‘Yeah, VW Amaroks.’
‘And where are the surveyors based? Are they here, too?’
‘No, they work from home — or remotely at least. There’s not the need for them to come here, unless they’re picking up one of the trucks or some gear.’
‘So they will take the trucks home and have them for a period of time?’
‘They can do, yeah. Like I said . . . some do and some don’t. Their jobs have changed recently . . . they’ve all become self-employed, but they have contracts with McCall’s.’
‘So what does a surveyor do, exactly?’
‘That’s a fair question. It does seem to be a changeable role. I started here as a surveyor. At that time the firm would buy a piece of land then send me to view it and I would work out what could go on there and give a good idea of the value once it was built. There’s more to it now. Surveyors need to do the leg work themselves. They will go to the auction houses, the farmers or factory owners to try and drum up a sale. Then they come back to McCall’s with a proposal, if that makes sense?’
‘Not really,’ Harry said. ‘Try again.’
‘Right . . . the paper mill down in Dover, for example . . . One of our guys gets wind that the company running it is having financial problems and is looking for a buyer. He makes an approach to see if they’d consider selling it for development and a proposal is put together. That surveyor is given access to the site by the proprietor and is able to work out exactly what could go on there . . . How many flats, the construction costs, what they could sell for, etc. The surveyor then comes back to McCall’s and tells them that Dover Mill is available for X amount and provides a detailed proposal. If McCall’s take the project up, the surveyor gets a commission.’
‘And what sort of money would we be talking about?’
‘Every project is different. It’s a percentage of the overall profit.’
‘It’s worth their while though?’
‘Well, yeah. These blokes don’t work for free.’
‘And you do that, too?’
‘Not so much now. I’ve been here a while so I’m a direct McCall’s employee with a salary and a pension. The fleet keeps me busy. The logistics of the plant take up most of my time. I still have a few contacts at the auction houses and a few of the commercial estate agents. I can secure a project every now and then. I don’t need the hassle so much. You have to invest a lot of work and a lot of time to see it through to your commission. I had a result with a country pub recently via an old contact. That wasn’t too bad.’
‘So you have six surveyors and they all share the trucks?’
‘Exactly.’
‘There must be a system, though — so you know who’s got what and they can book them out?’
‘There is, though it’s not fool-proof by any means. They self-manage. There’s a board with the keys. They sign them out when they need a vehicle and then back in again when they bring it back. I think somebody from your lot came and did some poking around to find out who had the truck. I wish you’d come to me straight away. I could have explained the system and shown you how it’s not exactly perfect.’
‘We didn’t want to make too much noise. I’m sure you can understand why.’
‘I suppose. But then you arrested someone. I could have explained it from the off.’
‘Where are the keys?’ Harry’s tone changed. Maddie recognised that Harry wasn’t looking to be questioned. She reckoned she already knew the answer to Harry’s question; she could see a whiteboard with a number of different car registrations on it. Handwritten notes identified who was driving what. There was a metal hook next to each one. Only one of the hooks had keys hanging from it. They all started GN66 and only the last three letters were different. The top four had (TR) after them, which Maddie guessed were the trucks. Ryan was pointing at the same board.
‘Over there. You can see it’s not a fool-proof system but it works well enough. We don’t need nothing complicated.’
‘So you knew that Jonathan Lee was last to have possession of the truck.’
‘This is what I would have explained. It was signed out to him but the system’s flawed.’
‘But he would have had the key at some point.’
‘He might have had one of the keys. We’ve got spares for all of the truck keys. That’s what’s happened with this one, I reckon. The spare key’s not here. They’re all kept in the drawer below. These blokes are out on busy sites. They’re getting in and out all day, we get keys going missing or locked in the trucks so we have to make the spares available. A lot of the blokes will drop the trucks back and then clear off with the key still in their pocket, too.’
‘So you keep spares in the drawer.’
‘That’s right.’
