Bridge to Burn

by Rachel Amphlett

  Gavin helped himself to the chair on the left, reaching into his jacket pocket for his notebook, and said nothing. He glared at Hill.

  Carys remained passive as the property developer straightened his tie and sank into his own chair.

  If the man felt uncomfortable, she didn’t care. She wanted answers.

  ‘Why haven’t you returned my colleague’s phone calls and messages, Mr Hill?’

  In response, he gestured to the paperwork strewn across his desk, but Gavin spoke before he could reply.

  ‘Paperwork isn’t a valid excuse, Mr Hill. Nor is playing golf. We’re dealing with what appears to be the brutal murder of a man whose body was found encased within a building you developed over the course of last summer. And we’d like some answers, please.’

  Chastened, Hill rested his arms on the desk and appeared to look contrite. ‘I’m very sorry, Detective Piper. I realise I should’ve returned your calls, and I apologise. What is it you’d like to ask me?’

  ‘Why did you decide to award the construction management of the redevelopment works to Brancourt and Sons?’

  ‘John and his team had worked on similar contracts for me over the past three years – smaller scopes of work than the Petersham Building, but always to a high degree of finishing. It’s the older companies like his that can be counted on; the ones who’ve been established a long time. When I sent out the tender, I knew his would come back the strongest. He wasn’t the cheapest, but I knew what to expect.’

  ‘A known quantity, you mean?’

  ‘Exactly, and that’s often hard to find in this industry.’

  ‘What happened after you awarded the contract to Brancourt and Sons?’ said Gavin. ‘Did you relinquish all control over the project?’

  ‘Not at all. John’s remit was to take care of the day-to-day running of the redevelopment work – awarding contracts for work such as lighting, telecommunications, carpentry, et cetera and making sure it was all completed in line with the project schedule. Basically, the purpose of his contract was to save me managing the paperwork – and to spread the risk so my company wasn’t wholly responsible financially for getting the place finished on time.’

  ‘Brancourt mentioned he was waiting for copies of the finished plans for the completed redevelopment works from you,’ said Gavin. ‘Any idea when those will be made available?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m not sure at the moment. My document controller works part-time and we’re still trying to catch up with all the work we completed over the summer. I can have a set of drawings issued to you as soon as they’re ready if you like?’

  ‘That would be appreciated, thank you.’

  ‘Do you recall any issues during the works?’ said Carys. ‘Any altercations between contractors that might’ve led to this man’s death?’

  Hill shook his head. ‘Nothing was brought to my attention when I attended site meetings. That’s the usual forum for contractors to air any grievances, so it can be minuted and then sorted out.’

  ‘Have you spoken to the media at all about this?’ said Carys.

  Hill shook his head. ‘It’s why I’ve been avoiding answering the phone to be honest. Gilly out there has been fielding calls to this office but I haven’t dared check my voicemail messages since the news broke.’ He held up his mobile. ‘I haven’t switched this on since Tuesday.’

  ‘What are you afraid of, Mr Hill?’ said Gavin.

  ‘Afraid?’

  ‘A man in your circumstances, running your own business, expected to be on call for any number of queries from your clients and contractors, not answering his phone? That doesn’t seem likely,’ said Gavin.

  Hill tugged at his earlobe, but said nothing.

  ‘Is someone threatening you?’ said Carys. She reached out and placed her hand on the paperwork. ‘You can tell us, if that’s the case.’

  ‘Not threatening me, no. But there were some – indiscretions – regarding the contracts at the Petersham Building I wasn’t happy with. I wondered…’ He removed his glasses and polished a lens with the corner of his shirt before replacing them. ‘I wondered if that had something to do with all this.’

  ‘In what way?’ said Gavin. ‘Weren’t you responsible for managing the contracts?’

  ‘Only the high level ones. Like I said, the construction management team, Brancourt and Sons, were engaged to run all the on-site contracts. My role in these things is to locate suitable premises to develop, raise the capital and then manage the main contractor – Brancourt and Sons in the case of the Petersham Building.’

