by GS Rhodes
“Can’t be easy,” Zoe said.
“No, it’s not,” he said flatly. “And I assume that’s why the two of you are here also, is it not? Think you’ve got the measure of my dad and therefore got the measure of me.”
Kidd sighed. “I wouldn’t put it like that exactly,” he said. “We just have a few questions for you, Mr Hansen, if that’s alright?”
As he looked at Colin Hansen, a man who was nothing like his father, Kidd started to have his doubts. Back at Belmarsh, he’d felt that sudden twist in his gut at the mention of Colin’s name, the possibility that they’d found themselves a viable suspect, but now that he was here, he wasn’t so sure.
Kidd tried to shake it from his head. That’s what things had been like all those years ago with Albert—they’d all been fooled by him and that had ended with another body. He wasn’t about to have another life on his conscience.
“Not a problem,” Colin said, pointing his hand in the direction of a door to his right. “The living room is just through there. Would either of you like a drink?”
“I could murder a cuppa,” Zoe said quickly.
“Same here please, Colin,” Kidd said.
Colin headed off through a different door and Kidd followed Zoe into the living room. Kidd took it all in, his eyes wide as he remembered being here fifteen years ago. He’d not stepped foot inside since. He’d not even bothered to check up on him.
“What now, Kidd?” Zoe whispered. “Are you amazed at the redecoration?”
“Piss off,” Kidd grumbled. “What do you think?”
“Of the decor?” Zoe replied before shrugging. “It’s okay I guess. Not the colour I would have chosen for the walls—”
“Not the bloody walls, Zoe.” Kidd groaned. “Of Colin.”
“Colin seems pretty docile,” Zoe said. “I don’t know what I expected, to be honest. Maybe someone who didn’t want the police in his house, but wasn’t Albert accommodating in the beginning?”
“That’s the only thing giving me pause,” Kidd replied.
The dog, a tiny, yappy Basset Hound, was running around Zoe’s feet whimpering, which was enough to make Kidd want to kick it. He didn’t condone violence against animals, but this one was so irritating he was almost willing to make an exception.
Zoe crouched down and started fussing with him, rubbing behind his ears and across his back, the yapping suddenly turning into excitable pants and sighs, a big pink tongue flopping out of his mouth.
“Well aren’t you just the cutest little thing?” Zoe cooed.
“Didn’t know you were a dog person, Zoe.”
“Not usually,” she said. “But for this cutie pie? Maybe I am.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“I won’t have dog hate on my watch, boss,” Zoe said. “I won’t stand for it.”
“How about you stand outside then?”
“Heartless old grump.”
Colin walked into the living room with two mugs in one hand and a third in the other, all of them steaming. Kidd could already taste the sweet nectar of tea before he was even anywhere near it. He was practically salivating.
“Thanks, Mr Hansen,” Kidd said, taking the two mugs Colin proffered.
“Please, call me Colin, DI Kidd,” Colin replied. “We’ve had far too much history for you to start being so formal with me.” He pointed to the sofa. “Please, sit.”
Kidd handed Zoe her mug and the two obliged, sitting side by side on the cream leather sofa. Colin put his mug down on a coaster before going over to the bay window and making the sure the curtains were pulled tight. Probably not the first time he’d done that today. Kidd felt sorry for the poor bastard.
“So, Colin,” Kidd began, “I hope you don’t mind us popping round—”
“When I heard, I expected it would happen sooner or later,” he said, crossing the room back towards his tea and taking a seat in an armchair. He cocooned the mug in his hands, occasionally blowing over the top of it despite not taking a sip. It must have been a nervous habit. When the last time police were in your house was to tell you your dad had been arrested, that had to be something of a triggering experience.
“When did the people outside arrive?” Kidd asked.
“A day or so ago,” Colin said. “I returned from work on Tuesday to see that my house was swarming with them. I thought something had happened, there’d been a break-in or something, but they were firing questions at me about dad and I had no idea why.” He took a sip of his tea, wincing at how hot it still was. “Then I got inside, did a little bit of googling, and figured it out. They’ve been there every day since.”
