Blood Lost

by Anna-Marie Morgan

  “Have you met Will?”

  “I have met him, but only in passing. Seen him in town with his mum.”

  “I’ve spoken to him a little.” John offered. “I talked to them both in the bank, the other week. She looked okay, but Will appeared edgy, like either it bored him or there was somewhere else he wanted to be.”

  Yvonne made a note. “You could say that about most teenagers waiting in the bank with their parents.”

  “Well, yes, I suppose you could.”

  “What about clients?”

  “Clients?”

  “Did she get on well with those?”

  “Kate was great with them. We had several who would ask for her and no-one else. She was excellent at persuading people that a property was in their best interests. Her sales success rate was one of the highest in the area and the property wheelers and dealers around here appreciated that.”

  “Did she express concern regarding any of the clients’ behaviour towards her?”

  “She didn't mention it.”

  “No-one behaving inappropriately?”

  "There was something a while back. I don't know if it's relevant."

  “Go on.”

  “It was Valentine’s Day and I remember she received several cards and two bunches of flowers. She seemed out of sorts about it. She threw the lot in the bin.”

  “I think one bouquet was of white lilies?” John contributed.

  “That’s right, it was,” Griff agreed. “She seemed quite put out by that. She said they were the kinds of flowers taken to a funeral.”

  Yvonne shifted her weight in her chair, her hip more uncomfortable with every minute. “Do you know who sent them?”

  Griff shook his head.

  John got up from his seat, crossing the room. He paused by the door. “I’ve got a feeling she kept the cards. She threw the flowers in the bin, but I’m sure I saw her place the cards in her drawer. I’ll go look.”

  “Wait.” Yvonne used her cane to rise from her chair, arching her back to relieve the ache. “I’ll come with you, if that’s all right.”

  John shrugged. “Sure.”

  Kate hadn't locked her desk drawer. He eased it open to search inside.

  After several seconds, he pulled three red envelopes out in triumph. “There you go.”

  Yvonne extricated latex gloves from her pocket. “May I?”

  John handed them to her.

  “I will need to hang on to these, I hope that’s okay?”

  Griff and John nodded.

  The DI opened the envelopes with care, examining the cards front and back. Whoever wrote them, did so by hand, the writing uneven. Scrawled in a hurry as though the sender had bought and written them on the nearest convenient surface before putting them through the door of the Carter and Sons.

  “You didn’t see who left these?” She placed the cards back in their envelopes and placed all into an evidence bag.

  Griff shook his head. “Whoever it was, posted them when while we were closed either that morning or the evening before.”

  “And she didn’t know who sent them?”

  “She said she didn’t know who they were from, or why they had sent them to her.”

  “Did you have any suspicions?”

  “None, at all.”

  “And neither of you two sent them?” She looked from one to the other.

  “No.” Griff was emphatic.

  “Do you keep records of your clients?”

  “We do. We have them going back as far as six years.”

  “Would you be able to give us records with the names and properties in Kate's care, over the last twelve months?”

  Griff pursed his lips. “We can do that. It could take a while though, at least a day or two.”

  "That's fine. As soon as you can.” Yvonne positioned her cane to help her rise from the chair. "Thank you for your time, I appreciate it. I’ll send officers to collect the records from you, once you have them."

  Griff saw her to the door. “You’re welcome, Inspector. We hope you find Kate and her family safe and well.”

  ❖

  Yvonne was once again outside the semi-detached home of Max Harries’ aunt.

  Having escorted the DI up the treacherous steps, Dewi agreed to wait in the car. “Call me when you’ve finished, okay? Please don’t try getting back down by yourself.”

  “I will, I promise,” she answered, holding a hand up, her mind preoccupied by the questions she wanted to ask Max Harries.

  His broad frame filled the doorway as he stood there in his socks.

  Yvonne leaned on her cane, removing her shoes in the petite hallway.

  “We can go into the living room,” he stated, taking her through an open-plan kitchen and seating area. He wore shorts and a long-sleeved Harlequins rugby shirt.

  The warmth seeped into her back, relieving the tension in her muscles.

  “I’ve just put the kettle on. Would you like tea or coffee?” Max took two mugs from an overhead cupboard above the hob.

  “That’s kind of you. A cup of tea would be most welcome, thank you.”

  “Tea, it is.” He whistled as he placed two teabags into a small teapot and poured hot water onto them.

  The DI thought the whistling odd, when his family were missing, and made a mental note. “Do you support them?” She asked, referring to his shirt.

  “Sorry?”

  “Bath Harlequins.”

  “Oh, yes, I do. How did you-”

  “My husband took me to watch a game in Oxford. Told me Harlequins were the team to beat. I remember being struck by their shirts. They reminded me of Battenberg cake That was quite a few years ago.”

  Max laughed. “Rugby players reminding you of cake? I’ve never heard of that.” He grinned at her. “Well, so long as they were memorable. I get to see them a lot. I watch them at their home ground in Bath. They’re a great team.” Max returned to whistling.

  By the time Yvonne had settled herself onto the sofa, the tea was ready. “I’m here to talk to you about your mum.” Yvonne accepted a hot mug from him.

