his client and waved an impatient hand towards him. ‘Mr Clements helps Alan Trentithe from time to time, as and when needed. It isn’t a permanent arrangement.’

  Clements scowled at the words, then lifted his chin. ‘I just do as I’m told, that’s all.’

  ‘Oh, he speaks.’ Kay dropped her arms to the table and took the folder Gavin held out to her. She extracted copies of the photographs captured by the CCTV camera outside the antiques shop and turned each to face the two men. ‘Why did you slash Carl Taylor’s truck tyres ten days ago, Mr Clements?’

  The man sniffed, then wiped his nose with the dirty sleeve of his pale grey sweatshirt. ‘Alan told me to.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Thursday night.’

  ‘Did he tell you why?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you know Carl Taylor?’

  ‘Seen him around once or twice.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Here and there.’

  ‘Did you ever see Carl at Sandling, near the shipping containers?’

  A stony silence met her question, and she took back the photographs while watching the man’s eyes flick towards the open folder in Gavin’s hands.

  ‘Answer the question, Mr Clements. Did you ever see Carl Taylor near the shipping containers?’

  ‘Once, maybe.’

  ‘When was that?’

  ‘I can’t remember.’

  ‘Well, try harder.’

  ‘Could’ve been three weeks ago. Maybe a bit before that.’

  ‘What was he doing there?’

  ‘Delivering food.’

  ‘How often does he do that?’

  ‘He don’t, not usually. That was the first time I’ve seen him. He ain’t been back since.’

  ‘Well, I’m not surprised, Mr Clements. He was found frozen to death in the back of a car last Monday morning.’

  Gavin leaned across and placed a different photograph on the table in front of the man and his solicitor. ‘More to the point, he was found in this car – which used to belong to you.’

  ‘I don’t recognise it.’

  ‘Where were you last Sunday night between the hours of six o’clock and four the next morning?’ said Kay.

  ‘Can’t remember.’

  ‘Perhaps I can remind you.’ She tapped the photograph. ‘You were stealing this vehicle from the woman you sold it to last year. You still had a key, didn’t you? An extra copy, which meant you could use it to transport Carl’s body from the refrigeration truck and leave it at Mike O’Connor’s business. Why?’

  Kay heard the distinct sound of Clements grinding his teeth before he ran a hand over his jaw and a silence descended on the room.

  ‘Mr Clements, we can currently hold you here for questioning for another twenty-one hours,’ she said, and gestured to the photographs. ‘Given the evidence to hand, my DCI will be quite willing to extend that by another twelve if necessary. In the meantime, my team are continuing to tear apart those shipping containers and Alan Trentithe’s offices. All of the cocaine found in the freezers at your place of employment has been seized. I’m sure we’ll find your fingerprints on it too.’

  Gavin lifted the flap of the manila folder, peered at his notes and gave a derisive snort. ‘So far, they reckon they’ve got in excess of four hundred thousand pounds’ worth of the stuff. I can’t imagine your buyers are going to be too happy when it doesn’t turn up.’

  ‘Nothing to do with me,’ Clements said, a snarl turning his lip. ‘It’s Alan’s business. Like I said before – I just do as I’m told.’

  ‘Including murdering two innocent delivery drivers?’ said Gavin.

  ‘I didn’t kill either of them.’

  ‘But you did move Carl’s body and place him in this old car of yours before dumping him outside Mike O’Connor’s place,’ said Kay.

  Clements shot a sideways glance at his solicitor, then turned back to her. ‘Only because Alan told me to.’

  ‘Oh, and you just went along with it, did you? What’s he got on you, Barry? Must be something pretty bad if he’s got you running around disposing of bodies.’

  ‘It wasn’t meant to happen like that. We were unlucky that day, that’s all.’

  Kay’s heart lurched. ‘Which day? The Friday you killed Carl and Will?’

  ‘I didn’t kill them,’ he snapped. ‘No – the day he turned up instead of the usual woman who makes the deliveries.’

  Gavin slid a photograph of Bonnie Hopkins across to the man. ‘Do you mean her?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Barry choked out a bitter laugh. ‘If it’d been her that day doing the delivery, it wouldn’t have been a problem.’

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  ‘It’s not your fault she lied.’

  Kay peered out the windscreen at the detached home set into a secluded corner of the cul-de-sac.

  A warm glow shone through the partly drawn curtains across the downstairs windows, interspersed with the flash of brighter colours from a television screen. Under the streetlight beside the front hedgerow she could see a neatly trimmed lawn surrounded by flowering shrubs in the borders and a window box under the largest of the front windowsills.

  ‘I should’ve known something wasn’t right,’ said Gavin, ‘but she denied any knowledge of Trentithe having a second dark kitchen business. She told us she only ever delivered to the industrial unit.’

  ‘What did her background checks come back with?’

  ‘All clear – nothing to suggest she could be involved with what Trentithe’s up to.’

  Kay bit her lip, then thrust the door open and ripped the keys from the ignition. ‘All right, let’s see what she’s got to say for herself.’

