by M A Comley
Claire sat next to her sister. They clutched hands and stared at the open doorway. She strained an ear, trying to figure out who her father was having a conversation with. It was impossible to make out what the new arrival was saying.
“Come in when you want. I’ll get the plates ready.”
“I’ll eat mine out of the wrapper,” one of the newcomers yelled.
“That’s fine by me, we all will,” her father replied. He walked through the doorway and shouted, “Well, don’t just sit there. Get the kettle on for our guests, they’ve brought food.” He looked down at the carrier bag in his hand which was bulging with a takeaway.
Her stomach rumbled loudly as the smell invaded her nostrils. I hope some of that food is for us and not another one of his twisted games. She’d known that to happen over the years. Her father liked nothing more than to try out that particular torture method now and again.
Claire and Kathryn left their seats. Claire filled the kettle and asked Kathryn to get the knives and forks from the drawer in the kitchenette. Footsteps approached on the decked area out front, and Claire’s gaze flew to the door. Standing in the doorway were two men on her list. The realisation of why they were there quickly followed.
Her father was about to pimp them out again.
Chapter 9
Lorne and the team had their usual meeting first thing in the morning, and it was decided that with very little for them to go on they would make use of the notebook. The team had worked hard to gather the information they needed about the men, such as their addresses and their roles in the community, and only their background checks were incomplete at this point. However, Lorne was keen to press on, and now she and Katy were on their way to the first person on that list. A Wayne Jethrum. They arrived at the mid-terraced house and were welcomed by a woman in her late forties. Sandra Jethrum took them on an unexpected tour of the downstairs, proud of the recent renovations she and her husband had carried out.
“It’s wonderful. Must have cost you a fortune? Sorry, that was nosy of me. I didn’t mean anything by that comment; I used to renovate houses myself.”
“Ah, that explains the compliment then. So pleased you like it. It’s silly of me I know, but I find myself walking on air around here now. You should have seen it before. It was a mouldy excuse for a house. We moved in six months ago and paid for an architect to redesign the downstairs for us because it simply wasn’t working. We’re delighted with the results.”
“Isn’t it amazing what an architect can do with a place?” Lorne said, admiring the detail of the interior, her envy gene twitching a little.
“It is. We’ve never considered going down that route before, but it was worth the expense. Okay, now I’ve done all my showing off, perhaps you wouldn’t mind telling me what brings two policewomen to my door?” Sandra motioned for them to sit at the large kitchen table in the open-plan kitchen-diner at the rear of the property. It overlooked a small terraced garden that Lorne assumed had been landscaped as part of the renovations.
“We were hoping to have a brief chat with your husband. I’m presuming he’s at work?”
“Not today, he’s not. He’s gone up to the Lakes for a few days with a couple of his pals. They take off on a fishing expedition now and again, when one of them is feeling stressed. Not that I mind. You know how it is, ladies, we girls prefer to have the house to ourselves at times, right?”
Lorne smiled and nodded, even though she couldn’t imagine being at home without Tony, not now he was retired from MI6. She loved having him around, getting under her feet. “How long have they gone for?”
“Three days. It’s a shorter trip than usual. Don, that’s his best mate, well, he rang a day or two back and asked how Wayne was fixed. Never one to shirk his duties at the shop, my husband arranged cover and agreed to go within ten minutes flat. Shame he doesn’t give me the same consideration when I suggest going away. Men, eh? They’re a law unto themselves at times. Still, he’s a lovely man, not sure what I’d do without him.”
“Have you been together long?”
“Twenty-two years.”
“Do you have any children?” Her observations of the spick and span area suggested not.
“Sadly, no. I was unable to carry a baby full term. After having four miscarriages, I decided to stop trying. I couldn’t put myself through the trauma any more. Wayne reluctantly agreed with me. He was desperate to have kids, but we’re over that now. We have skirted around possibly adopting a child in the near future. I think our ages will go against us on that one. Sorry, you don’t want to hear the ins and outs of our daily lives.”
