Scared to Death (A Detective Kay Hunter novel)

by Rachel Amphlett

  She nodded. ‘Will do.’ She made a note on a pad next to her. ‘What about power as a motive? He, or she,’ she added, acknowledging Carys’s earlier remark, ‘went to a lot of trouble to set this up. Based on the post mortem report, his intent seems to have been to scare Melanie to death.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m simply wondering if it was revenge, why didn’t he kill her some other way?’

  ‘Too elaborate this way, you mean?’

  ‘Yeah.’ She leaned back, and pointed at the photographs of the biosciences facility pinned to the board. ‘That took a lot of planning and preparation. He certainly didn’t act on a whim.’

  ‘Power’s certainly a possibility. There could be a sexual element too,’ said Sharp. ‘Although, the post mortem confirms that Melanie hadn’t been sexually abused.’

  ‘But there was a camera there,’ said Kay. ‘He was watching her all the time.’

  ‘Have the digital forensics team come back to us with anything?’

  ‘Not yet,’ she said, and scribbled on her notepad again. ‘I’ll chase them up.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Sharp. ‘That’s enough for now.’ He checked his watch. ‘We’ll reconvene again at six o’clock.’

  TWENTY-SIX

  Kay picked up her notebook, and settled into her chair, energised by the renewed sense of urgency that galvanised the team.

  She dialled zero for an external line on her desk phone, and drummed the end of her pencil on the desk while she waited for an answer.

  ‘Richards Furnishings, can I help you?’

  Kay smiled, recognising Belinda’s voice. Evidently the twenty-something was already begrudging the lack of an afternoon receptionist.

  ‘Belinda?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘It’s DS Hunter. May I speak to Sheila, please?’

  ‘Oh. Yeah. Hang on.’

  Kay pulled the phone away from her ear as a loud rustling filled the line, and guessed Belinda had held the receiver to her shoulder.

  She strained her ears.

  ‘It’s her. The detective. Wants to speak to you.’

  A pause, then—

  ‘Hang on. I mean, one moment please.’

  A melodious series of pings came on the line, and Kay looked up as Gavin hovered nearby.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Can’t find Sharp. I think he’s gone to a meeting. When you’ve got a minute,’ he said, and jerked his chin towards his computer, ‘I need to show you something. On the CCTV.’

  ‘Okay.’ She held up a finger as Sheila Milborough’s voice broke in.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Sheila? It’s DS Hunter. I’m sorry to trouble you, but I wondered – in Yvonne’s absence from the office – whether you could help me?’

  The woman was silent for a heartbeat, then spoke, her voice full of efficiency.

  ‘Of course, Detective Hunter. What do you need?’

  Kay bit her lip. The woman was so desperate for gossip, a flare could’ve gone up.

  ‘I must insist this conversation is treated with the utmost confidentiality.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Kay doubted it, but ploughed on regardless. ‘I wondered if you were aware of any threats made in recent months with regard to the business. Before Melanie’s kidnapping.’

  Sheila sucked in her breath, though again, Kay couldn’t tell if that was through shock, or excitement.

  ‘Well,’ she said, eventually. ‘I’m not aware of anything, that’s for sure.’

  ‘What about any debts to the business? Anyone causing issues there?’

  ‘No. No – we’re very lucky with our client base.’ She paused. ‘And we use a post office box for correspondence, so no one knows where we are.’

  ‘That’s good,’ said Kay. Satisfied, she changed the subject. ‘How are you coping? It must be hard at the moment.’

  ‘Oh, we’re fine,’ breezed Sheila. ‘Yes, it’s busy, but the days go by fast, you know?’

  Kay finished her call, and dropped her pen.

  She glanced over her shoulder.

  Gavin had disappeared – she suspected for a cigarette break – and so she looked up the number of the cybercrime team on the internal directory, and dialled the number.

  ‘’Lo?’

  ‘Grey,’ she grinned. ‘It’s Kay.’

  ‘Bloody hell, bird – you back on the job?’

