A Darker Place

by Rachel Amphlett

  Barnes sighed. ‘I suppose you want me to…?’

  Kay glanced over her shoulder at the sound of sirens to see a second patrol car slide to a halt outside the industrial unit, then turned back to her colleague with the sweetest smile she could muster in the circumstances. ‘If you wouldn’t mind. He’ll be gone by the time they get over here.’

  The older detective sighed, then half-stumbled half-vaulted over the wooden fence and took off across the field after Trentithe.

  Moments later, she was joined by the two new arrivals.

  Tim Wallace nodded a greeting to her before turning his attention to the foot chase taking place while his colleague radioed an update to the force’s control room.

  Barnes had almost caught up with Trentithe at the far end of the field, and they could hear him shouting at the man to stop.

  ‘He’s not doing too bad for an old fella, is he, guv?’ said Wallace, shielding his eyes.

  Kay snorted. ‘I reckon that diet Pia’s had him on is working.’

  ‘Reckon he’ll catch him?’

  ‘If he doesn’t, do any footpaths lead out of this field?’ said Kay.

  Wallace peered at his phone screen. ‘None that I can see. I think this was fenced off by the developers who own the land until they got the finance together to build more of these units. It just never happened.’

  ‘Here we go. He’s going for it.’

  Kay looked up from Wallace’s phone at his colleague’s excited commentary in time to see Barnes lunge at Trentithe, his hands grasping the other man’s shirt as they tumbled to the ground.

  She stood on tiptoe, craning her neck to see over the long grass and lopped tree trunks. ‘I can’t see a bloody thing. Is he all right?’

  Movement at the back of the field caught her eye, and she exhaled as Barnes reappeared before dragging Trentithe to his feet and marching him back to the fence.

  Kay glared at the man while Barnes recited the formal caution, then watched as Trentithe was handcuffed and led away by Wallace, who placed him in the back of the patrol car.

  She turned as Barnes leaned over and dusted down his trousers, a groan emanating from him as he straightened.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she said, reaching out as he staggered.

  He choked out a laugh.

  ‘Yes, but as the saying goes – I’m getting too old for this shit.’

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Kay stood amongst the long grass at the edge of the dirt track and shielded her eyes against the late afternoon sun.

  A team of six crime scene investigators had descended on the shipping containers an hour ago, grumbling under their breath about having to carry all their equipment from their vans.

  All of the vehicles were parked on the road, and the entrance to the track was blocked off with a taped-off cordon guarded by a young police constable.

  The yard had fared little better and was now taped off in different quadrants within which Harriet’s team of forensic examiners paced back and forth with bowed heads and clipboards.

  The shipping containers and surrounding debris from a derelict business were now being analysed piece by piece by the group, their murmured voices carrying over to where Kay waited.

  In the middle of the yard, Barnes and her other detectives were gradually working their way through a line of ten cooks who had emerged from two of the shipping containers, the workers’ bleary-eyed and sweat-streaked faces full of confusion from the sudden interruption to their daily routine.

  Uniformed officers were taking statements from the young delivery riders while their mopeds were swabbed and tested for traces of drugs by a second group of CSIs who were working methodically through the nylon delivery bags and top boxes.

  The third shipping container turned out to be a storage facility for all of the ingredients required for the various takeaway meals being prepared, and were fitted out with industrial-sized chest freezers and aluminium shelving units stacked floor to ceiling with dried goods.

  Over to her right, a lone figure sat on the back seat of one of the patrol cars, his gaze thunderous as he stared through the glass at Kay.

  She ignored him and glanced down at her mobile as it emitted a ping.

  Relief tinged with a sense of excitement surged through her as she read the short text message from Debbie – Alan Trentithe was in custody, along with four of his workers from the industrial unit.

  All of them were now at Maidstone police station, waiting for her return.

  A second alert preceded a mollified congratulatory message from Sharp for the breakthrough her team had achieved.

  Like her, it seemed he was reserving judgement until all of the suspects were formally interviewed.