  ‘What sort of indiscretions do you mean?’ said Carys.

  Hill reached out and tidied a stack of pages on the corner of his desk, then sighed. ‘Look, you didn’t hear this from me all right? I don’t need the trouble.’

  Carys remained silent, thankful her colleague did the same.

  After a moment, Hill took the hint and held up his hands. ‘There have been rumours going around that Mark Sutton’s company isn’t exactly legitimate.’

  ‘Who is Mark Sutton?’ said Gavin.

  ‘He owns Sutton Site Security. Brancourt and Sons awarded them the contract to maintain a fenced perimeter around the building while the works were ongoing to make sure there were no attempted break-ins. Some of the contractors left valuable equipment there rather than take it away each afternoon, and then of course there were the supplies being stored there prior to installation.’

  ‘In what way is Mark Sutton’s business not legitimate?’ said Carys.

  ‘Have you met him?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘He’s got a reputation for being a bit of a crook, and he surrounds himself with people who have a similar background to his.’

  ‘Of the criminal variety?’ said Carys.

  Hill shrugged. ‘I couldn’t say. Like I said, I don’t need the trouble and Sutton isn’t someone I’d want to deal with, which made John’s selection of his company awkward to say the least. I really don’t need that sort of negative publicity on top of everything else that’s happened this week.’

  Carys signalled to Gavin, then turned back to Hill and slid one of her business cards across the cluttered desk towards him.

  ‘We’ll see ourselves out, but we’ll need to talk to you again during the course of our enquiries. In the meantime, if you think of anything else that will help us, you can reach me on that number. Or, you can phone DC Piper. After all, you have his number in your phone, right?’

  Hill nodded, a sheepish expression crossing his features. ‘I do, yes.’

  Carys said nothing further until they’d retreated to the reception area and she’d retrieved her umbrella.

  Once outside, she turned to Gavin.

  ‘Callous bastard, isn’t he? All he could think about was the potential damage to his business, not the fact someone died at the site of one of his projects.’

  ‘Makes you wonder why,’ said Gavin.

  Nine

  Kay wrapped her fingers around the warm ceramic of her coffee cup and assessed the investigative officers and administrative staff who were hurrying to join her at the far end of the incident room.

  As she waited for them to find seats, she paced in front of the whiteboard mulling over the morning’s interview with John Brancourt, and then glanced up at movement by the door.

  She smiled as Detective Chief Inspector Devon Sharp raised his hand in greeting before pushing his way between the desks and the assembled throng.

  ‘Mind if I join you for this one?’ he said as he reached her. ‘I thought it’d save you coming over to headquarters later this afternoon to give the Chief Super an update. I can report back to her and let you get on.’

  ‘You’re a lifesaver, guv – thanks. What’s the latest from the media liaison unit?’

  ‘The vultures are circling,’ he said. ‘Slow news week.’

  ‘Dammit, that’s a shame.’

  ‘I know.’

  In Kay’s experience, if a murder caught the media’s a
ttention during a week when there were no major events or other incidents to report upon, the ensuing investigation would become their sole focus. The effect was one of constant interruption as phone calls, emails and even personal visits by hopeful journalists cajoling for a story ahead of their competitors intensified.

  ‘There’s a news crew outside at the moment,’ said Sharp.

  ‘What, here?’

  ‘They’ve had the sense to set up at the bottom of Gabriel’s Hill, but you might want to warn your lot. And if any of you are ambushed outside by the press, I want to know about it immediately, all right?’

  ‘No problem. Thanks for the heads up.’

  He nodded, then glanced over his shoulder. ‘Well, it looks like everyone’s here. Don’t mind me. I’ll grab a coffee and listen in.’

  ‘Thanks. There are digestive biscuits on my desk.’

  He grinned before turning away, and Kay took a sip of her own hot drink before setting the cup down on the desk next to her.

