Black Quarry Farm

by Iain Cameron

  She had reached the front door before realising she’d missed out the garage. She walked through the kitchen and unlocked the integral door. This was more her father’s domain than the study. Here, he kept all his tools and equipment which he used to make bookcases for the lounge, build the porch, install lights in the garden, and a host of other small improvements all over the house. He was at his happiest with a tool in his hand and a problem to solve. If Kayleigh had been a boy, perhaps some of this practical ability would have rubbed off, but alas it hadn’t. She still needed to call him whenever her gas boiler failed to ignite or she couldn’t get her printer to work.

  She was about to leave the garage to the spiders, when she noticed some items were missing. A yellow-handled strimmer had once been hung from a hook and she remembered a month or so back seeing a newly-purchased chainsaw on the shelf. Her father was meticulous in maintaining and cleaning his tools and returning them to their proper place. She could see the space where the missing items had been situated and a quick look around attested to their disappearance.

  A voice in her head said, so what? They were about to be sold or given away, but another voice said, no. The only people who had been in the house since the murder were two detectives from Henderson’s team, and she was unwilling to offer them any slack. She would take this up with him at the earliest opportunity. If she received no satisfaction, she still had Rob Tremain’s business card in her bag. The stinging article he wrote last week in The Argus only merited page four billing. This one, she was sure, would take her parents’ murder back to the front page.

  SEVENTEEN

  Henderson walked into the Detectives’ Room for the morning briefing. He’d arrived at the office at seven-thirty, and if Sally Graham’s revelation meant what he thought it did, they would now be embarking on a new line of enquiry. The everyday duties he’d planned to do: signing overtime forms, reading reports, and making calls, would all now be placed on the back burner.

  ‘Right, let’s get started. Vicky,’ Henderson said to DS Neal, ‘bring us all up to date with what you and Sally found.’

  ‘No problem, boss. Right, we’ve been going through a list of visitors to Black Quarry Farm for the last few months, and also those scheduled to arrive in the month ahead. We had the impetus to dig further after the boss spoke to Brian Faulkner. For those who haven’t heard, he’s been arrested for the theft and reset of mobile phones. He told us, in an attempt to have some of the charges against him dropped, that he has sighted a number of known villains at the farm. We put the names from Melissa’s list of previous tenants into the PNC and, surprise, surprise, we got several hits.’

  ‘Interesting,’ Henderson said as he took a sip of coffee.

  ‘For the last year, six people with form have stayed in the house at Black Quarry Farm.’

  ‘This must be some sort of record,’ Harry Wallop said.

  ‘Maybe the place is advertised at a prisoner rehabilitation centre or something,’ Carol Walters suggested.

  ‘Has to be something like that,’ Neal said, ‘as I don’t think it’s down to their love of English wine. Of the six names, we eliminated two as their offences were minor, and we were on the point of dismissing another, but for reasons I’ll explain later, he’s back on our radar. Including him, it leaves four, three of whom are the same men highlighted by Brian Faulkner.’

  ‘Faulkner thinks Radcliffe used their services from time to time in his business.’

  ‘Doing what?’ Walters asked.

  ‘If you remember, his company was involved in a number of big infrastructure projects, the construction of power stations and wind farms, and erecting electricity pylons. The development of some of those projects, and quite often their demolition, is contentious to certain groups of people. To protect and ensure access to the sites, Faulkner says Radcliffe would bring in a security detail to clear away obstacles and remove protestors who’d chained themselves to fences.’

  ‘We’ve done a profile on each con,’ Neal said, handing out papers to all the team.

  A familiar pattern of the habitual career criminal shone through on every page. All had done serious time in prison for gun offences, GBH, or drug dealing, and it didn’t take a clairvoyant to realise that they were all still engaged in various nefarious activities.

