‘You’ve seen his car,’ Harry said. ‘And it looks like Kirsty was driving a Porsche.’
‘Not for me though,’ said Jim. ‘I need the hills.’
‘Is your dog alright?’ Harry asked. ‘Won’t have pissed on my car seat, will it?’
‘I’ll go let him out,’ Jim said.
With Jim gone for a moment or two, Harry continued to wait at the bottom of the stairs, as though on some odd vigil. Mr Jackson was unlike anyone he’d ever met, and he’d only been in the presence of the man for about fifteen minutes at the most. Who the hell goes and has a shower after hearing that their wife is dead? And as for that comment about what he was wearing, well, that was just unnecessary, wasn’t it?
Make yourself a coffee, Harry decided, so that’s what he did.
When Mr Jackson presented himself about fifteen minutes later, he was dressed in jeans, a polo shirt, and was wearing a jumper slung over his shoulders. Jim had already come back inside and, to Harry’s relief, shared the news that Fly hadn’t done anything untoward in the car. In fact, he’d been curled up on the driver’s seat, fast asleep.
‘Made ourselves some coffee,’ Harry said, stating the obvious.
Mr Jackson said nothing in reply, poured himself a glass of water, then sat down. ‘I’m . . . I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s just that, well, I’m not very good with bad news. And it’s all rather a terrible shock, isn’t it?’ He sipped from the glass, his hands shaking. ‘She’s dead? You’re sure about that? You’re sure that it’s her? Kirsty, I mean. It’s not someone else?’
Bad news? Harry thought. At what point is the murder of your wife only bad news?
‘I’d like to ask you a few questions if I may,’ Harry said, pulling out his little notebook and a chewed Biro, keen to push on now that Mr Jackson had calmed down. He was also smelling faintly of mint, which although pleasant, didn’t exactly add anything to the proceedings. ‘And do you have someone you can call who can come over at this difficult time?’
Mr Jackson shook his head, then handed over a slip of paper with a telephone number written on it. ‘You said you wanted Kirsty’s parents’ details,’ he said. ‘They’ll be home I’m sure. They live over near Catterick. Unless you want me to tell them? You don’t, though, do you? I mean, I can, but I . . . well, I’m not sure I—’
Harry took the paper. ‘I’ll have someone sent out to visit them,’ he said, handing the note to Jim. ‘We could do with Gordy here for this,’ he said. ‘Can you give Matt a call?’
Jim left the kitchen and headed outside to make the call.
There was no response from Mr Jackson. Instead, he just sat there, staring into the middle distance.
‘So, Mr Jackson,’ Harry said.
‘Daryl,’ Mr Jackson replied. ‘Please, call me Daryl.’
‘Okay, thank you, Daryl. Now, I do have to ask you this, I’m afraid, but can you tell me where you were last night?’
Horrified shock twisted the man’s face. ‘What, you don’t think I did it, do you? I mean, you can’t! Why would I? You’re insane!’
‘We need to ask the question,’ Harry explained, as carefully and calmly as he could. ‘It’s important, I’m sure you can understand that.’
‘Yes, but I’m not a suspect, surely! I’m her husband!’
‘Can you answer the question, please?’
‘I was here, wasn’t I?’ Daryl said, raising his hands in a sweep around him. ‘I mean, you saw who I was with, didn’t you?’
Yes, I did, Harry thought, but still . . .
‘Would you be able to give me her details?’
‘Oh, so you don’t believe me! Good God, what is wrong with you police nowadays?’
‘It’s all procedure,’ Harry said. ‘If I can corroborate your whereabouts then that’s better for everyone I think, as I’m sure you can understand.’
‘Well, I’ll have to see if I can find them,’ Daryl said. ‘We didn’t exactly spend our time exchanging personal details and information.’
‘But you must have her phone number,’ Harry said. ‘Know where she lives?’
Daryl shrugged. ‘Can’t say that I do. We met in a bar, you see. One thing led to another. She came back here.’
Harry waited, expecting Daryl to say more, but he didn’t.
Jim came back into the kitchen.
‘Sorted?’ Harry asked.
