Lie in Wait: A dark and gripping crime thriller

by GJ Minett

  He thought he was watching carefully earlier and taking everything in but his memory seems to be playing tricks on him. Finding the right stack isn’t as straightforward as he’s imagined. He wonders whether Kitchener moved them around after they left or maybe even took the key home with him because the first few stacks are all empty. He tries every pot in each stack, not just the third one down, just in case he got it wrong earlier. No luck. And he’s starting to get very angry about the whole thing because it’s not going to be the same if he has to break in. He doesn’t want to leave behind clear evidence of a forced entry. That won’t fit the overall plan. Then, at something like the sixth or seventh attempt, he takes out the top two pots and slips his fingers inside and there it is. He tips the key out into the palm of his hand and closes his fist round it, taking deep breaths to compose himself. He realises he’s sweating a lot despite the cold. But he has everything he needs now.

  It’s on.

  21

  SUNDAY, 14TH DECEMBER

  ANNA

  ‘Hi’, she said, fumbling for her alarm clock and squinting to make out the time.

  ‘Hello you. You awake?’

  ‘No. I’ve got this habit of talking a lot in my sleep.’

  ‘Sorry. Thought you’d have been up ages ago. It’s gone eight.’

  She yawned, scratched her head with the mobile.

  ‘I just love the way you say the two things like they’re related somehow. Who in their right mind is going to be up before eight on a Sunday?’

  ‘Thought you’d be getting ready, you know? Psyching yourself up? Big day and all that. Thought I’d phone, see if I could help in any way.’

  ‘Help?’

  ‘You know, in case you wanted the benefit of my experience.’

  ‘You always give advice to girls before a first date?’

  ‘I’m talking about the fight.’

  ‘I know. Yanking your chain, Mr Green. Bit too early in the morning for you, is that it?’

  He sighed. ‘No. I’m wide awake. You’re just too quick for me.’

  ‘See,’ she said, curling herself into a ball and snuggling up under the quilt, ‘we agree on so many things. Is that it, then? I thought you might be ringing with more news.’

  ‘About?’

  ‘Your friend, DI Holloway. Heard anything yet?’

  She’d nearly rung him the previous evening but had decided against it even as she called his name up in her contacts. Maybe a bit too transparent? She didn’t want to give the wrong impression.

  ‘Not yet, no. Probably looking at a couple of days,’ he said. ‘If it works –’

  ‘Of course it’ll work. I’m serious about this, you know. I told you before. I think we could be dead good at this sort of thing – you with all your experience and contacts and me with my imagination. We’re in the wrong job.’

  He laughed. ‘You think so?’

  ‘I know so. You know how many private investigators there are in Pagham?’

  ‘None?’

  ‘None. I Googled it. Now there’s a sign if ever there was one. What’s that if it’s not a gap in the market?’

  ‘You don’t think maybe that’s because there’s no call for a PI in Pagham?’

  ‘Why? What’s wrong with Pagham? You telling me there’s no crime there or something? They don’t have affairs? They’ve all got ice in their veins? Your problem is you walk around with your eyes shut half the time. I’ll bet there’s all sorts of things going on, but you just haven’t picked up on them. If you had me there to keep your wits about you, you could get yourself set up: Phil Green, the Pagham Private Investigator. Once you’re established, you’ll have to beat them off with a stick.’

  ‘Don’t want to sound picky,’ he said, ‘but doesn’t that spell PPI? You sure you’ve thought this through?’

  ‘Yeah, go on. Laugh if you like. Just remember, they laughed at that guy when he said the world was round.’

  ‘Oh yeah. That guy.’

  ‘I know his name, OK? It’s just too early in the morning, like I told you. Point is, you’ll see. Some day, when we’re raking it in, you’ll look back on this moment and thank me for changing your life. We’ll see who’s laughing then.’

  ‘I’m sure it’ll be you,’ he said. ‘Usually is. Anyway, got to go. Just wanted to wish you good luck, that was all.’

  ‘Shan’t need it, but thanks anyway. Were you serious by the way?’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About ringing to offer me advice?’