“Constantly?” Zoe asked.
Colin chuckled. “No, not constantly. They sort of come and go. But I… I haven’t wanted to leave the house since they got here. They’re quite aggressive,” he said, eyeing Kidd. “I think you saw that on the way in.”
“Yes,” Kidd replied. “Persistent, too.”
Colin rolled his eyes. “Certainly. I’ve worked from home since then. Only two days, but it’s driving Buzz mental only having the garden to run around in and, frankly, it’s driving me a little bit nuts too. I could do with a walk, with seeing something other than the inside of this house.”
It was a pretty big house. Kidd remembered how long it had taken them to search it all those years ago. How could you go mental when you had all of these rooms to play about in? If it had been his house back in Kingston, maybe, but here? Kidd honestly couldn’t see it.
“Seeing as you know why we’re here, Colin, there’s no point in us beating around the bush,” Kidd said, clearing his throat. “We are here to talk about your dad.” Colin winced. He’d not even mentioned his dad’s name and it was enough to cause a visceral reaction in him. Could he have done it? Or was he just that good of an actor? “Have you been to visit him much?”
Colin’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“Simple question, Colin. I just wanted to know if—”
“I know. I know, I heard what you said, I just can’t believe you said it,” he grumbled, taking his eyes away from Kidd and staring at the cream carpet. “You really think I’m going to see that man?” Colin said quietly. “After everything he did? He drove my mum away when I was a child, and then to do all of those things to those women…” Colin trailed off. He took a breath and composed himself, returning his steely gaze to Kidd. “I’ve not been to see him, not once in the past fifteen years,” Colin said flatly. “Anything else?”
“Colin, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Kidd said. “We just had reason to believe that you’d been to Belmarsh to see your dad over the past few weeks—”
“Which automatically made you think that I was going along there to get tips on what to do with the next body, huh?” Colin spat. “Seriously?”
“We have to take every lead we get seriously, Mr Hansen,” Zoe said softly. “You understand we’re only doing our jobs here.”
Colin took another breath, quickly followed by another sip of tea. “Of course, I understand,” he said. “Please, carry on.”
“If not you, could it have been another member of your family going to visit?” Kidd suggested. Maybe the receptionist had gotten the first name wrong. Maybe it was a different Hansen. “Is that beyond the realm of possibility?”
Colin smiled at Kidd. “I’m afraid so,” he said. “Neither of my aunties would go, I’m fairly sure of it. And my nan is long since passed. Not many Hansens remaining now.”
Kidd sat back in the sofa, suddenly floored at how they’d found themselves back at square one all over again. He knew it had all felt a little bit too easy for it to be Hansen junior. But if not Colin, then who?
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, DI Kidd,” Colin said. “You know I’d love to help you if I could. Though, if you fancy doing me another favour, you could always have that filmmaker kid arrested. Don’t suppose you’ve got any drugs to plant on him or anything?”
Kidd sat up sharply.
“Mr Hansen—�
�� Zoe started.
“I’m joking, please don’t put that on any record. I don’t want him getting in trouble, not really,” Colin chuckled. Buzz trotted over and hopped up onto Colin’s lap. He stroked the dog absentmindedly, ignoring the dog as he gnawed at his jeans.
“No, no,” Kidd said. “What was that about a filmmaker?”
Colin looked him dead in the eyes. “He giving you trouble too?” Colin asked. “Little shit-stirrer thinks he’s the next Trevor McDonald. He’s not even close.”
“Why? What’s he done?”
Colin shook his head. “Just been himself, I think,” he said with a laugh. “Saw him last week because he was asking me questions about my dad, about all the things he’d done, wanted to make a documentary about it or something. He’s studying film at uni, I think. I started off being helpful, how could I not? He’s just a kid. The next thing I know, he’s out there rallying the troops. Posted everything I said online, making me out to be some kind of villain. He’s probably loving it. Imagine all of this shit in his film. He starts making it and a body shows up?”