Jim nodded, although there was something hidden behind it that Harry wasn’t quite sure about. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Yes, totally,’ Jim said. ‘All good.’
And that was enough to tell Harry that, once they were over here, he would be pressing Jim on exactly what it was that he wasn’t telling him. For now, though, he wanted to deal with Daryl. ‘That taxi, earlier, Jim,’ he asked. ‘Did you catch the name of the company?’
Jim frowned, then said, ‘Sandy’s Taxis, I think.’
‘Good. Give them a call, see if you can find out any details about the woman we saw here earlier.’
‘What’s her name?’
Harry looked over at Daryl, eyebrow raised.
‘Claire, I think,’ Daryl said.
‘You think?’ Harry said, with the emphasis clearly on you have to be kidding me. ‘Surname?’
‘No idea.’
Jim said, ‘I’ll see what I can find out,’ and turned once again to head back outside to make a call.
Harry focused once again on Daryl. ‘Can you tell me the last time you saw your wife?’
‘About two weeks ago,’ Daryl explained. ‘She told me she wanted a divorce and she told me to leave. I refused, so she left instead. No idea where she’s been. Friends I suppose, or a hotel. I called her parents but they said they hadn’t seen her.’
‘Did you know she was going walking and camping?’
Daryl let out a laugh, only it sounded like the short, sharp bark of a small, annoying dog. ‘Camping? Kirsty? Are you kidding? So that’s what she was doing?’
‘So, you didn’t know?’
‘Know what?’
‘Where she was going, what she was doing,’ Harry said.
Daryl shook his head. ‘No. And why should I? I’ve heard nothing from her since she left. Well, unless you class a letter from her solicitor that is. Camping, though? Really?’
Harry asked, ‘Can you think of any reason as to why someone would want to harm her at all? Anyone she’s had an argument with, someone at work perhaps?’
‘She’s an accountant,’ Daryl said. ‘Unless someone got very angry with her about some spreadsheets or tax or profit and loss, then I doubt it.’
Harry noticed that the man was still talking about his wife as though she was alive. ‘You don’t know then, for sure?’
‘We didn’t talk much about work,’ Daryl said.
‘Just out of interest,’ Harry asked, ‘what is it that you do yourself?’
Daryl seemed to puff out his chest a little then.
‘I’m a stockbroker. Work for myself. Do rather well out of it, too, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.’
Harry watched as Daryl rolled his eyes around the kitchen as though inviting Harry to gasp in wonder at the clearly very expensive cabinets and worktops. He didn’t.
‘So you had no idea that your wife was going away?’
‘No,’ Daryl said. ‘As I’ve explained, I’ve not seen her since she walked out two weeks ago. And I can’t say that I care.’
Harry was having a problem dealing with someone showing so little remorse for his dead wife and was glad when Jim walked back in. ‘Any luck?’
Jim shook his head. ‘No name. Paid in cash.’
‘What about where she was dropped off?’
‘Middle of town,’ Jim said.
‘Yes, that’s where she’ll have left her car, I should think,’ Daryl offered.
Harry checked over his scant notes then rose to his feet. ‘Mr Jackson, we really are very sorry for your loss. And I can assure you that we will do everything in our power to find who was responsi
ble.’ He was about to conclude the little chat when he remembered the strange little white balls found at the scene. He pulled out the bag. ‘Do you have any idea what these are?’
Daryl leaned in close and stared at the bag. ‘Little white balls,’ he said.
‘Do you have any idea what they could be from, or used for?’
Daryl shook his head. ‘Haven’t the foggiest,’ he said.
Harry slipped the bag back into his pocket. ‘Our family liaison officer is currently on leave, but we’ll have someone contact you later today.’
Daryl stood up and led Harry and Jim out into the hallway. ‘Yes, well, it is terrible news. Awful. But I’ll be fine, I’m sure.’
‘Regardless,’ Harry said, ‘someone will contact you and a follow-up visit will be arranged, and further support provided.’
‘There really is no need.’
‘You may think that now,’ Harry said, ‘but trust me on this, okay? You’ll need the support, so take it.’
Daryl said nothing more, just smiled an emotionless smile, led Harry and Jim to the front door, then waited for them to leave.
