Bridge to Burn

by Rachel Amphlett

  ‘Was he always like that?’

  ‘No, he wasn’t. When I first met him at university he was a lot of fun. He was always the one who made the rest of us laugh.’

  ‘Any idea why he changed?’

  ‘I think he was under a lot of pressure. He owed money and I don’t think his dad’s business was doing that well and it was the stress of it all. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to cope.’

  Kay flicked through the report on her desk, her chin in her hand as she ran her finger down the still-warm pages that had been printed out and shoved under her nose by Amanda Miller five minutes after she had finished interviewing Julie Rowe.

  The noise in the incident room had dulled to a steady hum, a gradual emptying of the space as her colleagues had ended their shifts for the day, exhausted by frustration and an overwhelming sense of hopelessness as the case dragged on into its third week without a significant lead.

  ‘How did you know, guv?’ said Barnes. ‘About Damien’s temper, I mean.’

  Kay sighed. ‘I didn’t, it was only a hunch. But the way Julie said he lashed out at Mark Sutton’s security guard made me wonder if Damien had a problem controlling his anger. It seemed out of character compared with what we’ve heard about him from both his parents and Alexander Hill.’

  ‘At least now we’ve got a better idea of his finances thanks to Julie. I wonder how he managed to keep that from his father – not to mention from his bank records? None of that came up in Amanda’s search.’

  ‘In all fairness, Amanda’s only had a few hours to do some digging around. At least we know why Damien was angling for work with Alexander Hill though – he needed to get out of debt, and working for his father’s company wasn’t going to pay him enough.’

  ‘What do you want to do next?’

  ‘I want—’

  ‘Guv!’

  Kay broke off at Carys’s shout from the other end of the incident room, and glanced over her shoulder to see the detective constable hurrying over to her.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Look at this – it’s from ten years ago.’

  She thrust a printout of a charge sheet at Kay and stood with her arms crossed while she read it.

  ‘And that’s not all, guv. Take a look at this.’

  Kay’s heart picked up its pace as she scanned the information. ‘John Brancourt was arrested at a pub in Sutton Valence for punching one of the regulars,’ she said, and then raised her gaze to Carys. ‘Seems like Damien’s father has a problem controlling his temper as well.’

  An idea began to form as she watched Barnes read the new information, and she held up a finger to stop him interrupting her thoughts.

  ‘Hang on. We’ve been looking at this the wrong way, haven’t we? What if it wasn’t Damien who was stealing the copper wire to pay off his debts?’

  Barnes dropped the page to his lap as his jaw dropped open. ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘I am. With me, Ian – we’re paying John Brancourt another visit. Now.’

  Forty-Four

  Kay didn’t wait for Barnes to pull the key from the ignition when he parked their pool car outside the front door of the Brancourts’ property.

  Instead, she unclipped her seatbelt and tore from the vehicle, hammering on the front door as her colleague joined her, out of breath.

  ‘Bloody hell, guv. It’s not like he’s a flight risk – slow down.’

  She ground her teeth, cursing aloud as the doorbell went unanswered, and then peered through the letterbox.

  No-one moved inside; she could see the staircase newel post on the right and the fireplace that still smouldered, but there was no sign of John or Annabelle Brancourt – or their two teenagers.

  ‘Guv?’

  ‘Round the back. Maybe they’re in the garden.’

  Barnes glanced up at the overcast sky, his expression giving her no doubt as to his thoughts about the chances of finding the Brancourts outside in the middle of winter, but he led the way to the right and through an archway that had been cut into a stone wall.

  Beyond the arch, an aroma of wood smoke wafted on the air and Kay fought down the sense of nausea that clenched at her stomach. Following a gruesome investigation the previous summer she hadn’t been able to stand the smell and she cast her gaze around the sprawling grounds in an attempt to find a new focus.

