by M A Comley
“You were a serving officer, I take it, sir?”
“Thirty years I served on the streets of Hereford. It’s changed dramatically over the past few years since the regeneration has taken place in the town. Maybe that has something to do with the crime rate going up. What’s your take on that, Inspector?”
“I’ve only recently moved to the area, sir. Can’t say I’ve noticed the crime rate figures have risen to that extent. Maybe you can tell me if you’ve seen anyone hanging around lately. Someone new to the area or who was acting suspicious, that sort of thing.”
“Not really, no.” He fell silent, and his eyes screwed up as if he was thinking over her questions in more depth. “Wait a minute. I put the cat out about nine o’clock and noticed an unfamiliar car sitting in the road. Where that SOCO van is now. Didn’t think anything more about it until just now—you jogged my memory. Put that down to my old age. I’ll be eighty-five in September. The brain is slowing down a touch, getting rusty in places. That’s why I like to read, you see, to keep the brain active and sharp.”
Her hopes rose a little. “Can you tell me what type of car it was?”
“I only caught a glimpse of it really. A dark car, that’s about all I can give you. Never really been bothered about keeping up to date with the vehicle industry. I still drive around in an old Ford Anglia. She’s a collector’s piece now. Whenever Ted and I went fishing, he always insisted we go in his car. I only tend to go out shopping once a month, you see. I nip down to the local shop in the village if I run out of the essentials in between the major monthly shop.”
“I see. Was it dark blue or black?” Sara pressed, not willing to leave it there.
“If push came to shove, I would come down on saying it was black. Sorry I can’t give you more than that just now. Maybe something else will register in a day or two. You’ll leave me a card in case, right?”
“I will. I don’t suppose you could make out who the driver was?”
“No. I didn’t think anything of it at the time to be honest with you. In the circumstances, I regret my actions.”
“Please, don’t feel guilty.” Sara handed him a card and turned to look at his garden once more. “You have a fabulous garden. Does it take much to care for it?”
“I’m out here most days pottering around. The back garden is even better. Want me to show you?”
Sara smiled at the old man. “Maybe another time, sir. I better get on and speak to the rest of the neighbours. It was a pleasure meeting you. Don’t hesitate to ring me if anything comes to mind.”
“I’ll do that. Good luck with your investigation. I hope you won’t forget about us once you leave here.”
“We won’t. I’ll organise a squad car to drop by every few hours to reassure you and your neighbours.”
“Are you sure you can afford such extravagance with your resources these days?”
Sara detected a note of sarcasm in the man’s tone. “Yes, sir. I’m sure. Thank you for seeing me. Keep up the excellent work with your garden.”
“I will. Good luck with your endeavours.”
Sara smiled and walked back up the path, stopping to smell one of the red roses begging for her to appreciate its scent.
“One of my personal favourites. That’s a hybrid tea rose called Firefighter.”
“Crikey, you can name all the plants as well? You’re amazing.”
The man sniggered. “Not that amazing, otherwise I would have been able to give you more details about the man sitting in that damn car.”
“Maybe something will come to mind soon. Ring me if it does. Goodbye, sir.”
The man shut the door. It was then that Sara realised she hadn’t taken down his name. She trotted back up the path and rang the bell again.
He opened it, his forehead creased. “Did you forget something?”
“I was so distracted by your wondrous display that I totally forgot to take your name, sir.”
“It’s Frank Gordon.”
“Thank you.” Sara turned swiftly to hide her embarrassment. Get a grip, girl. Maybe the case was affecting her more than she was willing to admit. Patches of blood had a habit of doing that—at least it had during her time in Liverpool. Another reason she’d decided to leave the area.
She met up with Carla again and asked, “What have you got?”
“Nothing much to go on. The owner of the house said he thought he saw a man approach the house around tennish, give or take a quarter of an hour. He didn’t think anything of it because the Flowers had frequent visitors,” Carla informed her.
“Could he give you a description?” Sara asked, crossing her fingers down at her side.
“Not really. Youngish, possibly in his twenties or thirties. Pretty vague really.”
“That’s a damn shame. The neighbour across the road saw a black vehicle parked where the SOCO van is. However, he didn’t see who was driving it.”
“What time was that?”
“Around nine o’clock.”
Carla’s mouth twisted. “You reckon he sat there for an hour or so before entering the house?”
“As strange as that sounds, yes. That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”
“Would a burglar taking a chance on a property really do that?”
“Nope. Which goes back to the point I made in the house that the killer was probably known to the victims. How else would he have gained entry to the property otherwise? Lorraine said there was no evidence of a break-in.”
“A family member?” Carla suggested.
Sara shrugged. “Maybe. Who knows at this stage? Let’s continue questioning the neighbours. I’ll do one more then see how Olivia is getting on with contacting her family.”
They split up again, and each ventured down the drive of one of the next two houses. Sara spoke to an elderly woman who was shaking from head to toe as she opened the door. When she introduced herself, the woman broke down in tears, and Sara ended up volunteering to make the woman a cup of strong tea before she left the house empty-handed. Then she went back to see how Olivia was getting on.