  ‘Let’s bring this back a notch,’ Henderson said, ‘and consider how their presence at the farm impacts the murder. In my mind, this is Radcliffe giving his old cronies a bit of a holiday, payback if you like for services rendered. Also, an attempt, perhaps at keeping them sweet should he ever need their services again. I can’t see any connection between them and the deaths of John and Lara.’

  ‘What if,’ Wallop said, ‘they used their stay to case the joint, ahead of the murder?’

  ‘I don’t buy it, Harry. What’s the motive? We’ve established that Radcliffe knows the cons, but I don’t see how the Beeches would. They couldn’t have previously met them at the farm as this was the Beeches first visit.’

  Silence descended, everyone trying to connect the two disparate groups but failing. In his mind, it was an interesting development, but to spend any more time on it would be a distraction. ‘I think we’ll sit on this information for the moment.’

  ‘What?’ Neal said. ‘You don’t want us to interview any of them?’

  ‘You’ve read the profiles, Vicky, they’ve got skeletons upon skeletons in their cupboards, so not one of them will say a dicky-bird to a couple of detectives about anything they’ve done. It would be a complete waste of time.’

  ‘We might find out if there’s a link between them and the Beeches.’

  ‘No, I don’t want anyone talking to them. What we’ll do is take this information to Radcliffe and let him explain. If he isn’t forthcoming in his answers, or he leaves us in any doubt, only then will I consider an approach.’

  Henderson had to take into account all the hoops he would have to go through before giving the go-ahead to Neal’s request. Known criminals like these were often being monitored by their local Serious Crime Group, or they could be the subjects of a forthcoming operation.

  The same applied to the work of the National Crime Agency, who took a keen interest in criminal gangs and organised crime. If Sussex officers went blundering in with their questions, it could undo months of work by dozens of detectives, not to mention putting their own lives in jeopardy. No, it would not be a decision he would take lightly.

  ‘What about this other guy,’ Henderson asked, ‘the fourth one you said you were about to dump before putting him back on the radar?’

  She looked through her papers. What he liked about Vicky Neal was her ability for not letting any knock-backs or disappointment show or affect her performance. Henderson had rejected her plan to interview the three cons, but she didn’t sit there sulking.

  ‘I saved the best till last. His name is Robert Saunders. He was flagged on the PNC for a drink driving offence fourteen months ago, and three years before for an assault on his partner. The reason we put him back on our list was we discovered he’d booked the same week as John and Lara, but cancelled ten days before.’

  ‘Whoa,’ Henderson said, ‘you’re dead right, this guy does sound interesting.’

  ‘The Beeches had tried to book a week some months back, but were told the house was fully booked. When Saunders cancelled, Melissa Holland called John and asked if he and his wife still wanted to stay there.’

  ‘It’s a big house for only one man,’ Wallop said.

  ‘It wasn’t just him, Harry. He’d booked it for himself and a partner.’

  Henderson jumped off the desk he had been sitting on and paced the room. ‘Bloody hell!’ he said. ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’

  ‘Robert Saunders could have been the shooters’ real target?’ Walters said.

  ‘For sure. The shooters get the information about him staying there, but they don’t know he’s cancelled. They come to the house and, expecting to see two people in the bed
, Saunders and his partner, they open fire. It fits.’

  ‘How did they know Saunders was due to stay there?’ Walters asked.

  ‘If someone is desperate enough to hire a couple of serious shooters,’ Henderson said, ‘I would imagine they’ve been keeping their tabs on him. Maybe monitoring his calls and emails, and putting pressure on people who know him.’

  ‘What if someone at the farm tipped them off about Saunders’ imminent arrival?’ Walters said. ‘We know now there are a couple of ex-offenders employed there. The farm manager, Brian Faulkner, strikes me as the type of man who would do anything if the price is right, especially now he’s been arrested for dealing in nicked phones.’

  ‘It’s a good point,’ Henderson said, ‘and something else we need to talk to Radcliffe about.’ He paused a few moments, thinking. ‘It feels like a new line of enquiry. Vicky, well done, and also to you, Sally, for spotting it.’