  ‘Certainly am.’

  ‘I knew they’d find nothing on you,’ he said.

  She smiled. ‘Given the surveillance capabilities of your department, I do hope that comment is based on a personal observation instead.’

  A shocked silence filled the air before the digital forensics expert choked out a laugh and swore. ‘Very funny. What do you want?’

  ‘That camera set-up we brought in from the Melanie Richards crime scene. Any progress?’

  ‘Ah – the girl down the drain,’ said Grey, absently. ‘Hang on. I didn’t work on that one, so the report might still be with admin. Two secs.’

  Kay waited, hearing the sound of computer keys being hit.

  ‘I’ve got a copy of the final draft on screen. It was a basic home security set-up – the sort you can put in your home, and then watch from your mobile or a laptop. Very common, so hard to trace beyond the shop selling it. You can check with them, but—’

  ‘It was purchased online, we think.’

  ‘You’re stuffed, then.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She sighed. ‘Any chance we can trace where it was being watched?’

  ‘This is Kent Police,’ said Grey. ‘You’ve been watching too many James Bond movies.’

  ‘No fingerprints or anything?’

  ‘CSI said it was impossible to get anything off the surface. It had been thoroughly cleaned with—’

  ‘Bleach. Yeah. Figures.’

  She thanked the digital forensics expert, and put the phone down. She rubbed at her temples, then stood and stretched before she noticed Gavin had returned. ‘Gavin. You wanted a word?’

  ‘Could you come over and look at this?’

  She wandered over to his computer. ‘What’s up?’

  He held up a document. ‘This is one of the calls that came through via the Crimestoppers appeal after the boss’s television appearance. A woman reported seeing a County Deliveries courier van going into the industrial estate where the biosciences place is. She said she saw it a couple of mornings, but then once late at night as well, on Thursday last week.’

  Kay frowned. ‘What was she doing around there at that time of night?’

  ‘She’s a nurse. Uses the industrial estate as a short cut home.’

  ‘A courier van?’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’

  ‘Have you checked the CCTV images?’

  He pointed to the screen. ‘Yeah. It took me a couple of attempts to find it, even after I’d phoned the nurse to get an idea of timings, but it’s there.’

  ‘Where’s this camera?’

  ‘On Westmead Road.’ He tapped the screen. ‘The entrance to the industrial park is just up there.’

  ‘Play it.’

  Gavin clicked the “play” button, and the recording began.

  Sure enough, on the grainy image of the CCTV camera, a van emerged from the industrial estate, heading in the direction of the camera. On the opposite side of the road, a small white hatchback passed by.

  ‘That’s her,’ said Gavin.

  Kay remained silent.

  She heard Barnes finish the call he was on before he joined them, his elbow brushing hers. ‘Got something?’

  She pointed at the screen in response.

  The van drew closer to the camera, and then turned right. As it did, she got a clear look at the courier company’s logo emblazoned down the side.

  ‘Can we see the driver’s face?’

  ‘No. He’s wearing a baseball cap pulled down low. No distinguishing marks or tattoos on his hands. Can’t see a watch or a wedding ring.’

  ‘Registration number?’

 
Gavin turned his notebook towards her. ‘Yes.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ said Sharp as he entered the room.

  ‘We’ve got CCTV images of a courier van leaving the industrial estate on the evening of last Thursday,’ said Kay. ‘Gavin was going through the call logs from the Crimestoppers appeal. A nurse reported seeing a courier van entering and leaving the estate on three occasions, once at night. This is the night-time event.’

  Gavin replayed the video as the team watched on in silence.

  When it finished, Sharp nodded. ‘Good work, Constable.’

  ‘I take it there’s been a development?’

  They all turned as DCI Larch strode through the doorway and across to where they sat.

  ‘Sharp?’

  ‘Angus.’ Sharp stepped away from the computer, and brought the DCI up to speed.