  A scraping sound reached her ears, and as she turned the corner of the house in Barnes’s wake, she spotted Annabelle using a rake to gather twigs strewn around the trunk of a large horse chestnut tree that had been pruned.

  The woman wore a woollen hat, her gloved hands protecting her from the worst of the elements and as Kay tried to work some of the circulation back into her own fingers she rued not having had the same foresight.

  An excited yell pre-empted the first of the twins emerging from a small copse of trees at the rear of the garden, closely followed by his sibling, a moment before he veered away and headed up a rickety ladder to a tree house. The girl took one look at her brother and then wandered across to a swing beneath another tree.

  Annabelle looked up from her work and then propped the rake against the tree before resting her hands on her hips. ‘Detective Hunter. What do you want? I’m trying to give my children a sense of normality after all the intrusions and stress.’

  Kay waited until she’d reached the woman, and kept her voice low. ‘Where’s your husband, Annabelle?’

  The woman used the heel of her hand to adjust her hat. ‘At work.’

  ‘I thought he would’ve rather been here to support you and the children at such a stressful time.’

  ‘Yes, well I’m sure if he had an ordinary job he’d have done that. But he doesn’t; he owns a company and is responsible for that and his employees.’

  ‘When is he due back?’

  Annabelle sighed. ‘I don’t know. Half past six, perhaps. Depends what happens, really – he’s always at some client’s beck and call.’

  Barnes jerked his chin at the tree house as the boy reappeared at the top of the ladder. ‘How are they holding up?’

  ‘As well as can be expected.’

  ‘I’m surprised they still fit in there.’

  ‘Christopher’s the only one who uses it these days. Bethany grew out of it a while back. Says it’s full of spiders.’ A smile tugged at the woman’s lips. ‘Damien was the same at Christopher’s age. Determined to stay in the tree house forever.’

  ‘I think the height would put me off going up there,’ said Kay.

  Annabelle rolled her eyes. ‘I told John and Damien they’d built it too high up.’

  ‘How did Damien get on with his father?’

  ‘Damien?’ Annabelle reached out for the rake and began to sweep at the debris once more. ‘All right, I suppose. As much as a father and son do. They had their disagreements from time to time, but that’s to be expected. Damien grew up fast and had his own ambitions.’

  ‘Did they argue much?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Did they ever disagree about the business, or Damien’s ambitions?’

  Kay watched the other woman’s expression cloud over a moment before she gave her head a slight shake and forced a smile.

  ‘I wouldn’t know. They didn’t discuss business things around me. I always insisted they kept that away from the table when we all used to sit down for dinner. Honestly, they were as bad as each other – never switched off.’

  ‘How did John cope with the stress of running a business during the recession?’

  Annabelle dropped the rake against the side of a small wooden shed. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘The fight at the pub in Sutton Valence ten years ago. What was that all about?’

  ‘I really can’t remember.’

  ‘Try.’

  ‘Look, all right. John lost his temper with someone, that’s all.’

  ‘He was arrested, Annabelle. That’s a bit more than simply losing his temper, isn’t it?�
�

  ‘He was provoked. The man accused him of owing money and started going on about how John was ruining local contractors’ businesses because he wouldn’t pay them. A lot of John’s associates drank in that pub. He had to do something – he couldn’t just let him carry on like that, ruining his reputation in front of everyone.’

  ‘Was it true? Did John owe money?’

  ‘Of course not. No more than anyone else does in this industry. Everything gets paid for eventually.’

  ‘What about John’s plans to hand over the business to Damien?’ said Barnes.

  Annabelle’s chin jutted out. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Is John preparing to hand over a healthy business these days, or does he still have outstanding debts?’

  ‘It-it’s fine.’

  ‘What are his plans for the business now?’ said Kay.

  ‘I don’t bloody know. Like I said, he doesn’t discuss business things around me. I don’t want to hear about it anyway. I’ve got the twins to look after.’

  On cue, the two teenagers came tearing across the garden to their mother, then slowed down as they approached, their expressions wary.

