Kay bit back a sigh, realising her hunch had been wrong, and pushed herself from the chair. ‘Then we won’t take up any more of your time, Mr Twick. Thank you.’
‘Not a problem, Detective Hunter. Come, I’ll show you out.’
He opened the door and gestured for her and Barnes to go ahead of him, and followed them into the reception area.
‘Thanks again, Mr Twick.’ Barnes shook the man’s hand, nodded to the receptionist, then turned for the door.
Kay went to follow him, then paused and glanced over her shoulder.
Twick and his receptionist were conferring about a document Sophie held out to him, heads bowed.
She cleared her throat, and they both looked up.
‘One last question – did anyone phone for Helen after she left on Friday afternoon?’
The receptionist’s gaze flittered to Twick’s, then back. ‘Yes. A man phoned at four o’clock. He wanted to speak to her but I said she wasn’t available.’
‘Did he say anything else?’
‘He asked if she was coming back.’
‘Were those his exact words?’
‘Yes.’
‘What did you say to him?’
‘I said she’d gone home early, and that I could pass on a message.’ She paused, her expression changing to one of tired resolve. ‘By the time I’d finished talking though, he’d hung up. Some people don’t have any manners, do they?’
Kay forced a smile. ‘No problem. Thank you very much, both of you, for your help.’
‘Feel free to call if you need anything else, Detective Hunter,’ said Twick.
Out on the street, Kay moved away from the entrance to the building and paused opposite the public car park. ‘So someone was checking up on her. Notice the phrasing he used? “Was she coming back”?’
‘He was watching her.’
‘Right. And it sounds as if he screwed up. She left the office while he wasn’t looking.’
‘You were right, guv,’ Barnes murmured as they walked back to the car. ‘Carl must’ve lied to protect her.’
Kay paused when they reached the vehicle and looked back at the solicitors’ office.
‘He did, Ian. And I think he saved her life.’
Chapter Eighteen
Barnes buttoned his jacket, tucked his mobile phone into the inside pocket and locked the car.
Above his head, next to the entrance to the dealership, a metal sign swung back and forth in the draught from a passing articulated truck, the painted lettering for O’Connor’s Used Car Sales stark against a dark-blue background.
The forecourt was silent, devoid of people save for him and Kay as they walked towards the sales office. The burgundy vehicle where Carl Taylor’s body had been discovered was gone, the space next to it empty as well.
The concrete forecourt appeared to have been recently jet-washed.
There had been no blood, no traces of whatever had happened to Taylor, so the task seemed pointless.
Maybe Mike O’Connor and his young part-time helper felt that by washing the place down they were eliminating the memory of the horrors that had visited them earlier that week.
Barnes sighed and turned his attention back to the office.
The place was silent and the desk that Kevin Short had used while they were speaking to him yesterday was clear of paperwork, the computer screen void of activity.
As his eyes grew used to the gloomy interior, he noticed O’Connor at his desk to the right of the small space resting his chin in his hands while he watched them.
‘Ever since the reporters stopped ringing, the phones have been dead,’ he said, his eyes downcast. ‘I don’t know if the business is ever going to recover from this.’
Barnes dragged a visitor chair towards him, then pulled out his notebook and balanced it on his knee. ‘We have a few more follow-up questions we’d like to ask, Mr O’Connor.’
The used car salesman lifted his chin and waved a hand at him. ‘Go ahead. My schedule appears to be clear for the rest of the day.’
Noting the man’s rancour, Barnes shot him a sympathetic look before he began his questioning. ‘Mr O’Connor, have you received any threats over the course of the past few weeks?’
The other man blinked, then straightened in his seat. ‘No. None at all. Do you think that man – Carl, wasn’t it? – was left out there as some sort of warning to me?’
‘I’m unable to comment on that at the moment,’ Barnes said smoothly. ‘You’re absolutely sure, though? Any threatening phone calls, or something in the post perhaps?’
‘Nothing like that, no.’
