Scared to Death (A Detective Kay Hunter novel)

by Rachel Amphlett

  Phillips closed it, blocking out some of the noise, and gestured to a seat placed against the wall.

  Kay resisted the urge to dust it off with her hand before sitting, and placed her bag on the floor before removing her notebook.

  Phillips sank into a chair next to a small table that seemed to serve as a desk, picnic table, and all-round storage dump. ‘What’s this about?’

  ‘Guy Nelson,’ she said.

  Phillips snorted. ‘Haven’t seen him in over a week.’

  ‘When was the last time you did see him?’

  ‘Friday before last. Pay day. He said he wanted a few days off, which I agreed to. He never came back.’

  He shrugged. ‘The business only employs casual labour,’ he elaborated. ‘It keeps the overheads down. Some people are more reliable than others.’ He nodded towards the two men in the workshop. ‘Those two have been with me for ages – worked for my dad before that. Guy Nelson was only here three months.’

  ‘He was found hanging from a tree in Mote Park this morning.’

  Phillips’ jaw dropped open. ‘That was him? I heard on the news a body was found.’

  ‘We’re in the middle of a murder investigation. We haven’t released the full details to the press yet.’ She held his gaze. ‘And I’d appreciate it if this conversation remained confidential at the present time.’

  ‘Of course, of course.’ Phillips sat back in his chair, a stunned expression on his face. ‘Well. I never took him for being the suicidal type.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘Jeez.’

  Kay gestured to the vehicles outside the double doors. ‘You have a lot of courier vans here.’

  ‘Dad won the contract before he got too sick to work.’

  Kay peered through the window between the office and the workshop, and then ran her eyes over the sports car that was being lowered to the floor on one of the hydraulic platforms.

  ‘Some of the cars you get in here must be worth quite a bit. What do you do to ensure no one can get to them?’

  Phillips pointed to a safe next to the office door. ‘All the keys are in there, apart from the ones we’re working on. At night, if we’re halfway through a job, we’ll lower the jacks, lock the vehicle, and put the keys in here until the next morning.’

  ‘Who has access to the safe?’

  ‘All of us. There’s no cash in there,’ he added. ‘It’s a deterrent in case we’re broken into.’ He pointed to a laptop on the desk. ‘We’ve got cameras on the outside of the building, too. One over the front door, one over the fire exit at the back – that one also covers the window at the back of the shed.’

  ‘Do you mind if I have a look at Nelson’s personnel file?’

  ‘I suppose it wouldn’t be a problem.’

  He heaved himself out of the chair with a grunt, and moved towards a two-drawer filing cabinet in the corner of the room, returning with a thin plastic folder.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, and began to flick through it. Her fingers ran over the usual paperwork – copy payslips, tax forms, terms of employment. She paused at the page that listed Guy Nelson’s contact details. ‘No emergency contact provided?’

  ‘No. Said both his parents had died. Has a sister in New Zealand, I think.’

  Kay nodded, and made a mental note to find out what arrangements had been made by the pathologist for formal identification. Nothing had crossed her desk yet, so she wondered if the sister had been contacted already.

  She closed the file, and handed it back. ‘What was he like as an employee?’

  Phillips shrugged. ‘All right, I suppose. Turned up on time. Did the work. Left.’

  She gestured to the two men in the workshop. ‘Did you socialise much with him?’

  ‘Not really. We go to the pub when we close up here on a Friday sometimes.’ He frowned. ‘Actually, yeah. Last time was about two months ago. Some of the blokes from the courier company organised a barbeque and cricket match. We all went to that.’

  Kay jotted down the details. ‘Whereabouts?’

  ‘The main courier depot.’

  ‘I know it. Do you have details of any friends of his?’

  He shook his head, and tapped the personnel folder on his knee. ‘He never mentioned anyone. I think he preferred to stay at home and play console games. Seems to be all he ever talked about during his breaks here.’

  Kay snapped her notebook shut. ‘Okay, I think that’s all the questions I have for now,’ she said, and handed over a business card. ‘If you think of anything else though, feel free to contact me.’

  ‘Will do.’ He rose, and opened the door for her. ‘I’ll see you out.’