At that moment, Harry had quite a lot he wanted to say to Mr Daryl Jackson. His callous attitude, his bizarre behaviour, all of it had served only to rankle and rattle Harry to the point where, right now, what he really wanted to do was grab the man by the scruff of the neck and yell at him. But as he stared at him, standing there in his preppy clothes, smelling of mint, his chiselled face showing about as much emotion as a barrel of dead fish, his too-obvious toned pecs, he found his anger turn to pity. This was a man who was already running around bars seeking solace between the legs of other women, someone who was quite astonishingly keen to have his kitchen noticed, a man who viewed the death of his supposed life partner as nothing more than bad news. It really did take all sorts to make up the world, Harry thought. But why the hell that had to include men like Daryl, he hadn’t the faintest idea.
Outside the house, Harry remembered something and turned back to Daryl as he was closing the door. ‘One more thing . . .’
‘What?’
‘Does the name Stacy mean anything to you?’
‘Stacy?’ Daryl said, repeating the word and chewing on it like gristle. ‘Not in the slightest. Why?’
‘Nothing to worry about,’ Harry said. ‘Thanks for you t—’
The sound of the door being slammed cut Harry off. He breathed deep the midday air. ‘Well, that was interesting,’ he said, as he made to follow Jim over to the RAV4.
‘Do you think he understood what we were telling him?’ Jim asked.
‘Haven’t the faintest idea,’ Harry said, opening the car door to be assaulted by Fly’s enormously oversized paws and very slobbery tongue.
Inside the car, Jim now sitting next to him, Harry remembered the PCSO’s strangeness earlier. ‘So Matt’s heading out to see the parents, is he?’ Harry asked.
As he was clipping in his seatbelt, Jim paused just long enough to confirm for Harry that something was amiss.
‘What is it?’ Harry asked. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’
‘I didn’t speak to Matt,’ Jim said.
‘No? Then who?’
‘It was Haig,’ Jim said. ‘He’s gone to see the parents.’
It was the best news Harry had heard all day, and as he reversed out of Mr Jackson’s drive, he was very aware of the smile on his face at the thought of Haig having to do something other than complain.
Chapter Fifteen
A call came through on Jim’s phone and he answered it on speakerphone.
‘How you doing, Matt?’ Jim asked. ‘Found anything?’
‘You could say that, yes,’ Matt replied. ‘Where are you?’
Jim checked his watch. ‘Left the house about fifteen minutes ago. Bit of an odd one too, the husband.’
‘So you’re not there now, then?’
‘No,’ Jim said. ‘Why?’
‘Well, I think you need to turn around sharpish and get back there.’
Harry shoved himself into the conversation. ‘What’s up? Why do we need to go back?’
‘We found the car,’ Matt explained. ‘Kirsty’s Porsche. It’s parked behind the Lodge, up in Keld.’
‘Where the Corpse Road starts,’ Jim said.
‘Exactly,’ Matt replied. ‘Kirsty was here yesterday. Left it overnight. Had a room booked for this evening as well.’
‘What are you getting at?’ Harry asked, pressing for Matt to get to the point.
‘Jen found a note on the car window,’ Matt said. ‘Jammed under the windscreen wiper.’
‘A note?’ Jim said. ‘What about?’
‘It’s not just what it’s about,’ Matt said. ‘It’s about who we think it’s from.’ There was the briefest of pauses, and then he asked, ‘Did he say where he was last night?’
‘Didn’t really need to,’ Jim said. ‘We turned up as his hot date from the night before was leaving.’
Harry eased off the accelerator, instinct telling him what was coming and what he was going to have to do.
‘He was there,’ Matt said. ‘Her husband. He knew where she was.’
Harry glanced ahead, saw a road on the left to turn around in, and swung the RAV around, wishing he was at the very least in a patrol car with flashing lights. And that was something he would absolutely be bringing up with Detective Superintendent Haig when he saw him next.
‘You sure it was him?’ Harry asked, checking both ways, before pulling out and heading back the way they had just come.
‘I’ll read you the note,’ Matt said. ‘And I apologise in advance for my language.’
The briefest of pauses, Harry accelerating hard through third and up into fourth.