‘We understand that the business owes your ex-wife a substantial amount of money. Could you tell us why you haven’t paid her back?’
O’Connor glared at the change in tack, then looked at Kay. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘Please, answer the question, Mr O’Connor,’ she said, moving away from a display of car accessory brochures to stand next to Barnes’s shoulder.
‘Because I can’t pay her back, not yet.’ O’Connor sighed and rubbed his palms on the desk, smoothing away imaginary dust. ‘I haven’t told Ann but I’m trying to sell the business. I made a mistake buying it in the first place, to be honest.’
‘Go on,’ said Barnes.
‘I’m not enjoying it. I thought I would – I was bored three months after we sold the restaurant. I suppose you know about that? I’ve been putting out feelers for this place. It was doing all right before all this, so I was hoping not to lose much from the original investment. I had a good price negotiated with someone at the beginning of last week after some haggling between him and another interested party but he phoned me at home last night. He’s got cold feet.’ He snorted, his cheeks flushing. ‘Christ, sorry – that sounds crass in the circumstances. He told me he’s not going ahead with the purchase because of all the negative publicity around what’s happened.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that, Mr O’Connor,’ said Barnes.
O’Connor shrugged. ‘It is what it is. I phoned the other potential buyer this morning. He hasn’t lost interest but he has put in a lower offer. I might just have to accept that so I can pay back Ann. At least that way, I can put this whole sorry mess behind me without losing too much money.’
‘Where’s Kevin today?’ said Kay.
‘At home, I expect. I told him to take the rest of the week off so if he isn’t due in college…’
‘Does he know the business is on the market?’
‘God, no. To be honest, I’m hoping he’ll stay on once it’s sold. The bloke who put in the lower offer is a sole trader – he’d do well to hang on to the lad if the business picks up again.’
‘From what you’re saying, I presume there’s nothing wrong with Kevin’s employment record?’ said Barnes.
‘None at all. Wish they were all like that,’ said O’Connor. ‘The last pair of teenagers we had working for us when we had the restaurant were a nightmare to deal with. Always on their bloody phones.’
‘We’ll need a note of your two buyers––’ Barnes held up a hand as O’Connor began to protest. ‘It’s a formality, that’s all. As you can appreciate, with a murder investigation we do need to speak with everyone connected to this business.’
‘If you must.’ O’Connor paled, but flicked through the recent calls list on his mobile phone and read out the details.
Barnes drew two lines under his handwriting and snapped shut the notebook. Rising to his feet, he gave a curt nod. ‘Thanks for your time, Mr O’Connor.’
‘You can see yourselves out.’
Moments later, Barnes walked past a grey two-door hatchback and headed towards the pool car, Kay beside him. ‘What do you reckon, guv?’
‘You’ve got to feel for the poor bastard, haven’t you?’
‘People make mistakes. I suppose he thought doing this would be a change from running a restaurant and a way to keep his mind active.’ Barnes turned the key in the igniti
on. ‘Damn shame about the sale falling through, though.’
‘Maybe.’ Kay clicked her seatbelt into place as he pulled up to the road and waved his hand at a courier driver who let him into the traffic stream. ‘I want to speak to these two buyers as soon as possible, Ian.’
‘In person, or over the phone?’
‘In person.’
Barnes chuckled. ‘Don’t you believe O’Connor about the sale taking place so he can pay back his wife?’
‘No,’ said Kay. ‘That’s not it.’
He glanced across at her, noticing the way her gaze was drifting into the distance as she mulled over whatever thoughts were going around in her head. ‘What’s up, guv?’
‘What if someone dumped a dead body at O’Connor’s business so they could snap it up at a bargain price?’
Chapter Nineteen
Kay ran her gaze over her team of officers, noting the tangible excitement in the air as they took their seats and assembled for the afternoon briefing.
The pace of the investigation had shifted as different pieces of the puzzle started to take shape, revealing tantalising glimpses of Carl and Will’s last hours.