  Kay watched where her feet fell as she walked across the workshop floor.

  Piles of tyres were stacked against the front inside wall of the building, while boxes of parts and tools filled a steel shelving unit off to one side.

  Phillips held up his hand and stopped as a whirring noise began. She paused next to him, and drummed her fingers on the strap of her bag as they waited while the nearest van was lowered to the concrete floor. The machinery stopped, and they carried on.

  ‘Thanks again for your time,’ she said, and shook Phillips’ hand before returning to her car, her mind racing.

  What sort of game enthusiast wouldn’t have a console or computer at home?

  TWENTY-THREE

  Kay put her mobile phone away as the front door opened, and nodded to Hazel as she stood to one side.

  ‘How’s things?’ she murmured.

  Hazel shrugged. ‘A bit tense between her and her sister,’ she said, in a low voice. ‘I think she’d be happier if her sister went home, to be honest.’

  Kay bit back a response. If her sister was anywhere near her house, she’d be packing up and moving to a hotel. Most likely one in a different country, too.

  Instead, she rummaged in her bag and pulled out her notebook. ‘Any new thoughts on the weeks leading up to the kidnapping?’

  ‘No. She’s angry, though. I think that’s helping her through her grief. She’s determined to find the bastard who did this.’ Hazel checked over her shoulder to make sure the doors to the living room and kitchen were closed. ‘She insisted on watching the press conference, even though it was incredibly upsetting for her. Now she wants to know when we’re going to arrest someone.’

  Kay nodded. Yvonne’s reaction was natural, and very common among families of victims. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Living room. I let her know you were on your way. She suggested to Dawn that she pick up some things from the supermarket about five minutes ago. Dawn wasn’t happy about it, but she went.’

  They shared a knowing smile, and then Kay followed Hazel along the hallway. She knocked on the door, and then led the way into the living room. ‘Go on in,’ she said. ‘I’ll get some tea.’

  ‘Have you caught him?’

  Yvonne rose from the settee, her eyes hopeful.

  ‘Why don’t you sit down,’ said Kay, keeping her voice even, ‘and I’ll walk you through where we’re up to?’

  The other woman sank back into the plush upholstery, and sighed. ‘You’ve got nothing,’ she said. ‘Have you?’

  Kay didn’t answer straight away. Instead, she placed her bag on the floor, shrugged off her jacket, laid it on the arm of the matching chair, and sat. She opened her notebook.

  ‘When you received the phone calls from Melanie’s kidnapper, Yvonne, did he ever indicate to you that he was working alone, or with others?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Please, answer the question.’

  Yvonne frowned, and bit her lip. ‘I can’t remember. Tony was the one who spoke to him, you see.’

  ‘Did Tony talk to the same person every time?’

  ‘I think so, yes.’

  ‘When you went to the place where Melanie was being held, did you see anyone else?’

  Yvonne shook her head.

  ‘Okay, going back to the phone calls you received, did you ever hear the caller’s voice?’

>   ‘No.’ Yvonne sat back, and held up her finger. ‘Wait. Yes. Just that once. I snatched the phone away from Tony, and yelled at him.’ She sniffed. ‘And then he… he hurt Melanie,’ she gulped. Her eyes found Kay’s. ‘What’s this about?’

  Hazel appeared at the door, a tray of steaming mugs in her hands, and made her way across the carpet towards them. ‘Has there been a development?’ She handed one of the mugs to Yvonne, pushed another to Kay, and sat down.

  ‘This morning, at sunrise, a jogger found a man hanging from a tree in Mote Park, near one of the paths above the lake,’ said Kay. ‘A suicide note was found in his jacket pocket.’

  Yvonne’s hand flew to her mouth, and she set the tea mug down on the small table in front of them with a clatter.

  ‘The note indicated that he was involved in Melanie’s kidnapping,’ said Kay.

  ‘Oh, my god.’ Yvonne stood on shaking legs, her face white.

  ‘A sum of money was found at his house,’ added Kay, ‘in keeping with the amount you indicated had been paid to ensure Melanie’s return.’

