Lost Hours

by Alex Walters

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ Chalmers said. ‘As Ms Pearson says, our attention was elsewhere until it happened. It just came from the back of the group somewhere. But feel free to interview every one of them as far as I’m concerned. I’m as keen to identify the bloody idiot as you are.’

  The police officer glanced at the group behind them, clearly not attracted to the idea. ‘I guess feelings were running high,’ he said, finally.

  ‘If you want my impression,’ Sheena said, ‘I think the picket’s generally been very good-natured. That was certainly the way it seemed until Mr Pallance arrived.’

  ‘It’s no excuse,’ Chalmers said. ‘But I do think that Mr Pallance’s arrival and interaction with the group here was intended to be provocative. It’s happened every day.’

  ‘He’s entitled to attend his place of work, sir,’ the officer said.

  ‘I appreciate that. But we are trying our best to conduct this in a peaceful and civilised manner. It would help if all parties were willing to cooperate with that.’

  Sheena could see that Chalmers, no doubt with the best of intentions, was beginning to dig himself into a hole. ‘Can I ask if Mr Pallance is badly hurt?’

  ‘It appears not, thankfully,’ the officer said. ‘Although we’ve suggested he perhaps gets himself checked out at A&E if he’s concerned. This could have been much more serious.’

  ‘I think we all appreciate that,’ Chalmers said. ‘And, believe me, I’m not taking this lightly.’

  ‘You have a legitimate right to take this action,’ the officer said, ‘just as Mr Pallance has a right to attend work. We’re not looking to take any sides in an industrial dispute, but we have a duty to maintain order. If there’s a risk of your people committing a public order offence then we’d have no option but to step in.’

  Chalmers nodded wearily. ‘I’ll do everything in my power to make sure this isn’t repeated. Most of the people here are just decent ordinary citizens trying to protect their jobs and livelihood. One or two of the younger ones can be a bit hot-headed, but we’ll try to keep them under control. I’m hoping they’ve all learned a lesson from what’s happened today.’

  ‘I hope so, too, sir.’ The officer looked around him, clearly wanting now to bring this to an end. He nodded to Sheena. ‘I imagine this must be a bit of an embarrassment to you, Ms Pearson?’

  ‘I’m never embarrassed to be supporting people with a legitimate grievance,’ she said, ‘and I think these people have one. But I don’t condone violence on any side.’ She could imagine that she was going to have to repeat these words to the local and perhaps national media later. She also wondered if the remark indicated that the officer knew DI Annie Delamere was Sheena’s partner.

  The police officer nodded. ‘I’m prepared to let this go for the moment. I don’t think it’ll do anyone any good for us to start getting involved in any formal action. But I’m warning you, if there’s any repetition of this kind of behaviour, we’ll have no option but to take it very seriously indeed.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Chalmers said. ‘I’ll read this lot the riot act.’

  The police officer took one last look at the group of pickets, his expression clearly intended to suggest that he might easily reconsider his decision. Then he walked back to the car to rejoin his colleague.

  As they drove away, someone from the back of the group – perhaps the same man who had spoken before – gave an ironic cheer. Chalmers swivelled round. ‘We’ve had a bloody narrow escape there.’ His voice was measured but his fury was unmistakeable. ‘And we’re on our final warning. If you want us to win, then show a bit of sense. All of you.’

  His words were addressed to the group as a whole, but it was clear to Sheena that he had the support of most of those gathered in front of him. Even the younger contingent seemed to have been largely chastened by his words, at least for the moment.

  ‘I’d better get on, Keith,’ Sheena said. ‘Got a whole pile of constituents’ cases waiting for me back in the office. Good luck with it.’

  Chalmers walked with her back to her car, ostensibly just to see her off, but she could tell he had something more to say to her. ‘What is it, Keith?’ she said, as she fumbled in her coat pocket for her keys.

  ‘I just wanted to say that I’m grateful for you coming along. It’s good for them to know there are people like you on their side.’

  ‘I’m not sure what I can really do other than provide some moral support and a bit of extra media coverage.’