  ‘Hello, you two,’ said Barnes, smiling.

  The girl gave a shy smile before she took off towards the house, her brother in tow.

  ‘They’re going to want something to eat,’ said Annabelle. ‘Was there anything else, or are we finished here?’

  ‘Please let your husband know we need to speak to him as a matter of urgency,’ said Kay. ‘And that means today.’

  Forty-Five

  ‘What do you mean, he’s not at work?’

  Kay spun her chair around and stalked towards Sharp’s office, glaring at the different notices and memos from headquarters that littered one wall before moving to the window, her phone to her ear.

  Carys’s voice crackled as her mobile phone signal dipped out of range, then returned with a clarity that had Kay reaching for the volume control.

  ‘They say he was in first thing this morning but they haven’t seen him for nearly five hours, guv.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘They don’t know. He told them he had a meeting over near Tunbridge Wells but there’s nothing in his diary. He was meant to see a client over an hour ago at Staplehurst, but he didn’t show up for that. He’s not answering his phone, either.’

  ‘Shit.’ Kay ran from the office and called across the incident room to Barnes. ‘Get an alert out for John Brancourt and his car. Motorways, local airfields, the lot. Carys, you still there?’

  ‘Guv.’

  ‘I’ll send a uniformed patrol over. Stay there in case Brancourt returns in the meantime. We’ll get another lot over to his house.’

  She ended the call and tossed her phone onto her desk.

  ‘Guv? Malcolm Hodges is downstairs to see you,’ said Gavin, slipping his jacket over his shoulders.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The chap John Brancourt punched ten years ago. I spoke to him earlier today and asked him to come in. See if he can shed some light on Brancourt’s business dealings, then and now.’

  ‘Good work.’

  Kay grabbed her jacket and followed Gavin from the room, easily keeping up with the lanky detective as he took the stairs at speed.

  Malcolm Hodges rose from the plastic chair in reception as they entered, his pale blue eyes accentuated by wire-rimmed glasses. He unbuttoned a heavy woollen coat before shaking hands with them.

  ‘Thanks for coming in,’ said Gavin, steering the man towards an interview room and formally introducing them all for the purposes of recording the conversation. ‘Please could you state your full name and occupation?’

  ‘Malcolm Henry Hodges. I own a lighting installation company registered in Ashford.’

  ‘How do you know John Brancourt?’

  Hodges’ top lip curled. ‘I’ve had the unfortunate luck of being contracted by him some years ago. You know the outcome of that arrangement.’

  ‘We know what’s on record,’ said Kay. ‘Please could you tell us about it in your own words?’

  ‘We won the work to provide some high specification spotlights for a retail fit out that Brancourt was managing over at Thanet. At the time, the fittings had to be shipped over from the States. The client was adamant that they wanted the best – it was a boutique music store, speakers, amplifiers, everything you might want for a home entertainment system. Money was no object as far as the client was concerned. Brancourt was a different matter. I tried to get a part payment up front, but he was having none of it. Said it’d be an insult to the client to ask. I’ll be honest, I was nervous. You know what it was like ten years ago, businesses going under without a moment’s notice.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Took the risk.’ Hodges shrugged. ‘Wasn’t much else we could do. If we didn’t supply the equipment, one of our competitors would’ve done.’

  ‘So you did the job, and installed the lighting. Then what happened?’ said Gavin.

  ‘Brancourt didn’t pay on time. This business is notoriously slow to pay anyway, which is why the contract gave us some protection with a sixty-day period for payments to be made. After three months of standard reminders from my accounts team and dropping subtle hints whenever I saw Brancourt in passing, I lost patience. I found out he’d been paid by the client but hadn’t passed on the money to me, and I knew where he drank in the evening so I went to the pub to speak to him. You know what happened after that.’

  ‘What did John say to you that night?’

  ‘He told me that I’d pay for it if I took the matter to the courts, and said he’d make sure my company never worked in the area again. When I didn’t back down, he punched me.’