  ‘Of course. Why? You think you need it?’

  ‘Like you said, you’re the one with all the experience. If you’ve got any tips you’d like to pass on –’

  ‘So what is it? You nervous or something?’

  ‘A bit.’

  ‘Well, don’t be.’

  She laughed. ‘Great. Is that it?’

  ‘No,’ he said, and she could tell even over the phone how pleased he was that she wanted his help. ‘You want some quality advice?’

  ‘Please.’

  ‘OK. Golden rule?’

  ‘Yes?’

  He paused.

  ‘Make sure you bring your purse with you. Never assume the other guy’s paying for your meal too.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake.’

  OWEN

  His immediate thought as he opens the front door is, surely not! Surprise first and foremost, with maybe a touch of dismay thrown in for good measure. He thought he was more or less shot of them. What is it now?

  This is turning out to be anything but a typical weekend. Yesterday was all over the place. Routine shot to pieces. No gentle stroll around a car-boot sale, no film worth watching at the cinema, not even a weights session in the room upstairs, which would have been his normal response to a free afternoon. And no early night either – it was gone one o’clock before he pulled the sheets up around his ears and pressed his feet either side of the hot-water bottle to try to ward off some of the chill he’d brought back from his nocturnal adventures. Couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to bed that late.

  And now, having slept in for a couple of hours to compensate, he’s barely switched on the laptop to start work on his accounts and there goes the doorbell – that silly little chime his mother chose because she liked to sing along to it. And when he opens the door, they’re the last people he’s expecting to see.

  The older one, Holloway, is on the doorstep itself, finger poised to ring the bell again. His partner – the one who never smiles and is always watching, watching, trying to find fault – he’s standing a bit further back, leaving the talking to his boss for now. They’ve got it wrong, he feels like telling them. He’s watched enough films to know how this is supposed to work. It’s the bad guy who goes in first. It’s his job to unsettle the suspect with threats and intimidation, maybe even violence (although that may be just in America, he supposes), then the nice guy comes in with something to drink and maybe a small snack. All friendly. Tries to persuade the poor unsuspecting victim there’s at least one person in the building who’s on his side.

  Holloway goes ahead and presses the bell for a second time, even though the door’s already open. Smiles and bobs his head back and forth in time with the music as the tune tinkles away inside the house.

  ‘Takes me back a bit,’ he says, and at least you can believe in his smile. It looks natural, not just for show. ‘You’re too young to remember but all the ice-cream vans used to play that. Haven’t heard it since I was a kid.’

  Owen stands there and waits. Doesn’t ask why they’re here. Won’t give them the satisfaction. They can stand there all day as far as he’s concerned. He’s given up worrying about what the neighbours might be thinking. Those who’ve known him long enough and were friendly with his mother, like Mr Mitchell and his wife, they’re on his side anyway. They all think it’s a disgrace that he can’t just be left in peace. Some of the others, especially those who’ve never shown any interest in talking to him even before all this busi
ness, probably see it as confirmation that they were right all along. He’s not going to worry about them. They don’t know him so who are they to judge?

  ‘You busy?’ Holloway asks eventually.

  ‘Yes.’ Firm. Nice and clear.

  ‘Well, you think you can spare us an hour or so of your time?’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘We were wondering if you’d like to come with us – not far. Shouldn’t take long.’

  ‘Why? I’m not going anywhere without Mr M-Mitchell.’ Might as well get that straight from the outset. If they think he’s coming back into the station for another of their friendly chats, they can think again. He doesn’t have to do anything or go anywhere unless he wants to – not without an appropriate adult to offer support. All the same, he’d like some sort of idea as to why they’ve turned up out of the blue like this. He was hoping he’d seen the last of them.

  Holloway casts a look over his shoulder at his partner but he doesn’t notice. He’s still looking at the floor, almost as if he’s sulking.

  ‘You’re more than welcome to invite Mr Mitchell along if you like but you won’t need him. We’re not going to the station.’