  ‘It’s all appreciated, believe me.’ He paused. ‘I’ve an uneasy feeling about this one.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Partly, it’s just that it feels like an unequal fight and I don’t like getting into those if I can help it. In this case, I don’t think we had much choice but I prefer it when I can pick the time and the place of the battle. We’ll give it everything we’ve got, but I’m not optimistic. I think they’ve got the resources to ride this out if they choose to. But we’ll see.’

  ‘You said it’s “partly” that. What else is it?’

  ‘That’s the thing. You saw what just happened.’

  ‘With the bottle? You always get a few hot-headed numpties.’

  ‘Maybe so.’ Chalmers appeared to hesitate. ‘But I’ve just got a feeling we’re being set up.’

  ‘Set up? By who?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Maybe by the company. I honestly wouldn’t put it past them. They’ve tried every trick in the book to discredit what we’re doing. It wouldn’t entirely surprise me if they’d organised one or two ringers in our ranks.’

  ‘Have you got any other evidence for this? Apart from some idiot throwing a bottle?’

  ‘There’ve been other things. Some bits of disruption and sabotage in the workplace. Not the sort of stuff we’d condone. One or two of the younger ones worry me.’ He gestured towards a young man at the end of the picket line. ‘Mind you, there are some decent ones too. That guy there, for instance. Sammy Nolan. Bright and enthusiastic. He’s a good example of the kind of potential they’re wasting here. But he’s fighting back in the right way. Already got himself on the local union committee.’

  ‘That’s good to hear,’ Sheena said. ‘As for the other stuff, feelings are running high. People do stupid things.’

  ‘I know. But there’s still something about it all that doesn’t feel quite right to me.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m probably just being paranoid. But that’s what my gut’s telling me.’

  Sheena smiled. ‘Your gut’s got a good few years of experience behind it, so I wouldn’t ignore it. But don’t get paranoid either. Maybe that’s what they really want. Just to keep you on the back foot.’

  ‘That thought had occurred to me. Still, as you say, I’ve a few years under my belt. I’m not going to give up without a bloody good fight.’

  ‘That’s the spirit, Keith. Good luck with it. Let me know if there’s anything you need from me.’

  ‘Thanks, Sheena. Appreciated.’ He looked back at the cluster of people gathered outside the building, most of them chatting amiably in the afternoon sunshine. ‘They’re decent, hardworking people, most of them. I’ll do whatever I can to stop them getting shafted.’

  She watched him as he walked slowly back towards the building. Just in those moments, Sheena thought, he no longer looked like the Keith Chalmers she thought she knew. They hadn’t always seen eye to eye on political matters, but she’d always thought of him as smart, solid and reliable. He was an old-fashioned trade unionist, and from their past dealings she’d concluded he was broadly one of the good guys. His heart seemed to be in the right place, and he was a smarter tactician than some of his peers. That sometimes made people think he was a soft touch. But he reckoned he’d delivered more for his members than many of those who simply shouted loudly about their principles. She always seen him as someone who’d take whatever life threw at him, and come through smiling and undaunted. He’d seemed that way when she’d first arrived here, the same old Keith. Now, he loo
ked different. He looked as if he wasn’t up to it any longer.

  He looked anxious and defeated even before the battle had really begun.

  Chapter Four

  ‘Bloody hell.’ Zoe Everett stared around her.

  ‘Quite a place, isn’t it?’ Annie watched Zoe’s expression with amusement. Zoe herself lived, apparently contentedly, in a box-like detached house in an estate on the outskirts of Derby. She seemed mildly awestruck by the vast open-plan space in which they were now sitting, its ancient stone walls contrasting pleasingly with the glass and oak features – the large windows and skylights, the beamed ceiling and vaulted roof, the open staircase leading to the upper floor – that largely dominated the room. The afternoon sun was shining in through one of the skylights high above them, filling the room with golden light.

  For her own part, Annie was struggling to work out how so much space had apparently been created within a row of converted farm cottages. Whatever architectural magic had been worked, the effect was oddly satisfying. It was a room that felt both vast and cosy at the same time.