  ‘Did you ever get your money?’ said Kay.

  ‘Eventually. I had to take it to my solicitor though, and even then I had to threaten to remove my people and equipment from another site we were working on for Brancourt before anything happened.’ Hodges tugged at his earlobe. ‘I heard a rumour Brancourt was going to remove the equipment himself before I got a chance, but I think someone must’ve had a word with him because it never came to that.’

  ‘Have you ever worked with John Brancourt since?’

  ‘No, and I’m not the only one. John Brancourt has a habit of burning his bridges, Detective Hunter. I’m surprised he’s still in business at all.’

  Carys appeared at the top of the stairs as Kay and Gavin returned from interviewing the lighting contractor, her face glum.

  ‘Still no sign of John Brancourt,’ she said, falling into step with them as they entered the incident room. She jerked her thumb towards the window at the darkening sky. ‘It’s getting colder out there, too.’

  ‘Did you look into his finances with Amanda?’

  Carys held up a sheaf of documents. ‘He’s hanging in there at the moment, but we found a slew of historical County Court Judgments against his business from ten years ago. He might’ve paid everyone eventually, but they had to take him in front of the magistrates to get anywhere. I don’t think they’d have seen their money otherwise.’

  ‘Let’s work on what we’ve got while we’re waiting to hear where he is,’ said Kay. ‘Are uniform helping with the search?’

  ‘There are half a dozen local patrols searching his known haunts, guv. I’ve spoken to his wife and she’s given us a list of places he might be. She’s obviously worried. She said it’s completely out of character for him to simply vanish like this.’

  Kay filled a cup with water from the dispenser next to the window and wandered across to the whiteboard, the noise from the team diminishing as they hovered around her, an air of expectancy filling the space. She turned to face them.

  ‘Speaking to the contractor Brancourt assaulted ten years ago, it seems Damien’s father has a history of not paying his suppliers and taking other people’s equipment if he can’t get the money together in time to stop them recovering anything. That makes me think it wasn’t Damien�
�s idea to steal the copper wire from the Petersham Building, but John’s.’

  Gavin frowned. ‘I wonder how he persuaded him to do that? Damien had no interest in his dad’s business – that’s what Alexander Hill told us, right? So, why would he help him?’

  ‘I don’t know. A sense of family loyalty, perhaps?’

  ‘I can’t see it, guv,’ said Barnes. ‘I can’t imagine John driving Damien towards Maidstone to catch his train and then saying “oh, by the way, son, do you mind if we drop in and nick some copper wire before you go on holiday”.’

  Murmured laughter followed his suggestion, and Kay held up her hand to silence the team.

  ‘When you put it like that it does seem far-fetched, but what if Damien had a reason to agree to it?’

  Carys glanced down as her mobile phone began to ring.

  ‘Get it,’ said Kay.

  She waited while the detective constable spoke in a low tone before giving Kay the thumbs up.

  ‘We’ve got John Brancourt,’ she said. ‘He’s been spotted near the weir at Lee Road in Yalding.’

  Barnes took one look at the rain beating against the windows, then turned back to Kay. ‘In this weather, they’ll have to consider opening the sluice gates to stop the reservoir from flooding.’

  Kay was already moving to where her jacket was hanging on the back of her chair. ‘We need to get over there. We can’t have John doing anything stupid.’

  ‘Do you think he might?’ said Barnes, catching the car keys Carys tossed to him and following Kay out of the door.

  ‘He’s desperate,’ she said. ‘And guilty. I don’t know what he’s thinking right now, but it can’t be good.’

  They began to run.

  Forty-Six

  The blue lights from two patrol cars were arcing across the night sky by the time Kay and Barnes tore through the village to reach the stone bridge across the River Medway.

  One patrol car had been driven over the other side of the bridge and sat parked outside the pub on the opposite bank to block traffic travelling from the railway station.