  “Mum? Have you found her?” Max stopped in his tracks. His gaze intense. Eyes wide.

  “No, I’m sorry, we haven't. Not, yet. I came to ask you if you knew of any admirers, or unwanted attention, she’d had from anyone, recently? Anything she’d felt uncomfortable with?”

  Max screwed his face up in thought. “Attention? Let me think. I don’t remember her mentioning anything.”

  “What about Valentine’s day, last February? Did she mention having received cards and flowers at her work? Ones, she’d subsequently thrown in the bin?”

  Max shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, Inspector. She mentioned nothing to us. Were they from her colleagues?”

  “They say, no.”

  “I didn’t even know she’d received any.”

  “And she didn’t seem concerned that anyone was paying her unwanted attention?”

  “Not that I’m aware of, but remember I live away. There could have been someone.” Max shrugged. “My mother is soft-voiced, feminine and always impeccably dressed. My father told me he has had to fend off a lot of admirers over the years.”

  “But you’re definitely not aware of anyone recent.”

  “No, no-one. Have you located my dad’s pickup, yet?”

  Yvonne shook her head. “We’ve got all units keeping an eye out for it. There’s also a nationwide alert for it. The ports and airports are keeping an eye out. No word, so far. As soon as we get anything, we'll be in touch.”

  “I’m getting more and more worried by the day…”

  “I know. We’ll do everything we can to find them, Max. Stay strong for them.”

  “I’m trying to stay positive. Sometimes, I’m convinced they’re fine. Others…”

  The DI nodded. “Well, I’d better get back to it. I’ll keep you informed.”

  10

  Cuckoos

  Ash nudged Will in the back with his elbow. �
�Go on then. Do it now.”

  Will hesitated, hands in his pockets, the muscles taut in his pale face. “I can’t. He’s my friend, Ash.”

  “You’re not friends. You see him when you're at the surgery or Bite Size. Knock the door.”

  Will didn’t move.

  “Look, if we don’t set this up, they’ll kill me. You know they will. Loads of people have had bones broken or disappeared. They won’t forget I lost them two hundred quids worth of crack that’s for sure.”

  “I’m not a dealer.” Will hissed at Ash.

  “What do you mean, you’re not a dealer? You don't have to deal. That's their job. They need you to persuade him. Work on him. Get him to let them stay for a few days. Tell them Scarface is a friend, right?”

  “He’s not my friend. I don’t even like him.”

  “They’ll kill me. Will…”

  "All right, All right." He held his hands up. "I’ll do it, but I don’t like it."

  Will gave the door a few raps.

  “Harder.” Ash instructed, when there was no reply.

  Will banged the door.

  A sleepy-looking youth in thick-lensed, round-rimmed glasses opened the door. “Will? What do you want?”

  “Pete, can we come in, bud?”

  Peter Simms looked from Will to Ash and back again, worry lines appearing on his forehead. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing’s up. We only want to talk. Can we come in? It’s freezing out here.”

  “I guess.” Pete narrowed his eyes, stepping back into his hallway, almost tripping over a pile of magazines.

  They followed Peter through his flat. Dirty dishes, some with moldy scraps still on them, lay scattered about, along with emptied cans of cola and lager. An over-flowing astray sat in the middle of a scratched and stained coffee table. Everywhere Will looked, there was stuff. He wondered how anyone could live like that. It reminded him how lucky he was that he had a mum and dad at home. Pete lived alone in this squalid flat.

  A lumped formed in Will’s throat and he turned to grab Ash’s arm. “We should go,” he said in hushed tones.

  “No way.” Ash scowled at him. “We’re here, now.”

  “Do you want a drink? I've got lager.” Pete shifted his weight between his feet, seeming unsure of what to do with his hands.

  Will shook his head. “How you doing, Pete? We came to see if you needed help with anything.”

  Ash nudged Will in the back.

  Pete looked around him. “Nah. It’s all good, mate.” He stared at them, eyes wide, waiting for them to say something.

  “Truth is, Pete, we've got a friend who needs somewhere to stay for a few nights. Could you give them somewhere to sleep for a day or two? That's all it would be.”

  “What? No. I’ve only got one room.” Pete moved away.

  “He doesn’t need a room, mate. He’ll be okay with the sofa and a blanket.”

  Pete scratched his head. “I don’t know.”

  Will shifted the weight between his feet. “He said he could give you some gear.”

  “Gear? I started on methadone. I’m trying to get clean. Annie from Bite Size is helping me. I haven’t used in three weeks.”

  “What about weed? You still smoking?”

  Pete hesitated, rubbing the side of his nose. “Yeah, I’m doing that. I don’t think I could stop using if I didn’t smoke.”

  “Well, he can give you weed. Lots of it.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Well, it’s the least he can do for you putting him up.”

  “What’s his name, then?”

  “Scar-”

  Ash nudged Will again. “Fred. His name’s Fred.”

  “Oh, okay, well Fred can stay for a few nights and then he has to go, yeah? I don’t want trouble with the council. They've given me one last chance with them as it is. I got massive arrears, mate.”

  Ash nodded. “He can help you out with your debts.”

  “Really?” Pete gaped at him.