  ‘Boss? When I was at the garage this morning, they had a lot of courier vans there. Darren Phillips said his dad won the contract before handing over the business to him,’ said Kay. She pointed at the frozen screen. ‘That can’t be a coincidence.’

  ‘We’ll need to formally interview him – and his employees,’ said Larch.

  ‘I’ll phone the County Deliveries depot, too,’ said Kay. ‘Find out who that van is assigned to.’

  ‘Better still, Hunter, find out who it’s assigned to, and bring him back here for questioning,’ said Larch.

  She glanced at Sharp. ‘Sir?’

  ‘Might be a bit hasty, Angus, with all due respect,’ said Sharp.

  ‘Do it,’ said Larch, and jutted his chin out. ‘We need results here, ladies and gentlemen – and fast.’

  He checked his watch. ‘I have a meeting with the chief superintendent,’ he said. ‘I’ll join you at the next briefing for an update.’

  Kay watched him stalk away, and cursed under her breath.

  Sharp rubbed his chin, then sighed. ‘Tread carefully, Kay.’ He pointed at the frozen image on the screen. ‘That’s all we’ve got to go on at the moment.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘Then, go.’

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Eli traipsed away from the van parked in the lay-by, the tall grass swishing against the hem of his trousers.

  The overgrown hedgerow to his rear provided ample cover from the road, and any passing motorists would simply think the van had been temporarily abandoned while its driver took a break.

  He shifted the heavy canvas bag on his shoulder, a jangle of metal reaching his ears as the equipment slipped around, and picked up his pace.

  Overhead, a lone crow soared on the air currents, its sorrowful caw receding as it flew across the edges of the urban sprawl.

  Eli sniffed.

  A tang of ozone filled the air, a promise of the heavy rainfall forecast for the coming days.

  He clenched his fists, and tried to ignore the ache below his belt.

  Soon, it would be time.

  As he made his way to the padlocked entrance gate, he extracted a key from his pocket. The buildings had been deserted mid-construction, the developer running out of finance before the complex could be completed. Now, the abandoned apartment blocks awaited a resolution between the banks and the council, and stood derelict while awaiting their fate.

  The plans had been easily accessible from the council’s website, and Eli had spent his week off poring over the details while ignoring Melanie’s pitiful pleas for mercy.

  Once he’d committed the plans to memory, he’d burnt them, filling the old animal laboratory with smoke.

  Melanie had screamed, convinced the building was on fire, and he’d crawled to the hole and lain down, listening to her sobs.

  Now, he opened the padlock he’d procured, loosened the chain around the fence, and slipped through.

  He ignored the construction signs warning him to keep out, and moved swiftly through the site, the layout committed to memory.

  The developer’s money had been sucked dry once the building company had begun to dig the foundations, and discovered an old maze of Victorian drainage systems criss-crossing the ground. Arguments ensued, blame apportioned, and construction stopped.

  That was six months ago.

  Eli pushed a sheet of plastic to one side, the material crackling under his touch before he let it drop back into place.

  The ground floor of the first of the two apartment blocks housed little more than a screed floor. Above his head, the concrete and steel framework of what would have been the floors of accommodation units lay open, the grey sky darkening with impending rain.

  Eli ducked around a pillar, stepped over a pile of abandoned plastic piping, and lowered his bag to the floor.

  He tugged the zip open, rummaged inside, and pulled out a large torch. He switched it on, and re-shouldered the bag. He swept the beam left and right, and then found what he was looking for in a darkened corner of the space.

  The concrete steps led down to what had been intended to be a fire exit to and from the basement car park. Access to that from outside was impossible – the construction company had barricaded it for fear of the local kids getting hurt, or more likely, vandalising the place.

  Instead, the car park and the bowels of the building could only be accessed through these steps, and now Eli descended them, his free hand placed on the wall to steady himself.

  After a few moments, he found himself in the car park itself. The torch beam couldn’t reach the far end of the space, but Eli gained his bearings quickly, and hurried towards the left hand corner.