“I’m sorry you were unable to have children of your own. Maybe you’ll get your wish of adopting a child in the near future.”
“I doubt it.” She held up her crossed fingers. “You never know. We’ll keep trying.”
“You do that. Everyone should have dreams they wish to fulfil in this life.”
“I sincerely believe in that. I have several precious stones et cetera placed around the house, hoping they’ll bring me luck.”
Lorne could tell that Katy was eager to get on as she spotted her crossing and uncrossing her legs under the table.
“The reason we’re here is because we’d like to speak to your husband about a list of names we’ve found.”
Sandra’s brow wrinkled, and she tilted her head. “I’m not with you. What list?”
Lorne produced the little notebook still in the evidence bag and placed it on the table.
Sandra’s smile dropped, and she stared at the notebook. “I’m not liking the sound of this. Please, spare me any small talk and get to the point, Inspector.”
“Very well. It’s early days in our investigation so far, but as I said, this notebook has come into our possession.”
“How? What investigation?”
“We’re investigating the murders of two men.”
Sandra gasped and fell back in her chair. “Murder? In this neck of the woods? That’s unbelievable.”
Not as unbelievable as you’re thinking, not in the city of London, dear lady. “Not really, the crime rate is escalating in this area.”
“Oh my. Okay, that aside, what has this got to do with my husband? No! You don’t suspect him of murdering these two men? That’s unthinkable, he’d never do something as terrible as that. Not my Wayne.”
Lorne smiled to reassure the woman. “No, we don’t believe he’s killed anyone. However, we have a list of men here, one of whom is your husband, and two out of the six men have lost their lives in the past few days.”
Sandra gasped again and reached for her phone. “I have to ring him. To warn him he could be in danger.”
“All we’re seeking to do at this stage is try to find out if your husband knew these other men.”
“Let me ring him, and you can ask the question. He’s driving at the moment but he has hands-free in the car. Let me try.”
Lorne nodded. With her hand shaking, Sandra punched in a number and put the phone on speaker. All three of them listened to the phone ring five times before the voicemail message kicked in.
Lorne shook her head. “Don’t leave a message.”
Sandra sighed and ended the call. “That’s strange, he always answers his phone.”
“Maybe the phone is in a black spot and unable to connect. Or he could be out of the car at the services getting a drink to break up his journey. Perhaps we could try again in a few minutes.”
“Perhaps. Talking of drinks, I could do with a cuppa. What about you, ladies?”
Both Lorne and Katy agreed and asked for a coffee.
With the drinks made, Sandra placed another call to her husband. This time the phone rang twice and then was answered, “Hi, love. What’s up? I can’t talk for long, and the reception will probably be a bit dodgy as we’re surrounded by hills.”
“Wayne, I have two police officers with me. They’re investigating the murders of two men. Hang on, it’s complicated, I’ll hand yo
u over to the officer in charge.”
“Hello, Mr Jethrum, this is DI Lorne Warner. I’m dealing with the investigation into the deaths of a Denis Tallon and a Larry Small. Do you know these men?”
There was silence on the other end of the line. The only thing that Lorne could make out was the noise of the traffic on a busy stretch of the motorway. “Wayne, can you hear me?”
“Sorry, bit distracted there as we’re coming up to the slip road we’re looking for. Yes, I know of both men. I can’t believe what you’re telling me. Dead? They’re both dead? Was it an accident? No, Sandra mentioned they were both murdered,” he said, asking and answering his own question.
“That’s right. We can’t go into details but we’re interested to speak to you and a few other men, the names of which we found in a book at Larry’s address. How did you know these men, sir?”
“Umm…they’re old acquaintances of mine. I haven’t seen either of them for around ten years—no, more than that, maybe fifteen years.”
“How were you connected? By that I mean, why were you friends back then but haven’t seen each other in all that time?”
