Bridge to Burn

by Rachel Amphlett

  ‘We are, yes.’

  ‘How’s the business cash flow these days?’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘We’ve spoken to witnesses who have indicated that some of your contractors might not be getting paid on time.’

  John snorted. ‘Rumours, that’s all. Believe me, detective. I look after my suppliers. I wouldn’t have a business without them.’

  ‘But you’ve struggled in the past?’

  ‘Like everyone else did during the recession, yes. But I cut my overheads, saved wherever I could, and made sure everyone got paid.’

  ‘Why would your son have a meeting scheduled with Alexander Hill a week before he disappeared?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Our digital forensic team were able to retrieve a deleted message from Damien’s mobile phone. A week before he died, he arranged to meet with Hill. Do you know what they discussed?’

  ‘I-I haven’t got a clue.’ John moved to the table and sank into the seat next to Barnes. ‘Why would he do that and not tell me?’

  ‘That’s what we’re trying to establish before we speak to Mr Hill,’ said Kay. ‘Do you have any idea at all why your son was going to meet with him?’

  ‘No. He never mentioned it.’

  ‘Would he have spoken to your wife about it?’

  ‘If he did, she would’ve told me.’ Brancourt twisted the wedding band on his finger. ‘We have no secrets in this household, detective.’

  ‘And yet you didn’t know about this meeting between your son and Alexander Hill.’

  Brancourt sighed. ‘Damien could be a bit too private for his own good sometimes. Have you found the friend he said he was meeting?

  ‘We’re working on it,’ said Kay. ‘Our colleagues have been interviewing licensees of pubs in the area as well as checking additional CCTV footage—’

  She broke off as Annabelle Brancourt entered the kitchen, a chunky woollen cardigan draped over her shoulders and her hair pinned up.

  The woman’s face bore the lines of grief; her eyes dull. ‘What are you doing here? Have you found who killed my son?’

  Kay’s heart went out to the woman, but she kept her features passive. ‘Not yet, Mrs Brancourt. My team and I are working around the clock to find the answers you need, though.’

  Annabelle sniffed, then shuffled over to the worktop and flipped the switch on the kettle. ‘I decided to keep Bethany and Christopher from going back to school at the end of last week. It’s nearly the end of term anyway, and I couldn’t bear the thought of them having to listen to all the gossip that must be going around while they’re trying to study for their mock exams. Kids can be awful to each other.’

  ‘They can,’ said Barnes, pushing his chair back and walking over to the kettle that was now rumbling on its stand, a steady cloud of steam rising from its spout. He flipped the switch, then turned to Annabelle. ‘I’ve got a daughter, out of her teens now, but she was a terror at school. Where’d you keep the cups?’

  ‘Left-hand side of that cabinet there.’

  ‘Sit yourself down. I’ll make it.’

  Kay caught her colleague’s eye as she joined the Brancourts, and nodded a silent thanks before delving into her handbag for her notebook.

  ‘Where are they now?’ she said.

  ‘Upstairs, in their bedrooms. Playing computer games, I expect,’ said Annabelle. She brushed a wayward strand of hair from her forehead. ‘Why?’

  ‘I’d like to speak with them, if you don’t mind, to see if Damien mentioned anything to them about this friend of his, or what his plans were for his trip to Nepal.’

  ‘They weren’t very close to him. There’s an eight-year age difference between them and Damien.’

  ‘Still…’

  ‘I’d rather you didn’t. Not yet. Give them a few more days to grieve in peace, please.’ Annabelle glanced up as Barnes placed a cup of tea in front of her, and murmured her thanks. She wiped at her eyes, then lifted the cup and blew across the hot surface before staring at the liquid as if wondering what to do next with it.

  Kay reached into her bag and pulled out a file before removing a page and sliding it across the table to John. ‘We’ve found evidence to support your claim that Mark Sutton hired vehicles to remove the two generators from your yard last year,’ she said.