  She rarely saw her friend and mentor at the Maidstone police station now that Devon Sharp had been promoted to the role of Detective Chief Inspector, despite his best attempts to stay away from the Kent Police headquarters on Sutton Road. She missed the easy banter that had accompanied the previous investigations that they’d worked on together in the past but accepted that it was the natural course of promotion and responsibility.

  At least they managed to catch up every few weeks for dinner with their respective partners to socialise.

  ‘Gav, tell me you managed to speak with Alexander Hill this morning?’ she said as the younger detective took a seat close to the whiteboard.

  ‘Yes, me and Carys went over to Rochester earlier,’ he said, and ran through his notes from the interview. ‘Hill stated that he wasn’t aware of any issues at site with regard to contractors having disagreements, but he did raise concerns about the site security firm that Brancourt and Sons employed. He told us he thought the owner, Mark Sutton, may have criminal connections.’

  Kay stopped writing on the board and raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh, yes? Did he say why he thought that?’

  ‘Apparently, Sutton has a reputation for being a crook and may even be employing people of a criminal nature.’ Gavin indicated to his colleague. ‘We were going to have a dig around to see what we could find out.’

  ‘Good. Let me know what you put together over the next twenty-four hours.’ Kay scratched another note on the whiteboard, then brushed a wisp of hair from her face and turned to her colleagues. ‘Do a complete review of Sutton’s business – carefully, mind, so we don’t alert him to the fact until we’re ready to speak to him.’

  ‘Guv.’

  ‘Carys – have all the previous tenants been interviewed by uniform?’

  ‘Yes, guv.’ The detective constable rose from her seat and cleared her throat before addressing her colleagues, quoting from her notebook. ‘Nothing very much stands out from my review of the statements, I’m afraid. The owner of the boutique, a Mrs Felicity Hawkins, says she ended her tenancy three months before works commenced so she didn’t experience any problems from contractors. She said her trade took a nosedive once everyone heard about the redevelopment – apparently she had customers telling her they wouldn’t buy clothes in case they couldn’t return them if they didn’t fit, things like that.’

  ‘Fickle,’ said Kay, ‘but that’s human nature, I suppose. Who else have you got?’

  Carys ran her gaze over her notes. ‘The owner of the bloodstock licensing agency retired – he lives in Berkshire now, and similarly stated that he had no issues when renting his office space and wasn’t even aware that the works had finished. Finally, the tenants who were on the top floor run a graphic design agency. It’s a husband and wife team – Peter and Jane Wilberforce. Uniform spoke to Peter who told them they were relieved the tenancy had ended earlier because they’d been struggling to find new clients. They’ve been running their business from home since the works began.’

  ‘None of them sound like the sort to hold a grudge,’ said Barnes.

  ‘True,’ said Kay. ‘All right, for now we’ll put the tenants to one side. They’re not under suspicion per se, unless something else crops up during the course of our enquiries.’

  She wrote a cross next to each of the tenants’ names on the whiteboard and then re-capped the pen and turned to the team. ‘Who spoke to the carpet fitters?’

  Sergeant Hughes raised his hand. ‘Me, guv. There were two of them tasked with doing the upstairs offices – Michael Blake and Andy James. I spoke to Michael first. He said that he didn’t notice anything unusual while they were working in the building – he was quite shocked when I told him what had happened. He said the underlay was fitted first, then they spent a day working in one of the offices at the rear of the building. When they went back to work in the front office two days later, he said nothing looked like it had been disturbed. Andy James’s statement was the same – no unusual activity spotted.’

  ‘No blood stains on the floor or underlay?’ said Kay. ‘No signs of a struggle?’

  ‘Nothing, guv – no.’

  ‘Maybe the damage to our victim’s skull was caused when he was crammed into the cavity?’ said Barnes. ‘We’ve only assumed he was clobbered over the head and killed.’