  The man identified as being the one who took a knife to Carl Taylor’s truck tyres scowled at her as she walked over to the patrol car, tucking her phone into her pocket.

  ‘All right,’ she said to the uniformed constable standing beside the driver’s door. ‘What’s he had to say for himself so far?’

  ‘Not much, guv. Says he wants a solicitor.’

  ‘Did you get his full name?’

  ‘The cards in his wallet and an old EU driving licence all identify him as Barry Clements. I radioed it through to HQ and they say he’s got a few assault and battery charges from three years ago – nothing since.’

  ‘Keeping his head down, eh?’

  ‘Either that, or he’s managed to avoid getting caught.’

  Kay glanced at the man on the back seat who now had his gaze turned away from her, then lowered her voice. ‘Okay, get him back to the station. Keep him out of sight of Trentithe though.’

  ‘Will do, guv.’

  She thanked him, then skirted around the area the crime scene investigators had roped off within the inner cordon and made her way across to where Gavin and Laura stood, their faces rapt as the shipping containers were meticulously torn apart.

  ‘Whose idea was all this, then?’ she said as she approached.

  Laura kicked at a loose stone while Gavin cleared his throat.

  ‘Erm, it was––’

  ‘Ours,’ said Laura. Her face turned scarlet. ‘We just wanted to make sure we were interpreting what we were seeing in the tachograph information correctly before raising the alarm, guv.’

  ‘The last thing we wanted was to turn up here and find nothing,’ Gavin said. ‘We knew the dangers though, guv – that’s why Debbie logged it on the system, and why we called in as soon as Laura recognised Barry from the CCTV images.’

  Kay eyed them both, wondering exactly how far they would have gone if not for the moment of clarity that resulted in that phone call, and recalling a previous detective constable with a similar streak of impetuousness and determination.

  No doubt they had spent the time since requesting back-up sorting out what they would tell her, but she couldn’t fault a job well done.

  A smile formed on her lips before she shook her head and turned to watch Barry Clements as he was driven away. ‘Good work, both of you. Just make sure you don’t miss anything out when you write up your reports. Now that we’ve got those two in custody, I want to make sure any charges stick. I don’t want the CPS questioning our results.’

  Gavin squared his shoulders. ‘Absolutely, guv. Thanks.’

  ‘All right. Best go and make a start, then. Make sure you update Barnes as soon as you get back to the incident room as well. He’s running that end of things until I get back.’

  She watched them head back along the track, then held up a hand in greeting as Harriet Baker wandered over from the first shipping container.

  After ducking underneath the tape that stretched between two iron stakes driven into the hard ground, the lead CSI pushed back her protective hood from her hair and peeled back her gloves.

  ‘How’s it going?’ said Kay, fighting down the urge to slip under the tape and go and look for herself instead of having to pace back and forth waiting for answers.

  ‘Slowly.’ Harr
iet turned back to face the shipping containers and wrinkled her nose. ‘You’ll be wanting to flag this place with the Food Standards Agency at any rate. God knows when they were last inspected for hygiene.’

  ‘There are different rules for places like this because they don’t serve food to the public at the premises,’ said Kay. ‘But I take your point. I’ll have one of my team make a phone call in the morning. What about my investigation – anything to link this place to the murders?’

  ‘No, but we’re only halfway through so don’t panic yet.’ Harriet pointed to a pair of CSIs who were pulling more equipment from the back of their van. ‘We’re getting the lights out ready just in case we end up working late. If that’s what it takes––’

  She broke off at a shout from the far side of the yard and Kay turned to see one of the other CSIs holding up his hand.

  He called again, and beckoned.

  ‘Looks like Charlie’s found something,’ said Kay.

  ‘And it looks like you’re going to have to get suited up after all,’ Harriet replied. ‘Come on.’

  Once Kay had donned protective overalls, bootees and gloves, she fell into step behind the lead CSI.