  Brancourt leaned forward and reached out with a shaking hand to pull the document closer. ‘What is this?’

  ‘All we need is your statement to the effect that Sutton was blackmailing you, and we can begin a separate investigation into the theft.’

  He blinked, then pushed the page towards her. ‘I don’t think so, Detective Hunter. After all, no harm came of it. The equipment was returned in good condition.’

  ‘Did Mark Sutton threaten you in the past?’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘When Damien was arrested at the protest, a witness stated that he told the man he assaulted to leave you alone. What was that about?’

  ‘I can’t remember.’

  ‘John, Mark Sutton blackmailed you so you’d award him the work. You can’t let him get away with that.’

  The man’s shoulders lifted, and then sagged once more. ‘It’s probably for the best if I don’t. Can you see yourselves out? I really should be getting on. I’ve lots of paperwork to do, and phone calls to make.’

  Kay fought down the frustration bubbling inside her, but gathered up her things before signalling to Barnes. ‘If either Christopher or Bethany mention something about Damien’s trip or any plans to meet someone in Maidstone prior to flying out, please – contact me immediately. My personal mobile number is on the card I gave to you. It doesn’t matter what time of day or night it is. They might remember something important that will help us.’

  Annabelle rose from her chair and gestured to the door. ‘I’ll see you out.’

  Kay noticed that John didn’t move as they followed her, and as she checked over her shoulder she saw that the man was now facing the window next to the kitchen table, his gaze unfocussed as he stared blankly through the glass.

  Barnes paused at the front door, his hand on the doorknob. ‘Mrs Brancourt, do you recall whether Damien was applying for any jobs at the time of his disappearance, or what his future plans were once he returned from Nepal?’

  The woman frowned. ‘Why would he apply for jobs? He was taking over the family business from John in a couple of years. We spoke before he went away – next year he was going to start a part-time Master of Business Administration and go and work for John to get to know the ropes a bit better. You know – ease him into managing the staff so it didn’t come as a shock to them when he eventually took over.’ A sad smile crossed her face. ‘John was looking forward to a retirement where he could watch him expand the business and build it up from what he’s managed to achieve. He was certainly capable.’

  ‘All right, Mrs Brancourt, we’ll be on our way. Like I said – if they say anything, anything at all that might help our investigation, please call me,’ said Kay.

  As the front door closed on her and she made her way back to the car with Barnes, a heavy weight settled in her chest.

  ‘Grief is a bitch,’ said Barnes.

  She clipped her seatbelt into place, and raised her eyes to see two faces at an upstairs window, their expressions gaunt.

  ‘It is, Ian. It certainly is.’

  Thirty-Nine

  Alexander Hill glared over his wire-framed glasses at Kay.

  ‘I don’t appreciate being interrupted from a social gathering on a Sunday lunchtime by two of your uniformed officers and frogmarched to their car, detective.’

  ‘Too bad,’ she said, and flipped open the folder in front of her. She took a moment to collect her thoughts, ignoring the penetrating stare from Hill’s solicitor.

  She’d met the man before – a stalwart amongst the Kentish legal establishment, and one who held the unenviable reputation of being both the most expensive, as well as the most repugnant.

  F
inally, Kay snatched a page from the folder and thrust it at Hill.

  ‘This is a call log from Damien Brancourt’s mobile phone. Specifically, a text message that you sent to him a week before his death.’

  Hill’s eyebrows shot upwards before he had a chance to recover. ‘He told me he’d deleted it.’

  ‘He had. Our digital forensics team are very good at what they do, though. Why did you arrange to meet with him?’

  Hill cast a sideways glance at his solicitor, then shuffled in his seat.

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Look – all I wanted to do was speak to him about an opportunity I had for him. I didn’t want John finding out.’

  ‘What sort of opportunity?’

  ‘One that couldn’t be discussed over the phone.’

  Kay glared at him. ‘I haven’t got the time or inclination to play games here, Mr Hill. Spit it out. What did you discuss with Damien Brancourt the week prior to his death?’

