by M K Farrar
She’d been on the job for years and was happy to stay in the role of detective constable, not wanting any more pressure to be put upon her, even though she was more than capable of taking on a more senior role. She was good with the public. Being older, people seemed to trust her more.
“I want to know if there’s any connection between Matthew Gordon and Jacob Tater other than them both living in Bristol.”
Linda nodded. “Jacob Tater would have been a similar age now to what Matthew Gordon was when he was killed, if he’d lived, that is.”
“Good spot. Maybe they went to school together, or a shared hobby or club. Perhaps their families knew each other.” He looked to another of his DCs. “Kharral, can you chase up the banks? Let’s see if we can find out where and when he last used his bank card or withdrew money. It might give us an idea of his final movements.”
Dev nodded and swung back around to his computer.
“Shonda, can you interview his neighbours, see if anyone saw him coming or going. Also, check any video in the area.”
“No problem, boss.”
He was sure learning more about Matthew Gordon would help them figure out who’d killed him. It might even give them a better idea about who the second victim had been as well. If they could find something that would tie them together with Jacob Tater, it would help to narrow things down.
“Boss, I’ve tracked down Matthew Gordon’s father,” Mallory said. “As far as I can tell, he’s Matthew’s only living relative.”
“Where does he live?”
“Down in Exeter.”
“Not too far away then.”
Ryan thought for a moment. “Want to go for a drive?”
She shrugged. “Sure.”
Exeter was only an hour or so away, sometimes longer depending on the traffic on the M5. It was worth making the trip to learn more about who Matthew Gordon had been and try to figure out who would have not only wanted him dead, but also who would have disposed of his body in such a way.
“Why hadn’t his father reported him missing?” Mallory mused.
“I assume they’re not in constant contact. You know what fathers and sons can be like. They’re not the chattiest of people.” Ryan remembered his own relationship with his father. Things had always been strained between them, though Ryan had never really understood why. They were just two very different people, he guessed. He’d been closer with his mother, but even with her he’d always felt as though she never really knew how to relate to him, as though she was always worried one of them was going to say or do the wrong thing. He’d been relieved they’d both already passed when Hayley was killed. At least they’d never had to suffer the agony of losing their only grandchild.
Mallory offered him a smile. “I’m sure that’s not true for everyone.”
“No, of course not, but it must be for someone who hadn’t even noticed his son was missing.”
THE TRAFFIC WAS SLOW, a steady stream of four-by-fours pulling caravans on the inner lane, all heading down to Devon and Cornwall to the seaside. One of the caravans tried to overtake the inner lane, and Ryan swore as the traffic slowed even more.
Heat rose off the tarmac, shimmering in the air. Inside the car, they kept the air-conditioning blasting.
The one-hour drive had turned into two by the time they hit the outskirts of the city and turned off, following the satnav to the address he’d plugged in for Matthew Gordon’s father.
“I don’t know about you,” Ryan said to Mallory, “but I could do with a coffee before we head back to Bristol?
“As long as it’s an iced coffee, you’re on.”
“You millennials,” he teased her.
She rolled her eyes. “It’s sweltering out there. If you think I’m putting anything in my body that’s any hotter, you’ve got to be deluded.”
Mr Gordon’s house was situated on an estate. Kids hung out on the road, some of them with scooters and bikes. Others just stood and stared as the car drove past. Ryan had to slow right down to check for the house numbers, which only garnered them more attention.
They parked the car at the kerb, making sure it was in view of the house. Ryan had a feeling they might come back to discover the hubcaps missing. He didn’t want to be judgmental, but that’s what happened when gangs of kids got bored. It used to be that kids had youth clubs where they could go and hang out, but constant budget cuts had taken those away. He didn’t think Exeter even had a decent swimming pool anymore, after a fire at the local one many years ago had shut the main pool down, and it had never reopened. It was no wonder the youth of today got into trouble. Ryan held himself back from rolling his eyes at himself. Youth of today... How old did he think he was? Eighty?
A tiny front garden containing a few weeds and a wheelie bin divided the front door from the pavement. Someone had left an empty crushed can of energy drink propped on top of the low brick wall.
Ryan stepped up to the front door and rang the bell, but nothing sounded inside the house.
“Broken?” Mallory suggested from over his shoulder.
He lifted his hand and knocked instead.
“If that’s you bloody kids again!” The shout came from inside.
The door flew open, and Ryan jerked back instinctively.
“Oh. Sorry. Damned kids are always knocking and running away. Drives me up the bloody wall.”
“Mr Gordon? Terrance Gordon?”
His scowl deepened. “Yeah, who’s asking?”
Ryan showed him his ID. “Mind if we come in for a chat?”
“What about?”
“I’d rather not talk about it on the doorstep.” Ryan was mindful of the other people on the street, the watchful eyes of the neighbours, and the curious minds of the children.
Terrance Gordon folded his arms across his chest. “Unless you tell me what this is about, you’re going to have to.”
“It’s about your son, Mr Gordon. Matthew Gordon is your son?”