Kidd took a deep breath, not wanting to spook Colin or the dog.
“Can I get the lad’s name, Colin?”
“Joe Warrington.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Joe bloody Warrington, Kidd thought. He knew he was trouble. How could he not be, with the way he was carrying on at Bushy Park? The way he’d been with Kidd out in front of Colin’s house? But was he a killer?
“Deep breaths, Ben.” Zoe’s voice came from next to him, calm as anything, but she was sat forward on the sofa just like he was, her right leg jiggling an unsteady beat. “Don’t jump to any conclusions.”
“How long has this been going on?” Kidd asked, trying to keep his voice level.
Colin looked a little bit surprised at how the mention of Joe’s name had been taken. Suddenly a little bit sheepish, Kidd could see him clamming up before his very eyes.
“I don’t want any trouble. I was just making a joke. I’m not about getting people into trouble if—”
“No one is in trouble yet, Colin,” Kidd said. “But if Warrington has been asking you questions and suddenly a body shows up, it just seems… suspicious.”
“He’s just a student.”
Kidd shrugged. “You’d be amazed at what people are capable of.”
Colin took another sip of tea. Kidd was fairly sure the mug was empty at this point and it was a nervous habit, but he couldn’t prove that, short of knocking the mug out of Colin’s hand.
“Colin?” Kidd’s voice had a hint of a warning in it. Zoe stiffened next to him.
“He was asking me about my dad,” Colin said simply. “All sorts, really. He asked what happened, how many bodies there were, how he did it. I didn’t know the last bit, of course, but I gave as detailed an answer as I could, because, well, he’s a university student. He’s just doing what he can to get a degree and he obviously wanted an interesting short film about me… about my family…”
Colin trailed off and Kidd eyed him carefully. He had no reason not to believe him. Why would he? Colin had been honest with them since they got here, why would he stop being honest now? But Kidd could see that hint of his father in those final words.
Albert Hansen had always been after the infamy, the accolades. Maybe there was a part of Colin that wanted that too. He’d been approached in the past for TV shows about his dad, them no doubt wanting the sordid details on how it managed to tear a young boy’s life apart. He’d even done a few of them. But why now? Why again? Why had he done it for Warrington?
“And you answered all of his questions?”
“As best I could, yes.”
“And he filmed them all?” Kidd asked.
“Yes. He had a little camera set up in the corner and sat where you’re sitting now, and I sat in this chair with Buzz, sometimes without, he can be fussy like that, and I just talked.”
“You just… talked?” Kidd was getting irritated now. How much did Warrington know? How much had he asked? Was this information he’d used to kill someone? Could Hansen have provided that? “About what, Colin? What did you say?”
“I told him all sorts,” Colin said, flustered now. “Things I’d read in the papers mostly, articles. Dad never told me that he was doing any of that stuff, never gave the gory details, so I was just regurgitating stuff I’d read over the years.”
“Why?”
Colin opened his mouth to speak and stopped himself. He lowered his voice considerably. “Because it would make for a more interesting documentary,” Colin said. “I told him it was all from articles, things that I’d read over the years, TV shows I’d watched and been part of, it was all… it was all information that was out there…”
Colin trailed off and looked between Kidd and Zoe, a panicked expression on his face. He looked like he was about to pass out.
“Thank you, Colin,” Kidd said gruffly. “You’ve been very helpful.”
He stood up. Zoe joined him.
Colin moved to stand up but Kidd stopped him with a wave of his hand. “We can see ourselves out,” he said. “No use you getting those vultures all riled up. Thank you for your time, Colin.”
“Y-y-you’re welcome…” he said quietly, turning his attention back to his dog, back to his big empty house.
Kidd and Zoe started for the door.
“What now?” Zoe whispered once they were in the hallway. “Do we think that—?”
“I don’t know what I think,” Kidd whispered back. “But it seems a little bit weird, doesn’t it? He starts asking questions about The Grinning Murders last week, this week a body shows up.”
