Echoes of Guilt

by Rob Sinclair

  She’d have to.

  But she’d figure that out later. She still had plenty on her plate today. Already this morning she’d tracked down two of James Alden’s – aka Liam Dunne’s – old work colleagues. People who knew him when he’d worked for Ellis Associates. And it wasn’t just because of the link to Ben that Dani was so determined to follow that line of enquiry. More than that, Dunne’s short-lived job with Ellis Associates was the only tangible evidence she had of his recent history.

  The two house calls that Dani had made had proved fruitless. One of the ex-colleagues, a woman named Caroline, said she’d barely ever spoken to Alden in his time at Ellis Associates, as she’d been out of the country for more than six months that year on a project. The other, Henry Welter, hadn’t been home. Dani would make a point of a second visit to him, not least because she vaguely remembered him herself from a random occasion when she’d bumped into Ben and his work pals one Friday night in central Birmingham. She’d sensed then that he was a nervous, nerdy type – the type that would usually be far easier to pressure into divulging information, if he knew anything at all.

  Dani was now on the M6 from Solihull to Tipton, at least two more destinations in mind for today, though it felt almost uncomfortably unusual to be doing this alone, given the professional twosome she and Easton had become recently. And so, after several minutes of internal debate as to what she was up to, she bit the bullet and decided to give her colleague a call.

  He sounded harried when he eventually answered.

  ‘Are you at home?’ Dani asked. The background noise sounded more like he was stuck in the middle of a wild tornado.

  ‘Yeah, but… just give me a second.’

  There was clattering and shuffling and static until a few moments later the line went quiet.

  ‘Can you hear me now?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I’m in the shed.’

  Dani smirked. ‘Lucky you.’

  ‘It’s the only bloody place I can get any peace and quiet. Those kids… they’re like that Tasmanian Devil.’

  ‘Looking after boisterous kids. The best form of contraception.’

  ‘Tell me about it. I mean, I love them, but… I feel like I’ve aged a decade recently.’

  ‘I thought you were looking more grey.’

  ‘Thanks. What are you up to anyway?’

  ‘Just out and about.’

  ‘I figured. Anything interesting?’

  ‘Not yet. But there’s a couple of things you can help me with.’

  ‘Dani, I would, but I’m stuck here—’

  ‘In the shed?’

  ‘No, not stuck in the bloody shed—’

  ‘I was joking. And it’s something you can do from home, if you’ve got time?’

  A sigh. She wasn’t going to pressure him if he really couldn’t, but she was hoping he’d see it as something of a break from childminding.

  ‘What is it?’ he said.

  She smiled. ‘I was digging into Liam Dunne’s file this morning. Did you know he’s got his own house?’

  ‘No. Why’s that—’

  ‘He bought it outright in 2012. Cash. Seventy thousand pounds for a two-bed terrace in Walsall.’

  ‘OK?’

  ‘From what I understand of his finances, it was paid for through an inheritance sum he received a year before that. That was nearly two hundred grand in total.’

  Easton whistled.

  ‘From what I could see, he never did anything with it, other than stick it into his bank account. He bought that house, then was living off the rest. That’s where it gets odd.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘He had that job at Ellis Associates, in 2013, under a false name. I still have no reason why he did that, but it was a decent job. The start of a career really.’

  So why had he lied?

  ‘Except he got turfed out,’ Easton said.

  ‘He did. And we still need to find out exactly why.’

  They were still waiting on release of the personnel records to confirm that.

  ‘But he’d already got all this money a couple of years before that job,’ Dani said. ‘From the death of his maternal grandma, I believe.’

  ‘Presumably Clara Dunne got the same?’

  ‘It’s one thing you can follow up for me?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Then in 2014, he gets the boot from Ellis Associates. He’s still got some of the cash left in his bank at that point, though, which potentially explains why we don’t see him going out for another job.’

  ‘How much was there when he disappeared?’

  ‘A little over twenty thousand.’