  ‘Thank you, guv.’

  Henderson paused for a second before speaking. ‘I want you to research everything you can about Saunders: his life, where he worked, wife, girlfriends, current and previous addresses: everything. Although something tells me he might be a difficult man to trace.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’ Neal asked.

  ‘If he suspected people were out looking for him, he could have booked the farm with no intention of staying there, cancelled the booking as late as possible, and then sat back to see if a killer turned up.’

  ‘The bastard,’ Wallop said, ‘he did this knowing innocent people would be killed.’

  ‘Maybe not, Harry. What if he didn’t know they were out to kill him? He might have assumed it was to kidnap him or beat him up, to reveal the whereabouts of drugs, guns, money or whatever it was they were after. Maybe Saunders expected the gunmen to walk away once they realised they’d got the wrong people. The resultant publicity would have been enough to confirm that he was being hunted. If I’m right, he’ll be keeping his head down now, for sure.’

  ‘It fits,’ Walters said.

  ‘It does, but we all need to be aware it’s only one interpretation of the facts. We need to be open-minded if any other scenario pops into the frame and makes a better fit. Well, if there’s nothing else, let’s get back to work. Meet here again at six.’

  EIGHTEEN

  Henderson left the morning briefing with the name of Robert Saunders in his head. He hadn’t heard a good explanation as to why the Beeches had been targeted, until this. On returning to his office, he was about to do some research of his own on the mystery man when his phone rang.

  It was Reception downstairs, and guess who was waiting there to see him. He knew keeping Kayleigh Beech waiting would only rile her more, but he still spent a few minutes on his computer looking at Robert Saunders’ police record. He cleared the screen, picked up the file from his desk, and headed downstairs.

  It wasn’t unusual for defence briefs to harbour resentment towards murder detectives, even though their current client could be making his or her maiden appearance inside a cell. Previous cases had a habit of leaving sores that took time to heal. From Henderson’s side, it happened when a sure-fire conviction was quashed on a technicality uncovered by the defendant’s lawyer. With defence briefs, it was when they felt the police had over-stepped the mark in arresting their client, or because detectives were too diligent in making sure they had a water-tight case against certain defendants, people they didn’t want to see on the streets any time soon.

  He had no idea why Kayleigh Beech felt the way she did. She wanted the case solved and the perpetrators caught, of course, but so did he and every single member of the murder team. Why she couldn’t appreciate this, he couldn’t say, but it was sure making his life more difficult than it should be.

  Henderson walked into the interview room, this time in the company of Carol Walters. If Kayleigh was intent on having another pop at Sussex Police in general, and his leadership of the murder team in particular, he wanted someone else present to witness the exchange.

  ‘Morning, Kayleigh,’ Henderson said sitting down. ’This is Detective Sergeant Walters. How are you today?’

  ‘Not good, or best pleased to be back in here.’

  ‘At least you can take comfort from the fact that you are not here as a suspect.’

  She glowered at him.

  ‘You come at a good time. I’ve just attended a meeting of the murder team, and we’ve been discussing the development of a new lead in the Black Quarry Farm case. One which I think provides a more credible explanation for the deaths of your parents than any we’ve explored so far.’

  ‘You have? Wonderful news. Tell me about it.’

  ‘You know I can’t do that, not until we’ve made some additional enquiries, but be assured this new lead looks encouraging.’

  ‘Why can’t you tell me? This is my mother and father we are talking about.’

  ‘I’m aware of this and I’m sympathetic to your situation. Our reluctance at revealing information at too early a stage is because it could provide false hope. A promising lead could, on further investigation, fizzle out to nought. Also, there is a chance it will appear in the pages of newspapers where such things are often misinterpreted.’

  ‘I don’t think Rob Tremain twisted my words at all. He wrote a reasonable balanced article, in my opinion.’