  ‘So what do you want with me?’

  ‘Well, let’s just say we’re aware we’ve been a bit of a nuisance, Owen. We know you’ve resented the attention you’ve been receiving and, well, we can understand how you’d feel that way. But we thought you’d like to know that’s all in the past now as far as we’re concerned. We think we’re just about to put the whole Callum Green case to bed and we were just wondering if maybe you’d like to be in on the final act.’

  Owen’s heart skips a beat. He’s not sure what’s going on here but his defences are up. Instantly. What does put the whole Callum Green case to bed actually mean? Is he saying he thinks they know who killed Callum? If so, how? It can’t be the bat, can it? Surely they haven’t found it already. He can’t quite get his head round it and feels he needs to ask a few questions to make sure he knows what’s going on, but what’s the best way to do that without arousing suspicion? What would someone who was totally innocent be asking right now?

  ‘I don’t understand,’ he says eventually, opting to play as dumb as possible. ‘Why would you want me to b-be there?’

  Holloway nods to acknowledge that this is a perfectly valid question under the circumstances. Then he steps to one side and turns to face his partner, who looks up for the first time and, after a brief pause, takes half a step forward as if invisible hands are pushing him against his will.

  ‘We think we may owe you one, Mr Hall.’

  ‘Owe me one?’

  ‘An apology.’ His voice is a lot softer than it was when he was barking questions across the table at him not so long ago. It doesn’t sound much like a genuine apology though; more like something he’s being forced to go through with. But it’s not like Owen cares. If he’s having to say he’s sorry, that can only be good news, can’t it?

  ‘Not for bringing you in for questioning or calling round as often as we did,’ he’s quick to continue. ‘We had a job to do and we had to look at everyone, not just you. There was nothing personal in it. But there was a lot of pressure on us to get a result and maybe we weren’t as careful as we might have been.’

  He risks a sideways glance at his boss, clears his throat and continues.

  ‘There’s a chance, in coming after you like we did, we maybe didn’t give enough thought to the problems it might be causing for you . . . you know, your business and everything. We could probably have handled it with a little more sensitivity and we wondered if maybe it would go some way to making it up to you if you could be there when we arrest the person who’s actually to blame for all this.’ He pauses. ‘If you want to, that is. It’s your choice.’

  He holds out his hand and it takes Owen a few moments to realise he’s supposed to shake it. He’s thinking rapidly now. He’s pretty sure he can see what’s going on here. It’s Misery Guts who’s doing the apologising because he’s been put on the spot. He’s been given no choice. If he had to guess, he’d say the two of them have been arguing for some time over whether or not he’s the one who killed Callum. The knowledge that it’s the one who was right all along who has to do all the apologising is too delicious for words. Owen takes his hand and shakes it, making sure he grips it good and tight before letting go. Hopes he’ll carry some muscle memory of the moment around with him for a day or two.

  He turns to Holloway and asks who they’re going to arrest and is told they can’t say just yet. Operational reasons. Strictly speaking, they shouldn’t be extending him this opportunity. They could get into trouble with their bosses if they ever found out. If he does come with them, he’ll have to stay in the background and just watch as things unfold. If he’s happy to do that, they’re OK with him being there. They feel they owe him that.

  They’re in trouble with their superiors, he tells himself. They’ve gone too far. They’re worried that when this is all done and dusted, there might be an official complaint about the problems they’ve caused for him on a professional level. Mr Mitchell has already been kicking up a fuss over loss of earnings while his truck was taken from him. There’s going to be hell to pay if there’s any suggestion that the police might be liable for compensation. They’re the ones who have to be careful now. And it’s nice to have the boot on the other foot for once.

  So he thinks he might go along after all. He smiles to himself and reaches inside the front door for his jacket.

  ‘So where are we going?’ he asks.

  Holloway taps his nose as if they are fellow conspirators.

  ‘An allotment,’ he says, in a theatrical whisper.

  And this is good, Owen thinks to himself.

  This is very, very good.