  A metal gate had been set into the wall, which had been inaccessible until two days ago when Eli had taken a blowtorch to its hinges. Now, he placed the torch on the floor facing it, wrapped his fingers around the steel, and pulled it to one side.

  Water glistened on the rough surface.

  He retrieved his torch, and ducked under the low entrance into a short passageway that dropped steeply away from the basement level.

  The beam bounced off red brickwork, chipped and worn, before coming to rest on a dead end.

  A wide opening gaped in the floor of the passageway, an entrance to a centuries-old labyrinth.

  Eli dropped the bag to his feet and crouched, then rested his forearms on his knees, and inspected the opening.

  A steady drip-drip of water reached his ears.

  ‘Perfect,’ he murmured.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Kay loosened her seatbelt as Barnes swung the plain-coloured sedan left and into the visitors’ car park of the County Deliveries depot.

  Despite the lateness of the day, a number of spaces were still available.

  As she got out of the car, Kay ran her eyes over the low-set structure in front of her.

  To her right, a high, wire mesh fence separated the visitors’ car park from an area filled with the familiar red outlines of courier vans. On her left, a separate parking area had been sectioned off for staff members. As she watched, two vans drove into the sectioned off area, the drivers hurrying across the asphalt towards the back of the depot.

  Barnes stopped mid-stride across the car park and waited for her. ‘Ready?’

  She nodded. ‘Let’s speak to the depot manager first,’ she said, ‘and let’s not mention to him our suspicions about the van straight away, okay?’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  She locked the car and followed Barnes to the glass double doors at the front of the building.

  A simple reception desk took up the back wall of the small area, and they signed in while the receptionist phoned through to the depot manager and announced their arrival.

  She turned at the sound of a door closing to her right.

  A man approached them, his hand outstretched.

  ‘I’m Bob Rogers. I’m the depot manager here. What’s this about?’

  Kay introduced herself and Barnes. ‘Is there somewhere we can speak in private?’

  ‘Of course. Follow me. There’s a small meeting room along here we can use.’

  They followed
the man along a short corridor that ran across the front of the building. He stopped and held open a door to his left for Kay, and she led the way into a sparse meeting room.

  It was evident the room wasn’t used much; a thin layer of dust covered the round table in the centre, and only three chairs remained, the others no doubt poached and removed to other offices. A desk phone had been placed on a small cabinet in the corner.

  The depot manager gestured to the chairs. ‘Sit down. How can I help you?’

  Kay passed across her business card, and waited while Barnes did the same.

  ‘I’d like to ask you some questions about the vans that you use here,’ she said. ‘First of all, are vehicles assigned to a particular courier? Or are they assigned on a first-come first-served basis?’

  Rogers pulled out a chair and sat down. He scratched his chin. ‘The vans are assigned to a particular route. So the courier doing that route uses the same van every day.’

  ‘What happens at the end of the day?’ said Kay. ‘Where are the keys kept?’

  ‘When people return from their shifts, they hand in their keys. All of the keys are kept in a secure place.’ He frowned. ‘What’s this all about?’

  Kay ignored his question. ‘What security measures do you have here? Is the security gate manned at night?’

  ‘No. The gate is locked in place by security at six o’clock.’

  ‘Is there only one gate?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Rogers.

  ‘And the fencing is secure?’

  He frowned. ‘I believe so, yes.’

  ‘You don’t seem sure.’

  ‘The security guards check it every week. I haven’t heard any reports that the fence isn’t secure.’

  ‘What about CCTV cameras?’ asked Barnes.

  ‘We have cameras on each side of the building.’

  ‘Do any of the cameras cover the car park where the vans are?’ asked Kay.

  ‘There’s normally one camera that covers the car park. But it was broken a couple of weeks ago.’ Rogers scratched the side of his nose, and leaned back in his chair. ‘Our procurement guy hasn’t been able to get the parts yet. The supplier told him it’s going to be another week. I haven’t told everyone, as I don’t want any of the staff to know. They’re mostly trustworthy, but I wouldn’t want to risk it, just in case, y’know?’