  ‘So he still spent about another hundred grand, between 2011 and 2015,’ Easton said. ‘On what?’

  ‘Good question, right? If you get into HOLMES, perhaps you can take a deeper look at his financial records? Any big one-offs? Or was he just taking small amounts out regularly?’

  ‘Could have been a gambler?’

  ‘Could have been. Gambler, drugs, partying, who knows.’

  ‘Plenty of activities which also could have got him into trouble.’

  ‘That’s one of the things I’m thinking.’

  ‘But then surely Missing Persons would have checked that out already?’

  ‘Check in their files, but I wouldn’t presume so. And if they haven’t, I think we should.’

  ‘OK. I’ll get onto it.’

  ‘Thanks. And one more thing.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘This house in Walsall. I drove past it earlier. It’s… abandoned. The thing is, he still owns it. Liam Dunne has been missing for five years, but he’s not been declared dead, so his finances, his house, his whole life, is just in indefinite hiatus.’

  ‘Creepy.’

  Dani agreed. How could someone’s whole life, their existence, become stuck in some sort of a time-warp?

  ‘I think we should go and take a look,’ Dani said.

  ‘Inside his house?’

  ‘Yeah. Obviously our colleagues already went there back in 2015. It’s routine, not just to check for clues as to why someone is missing, but to check if the poor sod is simply lying dead in their own home.’

  ‘But he wasn’t.’

  ‘No. Nor did they find any clues as to where he went. But they did have to break in to check that, and then resecure the property after. We literally have the key to his house already.’

  ‘You want me to get it?’

  ‘Arrange to, yeah. But also just check to make sure we’re following protocol. If we need to renew a warrant, then do it.’

  The truth was, Dani had no clue what the exact protocol was for revisiting someone’s home five years after they’d gone missing, because it was a genuinely unusual case. When one party in a relationship went missing, for example, the house was still occupied by the other partner. Many single people who went missing were in rented accommodation or mortgaged, so their homes would soon become repossessed and resold or re-rented. Liam Dunne was in the more unusual position of living alone in a home he owned outright when he went missing, and his home had simply been left to rot, all of his belongings included, for more than five years.

  Dani could only imagine the state of the place now. But she was certain it was worth taking the time to look around.

  ‘OK, I’m on it,’ Easton said. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Yeah. Don’t give the kids any more sugar.’

  ‘Very funny.’

  Dani ended the call just as she pulled her car through the open gates at the entrance to the warehouse. There were no marked bays in the forecourt so she parked up next to the only other vehicle there – a rusted white van. She gathered her thoughts then stepped out into the cold.

  The building in front of her was clearly occupied. For starters she could see lights were on inside because of the glow emanating from the gaps between the large loading doors and their frames, though the warehouse had certainly seen better days. The corrugated steel shell
that stretched up from the brick base was intact, though heavily corroded around some of the edges. Plastic panels in the roof – presumably to let natural light in – were covered in green sludge. The signage above the loading doors was faded beyond comprehension, and it wasn’t clear if that was due to years of natural erosion, or if the current occupiers had yet to put up their own fascia.

  In fact there was no indication at all, either along the outer barbed-wire-topped metal fence, or on the building itself, who the current occupier was.

  Dani stuffed her hands into her pockets and scrunched her head down into her scarf and headed towards the basic entrance door to the side of the much larger loading doors. She looked around her as she went. The street beyond was mostly made up of 1920s terraces, with small commercial units like this one interspersed here and there. The street was quiet, though traffic noise carried over from the parallel main road a hundred yards further east.

  Dani knocked on the door and rang the service buzzer. As she awaited a response she looked up and spotted the small CCTV camera fixed overhead, pointing down to cover the entrance.

  Was someone inside looking at her now?

  Several moments passed and Dani was about to knock again, more loudly, when she heard grumbling from the other side of the door, which edged open and the glowering face of a man Dani didn’t recognise poked out.