  ‘The bastard,’ said Yvonne, pacing the carpet. ‘All I wanted was my daughter home safe. He took her, he took my husband, and now he’s not even going to get justice for what he’s done to me!’

  ‘Yvonne, I need your help,’ said Kay. She crossed the room to where Yvonne stood, placing her hand on the other woman’s arm. ‘The crime scene investigators found a mobile phone at the suspect’s flat.’ She took a deep breath. ‘It has his personal voicemail message recording on it. I’d like you to listen to it. To confirm it is the man you heard on the phone.’

  Yvonne’s eyes opened wide. ‘Why?’

  ‘We want to be sure,’ said Kay.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Yvonne Richards had offered to attend the police station immediately, much to the obvious chagrin of her sister.

  ‘You can’t go!’ she’d insisted. She’d spun round in the hallway to face Kay, a plastic supermarket shopping bag banging against her leg. ‘Tell her – she’s not well enough to go.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Yvonne had said, as she wrapped a scarf around her neck and shrugged on a jacket. ‘Stay here. I won’t be long.’

  With that, she’d led Kay out of the house and across the driveway to her waiting car.

  As Yvonne had settled into the passenger seat and Kay pulled into the street, she’d emitted a sigh. ‘Well, at least this gets me out of the house for a while.’

  Kay had bitten her lip, and emitted a non-committal, ‘Hmm.’

  She’d been saved from having to respond further by the rush hour traffic, and had concentrated instead on getting Yvonne across the town to the station as quickly as possible.

  Pulling up into the car park, she’d eased the saloon into a space near the emergency exit at the back of the station, and switched off the engine.

  ‘There are a few reporters lurking around the front,’ she’d said to Yvonne by way of explanation. ‘I thought we’d use the back door instead.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Yvonne had murmured.

  Now, they waited in an office off the incident room that Sharp had commandeered. Kay had phoned ahead to announce their arrival, and he’d rushed off to get a copy of the voicemail message.

  They didn’t have to wait long.

  Kay had settled Yvonne into one of the soft chairs next to the desk when she heard footsteps approaching.

  Sharp knocked twice, then entered, nodded to Kay, and introduced himself to Yvonne Richards.

  ‘Mrs Richards, I’m so sorry for the loss you’ve had to bear this week. Thank you for coming over.’

  Kay always admired the way Sharp’s manner softened when he spoke to victims or their families.

  He had a knack for putting them at ease, showing compassion and empathy, while at the same time ensuring he got the results he sought, without appearing too tough.

  ‘That’s okay,’ said Yvonne. ‘I want to help.’ She glanced across at Kay. ‘Kay said you had a voicemail recording of the man who was found dead this morning.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Sharp pulled a USB stick from his trouser pocket, leaned over, and plugged it into the side of the laptop on the desk. He lowered his eyes to Yvonne. ‘Are you okay if we listen to this now?’

  Kay held her breath, and waited for Yvonne’s response.

  The woman’s shoulders slumped as she studied her hands in her lap, and Kay heard her exhale, a shaking breath that seemed to wrack her body. Eventually, Yvonne raised her head. ‘You can’t do this without me, can you?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘We can’t.’ He pulled out the chair next to Yvonne and sat down, leaning his elbows on his knees. His brown eyes bored into Yvonne’s. ‘We have to make absolutely sure we have the right man. I won’t rest – nor will Kay, or the rest of my team – until we’re one hundred percent certain.’ He straightened. ‘I’m sorry, Yvonne. I know this won’t be easy, and I wish there was another way.’

  The woman plucked at the hem of her cardigan, a loose thread growing in length as she worked. ‘No, no,’ she croaked. She cleared her throat. ‘That’s fine.’

  ‘All right,’ said Sharp. He rose, and leaned over the laptop once more. ‘To clarify, this is a voicemail message found on the man’s mobile phone. It’s the sort of message you record when you want someone to leave a message for you when you can’t take their call, okay?’

  Yvonne nodded. ‘Okay.’

  ‘We’ll play it once, all the way through, and then if you need to listen to it again, just say so.’

  Kay stood behind Yvonne, her arms folded, doing everything in her power not to pace the room.

  Sharp pressed the “play” button on the screen, and she held her breath as the message played.