The murmured conversations passing back and forth held a different energy, one that sent goosebumps racing across her forearms and spiking her heart rate.
‘Okay, let’s make a start,’ she said, checking her notes. ‘You’ll recall from Helen Taylor’s statement that Carl phoned her at work on Friday morning asking her to leave early because he’d organised a plumber. She confirmed earlier today that he never showed up. Barnes and I went to speak with Helen’s employers, a legal firm in Sittingbourne.’
She paused, and pointed to a photograph pinned to the cork board, a blurry black and white CCTV image of a man dressed in jeans, heavy boots and a dark-coloured T-shirt.
‘The receptionist at Palmer and Twick told us that a man phoned on Friday afternoon after Helen left, asking if she’d be coming back. Sophie – the receptionist – informed him that she wouldn’t return until Monday, and he hung up.’ Kay paused, taking in the rapt faces of her team. ‘The phrasing the caller used – “was she coming back?” – made us wonder whether someone was watching her place of work and had missed her leaving. This image was sent to us by our colleagues over at East Division an hour ago, along with a video recording of this same man lingering outside Helen’s offices on Thursday as well.’
‘Do we know who he is?’ said Laura.’
‘Not yet. As you can see, the camera angle isn’t brilliant and nor is the picture quality. Neither Matthew Twick nor his receptionist recognise him. East Division are speaking with local businesses along this road to find out if anyone recognises him. We won’t have the results of that until late tomorrow, given their workload is as bad as ours.’ Kay exhaled as she eyed the photograph. ‘Based on this, though, and what happened to Carl and Will, we’re thinking that Taylor told his wife to leave work early in order to protect her. Who’s running background checks on her?’
‘That’s me, guv.’ Debbie West held up her hand, then dropped her gaze to her notebook and flicked through the pages. ‘As with Carl Taylor, Helen’s never come to our attention before – no driving offences, no unpaid fines. She’s been working at Palmer and Twick for nearly six years and before that she was based at a larger firm in Ashford. Two years ago she completed a diploma in business management through an online college. Her social media profiles didn’t give me any cause for concern either, guv.’ The constable lowered her notebook and sighed. ‘That’s it, I’m afraid.’
‘Thanks, Debbie.’ Kay ran her finger down the notes in her hand, then glanced up. ‘Anything from the antiques shop about their camera footage? When Barnes and I spoke to the owner yesterday, he was going to send a link to it.’
‘I’ve got something for you there.’ Phillip Parker wandered to the front of the group and handed Kay a pair of photographs, before turning to the board and pinning up enlarged copies. ‘These are the best stills I could get from the file images he sent over. You can see in this first one that there’s someone crouched down by the back wheel of the truck on the opposite side of the road. The next one shows a view of the street when the same person is bending over the other back tyre as a car goes past.’
Kay flipped between the two photographs in her hands, then frowned. ‘This is great, Phillip, but unfortunately it doesn’t help us. We still can’t see the man’s features.’
Parker blushed, then held up a third photograph. ‘But we do have this one. It’s a motorbike that passes the antiques shop about a minute and a half after that person walks away from the truck. And it shows a partial number plate.’
A shocked silence followed his words before a cacophony of voices filled the incident room.
‘Thanks, everyone,’ Kay called, and held up her hand. ‘Okay, Phillip – if you haven’t already, make a start on trying to match that number to motorbikes registered in the area. Work with Debbie if you need an extra pair of hands, but I’d like an update at tomorrow’s briefing.’
‘Will do, guv.’
‘And get all of those image files over to digital forensics. Maybe Andy Grey and his team can clean them up some more.’ Kay turned to dismiss the team, then saw PS Wallace raise his hand. ‘Yes, Tim?’
‘What about Carl Taylor, guv? Do we know if he died in the back of that truck, or was he killed and then left inside the stolen car?’ said Wallace, his voice carrying over the rustle of paper as people stood and chairs scraped across the thin carpet tiles.
A silence descended as if everyone was holding their breath.