  ‘I wasn’t talking particularly about that article, but press coverage in general, although now you mention it, I hope you can appreciate why its publication wasn’t helpful.’

  ‘I was angry; the killers of my parents are still at large.’

  ‘Most people are angry when they lose a loved one, but they don’t go off to the newspapers and complain about the lack of progress in a police investigation. Yes, I know you were angry, but you didn’t listen to any of the explanations I was offering. Murders like this one, where we don’t have a clear suspect or motive, cannot be solved in the timescales you are envisaging.’

  ‘Well, if you don’t believe I had a valid point there, you must agree with this one. Your detectives have been stealing items from my parents’ house.’

  Henderson bristled at the comment and could hear the sharp intake of breath from Walters, sitting beside him. He leaned forward. ‘Ms Beech, I don’t need to tell you, as a lawyer, this is a serious allegation you are making against some of my officers, all of whom I hold in high regard. Show me your evidence.’

  ‘How can I show you the evidence? I can hardly open their work lockers to find the stolen items, can I?’

  ‘Let’s backtrack before we talk about opening any lockers. What makes you think they stole anything? What’s missing?’

  ‘I went to my parents’ house in Milton Mount yesterday and I noticed a chainsaw and a strimmer are missing from Daddy’s tool rack in the garage. I then looked around the house and couldn’t find Mum’s laptop and some of her nice jewellery.’

  ‘Have you considered that some of those might be included in the items your parents took with them when they visited Black Quarry Farm?’

  ‘I don’t think so. My mother never takes her laptop with her when she goes on holiday. She doesn’t believe in working during her time off.’

  ‘Maybe there was some urgent work she needed to complete?’

  Kayleigh grunted, disdain clearly the only merit his comment deserved. He turned to Walters.

  ‘Carol, I think the list of items recovered from Black Quarry Farm would be a useful addition to this discussion.’

  ‘I think so too.’ She got up. ‘Give me a few minutes.’

  He turned back to Kayleigh. ‘DS Walters is leaving to find the list of items belonging to your parents, recovered by my officers when we searched the house at the farm. I’m confident about the smaller items, but I’m not sure many people would come on holiday with a strimmer and a chainsaw. Are you sure those items are missing? How could you tell?’

  ‘Of course I’m sure. My father was meticulous in cleaning and returning to the rack he put up in the garage
any items he had been using. There are gaps where the chainsaw and strimmer should have been.’

  ‘You’ve looked in any other places where they might be, I don’t know, the boot of a car, a shed in the garden?’

  ‘Daddy always returned his tools to their rightful place on the rack. He was very methodical.’

  ‘Could he have lent them to a neighbour, or to a friend?’

  ‘I hadn’t considered that, but I can’t recall him ever doing so. He wasn’t what you might call a helpful neighbour.’

  ‘You said you believe my detectives took those items.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did anyone see them walking out of the house with them?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So you’re saying this, I imagine, because they are the only people who have been in the house since your parents died?’

  ‘Yes, except me.’

  ‘Who else has a key to the house?’

  ‘No one.’

  ‘C’mon. Most people leave a key with a neighbour for safekeeping What happens if your bag is stolen with the keys inside, or the alarm goes off while you’re on holiday?’

  ‘That happened one year when we were holidaying in the Lake District,’ Kayleigh said. ‘We received a call from the alarm company to say it had been activated.’

  ‘Okay, so who turned the alarm off?’

  ‘I suppose it must have been Oliver Lee, the man next door.’

  ‘Yes, I know Mr Lee, we spoke to him earlier. Does he still have a key?’

  ‘What did you talk to him about?’

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘I know you would interview all the neighbours close by if my parents were killed in their own house, but they weren’t.’

  According to Lee, his affair with Lara Beech had been conducted in secret, so Henderson doubted Kayleigh was fishing for information about it, and he wasn’t about to enlighten her.