“What’s the little shit done now?”
His reaction was as though Matthew Gordon was still one of the teenagers hanging out on the street outside—perhaps one who was joining in with the game of knock, knock, ginger—not an almost thirty-year-old who didn’t even live nearby.
Ryan tamped down his flare of irritation. “He hasn’t done anything, but we do need to talk to you, and I’d rather not do it standing out here.”
“Fine. Come in then.”
The front door opened onto a tiny living room with a small kitchenette at the back. A set of wooden stairs was on the left-hand side, leading up to what Ryan assumed would be either one bedroom, or maybe two small bedrooms, and a bathroom. The place was tidy enough, but it certainly wasn’t big enough for a family.
Mr Gordon didn’t offer for them to sit down or ask them if they wanted a drink. “What’s this all about then.”
Ryan would normally ask someone to take a seat before he delivered such bad news, but he could already tell that Mr Gordon would refuse.
“I’m afraid we have some bad news about Matthew. His body”—parts of his body—“was discovered yesterday in the Avon River.”
The only display of the news being upsetting was in the tightening of Terrance Gordon’s jaw.
“I suppose it should come as more of a surprise, but frankly the only surprise is that he didn’t end up dead in a river sooner.”
Ryan sensed Mallory tense beside him.
“What do you mean by that, Mr Gordon?” she asked.
Ryan was impressed that her tone remained level.
“He was always in trouble. Ever since he was a teenager. He was the reason his mother left. She couldn’t handle him.”
The lack of emotion from Matthew’s father was shocking. He might as well have just heard the news that the neighbour’s cat had died.
“When was the last time you saw your son?” Ryan asked.
“No idea. It’s been years.”
“You never came up to Bristol to see him?”
<
br /> Terrance sniffed and then wiped the back of his hand across his nose. “That’s where he’s been living, is it? Didn’t even know where he was, never mind bothering to visit.”
“Did he ever come down to you?” Mallory said.
“Not for years.” Terrance arched one bushy eyebrow. “He and I didn’t exactly get on.”
Ryan ran his tongue across his dry lips. He wished they’d been offered a glass of water, at least. “What about phone calls or letters? Anything like that?”
“We didn’t bother with all that malarky. I don’t like talking on the phone, and I certainly wasn’t going to bother to write him a letter. I didn’t even have his address. He had mine, but it wasn’t as though he bothered to write to me either.”
Ryan felt as though he was stating the obvious, but he still had to ask. “Would you say the two of you had a difficult relationship?”
He gave a cold laugh. “I’d say we didn’t even have a relationship. Matthew’s been dead to me for years. This news just feels like it’s ten years too late.”
Mallory softened her tone. “What happened between the two of you?”
“Matthew hated me, and he didn’t make any attempt to hide how he felt, either. We never had a conversation without it descending into a shouting match.”
“Had it always been that way between you?” Ryan asked.
He shrugged. “When he was little, it was better. He’d always been a mummy’s boy, though. Always ran to her when he cried. I tried to toughen him up a bit, show him what it meant to be a man, but he’d only cry more, and that got on my nerves. His mother always took his side, of course, and that pissed me off, too.”
Mallory narrowed her eyes. “What happened to his mother?”
“She left when Matthew was about eleven.”
“She didn’t take him with her?” She sounded surprised. “You said he was a mummy’s boy, but she left him behind?”
“He was already becoming a bit of a handful at that point. She’d met someone else and was moving into the new bloke’s house with his kids. She said there wasn’t room for Matthew, but that it was only temporary, and she’d come back for him. He was furious with her—even more angry than what he got with me—and called her all sorts of names when she left.”
Ryan shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Did she ever come back for him?”
He shook his head. “She died. Just a couple of weeks later. It was a car accident. The other bloke died, too. Can’t say I was going to shed any tears over that. Served the pair of them right.”
Ryan shared a look with Mallory. This guy was a bucket of sympathy.
“How did Matthew react to his mother’s death?” Mallory asked.
“Got even more angry, if such a thing was possible. You’d think he would have been grateful that his father had been the one to stick around, but oh no, I was the punchbag he decided to take everything out on.”
What had he expected? His son’s mother had left him and then died. No wonder he’d been so angry.
“He eventually left home at fifteen,” Terrance finished.
Mallory raised her eyebrows. “That’s young. Where did he go?
“Slept on friend’s sofas, I guess. I didn’t really get involved.”
Mallory shook her head slightly. “You were his father.”
“Didn’t feel like it, most of the time.” He cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets.
Ryan decided a different tack was needed. “Do you work, Mr Gordon?”
He bristled, his shoulders straightening. “Yes, I do. I’m a transport inspector.”
“And where were you earlier this week?”
His gaze darted between Ryan and Mallory, then his upper lip curled in scorn. “I hope you’re not implying I had anything to do with my son’s death?”
“These are standard questions, Mr Gordon. We have to ask.”
“I was either here or at work. Oh, and I went down to the pub on Tuesday night to watch the footie.”
Ryan jotted that down. “And do you have people who can attest to your whereabouts?”