  He shrugged. ‘He’s a smart person. I had a role come up that I thought would suit him.’

  ‘What sort of role?’

  ‘Business development. Damien was a very gifted person, Detective Hunter. He could’ve gone far in any career he chose.’

  ‘We were under the impression he was going to take over the Brancourt family business within a few years.’

  Hill snorted. ‘He’d have been wasted there. It’s why we didn’t tell John about our meeting. He’d have started getting defensive about how the business was meant to stay in the family. Damien understood there’s no room for sentiment in this day and age. He saw the future, and he saw it with Hillavon Developments.’

  ‘Why did you avoid calls from my team after Damien’s body was found?’

  ‘I couldn’t help it – I was busy.’

  ‘You were playing golf.’

  A faint blush appeared on Hill’s cheeks and he lowered his gaze to his hands. ‘It was a business meeting.’

  ‘It gave you time to create an alibi for your movements around the time of Damien’s disappearance, too.’

  ‘I had nothing to do with that!’

  Kay slipped a stapled sheaf of papers from the folder, flipped to the fourth page and then turned it around to face Hill, before stabbing her forefinger halfway down.

  ‘This is the site security records kept by Sutton Site Security. You went to the Petersham Building two days before Damien Brancourt disappeared. Why did you go there?’

  ‘I had to go – we had a site meeting.’

  ‘There are no other records to support that statement, Mr Hill. Every site meeting was minuted, wasn’t it?’

  His face fell. ‘Yes.’

  ‘So, it was an unscheduled visit?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Look, I had some concerns about the work, that’s all. I wanted to take a look for myself. It’s all very well having scheduled site meetings to discuss the progress of a project, but sometimes the contractors discuss the issues when I’m not in attendance and come up with a way to disguise what’s really going on – I didn’t want to find out about something by accident. We were working to a very tight schedule.’

  ‘Did you encourage your contractors to hurry their work in order to meet that schedule?’

  ‘If you’re implying my client cut corners from a health and safety perspective, detective—’

  Kay glared at the solicitor. ‘Strange that you should mention that, given your client’s past record in that regard.’

  Hill held up his hand before the solicitor could utter a retort. ‘Hang on. There were no health and safety issues regarding the Petersham Building as far as I was aware. You’ve obviously heard about the project I was involved with three years ago – that was caused by ineffective training of an apprentice by a contractor of mine, and I paid a heavy fine for that. It was tragic.’

  ‘For the apprentice, or your wallet?’ said Barnes.

  ‘What were your concerns related to on site at the Petersham Building?’ said Kay. ‘Why did you go there unannounced?’

  ‘I’d heard a rumour that equipment was going missing,’ said Hill. ‘And then about a month after that, a consignment of fibre optic cabling for the communications wiring that was being installed disappeared.’

  ‘What was the value of that?’

  ‘Thousands,’ said Hill. ‘And no-one could tell me where it was, or what had happened to it.’

  ‘What did Mark Sutton have to say about it? Weren’t his people providing security for the building?’

  ‘Whoever took the cabling did it over the space of a Friday and Saturday night – Sutton’s already told me he only had one man in attendance that weekend because of a rock music event he was contracted for. Apparently, they paid him more than I did so my project didn’t warrant the protection it deserved.’

  ‘When did you find out about the theft?’

  Hill jabbed his finger at the site security attendance sheet. ‘That morning when I turned up. I wondered why everyone was avoiding me. It was only when I demanded to know what was going on that I found out. After that, the proverbial hit the fan – I ended up in the middle of a shouting match between John Brancourt and Mark Sutton two days later when I had them come over to my office that afternoon to explain themselves.’

  ‘Did you find out who took it?’ said Barnes.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why wasn’t the theft reported to the police?’ said Kay. ‘We’ve got no record of any thefts from that site.’