‘Not yet.’ Kay sighed. ‘Lucas is doing the post mortem tomorrow morning, so let’s hope to hell he finds something to help us.’
Chapter Twenty
‘Jesus, guv. I’m starting to think Adam has a point about not letting you near the kitchen knives.’
Kay followed Barnes’s gaze to the scratches that crisscrossed the backs of her hands and fingers and grinned. ‘Adam brought home kittens. We were playing with them last night.’
‘That’s your story.’
She laughed, grateful to her colleague for the chance to alleviate the thoughts leading up to the post mortem that morning, and drew the seatbelt across her chest as he steered the car away from her driveway.
He turned into the main road winding through the suburb and she watched a steady stream of schoolkids of varying ages wandering towards a bus stop outside a busy supermarket and petrol station.
Young mothers with prams and pushchairs idled on the pavement, stopping to chat as they walked with older children who kicked at stones or played games on their way to kindergarten and schools.
Bright clothing and the familiar colours of local school uniforms blurred as Barnes accelerated over the slight rise, and Kay turned her attention back to her colleague.
‘I find this part hard,’ she said. ‘Everything looking normal out there, and here we are on the way to witness a post mortem.’
‘I know what you mean.’ He indicated right, joined the queue of traffic leading to the motorway junction, and turned down the police radio fixed to the dashboard until the crackle of voices faded into the background. ‘The only way I can deal with it – always have, really – is to think that it’s another step forward in finding justice for the poor bastard.’
Kay bit her lip. ‘I just hope Lucas finds something. Apart from a blurry photograph of a man who might have been looking for Helen Taylor and either him or someone else who slashed the tyres on Carl’s truck, we’ve got nothing, have we?’
An hour later, Barnes turned into the entrance to Darent Valley Hospital and found a spare parking space at the back of one of the buildings reserved for visitors.
They hurried through the southern entrance into the building and up a flight of stairs rather than wait for a lift, Kay leading the way into the mortuary through a set of wooden doors set with vertical glass panels.
Simon Winter turned as they entered, and held out a vis
itor log book. ‘We’ve finished setting up in there, so if you want to go and get suited up, we’ll wait for you.’
Kay entered her name in the log, then followed Barnes along a narrow corridor. ‘I’ll see you in there, Ian.’
‘Will do, guv.’
Entering the ladies’ changing room, she placed her bag and suit jacket in a locker and pocketed the key. A pile of protective gowns sealed in plastic bags had been left on a small table beside the door and she opened one before pulling the bulky clothing over her blouse and trousers.
That done, she twisted her hair into an elastic band, pulled a protective bonnet over her head and donned the gloves and booties remaining in the plastic bag.
She walked out of the changing room and saw Barnes ahead of her, his feet swooshing along the polished tiles in booties matching hers.
‘I always find you so fetching in that,’ she said as she joined him. ‘It’s very on trend right now.’
He grinned. ‘Does it make my bum look big, though?’
‘Enormous.’ She pushed open the door into the morgue and paused on the threshold beside him.
Lucas and Simon had laid out Carl Taylor’s body on a steel gurney in the middle of a set of three, the man’s neck supported by a rubber rest and his hands by his sides, palms facing down.
Bright lights hanging from the ceiling illuminated Lucas’s work area, tools and saws and drills gleaming.
A chill hung in the air, and Kay shivered.
‘Shall we begin?’ said Lucas, his keen brown eyes flickering to Barnes then back to her.
‘Might as well,’ muttered Barnes, shuffling closer.
‘How long did he take to defrost?’ said Kay, her gaze sweeping over the blue and black markings that covered Taylor’s hands, feet and other extremities.
‘Until nine o’clock last night,’ said the Home Office pathologist. ‘Simon stayed here until we were sure – we had to be careful that we brought up his temperature to a point where we could conduct soft tissue analysis but avoid any further decay. Will is going to take another twenty-four hours.’
A Darker Place Page 8