  They’d been greeted at the front door of the house by a man who’d introduced himself as Peter Hardy. ‘Friend of Michelle’s,’ he’d said as he ushered them in. He was a tall man, probably in his early forties. He was dressed formally in a suit, though without a tie. He was a good-looking individual, Annie thought, and he knew it. The expensively trimmed hair, slightly greying at the temples, along with the designer suit and smart shoes, suggested a man all too aware of his appearance. ‘Just here to provide a bit of moral support. Awful, awful business.’ He’d led them through into this room, inviting them to take a seat. ‘Michelle’s having a bit of a lie-down. It’s been a dreadful shock, as you can imagine.’

  ‘Is she up to talking to us, do you think?’ Annie had asked. ‘We’ll obviously need to get a formal statement from her as soon we’re able, but for the moment we’d just like to ask a few questions so we can get things moving. Make sure we’ve got straight what happened.’

  ‘That’s what none of us knows, though,’ Hardy responded. ‘What did happen? Who’d do that to a young boy like Justin? It beggars belief. I’m sure she’ll want to talk to you. I’ll go and check with her.’

  While they waited for him to return, Annie took the opportunity to take stock of the room. As Zoe’s response had indicated, it was impressive, but it seemed somehow impersonal, with no obvious indication of the owner’s personality. It felt as if the original house had simply been hollowed out and filled with expensive-looking designer furniture. There were no photographs, no books. The pictures on the walls were of local landscapes and, though attractive enough, looked as if they’d been bought by the metre.

  After a few moments, Hardy returned, Michelle Wentworth following close behind him. She was wearing a dressing gown and Annie guessed she hadn’t changed her clothing since she’d come inside in search of her son. According to the initial report they’d received, Wentworth had been sunbathing immediately before discovering the body.

  Wentworth sat on one of the two sofas that filled the centre of the room, facing Annie and Zoe. Hardy said, ‘I’ll go and make us all some coffee.’

  ‘I hope you don’t mind us asking you a few questions, Mrs Wentworth. If you feel up to it, that is.’

  She looked white-faced and drained, though there was no sign of emotion in her expression. She was silent for a moment, as if deciding how to respond. ‘Yes, of course. I want to find the bastard who did this.’ Her voice was strong, the tone resolute. She seemed unexpectedly composed. Annie’s experience was that bereavement affected people in very different ways, but Wentworth’s calmness was sufficient at least to raise questions about her relationship with Justin.

  ‘Your son was out in the garden with you?’ Annie asked. ‘Beforehand, I mean.’

  ‘He came out to sunbathe,’ Wentworth said. ‘I was lying out there reading and he was playing some game on his phone. He only came in because I asked him to top up my drink…’ She trailed off and Annie wondered whether she was blaming herself for what had happened.

  ‘He didn’t indicate he was going anywhere else?’

  ‘Why would he be going anywhere else? He’s spent most of his time in the house since he came back from university.’ There was an edge of bitterness in her tone, Annie thought. She wondered what the relationship between mother and son had been like. Not an area to explore in detail now, but worth checking out in due course. Annie’s brief online search had revealed that Wentworth was divorced, but she’d found no reference to Justin’s father.

  ‘Is there any reason he might have gone out to the front?’ Zoe asked.

  ‘Not that I’m aware of. He didn’t spend much time out there. I suppose it’s possible he went to get something from his car, but I can’t think what. He doesn’t use the car much—’ She stopped, clearly realising what she’d said. ‘He didn’t use it much, I mean. I suppose the other possibility is that someone came to the door. I might not have heard the doorbell out by the pool.’

  Annie nodded. ‘I noticed you have some CCTV at the front. Is that operational?’

  ‘It’s all operational. The security’s pretty tight here. The main gates are electric too, although stupidly I’ve tended to leave them open during the day when I’m at home. But if you’re a wealthy woman living by yourself in the back of beyond you don’t take too many chances. I’ll let you have access to the footage. I thought about checking them myself but I decided all that was best left to you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Annie said. ‘Did Justin seem preoccupied at all? Or just his usual self?’