Olivia watched her approach the car. She was still on the phone. Sara slowed her pace until she had completed her difficult call. Olivia got out of her car and inhaled a large breath of fresh air. “I’ve managed to contact all my brothers now. The last one was in an important meeting at work.”
“Stupid question: how did they take the news?”
“They were all devastated. David, the last one I spoke to, was livid and wanted to come down here right away. I persuaded him not to. Said there was very little point in him coming as you probably wouldn’t allow him access to the house anyway.”
“That’s true. I’m sorry you had to deal with that alone. How are you holding up?”
Olivia hitched up a shoulder. “I’m all right, I suppose. I’ve accepted that I’ll never see them again and determined to find out why anyone would do this to them.”
“As am I. My partner and I have spoken to the neighbours. One of them said she heard a scream and even knocked on the front door but returned to her house and didn’t think any more of it when there was no answer.”
“Why didn’t she ring the police?”
“She thought she had misheard the scream. Said the house was in darkness when she arrived around tennish.”
“Didn’t she bother to chase it up the next day?”
Sara shook her head. “She was out all day on a family function and never thought to call in to see your parents when she arrived home. She’s beside herself, riddled with guilt.”
“Now she knows how I feel. I can’t shake off the feeling of helplessness I’m burdened with. When I was telling my brothers, all I could think about was why I hadn’t rung them on Sunday.”
“Did you usually ring them every day?”
“Not really. I rang on the Saturday evening, then knew I was coming over today to pick Mum up, so I left it.”
“You mustn’t blame yourself, Olivia. I’m sure dozens of peop
le in your shoes would do the same, but there really is no need.”
She sniffled and wiped her nose on a fresh hanky. “So no one saw anything of use to your investigation?”
“We have a sighting of a car sitting outside the property for approximately an hour, a dark car, possibly black. Another neighbour said he saw a man approaching the house.”
“That’s good. Could he describe this man?”
“No. He said your mother and father had that many visitors, he presumed it was a member of your family and didn’t think twice about it.”
She rubbed a hand over her face. “It’s true. There’s always one of us popping in and out of here. Damn, do you think it’s because all the neighbours are elderly?”
“I don’t think so. In my experience, sometimes older witnesses have an advantage over younger ones in that they tend to observe things more thoroughly. Have more time on their hands, if you like.”
Olivia glanced at a forensic technician as he left the house and placed an evidence bag in the back of his van. “How long do you think they’ll take to examine the house thoroughly? Can I ask why Mum and Dad haven’t been taken away yet?”
Sara scratched the side of her face. “It might take them a day or two to carry out an extensive search. I’m sure you appreciate how important it is not to rush these things. I’ll have a word with the pathologist to see what’s going on with regards to your parents. I’ll be right back.”
“Thank you. I’d appreciate that, Inspector. The thought of them lying there…well, it’s just not right, is it?”
“I agree. Leave it with me.” Sara rushed back to the crime scene. Rather than get togged up again, she stuck her head around the door and asked Lorraine, “Not wishing to rush you, but the daughter would like to know when her parents are going to be taken away?”
“I’m organising that now. Sorry for the delay. Given the way the bodies were arranged, I wanted to ensure all the necessary tests and photos were taken first.”
“No need to apologise. Anything new for me?” she asked, more out of hope than anticipation.
“Nothing other than what I’ve shared with you so far.”
“One thing the daughter mentioned in passing was her parents kept a vast sum of money under the floorboards beneath the bed. Could one of your guys quickly check that out for me rather than me togging up again?”
“Of course. Paul, would you do the honours for me?”
“On my way now,” the young technician said, leaving the room.
“How have the door-to-door enquiries gone?”
Sara tilted her head from side to side. “Nothing spectacular. A few leads to follow up on, though. Send me the results of the PM when you can, as usual.”
“You’ll be at the top of the list, never worry about that. Good luck with your investigation.”
“Thanks. I have a feeling we’re going to need all the luck available for this one.”
The technician returned a few moments later carrying an evidence bag full of bundled notes.
“Damn. How much roughly?” Sara asked.
The technician shrugged. “Seven, maybe eight grand. Do you want me to count it now before we get back to base?” He directed his question at Lorraine.
“No. We don’t have time. Sara, do you want to take a pic on your phone, and we’ll do the same?”
Sara fished her phone out and snapped a few photos. They’d recently had a directive from head office to photograph any money found at the scene of a crime before it was placed in the evidence room because certain cases had been highlighted lately where some money had gone missing during transportation. Sara was all right with the new directive—none of the members of her team would ever dream of pocketing the cash placed in their safety. “Done. I’m off. Be in touch soon.”
She returned to speak to Olivia who was waiting anxiously by her car. “The pathologist has it all in hand, and the transportation is being arranged now. You’re aware that she’ll have to carry out postmortems on your parents?”
“I presumed that would be the case in the circumstances.” Her eyes misted up again. “I dread the thought of them being cut open…” Her voice trailed off, and she dabbed a tissue to her eyes.