  ‘Hi, is Victor around?’ Dani asked.

  ‘No, he’s not,’ the man said, his face not hiding his suspicion. His accent was strong, English clearly not his native tongue.

  ‘He does work here though, doesn’t he?’ Dani said.

  ‘He went out.’

  ‘Do you know when he’ll be back?’

  ‘Who are you?’

  Dani explained. The man’s face turned even more sour.

  ‘You have warrant?’

  ‘I didn’t come to search this place. Just to speak to him. You don’t need a warrant for that.’

  ‘Speak to him about what?’

  The noise of a car engine caught Dani’s attention and she turned to see the Vauxhall Insignia that belonged to Brigitta Popescu drive into the lot and park up next to Dani’s car. Good timing.

  Victor Nistor was alone in the car. He stepped out, hauling a large brown bag from KFC in one hand, and a tray of three drinks in the other.

  ‘You?’ he said when he clocked Dani. He didn’t look particularly perturbed, more surprised. He idled over.

  ‘Mr Nistor. I was hoping we could talk.’

  ‘You want something hauling?’

  Dani looked around the near empty forecourt. ‘If I did, I don’t see much choice of vehicle around here.’

  ‘Because we’re busy. So you don’t want to use my business then. So why are you here?’

  ‘I didn’t get the chance to talk to you yesterday. I’d like to ask you a few questions.’

  ‘About my car? Insurance all properly paid for now. It was just my error. I can show you the receipt if you’d like?’

  ‘No need,’ Dani said. ‘I’m not interested in your car, or your insurance status.’

  ‘Huh. Not today, eh? Then what?’

  ‘Can I come inside? I’m freezing.’

  He seemed to weigh that one up. He let out a deep sigh.

  ‘Before your food gets cold,’ Dani added.

  He rolled his eyes. ‘OK. But you’ll have to watch me eat.’

  Victor’s friend, who remained to be introduced, stepped out of the way and Victor ushered Dani through.

  One word adequately described the inside of the warehouse. Sparse. The whole centre of the warehouse floor was bare. Along some of the walls was steel racking, though it was mostly empty too, with just some simple tools and a few cardboard and plastic boxes containing goods of an indeterminate nature. It was chilly, too, with the only heat source being two amber-glowing electrical filament heaters plugged into the wall, though it was at least a few degrees warmer than outside. The fact Victor’s friend had been working in here with his thick overcoat on showed just how cold it was, even if it wasn’t at all clear what type of ‘work’ he’d been doing.

  Victor headed off to the far corner of the space, where a door led into a basic office, though Dani also noticed that there was a staircase next to it which led up to a mezzanine level. Up above, the windows to that space were all blacked out. So what was up there then?

  Inside the office that contained two basic-looking desks and a clutter of filing cabinets but not much else, Victor’s friend helped himself to two of the KFC meals before leaving Dani and Victor to it.

  ‘Take a seat,’ Victor said.

  Dani did so and Victor unwrapped and took a huge bite from his chicken burger.

  ‘So business is good?’ Dani said.

  Victor nodded as he chewed. ‘Booming. Can’t you tell?’ he said when he’d partially swallowed the mouthful. ‘But I’m sure that’s not why you’re here, Detective. You investigate murders, yes?’

  ‘Now, where did you hear something like that?’ Dani said.

  A casual shrug. ‘I googled you. You’re quite famous, aren’t you?’

  His eyes flicked up to above Dani’s ear now. An almost imperceptible glance, it was so quick, and possibly not even fully conscious, but Dani recognised it clear as day. It was the same look she’d received who-knew-how-many times following the day Ben had tried to cave her skull in – the focus on her a result of the media furore which had followed up to and during Ben’s trial. The scar remained – an ugly lumpy bald patch of skin – though Dani had become an expert at keeping it covered. Still, people couldn’t resist looking.

  ‘Famous for all the wrong reasons,’ Dani said. ‘Never a good thing.’