  ‘If you’re asking whether Justin had got himself into some kind of trouble, I can’t see it. Justin wasn’t that sort. I don’t mean because he was some kind of goody-goody. But he kept to himself. He was quiet, didn’t have many mates. Spent most of his time playing games on his laptop or his phone—’ She stopped again. ‘I used to tell him to get out more. I wanted to put a rocket up his backside at times. But he didn’t have much of a social life.’

  ‘You can’t think of anyone who might have had a reason to harm Justin?’

  Wentworth paused, perhaps longer than Annie might have expected. ‘Nobody. It just doesn’t make sense.’

  Annie hesitated, trying to decide how best to frame her next question. ‘I don’t want to seem insensitive,’ she said, finally, ‘but I do need to ask this. My understanding is that your business reputation has been a little controversial. Are there people who might wish to harm you?’

  Wentworth stared at her for a moment, then nodded. ‘I suppose it’s possible. I’ve made enemies over the years. It goes with the territory. But I can’t believe anyone would do something like this. Not just to get back at me.’

  ‘We can’t discount the possibility,’ Annie said. ‘Is there anyone in particular who might have had a reason to do this?’

  ‘I don’t know. I mean, there are people whose noses have been put out of joint because we’ve beaten them to win contracts, and we take a pretty hard-nosed approach to dealing with our suppliers. But that’s just business. I’m not a soft touch, but I play by the rules. None of that would be a reason to do something like this. I suppose there are individuals who’ve suffered as a result of our business deals. People who’ve lost their jobs or had their pay cut. Some of those might think they had a grievance against me. But I’m not running a charity. My job’s to make it pay. It doesn’t give anyone a reason to do this.’

  Annie was less sure. She’d known murders committed, particularly in anger, for much more trivial reasons. ‘Do you have anyone in mind?’

  ‘There must have been dozens of people we’ve let go since we started. It’s partly what we do. Streamlining, reducing costs and overheads. We do it by the book, but we have to make some tough decisions.’

  ‘Have you received any previous threats?’ Zoe asked.

  ‘Once or twice. I never took them very seriously. Green ink stuff from the odd disgruntled ex-employee and
the like.’

  ‘You didn’t report them?’

  ‘If I had, what would you have done? I don’t imagine there’d have been any way of tracking down the sender. In most cases, they were just venting their spleen.’

  ‘Have you received anything of that kind recently?’ Annie asked.

  ‘Not for a couple of years at least. Job insecurity’s part of the landscape now, isn’t it? People recognise it’s just the way it is. You don’t expect a job for life any more.’

  ‘It would be helpful if you could give us a list of anyone you think might have reason to harm you. Competitors, suppliers, former employees. Someone out there must have thought they had a reason to do this.’

  ‘If you think it’s worth it, but it just seems insane.’

  ‘There are other possibilities, obviously. It may have been a totally random killing. Maybe Justin was just unlucky enough to open the door to the wrong person. We’ll be exploring all that. At this stage, we have to keep every possibility on the table.’

  At the tail end of this exchange, Peter Hardy had re-entered the room with a tray laden with a steaming cafetière and mugs. He placed the tray down on the coffee table between them, and sat down on the sofa beside Michelle Wentworth. He’d clearly overheard at least part of what had been said. ‘Does keeping every possibility on the table include treating Michelle as a suspect?’

  ‘Peter—’

  ‘I’m just being realistic, Michelle.’ He leaned forward and began to pour the coffees. ‘We all know that in this kind of case the police look at the family first. That’s right, isn’t it?’ he asked Annie.

  ‘It’s usually a line of enquiry, certainly,’ Annie said non-committally. There was no question that Wentworth was a suspect. At this stage, though, Annie was keen to encourage Wentworth to talk freely and didn’t want her to feel she was under immediate suspicion.

  Annie was wondering again about Hardy’s role here. Was he Wentworth’s partner? He’d called himself a friend. Was he some kind of business associate? ‘We’ll need to take a formal statement from Mrs Wentworth in due course.’ She took the coffee that Hardy had held out to her. ‘Thank you. I understand you arrived here just before our officers, Mr Hardy, so presumably you weren’t in time to witness anything.’