  She hurried towards the front door and rapped her knuckles against the UPVC surface before ringing the bell, determined that the occupants would be left in no doubt that she was in a hurry and wanted immediate answers.

  DCI Sharp had yet to confirm the extension to the period within which she could interview Trentithe and Clements, and she was all too aware of the hours ticking by.

  A man answered the door dressed in a plain black T-shirt and jeans, slightly taller than Kay and wearing a confused expression.

  She flashed her warrant card. ‘Is your wife in, Mr Hopkins?’

  ‘What’s this––’

  ‘This is urgent. May we come in?’

  Hopkins stepped aside, his brow furrowed. ‘It’s quarter past ten, detective. Can’t this wait until––’

  ‘No, it can’t. Where’s your wife, please?’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Bonnie Hopkins appeared at a doorway to Kay’s left, a half-empty glass of red wine in her hand. Her expression changed from one of confusion to fear as she saw Gavin standing in her hallway. ‘Is something the matter?’

  ‘A word, if you wouldn’t mind, Mrs Hopkins,’ said Kay. ‘Now.’

  ‘Mum?’ A young girl with long brown hair wandered down the stairs, ear buds draped around her shoulders, her tone anxious. ‘Why are the police here?’

  ‘It’s nothing, Beth. Back up to bed. You’ll wake your sister, and you’v
e got school in the morning.’

  Bonnie turned back to Kay. ‘Come through here.’

  She put up her hand to stop her husband following, then led them through to the kitchen at the back of the house and closed the door from the hallway. That done, she turned to face Kay.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I want you to tell me about Barry Clements, and the shipping containers you deliver frozen food to near Sandling,’ said Kay. ‘And then, I want you to tell me about the drugs Alan Trentithe is involved with.’

  The woman picked up her glass, drained the last of the wine and then uttered a shuddering sigh. ‘I suppose it was all going to come out sooner or later, especially after Carl and Will were murdered.’

  Kay noticed the woman’s hand trembling as she placed the glass next to the stainless steel sink under the window, and frowned.

  ‘How long have you known?’ she said. ‘Months? Years?’

  ‘About six months.’ Bonnie steadied herself against the worktop and blinked back tears. ‘It’s all my fault they’re dead, isn’t it?’

  Gavin pulled out one of the chairs beside the table in the corner. ‘Why don’t you sit down and tell us from the start?’

  The woman nodded, then sank into the seat and rested her elbow on the table, her eyes downcast.

  ‘I… I saw something there. Must’ve been just after the New Year. It was freezing cold – the track was icy. I was unloading the truck next to the shipping containers. There’s one almost under the motorway bridge – that’s where they keep all the food stock. Usually, there’s someone there to help me – Barry. He stands by the door to the container while I pass the boxes to him. I never usually went inside.’

  She cleared her throat, as if struggling to let the words pass her lips. ‘He wasn’t around when I turned up that day – one of the kitchen staff was having a smoke outside and saw me turn up, so she offered to help. I guess she didn’t know I wasn’t meant to go in the storage container and I didn’t think anything of it. I was cold, and I just wanted to get back in the cab and turn the heater up.’

  ‘What happened?’ said Kay.

  ‘We carried the boxes into the shipping container and she told me to put the two I was carrying into one of the chest freezers near the back.’ Bonnie wiped at tears that were now flowing over her cheeks and sniffed. ‘I opened the wrong one by mistake. I knew what I was looking at as soon as I saw it.’

  ‘What did you see?’

  ‘Drugs. Lots of packets of drugs, like the sort you see on the news when there’s been a big bust and they display it for the cameras.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Nothing, for a moment. I was too shocked. Then the woman hurried over to where I was standing – I don’t know her name – and slammed the lid shut. She was shouting at me that I should’ve listened, that I was stupid and she meant the freezer on the other side. I was backing out of the container when… I don’t know… I just sensed someone standing behind me, and there was Barry. I thought he was going to kill me. The look on his face…’

  Kay caught Gavin’s shocked glance, and gave a slight shake of her head. Now that the woman was talking, she didn’t want to interrupt.

  ‘He walked me back to the truck,’ Bonnie continued. ‘He said two things could happen. Either I could keep quiet about what I’d seen, or he’d make sure I never saw my family again. He said he was just storing the drugs for a friend – a favour – and that they’d be gone within the week.’

  ‘Do you think he was lying, and that Carl saw the drugs when he covered for your shift three weeks ago?’ said Kay.

  ‘Yes. He must’ve done. I don’t know whether he managed to get something to prove what was going on but whatever he did, they must’ve found out about it.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us all this when we spoke to you last week?’ said Gavin.

  ‘I couldn’t.’ Bonnie shook her head and looked away. ‘I hoped you’d find something. And then earlier today, I wanted to help, I really did. But when I got to the police station and you started talking to me, I was too scared. It’s my day off, you see, so I thought if I told you what was going on, I could pick up the kids from school. I could protect them if Barry or Alan tried to do anything. I thought if I – I don’t know – gave you a nudge in the right direction, that all of this would end. After what happened to Carl and Will… I’m out of my depth. I can’t go on like this.’