Sara rubbed Olivia’s arm. “I’m sorry, it’s a necessary evil. Are your family up to being questioned?”
“I mentioned you wanted to see all my brothers—they’re open to that. Anything they can do to help, they will do. I’ve jotted down their names and addresses for you.” She opened a small flowered diary she was holding and tore two pages out and passed them to Sara.
“That’s really helpful. I’ll be in touch with you soon.”
“Thank you, Inspector. Please, please get my parents the justice they deserve.”
“I assure you, I’ll do my very best.” Sara smiled and went in search of Carla. Her partner was just exiting a house four doors down from the Flowers’ home. “Anything?”
“Not really. My take is that we’re wasting time here. Maybe we should arrange for uniform to conduct the house-to-house and take down any statements that are needed.”
“You read my mind. I was about to suggest the same. I’ve got a list of family members we need to interview. Looks like we’re in for a tough day.”
“Nothing compared to what the family are going to experience,” Carla mumbled as they began their journey back to the car.
Chapter 2
He paced the floor, waiting for Mick to arrive. He was on tenterhooks for a reason. He owed the man thousands of pounds. What he had achieved from Ted and Maureen had been an utter disappointment to him. The neighbour knocking on the front door had scared him shitless. He’d snuck out the back of the house and waited in the shadows until the old biddy had returned to her own house. With Mick due any second, he was regretting his decision not to go back inside the property and search for the cash he knew was lying there.
His girlfriend came into the room wearing the shortest T-shirt that barely covered her arse. She stretched, and the T-shirt rose up, revealing the delights he sampled daily, when he was up to it. The previous night, her unwanted attention had suffocated him. He’d left the bed without their usual nightly romping session and ended up sleeping on the couch. He hated himself for what he’d done to the Flowers, especially when the job had gone wrong in more ways than one. He needed those funds. He knew when Mick arrived he was going to pay the price for not coming up with the money he promised he’d pay today.
“Baby, are you still mad at me?” Dawn sauntered towards him, pouting like a ten-pound trout.
He held up his hand to prevent her from coming any closer. “Don’t. I ain’t got time for this. Mick will be here soon. I suggest you get some clothes on. He’ll be wanting compensation for me not being able to cough up the dough he’s expecting. He might look at what you can provide as payment.”
“What? Fuck that! When’s he due?”
He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Ten minutes.”
Dawn flew out of the room and upstairs to the bedroom. She emerged fully clothed without visiting the bathroom five minutes later. “How long will he be here?”
“Not sure. Depends on the beating he and his guys are going to want to give me. I’d stay away for the next hour or so. We need some milk. You could always do some shopping.”
“Bugger off, I ain’t your mother. Do your own shopping.”
He stepped forward, ready to slap her.
She retreated a few steps. “Sorry.”
“You know what you can do if you don’t like what goes on here. Pick up a couple of pints of milk while you’re out. You’re keen to drink my tea and coffee when you’re here, so you can put your frigging hand in your pocket now and again, it won’t damn well hurt you.”
She scowled at him. “All right. Keep your fucking hair on. I might not come back at all if you keep speaking to me like that.”
He gave a nonchalant shrug. “Like you’ve got an option on that front. Anyway, it suits me either way. N
ow get out of my face.”
She huffed and slammed the front door behind her. He moved over to the window and watched her stomp up the street in her four-inch heels and faux fur jacket and wondered what the hell he saw in her. Sex, that’s what. She’s a good lay.
A car drew up outside the house, and he swallowed the saliva that had instantly filled his mouth. “Shit! He’s here.” He spun around the room, imitating a headless chicken. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mick and two of his muscle-bound men walk past the window and up the path.
His legs shook. He opened the front door after they rang the bell. Mick brushed him aside and walked into the lounge. The two heavies motioned for him to follow Mick and then they closed the front door and joined them in the lounge.
“Hi, Mick. How’s it going?” he asked nervously.
“Cut the crap, dipshit. I’m here for my money. Ten grand.”
He swept a hand through his short black hair. “Ah, the truth is, I don’t have it yet.”
Mick narrowed his eyes and took a step towards him. “Not the right answer, shithead.”
He extracted the wallet from his back pocket and handed Mick the five hundred pounds he’d stolen from Ted Flowers. “Take it. It’s all I’ve got.”
Mick stared at the money he was holding up. “You’re pulling my plonker, right?”
“No. I’m really sorry, Mick. I thought I’d have the cash for you, but a family member let me down at the last minute, man. Take it. It’s the best I can do for now.”
“Not good enough. I warned you what would happen if you didn’t come up with the goods today.”
He backed up a few paces. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it. I promise I’ll get you what I owe you by Friday.”
“You told me that last week. You broke that promise. Now my boys are going to break you—into tiny pieces.”
The two thugs changed positions and stood either side of him, while Mick glared at him.
“Please. Give me one more chance. Up the price, double the amount I owe you if you need to. But, please, don’t hurt me. I’m begging you. If you put me in hospital, then I don’t have a hope in hell of getting the money for you. Come on, man. You know I’m good for it. I’ve never let you down in the past, have I?”