“Yeah, I’ve got work colleagues, and my neighbours probably saw me coming and going. As I’m sure you noticed, they’re a nosy bunch.”
“Do you know if Matthew had any trouble with drink or drugs, or a gambling habit, perhaps?”
He snorted. “As far as I’m aware, if Matthew could get in trouble with something, then he probably did.”
They’d already checked out Matthew’s criminal history, and however little his father had known him these past few years, he was right about that. The charges hadn’t been anything serious—shoplifting, possession of a controlled drug, that kind of thing—but it had been enough for them to have his fingerprints on record. Good thing, too, or they might have never identified him. Without a head, they couldn’t even have gone down the dental records route.
“Do you know who Matthew hung out with in Bristol? Any of his friends who might have known him a little better in the weeks and months before his death?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Sorry. Like I said, we hadn’t spoken in years.”
“Any siblings or cousins? Anyone he might have stayed with?”
“Nope. It was just us.”
Ryan held back his frustration. They didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. He was starting to think they were wasting their time.
“Do you recognise this man at all?” He slid a photograph of Jacob Tater onto the coffee table for Terrance to see.
Terrance frowned down at it. “No. Who is he?”
“His name is Jacob Tater. Does that ring a bell at all?”
“Tater...” he repeated. “I’m not sure, but then I’ve come across a lot of people over the years. What’s he got to do with Matthew.”
“We’re working on that.” Ryan slid a card onto the table. “If you think of anything, please do call.”
They thanked Terrance Gordon and left.
“Well, that was depressing,” Mallory commented as they headed towards the car. The vehicle appeared to still be in one piece. “Imagine being murdered and your own dad doesn’t even give a shit.”
Ryan took his keys from his pocket and pressed the key fob to unlock the door. “Do you think it’s more likely that Matthew’s mother couldn’t handle Matthew, or that she had to get away from her husband?”
“No idea, but I can’t imagine being married to Terrance Gordon would be much fun.”
Ryan’s went over what Terrance had told them. “So, Matthew, as a child, is told he’s driven his mother away, and then she dies. He must have blamed himself for all of that. No wonder he left home at fifteen.”
Mallory pursed her lips. “Why weren’t the authorities notified?”
“Who knows? Perhaps he was staying with friends and still going to school, so no one thought to bother.” Ryan opened the driver’s door. “Do you think Terrance was hiding anything?”
Mallory slid into the passenger side. “Do you mean, ‘do I think he hated his son enough to want to kill him?’” She shook her head. “I don’t think so. There didn’t seem to be much hate there. More...indifference. He had more of an emotional reaction to the idea of some kids knocking on his door.”
“He didn’t even ask how Matthew died, or if there would be a funeral.”
She sucked air over her teeth. “It’s enough to put you off having kids for life.” She seemed to realise what she’d said and winced. “Sorry, boss.”
He lifted his hand in a half wave to show her it didn’t matter. Maybe it was a better idea to just never have children. It would save a hell of a lot of heartache. Not that he’d ever regret having had Hayley. Those years when she’d been little, despite all the sleepless nights and fighting with Donna, had been the happiest of his life. He’d been blessed to have her, even if losing her had torn away the foundation of who he was. The rash confidence that things would generally be all right had vanished and left him feeling as though he was living on quic
ksand and he could be sucked under at any moment. The only time he ever felt in control of things was when he was working, so he tried to spend as much time doing just that as he possibly could.
He pulled the car away from the kerb and drove through the housing estate then out onto the road that led out of the city and back towards the motorway.
“Thought we were going to get an iced coffee,” Mallory commented.
His stomach growled. “Don’t you owe me a cupcake?”
She laughed. “Yeah, I did promise you one.”
“I could do with a sandwich, too. We’ll stop at the services on the way out. I think they have one of the coffee places where you can get one of your iced mocha frappe things.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Though it’s more like a dessert than a real coffee,” he grumbled.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to force you to drink it.” She grinned, completely unaffected by his opinion on her coffee choice.
He’d get a sandwich at M&S, he decided. Something normal like cheese and pickle, just to make Mallory turn her nose up.
Chapter Thirteen
It was mid-afternoon by the time they returned to Bristol. Ryan got into the office, sat back at his desk, and called Nikki again.
“Twice in one day,” she said down the line. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I just wanted to say thanks for the fingerprint. We’ve been able to track down the victim and his next of kin.”
“That’s great. I’m please it’s helped.”
He took a breath. “I actually wondered how you were getting on with the tattoo from the second victim’s arm. Have you’ve been able to tell what it is yet?”
“I’m still working on it, but I’m making progress. Hopefully, it won’t be too much longer.”
“Well, let me know as soon as you have anything.” He was about to hang up when she spoke again.
“Actually, there was something else I wanted to talk to you about,” she said. “I know you mentioned about going for a drink the last time we spoke...” Her words trailed off, as though she was waiting for him to fill them in.
“Yes, that’s right. I did.” He wished he could be as confident in his personal life as he was in his work one.