  *

  It’s about a ten-minute drive from his house to Sandringham Way. He’s sitting in the rear of the car, staring at the backs of their heads and wondering whether he ought to be asking questions right now. He doesn’t want to come across as too desperate for details but at the same time doesn’t it look a bit suspicious if he shows no curiosity at all and just sits there like a lemon? If he was innocent, surely there are things he’d be expected to ask?

  Not so much the who – that’s straightforward. The moment they told him where they were heading, it was obvious who they were going after. But it’s the how that’s exercising his thoughts. Like, how did they know where to look? Had they already decided Kitchener was a suspect? Had they been following him? If so, it occurs to him, they’ll know all about yesterday when Abi took the keys back. Should he mention that now? As soon as they referred to the allotments he’d be bound to say something, wouldn’t he? The allotments? I was there with Abi just yesterday. Would look a bit odd if he didn’t.

  In the end, the decision is taken away from him. Misery guts, who’s clearly trying to do a bit of damage limitation, has started talking again, asking how Mr Mitchell is, as if he’s remotely interested. It’s a joke really. He’s asking questions about Owen’s work now. Wants to know how he first got into repairing mowers and the whole landscape-gardening thing in the first place, as if he’s always been dying to ask. All friends together here. They must think he’s stupid.

  When they turn into Sandringham Way, the same parking space he took just a matter of hours earlier is still available but they drive past it and park further along, tucked just inside a side road. Holloway turns off the engine and explains they need to stay out of sight for a moment. They just need to wait a few minutes. He asks what they’re waiting for and Holloway puts one finger to his lips. Shhhh. Won’t be long now.

  It’s all very mysterious.

  Then, about five minutes later, there’s a crackling voice over the radio and both policemen unbuckle their belts and get out of the car. He starts to do the same but Holloway pokes his head back in and asks him if he’d mind staying where he is.

  ‘We need to go on ahead,’ he explains. ‘You’re not he
re, remember?’

  He does, but he’s been banking on the fact that he’ll be able to persuade them to let him tag along. There doesn’t seem much point in coming here if he’s just going to sit in the car. There’s nothing for him to see or do here. He says so and the two policemen talk about it before Holloway points to the jacket he’s wearing. Tells him to put the hood up, give them two minutes, then walk over to the fence. He’ll be able to see everything from there. But he mustn’t get too close. It’s really important that no one sees him. And above all else, he mustn’t come over to join them or get involved in any way or it will put the whole operation at risk. Does he understand?

  Well, no – he doesn’t. And says so. They’re patient with him, remind him he’s only here as a favour. He needs to stay out of it unless they specifically ask him to get involved. Can they trust him to do that? If not, says Holloway, he should say so now and one of them will take him home.

  So he backs down. He doesn’t want to miss this. They’ve obviously been waiting for someone to arrive. Presumably this someone is Adam Kitchener, the same person who was sitting there on his stool only twenty-four hours earlier, waving his brush about and sprinkling insults around like confetti. If he’s going to get his comeuppance now, Owen wants to be there to see it. He wants to see that sneer wiped off his face, revel in the moment when Kitchener realises he’s about to be arrested for something he didn’t even do. And yes, it would be nice to be right there in his eyeline when it dawns on him what’s going on but he’ll settle for watching from a distance if that’s all that’s on offer.

  He’ll take his victories however they might come.

  He tells them he understands. They can trust him. He’ll watch from the fence and make sure no one can see him.

  Holloway reminds him: ‘Two minutes, OK?’

  He nods and watches as the two of them walk off round the corner, heading back towards the gate.

  He starts counting off the seconds. Says the multiples of three out loud as he comes to each in turn. Shouts the multiples of three and five combined. Whispers the primes and crosses his fingers. He almost leaps out of his skin as the radio crackles suddenly and another garbled message fills the car. He decides he’d make a useless policeman. Taxi driver too. There’s no way he’d ever understand these messages. Gets about one word in ten. He wonders if it’s the same for everyone when they first start out. Maybe it gets easier if you stick at it long enough. He’ll ask when they get back if he remembers.