  “He helps people that help him. Doesn't he?” Ash turned to Will.

  Will stared at his shoes.

  11

  Brotherly love

  “Thank you for agreeing to see us, Mr Harries. Please come through. We can talk in here.” Yvonne led Geoff Harries into a small room, off CID.

  “Is this about my brother, Michael?”

  “It is.” Yvonne pulled out a seat for him.

  Geoff settled his tall frame into the soft-seated chair, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, after taking off his jacket. “Thank you.” He eyed her as he waited for her to say more.

  “As you know, Geoff, your brother and his family disappeared from their family home ten days ago. As it stands, we still do not know why they've gone missing or where they might be. We’re doing our best to understand the family dynamics, in the hope it will shed light on what has happened.”

  “Makes sense.” He nodded. “If I can help you, I will. I guess I know my brother better than most.”

  “Thank you, Geoff.” Yvonne poured two plastic cups of water, from the jug on the table. She passed one to him.

  “Thanks.”

  “Are you and your brother close?”

  “Depends what you mean by close. We get on well if that’s what you mean. I live in Cardiff, so we don’t live near to each other.”

  “How often do you visit him?”

  Geoff pursed his lips. “Oh, I guess, maybe twice or three times a year. Something like that.”

  “Did Michael want to get away somewhere? Were problems getting out of hand?”

  Geoff shook his head. “No, Inspector.”

  “Was he worried about anyone? Scared of anyone?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “Do you think he would tell you if he was?” Yvonne took a sip of her water.

  Geoff tilted his head to one side. “Yes. If something worried him, he probably would call me. We support each other. He knows that. He is my big brother, and he always looked out for me, especially when we were younger. But, now? We look out for each other. I am there for him. He is there for me.”

  “And you don’t remember him discussing serious concerns with you?”

  “Although we are there for each other, Michael’s an independent guy. Likes standing on his own two feet unless he feels over his head. He has plenty of confidence. Him and his family going missing?” Geoff put his hands together in front of him, as though about to pray. “Now… that’s just plain odd. Something’s wrong, This isn't right. Michael wouldn't just disappear. He faces his troubles head-on. This just isn’t like him. Something’s happened to them, I'm sure it has.”

  Yvonne could the meniscus of tears in Geoff’s eyes. “Who does Michael spend time with? Has he friends? Hobbies?”

  “He plays golf sometimes on a Sunday at the St. Giles Golf Club. Beyond that, he doesn't socialise much. He lives for his family and his business. He’s a family man.”

  “How about his sons? What’s his relationship like with them?”

  “Good, I would say. Max is more a mummy’s boy, but gets on okay with his dad. They play golf together when Max is home.”

  “What about Will?”

  “Will’s a good kid. He’s had his issues. He’s driven his parents around the twist, once or twice. But, at heart, he’s a good lad.”

  “Were you aware of his mental health issues?”

  “To an extent. I've never pried, though. Mental health can be a sensitive issue. That, and the fact he has dabbled with drugs makes talking about it difficult. Michael told me Will was doing better. That he’d been complying with everything asked of him by the different agencies and making progress. If my brother felt stressed about his son, he would most likely tell me.”

  “Does your brother have a will, Geoff?”

  “A will? Gosh, I don’t know. Mm, would make sense for him to keep one. What with the business, his house and land, and all.”

  “He didn’t mention one, then?”

 
; “Do you think someone may have hurt the family over an inheritance? You surely don’t think Max would?”

  “It’s one of a range of potential motives we should to explore.”

  Geoff shook his head. “No. He didn’t tell me he had one, Inspector. We've never talked about death and a will isn't something I would think of, as I don’t keep one, myself.”

  “You're not alone. Many people refuse to think about death. It’s not a comfortable topic for anyone.”

  “I suppose I should think about getting my own will made. I’m estranged from my wife. She and my son, Andrew, live on Anglesey. My son comes to stay with me, I should make sure I've made proper provision for him, for when I'm gone.”

  “Do you run a business?”

  Geoff laughed. “No, it’s not for me. I couldn’t handle the stress like Michael can. No, I work as a carpet-fitter and am perfectly happy taking home my pay packet at the end of the month, not having to worry about work after I clock off at night.”

  Yvonne smiled. “I can see the advantages of that. Is there anything else you remember that might aid our search for your brother's family, Geoff? Anything at all?”

  He shook his head.

  “That will be it, for now. We’ll be in touch if we hear anything.”

  Geoff made his way to the door.

  “Oh, before you go. You haven’t seen Michael’s pickup anywhere?”

  “No, Inspector.”

  “Can you keep an eye out for us? If we find the pickup, chances are, we’ll find your brother and his family.”

  Geoff nodded. “If I see it, I’ll call you.”

  ❖

  As promised, Griff Carter and John Stokes supplied their client records for the preceding year, including Valentine’s Day.

  Yvonne tapped her hand on the files. “Callum, Dai, I’d like you guys to go through these and cross-reference names with the local sex-offenders register and the pre-cons of those convicted for stalking offences, particularly offences involving violence. Someone was sending Kate Harries unwanted love notes, and I’d like the identity of that person.”