“Might be a coincidence?”
Kidd raised an eyebrow at Zoe. “Might be a copycat killer, DS Sanchez.”
Kidd reached out a hand and grabbed the door handle. He pulled it down hard and the flashing began almost instantly. Maybe they’d seen the shadows behind the glass and readied themselves for whoever was stepping outside. If Kidd had epilepsy, he would have been fucked. The flashing was relentless, he couldn’t see a single one of their faces.
“They’ve got nothing to write about,” Zoe said to him quietly. “You’ll be a footnote on page six, don’t worry about it.”
“I’m not worried about that, I’m worried for my fucking corneas!” Kidd growled. “Jesus Christ!”
The flashing stopped after a moment and Kidd did his best to get his bearings. The vultures knew they weren’t getting any meat off these two and they seemed to die down. Kidd wondered how much time they spent out here, whether it was just during the day or if they spent their nights out here too, waiting for Colin to leave, waiting to harass him. They must have cost the papers a fortune.
And then he caught sight of Joe Warrington at the edge of the pack. He was staring directly at the two of them, a shit-eating grin on his face. It took all of Kidd’s willpower not to stick his middle finger up at him, but that would cause more trouble than it was worth. These local rags probably didn’t have a damn thing to put on their front pages, a bobby behaving badly would make a decent headline.
Instead, he marched towards him.
Warrington looked a little bit frightened. After two encounters where Kidd hadn’t wanted anything to do with him, having the DI suddenly coming at him was a bit much.
He stepped backwards. Kidd picked up the pace, taking his hands out of his coat pockets and pumping them at his side.
“Kidd, what are you doing?” Zoe asked beside him.
“Going to give an exclusive to Joe Warrington,” he grumbled.
“Kidd, don’t do anything daft.”
“Oi! Joe!” Kidd shouted. “Can I have a word?”
At that, Joe Warrington broke into a run, almost stumbling over his feet as he took off onto the pavement. He barged past the waiting reporters and photographers and shot off into the fading light of Lower Teddington Road, but Kidd wasn’t about to give up so easily.
He shrugged his coat off his should
ers and broke into a run after him, not about to let the little prick get away. His feet pounded against the pavement, kicking up gravel and dirt, his arms pumping hard at his sides as he tried to get control of his breathing. This was always easier when he was out running in the morning, usually a light jog rather than a sprint to catch a potential killer on a Thursday night.
He could hear Zoe shouting after him, but he ignored it, knowing that he was gaining ground on Warrington. He got closer to the lad and managed to grab hold of his arm, yanking him back so he was a little off-balance. Joe cried out.
“Joe Warrington, I’m arresting you for the—”
CRACK!
Kidd hadn’t been expecting the impact as Joe Warrington’s free elbow connected with his nose. Kidd threw his head back, his eyes watering, blood pouring from his nostrils. He collapsed to his knees, winded, unable to see anything, but able to hear the sound of Warrington’s footsteps as they ran off into the night.
“Shit.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“What the fuck did I say to you?” Zoe asked as she got into the car next to Kidd. He’d taken off his tie and bundled it up to stem the flow of blood coming from his nose.
DS Sanchez had reached him in good time, stopping when she saw that Kidd was doubled up on the ground. She’d stared down at him, disapproval written so clearly across her face it might as well have been written there in Sharpie. He’d messed up, and he’d messed up big time.
First thing to do when you catch somebody is to restrain both their hands. He’d grabbed one and got elbowed in the nose because he didn’t think Warrington had it in him to fight back. Now he was paying the price.
“I told you not to do anything daft, and what did you do?”
“Something daft,” Kidd grumbled. He pulled on his seatbelt and waited for Zoe to start the car, but she didn’t. “Can we go? There are people looking.”
“You mean you’re not so photo-ready with dried blood on your chin?” she snapped. “Honestly, Kidd, did you forget how to be a police officer while you were off?”