  Harriet led the way along the pegged-out route, weaving between the discarded vehicles and machinery until they were beside the third shipping container and could see through the doors to the large chest freezers Charlie stood beside.

  ‘What’ve you got?’ Harriet called.

  Charlie’s eyes crinkled above his protective mask. He waved them inside, then nodded at the cavernous freezer halfway along the shipping container.

  ‘I reckon they were doing more than cooking food here, guv.’

  Kay ran her eyes over the bags of frozen vegetables, chips and more, then bit back a surprised choke at the sight of a dozen familiar brick-shaped packages similar to that found in Carl Taylor’s garden drain.

  ‘I think they’d best tell their customers there won’t be any food on the menu tonight,’ she said. ‘Not until we find out what the bloody hell’s been going on around here.’

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Darkness hugged the sky outside the windows by the time Kay returned to the incident room.

  After phoning Adam to let him know she wasn’t expecting to be home much before midnight, she thanked Laura for the mug of coffee the detective constable thrust under her nose and helped herself to a slice of pizza from the selection Debbie had ordered to keep them going.

  She eyed the vegetable toppings with a renewed interest, wondering who had cooked the food and whether they too were working in conditions similar to those suffered by Alan Trentithe’s workers.

  ‘It’s from the place up the road,’ said Debbie as she passed her desk. ‘Don’t worry – I walked there and got them with Parker.’

  Kay grinned. ‘Thanks. I needed something to keep me going.’

  ‘We thought everyone might.’ Debbie inclined her head towards the table beside the whiteboard. ‘Have some more – there’s plenty to go around. Well, until Gavin gets back up here from the custody suite that is…’

  Kay didn’t need a second more to think about it – her stomach rumbled as she licked crumbs from her fingers, and she hurried across to where Barnes stood with a slice of pepperoni pizza in his hand as he eyed the notes on the whiteboard.

  ‘Hungry work, that running malarkey,’ he said between mouthfuls.

  She eyed the grass stains and dirt clinging to the back of his shirt and grinned. ‘I take it you’ve got a spare to wear for the interviews?’

  ‘In my locker downstairs. I’ll get changed in a minute.’ He took a sip from a soft drink can before suppressing a belch, and patted his chest. ‘When do you want to make a start?’

  ‘Is there food?’

  They turned at the sound of Gavin’s voice a moment before he joined them, enthusiastically helping himself to two slices and a paper napkin.

  ‘We’ll have this, and then get on with the interviews,’ said Kay, wiping her hands on a tissue and pitching it into the nearest wastebasket. ‘I take it they both have legal representation?’

  ‘Solicitors arrived twenty minutes ago, guv,’ said Laura, ‘and Hughes has shown them in to their clients.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Who do we interview first, guv?’ said Barnes.

  ‘Alan Trentithe, I think. Let’s see what he’s got to say for himself given that he lied through his teeth when we interviewed him this morning.’ Kay tapped Gavin on the arm as he picked up a third pizza slice. ‘I want you in on the interview with Barry Clements, so make sure you can give me a full background check on him within the hour, all right?’

  ‘Will do, guv.’

  ‘Laura – can you act as go-between on these interviews in case we need to follow up something one of them says? I’d like to keep this moving forward – Sharp still hasn’t come back to me about extending the custody time for these two, and I’m not taking any chances.’

  The detective constable nodded. ‘No problem.’

  ‘Okay, Barnes – if you’re ready, let’s go and see what our Mr Trentithe has to say for himself, shall we?’

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Kay noted with satisfaction that Alan Trentithe’s features bore a striking resemblance to the crumpled shirt and trousers he wore.

  Dirt covered his sleeves where he and Barnes had tumbled to the ground, and a tear in the material above his left cuff revealed an angry-looking graze that appeared to have been cleaned by the custody sergeant upon the man’s arrival at the station.

  A white gauze plaster covered an area on the back of his hand.

  Beside him, a reed-thin man with black hair slicked back over his ears raised pale-grey eyes to hers and nodded by way of greeting.