‘I’m watching you, bitch. I’ll never let you leave me. Ever.’
‘Bloody hell.’ Jim sighed, rubbing his forehead in frustration. ‘That lying—’
His voice dropped off.
‘Bastard?’ Harry finished for him. ‘It’s okay to swear in front of me, you know that, right? Matt?’
‘Yes, boss?’
‘What time was he there?’
‘Trying to find that out now,’ Matt replied. ‘Just having a spin through some security camera footage. But that’s not all, I’m afraid. We’ve found something else.’
Harry’s mind was racing ahead now, readying himself for whatever Daryl Sodding Jackson and his posh kitchen were going to throw at them next to explain exactly why he’d lied to them so easily and freely. ‘What’s not all?’ he asked. ‘You’ve got something else? What is it? What have you found?’
‘I had a quick look around the car,’ Matt said. ‘We’ve called forensics, obviously, and they’re on their way to collect it, and yes we’ve left it the hell alone, but I spotted something underneath, just under where the passenger sits. Sending you a photo through now.’
A ping sounded from Jim’s phone a couple of seconds later and he opened the file to show to Harry. On the screen, Harry could see a small, black box, about the size of a cigarette packet, stuck to the underside of Kirsty’s car.
‘Shitting hell!’ Harry exclaimed, teeth clenched, the words hissing out as angry as a kicked viper.
‘What is it?’ Jim asked, looking at the photo himself.
‘I think it’s a tracking device,’ Matt said.
‘No way!’ Jim gasped. ‘But that’s like spy shit, isn’t it?’
‘No, it isn’t,’ Harry said. ‘You can pick them up online for bugger all.’
‘Why?’
‘People use them as a security device, to keep a track of the kids, anything really. I think some insurance firms even give lower premiums if you have one. Spy more, pay less, that kind of thing.’
‘Yeah, well, I’m guessing Kirsty had no idea it was there,’ Matt said. ‘You’d have to be looking for it to find it, if you know what I mean.’
They were less than a mile away now from Daryl. But that mile just couldn’t zip by quick enough.
&nb
sp; ‘We’re nearly back at the house,’ Harry said. ‘What about you and Jen?’
‘We were just about to head over to speak with Adam’s brother,’ Matt said. ‘Just to check up on what he saw up on the moors, the lights and whatnot. Just wanted to get this development to you first.’
‘Right,’ Harry said. ‘Good job. Well, you crack on with that, see what Gary has to say. But get a message through to Jadyn to contact Haig and tell him what we’re up to.’
‘Will do, boss.’
Harry told Jim to hang up. ‘We’re nearly there,’ he said, dropping speed now as they passed into a residential zone. ‘We’ve no idea how he’s going to react when he sees us again. And we’ve no idea either as to why he lied to us about not knowing where Kirsty was. But we’re going to find out.’
‘Are we arresting him?’ Jim asked.
Harry shook his head. ‘We’ve nothing like enough to be doing that, no. But we need to have him come with us for questioning. He’s lied, and that’s cause for serious concern. We can scare him with the suggestion that we have every right to charge him with wasting police time.’
‘Or perverting the course of justice,’ Jim added.
‘Exactly. And that should hopefully be more than enough to have him comply and to come along quietly. But if he doesn’t, well, we’ll just have to deal with that if it happens.’
‘Got you,’ Jim said. ‘The house is just ahead.’
Harry swung into the drive and swore loudly and expressively, hammering a clenched fist against the steering wheel.
‘Car’s gone,’ Jim said.
‘Too bloody right it’s gone,’ Harry snarled. ‘I’m guessing he buggered off as soon as we left.’
‘Where to, though?’ Jim asked. ‘And why? I mean, if he’s not guilty, then this isn’t exactly helping, is it?’
‘No, it’s not,’ Harry said. ‘Us turning up to question him has set him running. If he’s not guilty, then he’s panicking because he thinks we reckon him to be our prime suspect. Fair enough really, all things considered.’
‘And if he is guilty?’
‘Then he probably wasn’t expecting to be dealing with the police so soon after the fact. So he’s legged it.’
Corpse Road Page 10