  ‘No? But I’m confused why a murder detective is interested in me.’

  And truthfully Dani was confused as to why Victor was even entertaining her, given it was clear what her agenda was. Yesterday Victor had been quick to hide behind his lawyer, yet here he was openly inviting Dani into his supposed place of business, ready to answer whatever question she threw at him related to murder.

  Was that purely down to his obvious arrogance, or did he really have nothing to hide? At least as far as murder was concerned?

  ‘Then let me ease your confusion,’ Dani said. She pulled out the increasingly worn photographs. ‘This is Clara Dunne. She was found dead, we believe murdered, in her home in Oldbury early last week.’

  ‘Poor girl.’

  ‘She wasn’t a girl, she was thirty-two.’

  Victor glowered, as if it was a distinction that meant nothing to him.

  ‘Did you know her?’ Dani asked.

  ‘Never seen her before,’ Victor replied.

  Dani said nothing but continued to stare at him, trying to tease out anything unspoken. But he was as cool as could be as he chowed down on a handful of fries, before taking a long slurp of his drink through the straw.

  ‘How about this man?’ Dani said, revealing the picture of Liam Dunne.

  Victor shrugged. ‘Don’t know him. He dead too?’

  ‘Good question. That’s Clara’s brother, Liam. He’s been missing for five years.’

  ‘Sounds pretty dead to me then.’

  ‘You’d know from experience?’

  Another petulant shrug.

  ‘But you don’t know him?’ Dani said.

  ‘No. Though it seems you think I should?’

  Dani ignored that comment. ‘So how do you know Nicolae Popescu?’

  Victor thought about that one, chewing through another large mouthful of burger. Soon he’d be done and he’d have to think of an alternative delaying tactic.

  ‘Our families are close,’ he said. ‘Back home.’

  ‘So you knew him growing up?’

  ‘A little.’

  ‘How long ago was that?’

  ‘Nicolae was older than me, about ten years older, I think. And I’ve been here ten years. He came here before that.’

  ‘What brought you here?’

&nbs
p; ‘Money.’

  ‘Money?’

  ‘Isn’t it obvious?’

  ‘Perhaps you could explain?’

  ‘Have you ever been to Romania?’

  ‘No.’

  He huffed. ‘It’s a different country now to when I was a child. Under the communists… you people are lucky.’

  ‘You people?’

  ‘English. Westerners. Whatever. You’ve never known real conflict, not on your home soil.’

  ‘Perhaps not in my generation, no.’

  ‘When I was a child, an adult too, it wasn’t just that we were poor, the regime was… ruthless. Can you imagine what it’s like when people from your village – people you’ve grown up with, whole families – simply disappear in the night?’

  Dani shook her head, though she genuinely was trying to imagine.

  ‘That was normal to us, even if it was always terrible. As children we were frightened, all the time, petrified of the police. One wrong word against Ceaușescu and you’d be on the list. Can you imagine living like that? Every miserable day in fear for your life?’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘No money, no jobs, and potential death every day.’

  ‘But that was a long time ago. A long time before you came here.’

  ‘You know about the revolution?’

  ‘I know it happened.’

  ‘In 1989.’

  He took a pause as he finished his burger. Dani waited.

  ‘I was only a child back then,’ he said. ‘Living in Bucharest. I was there the night Ceaușescu spoke to the crowds. Over one hundred thousand people, protesting the regime. I’ll never forget the look on his face, to know that his entire life was crumbling before him. The only reason he didn’t have his army execute every single one of us was because his top general refused. Do you know about this night?’

  Dani could vaguely recall some of the story, but not really. She certainly hadn’t lived through it, and had been only a child then.

  ‘That general was shot. Still, not all the army was so kind. More than a thousand of us died in the fighting that night. Ceaușescu fled in a helicopter. We watched him flying away. He thought he could do what he wanted. But when he landed, his own army took him prisoner. He was executed by them. Christmas Day, 1989. More than thirty years ago.’