  ‘You owe me a new suit,’ Trentithe snarled as Barnes took his seat.

  Both detectives ignored the comment.

  Kay waited until her sergeant started the recording equipment and recited the formal caution, then took a deep breath as she opened a folder and pulled out a stapled sheaf of papers.

  ‘Present in the interview are Detective Inspector Kay Hunter, DS Ian Barnes, Alan Trentithe, and…?’

  ‘Spencer Verdy, solicitor for Mr Trentithe,’ said the man, sliding a business card across the table.

  ‘Right.’ Kay folded back a page of the first document and folded her hands on top of it. ‘I’ll refer you to the statements you made under formal caution to me this morning, Mr Trentithe. A lot’s changed in that time, hasn’t it? Care to explain yourself?’

  ‘My client wishes to convey his shock at this afternoon’s turn of events,’ said Verdy, his voice as thin as his waif-like frame. ‘He has nothing to do with the day-to-day running of the temporary kitchens, and knows nothing about the alleged goings-on there.’

  Kay watched as Trentithe’s lower left eyelid twitched, then looked at his solicitor.

  ‘Nice try. Mr Trentithe here is the only signatory to the purchase of the shipping containers.’ She shoved the documentation across the desk to the two men, watching with some satisfaction as Trentithe rubbed the side of his nose and peered at the page. ‘We used the numbers from the Container Safety Convention approval plates still fixed to the side of the containers to trace the company you purchased them from three years ago. They were quite obliging. They even told us how much you paid for them in cash and provided a copy of the delivery docket too. DS Barnes here spoke to the crane driver an hour ago – he still remembers the job. Says it was a bitch getting his lorry down that track. He reckons the suspension was never the same again. How’s that memory of yours coming along, Alan?’

  ‘No comment.’

  Kay snatched the paperwork away from him and replaced the documentation with a mugshot taken of the man currently staring at the walls of interview room one. ‘Tell me about Barry Clements.’

  ‘My client employed Mr Clements to oversee the additional work operating out of a temporary cloud kitchen that was set up to cope with an increasing
demand.’ Verdy shot a sideways glance at his client before continuing. ‘Mr Clements has sole responsibility for that side of the business. As we’ve told you, my client has nothing to do with the day-to-day––’

  ‘Oh, spare me the bullshit,’ Kay snapped. ‘What happened, Alan? Did Carl Taylor stumble across what you and Barry were really cooking in those shipping containers?’

  Barnes leaned forward and slid a transparent evidence bag towards Trentithe. ‘This was found in the garden drain of Carl’s house. The packaging is identical to others located in a blast freezer inside one of the shipping containers belonging to you, Trentithe. Cocaine.’

  ‘Are you using those teenagers to traffic drugs?’ said Kay. ‘Is that what Carl discovered three weeks ago when he made a delivery there? Did he steal it and you found out? Is that why you murdered him and Will Nivens?’

  ‘I didn’t kill them,’ said Alan, lifting his chin and glaring at her. ‘I had nothing to do with it, I told you. Ask Barry.’

  Kay gathered the documentation together, closed the manila folder and rose to her feet.

  ‘I intend to.’

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Barry Clements was an ugly brute.

  Pock-marked skin covered his jaw, and his nose looked as if all the cartilage had given up years ago.

  Kay glanced down at his fleshy hands as he twisted a gold ring around his little finger, and reckoned he had a history of boxing – or at least fighting of some sort, if his criminal record was any indication.

  He still wore the grease-stained pale-grey sweatshirt and black jogging pants he’d been arrested in, and she wrinkled her nose at the stench of old chip fryer fat and body odour that filled the room.

  According to the background information Gavin provided her with prior to them entering the interview room, Clements had a charge sheet that started when he was nineteen – something that had ground to a halt three years ago.

  While her colleague recited the formal caution and introduced those present for the purposes of the recording machine, she ran her eyes down the list of fines, the community service orders and stints in various prisons around the south coast when the legal system’s patience ran out with the man, then wondered what had changed – and why.