Maddie could see that Harry was looking round the interior of the cabin. He looked over to the door. ‘How many people work here?’
‘Two of us is the maximum number in here. Sometimes this place is used as an overflow if—’
‘I meant at this site — for McCall’s.’
‘Oh, shit, I don’t know. You get forty people here most days if you include the office staff. This is the head office. We’ve got a few satellite offices elsewhere and a few cabins that are set up on the big sites. Then you got all the agency staff. We use a lot of them — it’s that sort of business. One day you’re building seven houses at the same time on a good sized site and the next you’re renovating a few outbuildings and redecorating a farm house. A lot of the building trade use agency or trade staff. You can just bring in the blokes you need. No point paying men to sit around on their arses.’
‘So access to this place — access to those keys . . . do you lock this place up when you’re not here?’
‘No. Just when I go home at the end of the day or if I’m going out and I know I’m not coming back. But even then there’s a key at reception in case anyone needs it. And the surveyors all have one, too, in case they need what’s in here or the keys to a particular truck. They work some funny hours. They can be here at all times of the day.’
Harry rubbed at his face. Maddie could sense his frustration. She knew that he wasn’t getting anywhere with this line of questioning.
‘So the forty people that work here and the untold agency staff . . . in theory, they all had access to the spare keys of the truck Jonathan had?’
‘I guess so, yeah.’
‘And is there CCTV that covers where they’re parked?’
‘I don’t think so, no. CCTV covers the yard out there and the warehouse. The trucks are in the side car park. There’s no cameras there.’
‘The yard CCTV would cover people coming and going from here? If they were after the keys, I mean.’
‘Yeah, I guess it would. The CCTV would cover anybody coming in and out, but I don’t see how we would know if they left with a key in their pocket.’
Harry sighed. He sat back and took his time sipping at his tea.
‘So you can’t say for certain if the truck was brought back here, you couldn’t say who by and there’s no way of knowing who took the spare key and drove it away again if it was?’
‘That’s it. In a nutshell.’
‘Brilliant,’ Harry growled. ‘I’ll need the names and addresses of the six surveyors. Well, five. I’ve got Jonathan’s.’
‘No problem. What’s the deal with Jon anyway? Can we have him back here?’
‘That’s your decision, or a decision for someone here at least.’
‘Is he still under investigation? I heard a bit. I heard someone got hit by that truck and died. You have to know that weren’t Jon — he’s not that sort of lad at all.’
‘I don’t know anything right now. Your processes here aren’t helping me either. Or him for that matter.’
‘I guess not.’
‘What about mileage?’ Maddie chipped in. ‘Surely they have to record the mileage they do and justify what they’ve done? Otherwise they could all use your trucks for their weekly shop.
’
‘They write the mileage on the board when they take one out and they put the new mileage up when they get back. They pay for their own fuel as part of being self-employed. The company takes the wear and tear on the chin. It’s a perk. I don’t know how long they’ll continue the lease on them cars, I think it’s another tax relief to even have them on the books.’
‘So you don’t record what mileage has been done by whom?’
‘Not like in a historical record, if that’s what you mean? Was it not melted? The clocks an’ that?’
‘We can sometimes retrieve some information,’ Harry said. ‘I’m thinking about the other trucks . . . if we knew who was definitely in the others it would be a start. Do they have black boxes?’
‘Black boxes? You mean like trackers?’
‘Well a tracker would be wonderful, but a black box that records when the vehicle is in motion — the speeds, braking, that sort of thing?’
‘No. Nothing like that. I’ll be honest, no one really cares. They are there for the use of the surveyors. The company sort of runs on the back of their work, you know? They’re important. If those six blokes don’t find us the next project, everything comes to a grinding halt.’
Harry sat back. His body seemed to sag. This was a lost cause. Maddie knew it and it was obvious her colleague did too. He turned back to face the board with the keys hanging from it.
‘You’ve got one of the trucks here?’