  ‘Good point,’ said Kay. She wrote Barnes’s suggestion on the whiteboard, then reviewed the notes to date. Satisfied she’d caught everything, she turned back to her team.

  ‘Mark Sutton and his site security business are now key elements to this enquiry, and I want all of you to support Gavin and Carys with that lead. I want a full update first thing tomorrow morning, is that clear?’

  She nodded at the rumble of agreement, and then dismissed them before turning back to the whiteboard.

  Somehow, she would see that their victim found justice.

  Ten

  Kay pushed the duvet away from her face, rolled over and reached out blindly for her watch on the bedside table.

  Her fingers eventually found the stainless steel surface of the wristband and she tugged it closer, blinking through bleary eyes at the illuminated dials.

  Three forty-five.

  She dropped the watch back onto the polished wooden surface and wondered whether she should turn on the bedside light.

  If she did, she knew she’d never get back to sleep. It would be too tempting to pad across the carpet to the dressing table where her phone was on charge, and then she’d spend the next hour checking emails before deciding it was too late to fight her insomnia.

  Instead, she turned on her back and rested her head on the soft cotton pillowcase, the faint scent of freshly washed linen lending some peace to her frayed nerves.

  Adam snored softly, his back to her and the duvet rising up to his calves. He hated his feet being covered no matter the season, and she envied his knack of falling asleep the moment the light was out.

  She knew it was because he never knew when he might get a call-out during the night hours – he simply tried to get as much sleep as possible.

  Her thoughts returned to her sudden awakening, and she strained her ears.

  Something had wrested her from her sleep, that was for sure.

  She couldn’t recollect any nightmares – no memories of her near-death experience at the hands of one of Kent’s most evil killers resonated in her sleep-deprived mind.

  No, it was something else.

  Something close.

  She held her breath as the sound of a car in the lane reached her ears, the engine muffled by the new double-glazed windows they’d had installed eighteen months ago.

  It hadn’t been cheap, but they’d insisted on locks being fitted to all the frames – a testament to a previous break-in that had fractured Kay’s confidence in the sanctuary of her own home.

  Still, she strained her hearing to try to work out the vehicle’s movements as it drew closer and then accelerated past their driveway and up to the roundabout that separated the old h
ouses from the newer housing estate.

  Kay exhaled, feeling a little of the tension leaving her body, but a sense of foreboding remained.

  It hadn’t been the car that had woken her, so what had it been?

  Adam snuffled in his sleep, his foot kicking out.

  Kay smiled – he’d taken up five-a-side football one evening a week after work and had become obsessed with the sport. No doubt right now he was dreaming about the goal that got away.

  A clatter from downstairs sent her heart racing, and she pushed back the duvet, her feet finding the carpet before she launched herself at her mobile phone.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  Muted streetlight through the curtains silhouetted Adam’s form as he raised himself from the bed, his voice confused.

  ‘There’s someone downstairs.’

  He was awake in an instant. ‘Are you sure? We set the alarm.’

  ‘Alarms can be broken,’ hissed Kay. ‘I’m going down there.’

  ‘Wait.’ Adam kicked off the duvet and reached for the pair of trousers he’d thrown over the chair under the window. ‘You’re not going down there on your own.’

  Kay pulled on her jeans and tried not to pace.

  The floorboards in the old cottage had a tendency to creak and she had every intention of catching the intruder, rather than give them an early warning that they’d been heard.

  ‘Ready?’

  Adam joined her at the bedroom door. ‘I’m going first.’

  Kay opened her mouth to protest but he’d already ripped the door from its frame and was sprinting along the landing towards the top of the stairs.

  As she followed, she spotted the tell-tale flashing green light of the alarm panel next to the front door and confusion swept through her.

  Why hadn’t the alarm worked?

  Adam snatched an umbrella from a tall vase at the foot of the stairs and turned towards the living room. He held up his hand. ‘Slowly.’

  He shoved the door open with his elbow, and then used his hand to flip the light switch.