“Gosh, I can’t remember. What is this? Are you accusing me of bumping these guys off?”
“No, sir, not in the slightest. We’re simply trying to piece the puzzle together. How did you know them?”
Again, there was a strained silence for a few seconds. “Er…we belonged to a bridge club.”
Lorne’s gut told her he was lying. “What was the name of the club where you played bridge, sir?”
“Shit! I don’t know. Listen, lady, I’m busy. You know how dangerous it is to hold a conversation and drive at the same time.”
“I appreciate that, sir. Maybe you could ring me the moment you get to your destination. It really is urgent.”
“What? Why? I can’t add anything to what I’ve already told you.”
“Please, sir.”
“Okay. You need to tell me how my friends were murdered first?”
“I can’t give out those details over the phone, I’m sorry.”
The call was disconnected.
“I’ll try and ring him back.” Sandra tried, and the phone rang and rang until the voicemail message came on.
“Don’t worry. When is your husband due back?”
“On Friday, not until the evening, though. Will you pop back and see him then?”
“Yes, we’d much prefer to see people in person wherever possible.”
“I understand. I’m sorry I can’t help you at all. I know my husband had a group of friends he hung out with at the time he suggested, but I’m afraid I didn’t know their names. I’ve learnt something new tonight.”
“Oh, what’s that?”
“That my husband plays bridge. Who’d have thought that? Not me, that’s for sure.”
Lorne and Katy finished their drinks and stood to leave. Lorne said, “We’ll return on Friday. Thanks for your hospitality, Mrs Jethrum.”
“I’ll show you to the door. Sorry we couldn’t be of more help.” She smiled and closed the front door behind them.
“Well, that was convenient.”
Lorne frowned and looked over the roof of the car. “What was?”
Katy got in the passenger seat beside her. “His phone cutting out like that during his trip.”
“Yep, it hadn’t gone unnoticed. I wonder if he’s really going on a fishing trip or if he has something else in mind.”
“I guess we won’t find that out until Friday when he comes back.” Katy shuddered. “I hope he’s not up to his old tricks, if indeed he is part of this suspected paedophile ring.”
“Yep, I was thinking along the same lines. Okay, let’s set Jethrum aside for now and move on to the next name on the list. Can you enter the address into the satnav for me?”
Katy fished a sheet of A4 paper out of her pocket and punched in the details. “Isaac Frost, his house is a few streets away from here.”
Lorne turned the engine over and drove off. Within ten minutes, they parked up outside another mid-terraced house. This time the property was in dire need of repair. Chipped paint was visible on the windowsills, and the front patch of garden was overgrown and sprouting weeds everywhere. “It’s like chalk and cheese.”
“Yep, the Jethrums’ house had a superb kerb appeal. This one looks shit.”
Lorne giggled. “Get you, with your fancy terms. ‘Kerb appeal’.”
Katy yanked on the handle and left the car. “Kerb appeal isn’t fancy.”
“I know. I’m winding you up. Never thought I’d see the day those words tumbled out of your mouth. Let’s hope we get more joy from this stop.”
Lorne used the sleeve of her jacket to ring the grimy doorbell. Katy sniggered at her prudish behaviour.
“Hey, have you seen the state of it? You have no idea what kind of germs fester on doorbells. I read an article in a magazine only last week.”
“Give us a break, Lorne.” Katy tutted.
“Okay.” She grinned sheepishly. They waited several minutes after which Lorne rang the bell a few times more. “I don’t think anyone is in. Let’s see if the neighbour knows anything.”
They left the withered and dying garden and ventured up the path of the immaculately cared-for garden next door.
“Crap, I bet these guys are furious with Frost for not keeping his front up to scratch. Makes you wonder what the rear garden is like,” Lorne whispered.
“I bet it’s rat infested,” Katy mumbled.
Lorne rang the bell. This time she didn’t bother using the cuff of her jacket to touch the button.