Ryan peered over to the board, too. ‘That’s mine at the moment. My car’s out for a new tyre today. They didn’t have one on the mobile van. I’m hoping to get it back later.’
‘Can I have a look at it?’
Ryan scowled like he was confused. ‘If you want to. It should be just out the front.’
Ryan picked the keys off the board and they stepped back out into the din. They moved back to the hallway that ran along the back of the building. Then, rather than heading right towards the reception, they took a left out through a fire exit. Immediately Maddie could see two identical-looking trucks, parked nose-in. They were in a separate car park that was fenced off as its own compound. It would be visible from the front. There were other vehicles, too, including a couple of small vans emblazoned with the McCall’s brand.
‘Ah, see?’ Ryan said. ‘There’s actually two back. One of the blokes must have kept the keys for one. He’ll probably come back for it.’
Harry shook his head. Ryan pointed the key at the truck and its lights flashed.
‘Did you want to look inside it, or . . .?’
Harry didn’t answer. He pulled the door open on the passenger side and peered in. Maddie stood behind him. The car looked tidy, much tidier than the builder’s vehicles she had come across in the past. Harry moved to the front and ran his hand along the top of the bonnet. Maddie moved to the back. She pulled idly at the boot catch. The back lifted under its own steam. The hydraulics hissed. Ryan was standing a few steps away from the truck. He was watching Harry but he looked disinterested overall. He looked over at Maddie and smiled. She smiled back. She looked into the long boot. It had a metal floor. The back was orderly enough, too. It had a new-looking hi-vis jacket and a safety helmet still sealed in a clear bag. There was also a battered-looking metal box. It looked out of place. It reminded her of something her granddad had used a lot when she was a girl. He’d been a keen fishermen. She pushed it open.
‘Fishing tackle!’ she announced, surprised at her own recollection. She looked over at Ryan, who seemed a little confused.
He shrugged. ‘Like I said, they pay for their fuel. They can take them fishing if they want.’
‘You’re not the fisherman then?’
‘Me? I don’t have the time for fishing. Could be anyone’s.’
Maddie looked over at the truck next to it. It was identical except that it was noticeably dirtier. She flicked back to the truck Ryan was using. Water still dripped from the underside and there were damp patches on the floor close to the wheels. The one next to it had the standard layer of dust that seemed to have affected everything else.
‘Someone cleaned this one,’ Maddie said.
Ryan nodded. ‘I did, yeah. They’re supposed to keep them clean. There’s a jet wash round the back they can all use. They do get filthy. You can imagine the muddy places they go.’
‘Not recently, though,’ Maddie said. She lifted her head to the blazing sun.
‘Nah, she was just a bit dusty. Quick blast with the hose. I get told to make sure they’re clean by the bosses, so I do it. I guess it’s a first-impressions kind of a thing.’
Maddie pushed the boot shut. Harry was finished too. It was written all over his face.
‘Shall we?’ he said.
‘Sure, if you’re done.’
Harry turned back to Ryan. ‘Like I said . . . the names of the surveyors, their dates of birth and their home addresses. You can put them in an email for me.’
‘Okay, I should be able to do that straight away.’
They shook hands again. Ryan took Harry’s card and showed them back to their car.
Once inside, Maddie chanced a conversation. Harry’s mood was clear.
‘What was the thinking? With looking round the car, I mean. I’m interested.’
‘I wanted to see it for myself. The height and shape of the front. The victim was pushed downwards and dragged. Now I’ve seen the truck it makes sense.’
‘There isn’t a doubt what was used though, is there?’
‘I like to see things for myself. I’ve had somebody out to take pictures of the truck already. I had an idea of what it would look like, but sometimes you don’t know a thing until you’ve run your hands over it.’
‘The child in me is desperate to make a joke right now.’ Her smile disappeared immediately when she saw his reaction. She went back to looking out of the window. She waited for Harry to speak next. It took him almost fifteen minutes.