  Yeah, this is Guy Nelson. Can’t take your call. Leave a message.

  Her eyes met Sharp’s over Yvonne’s head as the message finished, and she raised an eyebrow.

  Is that it?

  He gave a small nod before his gaze fell to Yvonne.

  ‘Can you play it again?’ the woman asked.

  ‘Of course.’

  Sharp reached across and hit the “play” button once more as Kay moved next to him, her heart racing.

  She tried to read Yvonne’s expression.

  The woman had paled, and was twiddling the strap of her handbag between her fingers as she listened once more.

  The recording stopped.

  Silence descended on the room.

  After a few moments, Sharp coughed politely.

  ‘Any thoughts, Yvonne?’

  Yvonne sat back in her chair, and lifted her gaze to first Kay, then Sharp. She shook her head.

  ‘That’s not him.’

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Kay stepped to one side, and held the door open for Yvonne, thanking her for her time.

  ‘I’ll see Mrs Richards out and arrange for a car to take her home. Gather the team. I’ll meet you in the incident room in ten,’ said Sharp as he passed her, and then winked. ‘You were right. Well done.’

  She exhaled. The elation of being right quickly gave way to the reality that they still had no idea who Guy Nelson was working with, and who had, in all likelihood, orchestrated Melanie’s murder.

  She let the door slam back into place on its automatic closer, and hurried towards the incident room.

  Four faces turned as she burst through the door.

  Barnes had the desk phone to his ear, but quickly ended his call as Kay hurried over to the whiteboard.

  ‘Yvonne Richards has confirmed that Nelson isn’t the man who phoned them in relation to Melanie’s kidnapping,’ she said.

  A shocked silence filled the room.

  ‘So, he was working with someone else?’ said Barnes.

  Kay nodded. ‘Yes, and we need to step up the effort going through those CCTV recordings, Gavin.’

  ‘Ma’am. Sorry – Kay.’ He gave a shy smile.

  She acknowledged it with a wave of her hand. ‘Think outside the box, G
avin. Think like our murderer.’ She turned to the board, and drew a question mark next to the photograph of Nelson. ‘Whoever he is.’

  ‘Are we definitely looking for a bloke?’ asked Carys.

  ‘I think so,’ said Kay. ‘But keep your options open.’

  ‘Right,’ said Sharp, entering the room and pulling his tie away from his collar. ‘Where are we up to?’

  He rolled up the tie, and threw it onto his desk before approaching the whiteboard. He stood, hands on hips and glared at it.

  ‘Back to the CCTV images,’ said Kay. ‘We’re only halfway through them so far.’

  Sharp nodded. ‘How did you get on at the garage this morning?’

  ‘That was interesting,’ said Kay. ‘Darren Phillips said Nelson was a complete computer game fan. That’s all he spoke about during his breaks. Yet, we didn’t find any trace of a console at his flat, right?’

  Barnes shook his head. ‘Nothing at all.’

  ‘So who took it? Or, did he lend it to someone?’ said Kay. ‘Phillips said he was only a casual employee, and the last time he saw him was on the Friday before last – pay day. Apparently Nelson said he was going to take a week off. He never made it back.’

  ‘Okay. Carys? Organise a couple of uniforms and go back to the Richards’ neighbours. Take copies of Nelson’s photo. See if anyone recognises him,’ said Sharp. ‘Even better, find out if any of them have had a chance to recall anyone acting suspiciously around the street.’

  ‘Sir.’

  Sharp directed his gaze at Barnes. ‘Same for you. Go back to Nelson’s flat. See if anyone was seen with a computer – laptop or otherwise – any time during the past two weeks.’

  ‘Boss? If Guy Nelson had the money, it means our mystery suspect didn’t bother going there to take it. He’d have found out about the guy’s suicide, surely?’ said Barnes, and held his hands up. ‘So, what’s his motive?’

  ‘We have to consider revenge,’ said Sharp. ‘Maybe for something to do with Yvonne Richards’ business. Kay – when we’re done here, give Sheila Milborough a call. Find out if the business owes anyone any money, or has received any threats of late. Things that wouldn’t show up in their accounts systems.’