A lady in her sixties appeared soon after. She had a yapping Jack Russell in her arm. “Hello,” she screeched over the racket. “Polly, quiet with you now.”
The dog instantly stopped barking and growled instead when Lorne produced her ID. “Hello, there. I’m Detective Inspector Lorne Warner, and this is Detective Sergeant Katy Foster. Sorry to disturb you.”
“Oh, the police. Whatever has happened? Oh my, it’s not my sister, is it? We lost touch a few years ago after a silly argument. I knew I should have got in touch with her. Neither of us are getting any younger.”
“No, it’s not concerning your sister. It’s nothing to worry about, a general enquiry really. We were hoping you could possibly tell us about your neighbour.” Lorne pointed in the direction of Frost’s house.
“Ah, well, that’s a relief. Gosh, my heart almost stopped pumping for a second there. Right, what do you want to know? Do you want to come in?”
“If you wouldn’t mind, the wind is a bit nippy today.”
“Come on in. I’ll pop Polly in her basket in the lounge. Won’t be a tick, dears.”
They waited in the hallway for the old lady to re-join them.
“Right, what is it you want to know about them?”
“Them? I take it there’s a Mrs Frost?”
“I don’t know about that. If there ever was one, I think she left years ago. Isaac lives there with his two daughters.”
“I see. How old are the daughters?”
“Now you’re testing me. Maybe twenty-five and twenty-one—don’t quote me on that, though. When you get to my time of life, you have no concept of youngsters’ ages.”
“That’s okay. Do you know either of the girls’ names?”
“The older one is Claire. Not sure on the younger one as I rarely see her. Don’t see much of either of them really. I hear them more than I see them.”
“As in they play loud music?” Lorne enquired, her interest spiking up a notch.
“No, nothing like that. He tends to shout a lot at the girls. At first, I thought he had a hearing problem. I mentioned it to another neighbour, and they told me to get used to it, that he’s always shouting at the poor girls. I wished I’d heard them when I came to view the damn house. They say you should check out a property at different hours of the day to see what the noise level is like, don’t they?”
“That’s a
shame. Have you lived here long, Mrs…sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”
“Lewis, Gladys Lewis. Around four years, give or take a few months. As you can see, I look after my house and garden. There are three adults living there, and look at the state of the place. I wouldn’t be able to sell my house even if I tried, so I don’t bother. It would be more hassle than it’s worth. No, when he starts yelling, I turn the TV up nice and loud. He tends to bang on the wall then, shouting expletives at me, but I don’t care. We’re all entitled to live peacefully in our own homes, aren’t we? Or is that too much to ask now? Only we have a couple of those boy racers living around here, their souped-up cars making a right racket at all hours of the day and night. What is wrong with people? That’s the trouble, there’s no damn respect nowadays. God, I sound like my bloody mother, I know, but it’s the damn truth. Oops, there I go again. You don’t want to hear about my problems.”
“That’s okay, Mrs Lewis. Maybe if you reported your grievances to the council, they might help you a little.”
“Been there, done that, and got absolutely zilch in return. As long as it doesn’t affect the people at the council, they couldn’t care bloody less about my sanity or needs for living a peaceful existence.”
“Maybe I can place a call for you when we return to the station.”
Her eyes widened. “Would you? That would be amazing if you would.”
“I’ll try. Anyway, we’ve knocked next door and couldn’t get an answer. Have you seen the family at all lately?”
“I was putting something in my bin earlier and saw all three of them getting in the father’s car. Hang on a second, yes, they were each holding a bag of sorts. One of those sports bags and a few black sacks.”
“They’ve gone away then. It’s a long shot, but I don’t suppose you’d know where or for how long?”
“No. I was surprised to see them getting in the car. I never speak to them, dear, so I’m sorry, I can’t tell you more.”
“Not to worry. Do you think any of the other neighbours would know?”