‘I need to go to Aylesham. They have some property there.’
Maddie was looking for the question in there — or the option. There was none. ‘Okay. And I assume I’m coming with you?’
‘It’s a just-job. I need to pick up some bits that were found in my victim’s car. I said I would run it back to his wife.’
‘No problem.’
Another minute or two of silence passed. ‘And then we can go back to looking for your girl,’ he said.
Maddie didn’t reply. She felt like she knew better.
Chapter 23
The recovery yard was on the outskirts of a village called Aylesham. Maddie had never been there before but it still looked instantly familiar. Up north she was aware of a few ex-mining villages — whole communities built round the pits and collieries — and this had that same feeling about it. Sure enough, they soon drifted past a huge site that had all the hallmarks of a disused mine. Some of the buildings still remained but they were just blackened shells. The housing stock as they moved through the village became more modern, tighter packed and less interesting, but the atmosphere of a mining community remained. It was as if the coal dust was part of the fabric of the place.
‘You’d think McCall’s might be interested in the mining site out here?’ Maddie said.
‘No one knows what to do with it. It’s all slagheaps with tunnels dug out. A nightmare for building on.’
‘I suppose someone would have tried by now if it were viable,’ Maddie mused.
They pulled into the front car park of Snowdown Recovery. The ground was made up of grey shingle and their movements kicked up clouds of dust. Most of the cars were covered in a decent layer of it. The sign pointing out Reception was a little misleading. On following its direction through a door, Reception turned out to be just a small hatch in a corridor. It had a glass frontage that was pulled opened as they approached. A man in a short-sleeved t-shirt, complete with oil stains and dust, opened it up and looked out expectantly.
‘DI Blaker.’ Harry held out his badge.
‘
The classic Land Rover, right?’ the man said. His eyes dropped to hunt for something. He lifted a pair of keys into view and then disappeared. A bit further down the corridor a door opened and the man beckoned for them to follow. Maddie hung a few paces behind as they were led through into the main yard. It was fenced off and bigger than looked possible from the road. Cars were parked bumper-to-bumper — those that still had their bumpers attached at any rate. They all looked to be crash damaged in some way. Specimens ranged from minor dents or collapsed front wheels to a metal corpse with the roof cut cleanly free from the tops of the door frames. They crossed the yard and stopped outside a small warehouse. A box hung down with two buttons. The man jammed his thumb into one of them and a large metal door slid up on runners that squealed their contempt.
‘The car’s in here. This is our forensic storage now.’ The man seemed proud.
‘Forensic storage?’ It wasn’t a term Maddie had heard before outside of a police station.
‘Yeah. We stick the cars under cover for your lot when they ask. We don’t tow these either — they get a full lift. Seems you don’t want our greasy backsides on the driver’s seat!’
‘Ah, I see,’ Maddie said. She wasn’t sure why the car of a victim of a hit and run would need his own car seized in such a manner but she was pretty certain that Harry wouldn’t appreciate the question. Major Crime were well known for their belt and braces approach.
Harry spoke. ‘It’s been searched and swabbed. The car can be released. I’ll let the wife know and she can come and pick it up. We’re only here to collect his property. Apparently it’s bagged up inside.’
‘So I can open her up?’ the man said.
‘Yeah.’
Both men moved to the car. Maddie fixed on the one next to it, the only other one in there. It was a silver Ford of some sort, a family hatchback. The front had been staved in; the bonnet rippled up and peeled back like the untidy opening of a can of sardines. The windscreen was hanging out. She leaned in a little. Her eye was dragged to a child’s seat that was pushed tight against the seat in front, too tight for even a tiny human to fit. Spent airbags hung limp from the steering wheel and the dash. The driver’s dials and vents were spotted with what looked like blood. There was a larger stain in the foot well. She shivered and turned away. Harry was now clutching a clear bag with small items inside. It had a blue seal around the top, tied off in a gooseneck.
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