  ‘John said he’d deal with it. A day later, he managed to source some replacement cabling at short notice. He cracked the whip on site and managed to pull the schedule back on track.’

  ‘Did Damien accept the job you offered to him?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The business development role you said you discussed with Damien. Did he take it?’

  ‘He said he was going to come back to me and let me know. I never heard from him again.’ Hill twisted one of his cuff links, and blinked. ‘And that’s something I’ll always regret.’

  ‘The game of golf you said you were playing – sorry, the business meeting – you left early. Why was that?’

  ‘I didn’t—’

  ‘Be careful what you say, Mr Hill. We have witness statements from two of your associates claiming that you only played nine holes, not eighteen. Why did you leave early?’

  Hill quickly glanced at his solicitor, then back. ‘I met with Mr Caplan here, at his office. W-when I heard about Damien’s death, I panicked, that’s all.’

  ‘Interesting.’ Kay pulled the documentation across the table and closed the folder before pushing her chair back. ‘With me, Barnes.’

  She moved towards the door, then paused as Hill called out.

  ‘Detective Hunter?’

  Kay glanced over her shoulder to see Hill on his feet, his face distraught. ‘What?’

  ‘I didn’t kill Damien Brancourt. You have to believe me. He was like a son to me.’

  Forty

  Kay slumped in her seat and glared at the highlighted emails on her computer screen, counting the number of messages that had appeared since she’d been speaking to Alexander Hill and wondering how many of them she could delegate amongst her colleagues.

  ‘How did it go, guv?’ said Carys. She pulled a chair over and crossed her legs, her pen poised over her notebook.

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Kay held down three keys to lock the computer screen, then turned to her. ‘I think he was shocked that we found the message – he and Damien were definitely hiding the fact that they’d met, and they didn’t want John Brancourt finding out.’

  ‘Because John wanted Damien to take over his business.’

  ‘Exactly, and it seems Hill was closer to Damien than John might have been, especially–’

  She broke off as DCI Sharp entered the room and hurried towards her.

  ‘Guv?’

  ‘Sorry, Kay – I’ve just heard from the Superintendent. We don’t have enough evidence agai
nst Alexander Hill to hold him any longer. We have to let him go if we’re not going to charge him.’

  ‘But he’s only been here six hours,’ said Barnes. ‘We don’t need a magistrate’s approval yet.’

  ‘It’s political,’ said Sharp. ‘Hill has connections, and he’s taking advantage of that.’

  ‘Dammit.’ Kay turned and slapped her hand against the side of the filing cabinet.

  ‘Have you got anything to suggest he was directly involved with Damien’s death?’

  ‘No, guv.’

  ‘Then I’m sorry, Kay. We’ll make sure he hands in his passport just in case, but we have to release him.’ Sharp turned to Gavin. ‘Piper, could you go and organise that when we’ve finished here?’

  ‘Guv.’

  Sharp moved across to the whiteboard and crossed his arms as he worked his way through the notes Kay had added over the course of the investigation. Finally, he gave a slight nod.

  ‘I know it’s frustrating, Hunter. But, keep digging. Someone on that site is lying. We simply haven’t found out who yet.’

  ‘Guv.’

  ‘I’ll be over at headquarters first thing tomorrow. Keep me posted on any developments.’

  He gave a curt nod, murmured his thanks to the team, and left.

  Kay turned back to the uniformed team, their faces drawn under the pale yellow light from the ageing fluorescent fittings. ‘All right, you lot. That’s enough for the day. See you at eight o’clock tomorrow. Piper – you’d better head downstairs and get the paperwork started to release Hill and sort out that passport being handed in.’

  She waited until they had started to file out of the door, then leaned forward and wiggled her mouse until her computer screen illuminated and brought up the files for the case, running her gaze over each entry before discarding it, frustrated she couldn’t find what she sought. She glanced up as Barnes leaned against her desk and smiled.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I know that look, guv,’ he said. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Can’t keep anything from you, can I?’