  The woman’s face crumpled, tears streaming over her cheeks.

  ‘Bonnie, have you received any form of payment or bribery from Alan Trentithe for keeping quiet?’ said Kay.

  ‘No – nothing at all. They knew I couldn’t say anything – like I said, they know I have two girls and if I tried to say something to your lot they said they’d kill them. I was terrified.’ Her eyes moved from Kay to Gavin, then back. ‘You have to believe me. I’ve been so scared, I haven’t even told Mark.’

  ‘What about the moped riders?’ said Gavin. ‘Are they involved?’

  ‘I don’t know. There aren’t that many around during the day when I get there. You’d have to ask one of them.’ Bonnie’s shoulders sagged. ‘Believe me – these days, I do my delivery and I get away from that place as fast as I can.’

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Kay’s thoughts echoed the shocked hiss that escaped from Gavin at the sight of Adrian Whitely.

  The teenager’s eye socket was purple and yellow from an angry welt that bruised all the way over his left cheek and caused his eyelid to droop as he tried to glare at them through a gap in the front door.

  ‘Where’s your dad?’ said Kay, craning to see past the scrawny teenager and along a brightly lit hallway. ‘Not in?’

  ‘Down the pub.’ Adrian scowled. ‘He’ll be back soon, though so…’

  ‘Don’t worry – we’ll make this quick.’ Kay placed her hand against the door so he couldn’t close it. ‘Let’s get inside before the neighbours wonder what’s going on.’

  ‘Okay.’

  The seventeen-year-old scuffed his socks along the carpet as he showed them into a sparsely decorated living room that stank of nicotine.

  Even the ceiling held a yellow tinge to it, and, as Kay cast her gaze around the latest models of a television and matching sound system equipment against one wall, she could see where his father’s priorities lay.

  Adrian slumped into a threadbare armchair that sagged under his weight and jutted out his chin, feigning indifference.

  ‘What d’you want, then?’

  Kay recited the formal caution, reminding Adrian of his rights and frowned. ‘Who hit you?’

  ‘What do you care?’

  ‘Did your dad do that?’

  ‘He were livid after I spoke with you. Told me I was stupid to get involved. Said he won’t pay for a solicitor to help me either, so I don’t know what I’m going to do now.’ Adrian shrugged, turning his head away. ‘All I wanted to do was earn some money so I could get out of here. Away from him.’

  ‘Tell me about Barry Clements and Alan Trentithe,’ said Kay as Gavin reached for his notebook. ‘What’s really going on at that dark kitchen of theirs?’

  ‘I can’t tell you. They’ll kill me if they find out I’ve talked to you as it is.’

  ‘Both of them are currently in custody. I’m investigating their involvement in the murder of two men. What you tell me now could help me put them away for a very long time.’

  She watched as the teenager scowled then dropped his gaze to the ugly carpet, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

  His shoulders heaved as he exhaled, and she held her breath in the hope he wanted to offload everything he must have been bottling up for months.

  She needed his help more than he could ever imagine.

  ‘It started with the catering business about three years ago,’ Adrian said, shuffling forward in his seat and resting his elbows on his knees. ‘I heard from a mate that they needed waiters and stuff to help serve food at events. They provided the uni
forms and everything. All I had to do was turn up, and we was paid in cash. I used to get a lift off of one of the others who worked for them back then.’

  ‘How were the events organised?’ said Kay. ‘Do you know how they found clients?’

  ‘Word of mouth, I reckon. Especially once people knew what was really going on at them.’

  ‘Explain.’

  Adrian lifted his eyes to hers. ‘All them posh people with the big houses around here who can’t be arsed to cook for themselves when they have a party. They get in caterers, right? I reckon Alan saw an opportunity, like. All that money, all them people living it up. I don’t know when it started but by the time I started working for him he was getting regular jobs. Repeat work. Once people knew the catering offered a few… optional extras, it really took off for him.’

  ‘Are you saying he was using the catering business to deal drugs?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Kay blinked. ‘Do you know Mike and Ann O’Connor?’

  ‘Yeah, but I ain’t seen them in over a year or more. I think they sold the place. I worked a couple of catering events they were doing in the village. Ann didn’t want to do all the cooking herself so they contracted out the work to Alan.’ A sly smile crossed his lips. ‘I don’t think they ever worked out why they were so popular, even when they won that award.’

  ‘When did the takeaway business start up?’

  ‘Just after the catering side of things, I think. Alan asked me to switch to that about eighteen months ago. Said he reckoned they were about to lose a big catering contract so he wanted to concentrate on that side of the business. He said it was going to take off and he needed all the help he could get.’

  She sighed, unable to contain her frustration and paced the carpet. ‘Why didn’t you tell us this when you were interviewed about following Helen Taylor?’