‘It’s too early to say, Mrs Starling,’ said Kay. ‘I’ll take some photos though, if that’s all right with you?’
Hugh waved her onwards, leading his wife back into the house as Higgins joined her.
‘What do you think, Kay?’ he said. ‘First impressions?’
She bit her lip, lowered the phone and then took a deep breath.
‘I don’t think our killer escaped through here. There’s only the one set of footprints and no sign of anyone else being here. If someone climbed over the fence and through that hedgerow or over the shed roof, I’d expect to see prints, perhaps an imprint of someone landing after a fall––’
‘Right, and Starling told me the side gate has a padlock on it. I checked – no-one went through there this morning, and they didn’t go over the top of the fence into the front garden from here, either – there’s still snow lining the top of it. Not a smudge in sight.’
Kay narrowed her eyes as she peered at the Carters’ house through the trees.
‘Then how the bloody hell did he get away?’
Chapter Three
‘Kay – isn’t that the bloke who’s been on nightshift?’
Glancing up from her mobile phone, trying not to slide across the icy footpath in front of the region’s media, Kay looked to where Higgins pointed to see an overweight middle-aged man easing himself out from a green four-door car parked on the driveway next door to the Carters’ house.
‘Let’s have a word before we head back to Sharp,’ she said, already marching ahead. ‘Excuse me?’
The man paused, an overflowing shopping bag in one hand and a large takeout coffee cup in the other. He seemed bewildered by all the police activity in the crescent and frowned as she drew near.
‘What’s going on?’
Kay introduced herself and Higgins. ‘And you are?’
‘Ryan West. What’s going on?’
‘Shall we talk inside? Away from all the cameras?’
She didn’t wait for a response and guided him to the front door of number two, Higgins following.
West’s home held an air of neglect, as if the house was missing something – or someone.
Dust covered the top of the radiator in the hallway and clung to the paintwork between the stair balustrades, and Kay wrinkled her nose at a large patch of damp on the ceiling outside the kitchen.
‘Do you live here alone, Mr West?’ said Higgins as he shut the door.
The man leaned against the doorframe leading to the kitchen and shrugged. ‘My wife and I split six months ago. We’re trying to sell the place.’
‘Mr West, we’re investigating the suspicious death of your neighbour, Liz Carter, earlier this morning––’
Kay’s words were cut short by West’s sharp intake of breath.
‘Liz? When?’
‘That’s what we’re trying to establish, Mr West. Can you confirm where you were this morning?’
‘At work.’ He straightened as Higgins opened his notebook. ‘You can ask them. It’s the food distribution place over at Park Wood.’
‘Thank you, Mr West. What time did your shift start?’
‘Eight o’clock last night. I got there at half seven though, same as I always do. I like to check in with the previous shift before they leave, in case there are any problems.’
‘And what do you do there?’
‘I’m a forklift driver.’
‘And what time did you get home?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘You saw me get here.’
‘Did you come home at any time before that?’
‘No – why would I?’
‘Any problems with your neighbours?’
‘Liz and Andrew? No – never. We get on all right. They were a bit shocked when the wife left, but Andrew’s good at mowing the front lawn for me if he’s doing his, and I help him out with bits and pieces from time to time.’
Kay kept her gaze steady. ‘And what about your neighbours at the bottom of your garden? The house in the street behind?’
He threw up his hands. ‘You’ve been talking to the Starlings, haven’t you? S’pose they told you about the parties last summer?’
‘It might’ve been mentioned.’
‘I didn’t mean any harm by it. I just had a few mates around when the wife left. They wanted to try and cheer me up. We only had a few drinks. I suppose the music did get a bit loud at one point.’
‘Just drinks?’
West flushed. ‘Okay, one of my mates might’ve had a joint. I may have had a puff or two.’
‘What about the other neighbours here in the crescent?’
He exhaled and dropped his hands to his sides, evidently relieved that the questioning had moved on. ‘Next door at number one is fine – that’s Carol. Deaf as a post, but easy to get on with. Jeff and Nicole Bernsen live over at number four. I think there might have been an altercation between Jeff and Andrew a few months ago but to be honest that’s been brewing for a while – they’re always arguing about the parking along here, especially now that both the Bernsens’ kids have their own cars, too.’
‘And number five, on the end?’
‘Don’t know – haven’t seen either of them for a few days. Might be away or something, I suppose.’
Kay watched him for a moment, then pulled out a business card and handed it to him. ‘Thanks for your time, Mr West. We’ll be in touch if we have further questions. If you do think of something that might help with our enquiries, please call me at this number.’
She led the way back down the driveway, ignoring the shouted questions from the throng of journalists as Sharp and Christie emerged from the Bernsens’ house, their faces grim.
‘How did you two get on?’ said Sharp, leading them under the crime scene tape at the end of the Carters’ driveway and pausing beside the garage door.
‘Apart from a complaint about loud music and recreational use of cannabis, not much to report.’ Kay updated him with what the Starlings and Ryan West had told them, then jerked her chin at the house next door. ‘West mentioned the Carters and the Bernsens didn’t see eye to eye about the parking here. He said there was some sort of argument about it a few months ago?’
‘Jeff Bernsen already told us,’ said Christie. ‘His kids – Shaun and Jessica – both got their own cars in the summer, and it turned into a car park out here. Sounds like things got heated when one of the kids blocked the Carters’ driveway and Andrew couldn’t get out to go to work.’
‘We’ll check Andrew’s side of the story before we leave here,’ said Sharp, ‘just in case there’s more to it than Bernsen’s version.’
Kay frowned. ‘It’s a long way from a parking dispute to murder though, isn’t it, Sarge?’
‘So is playing loud music and smoking the occasional joint.’
Chapter Four
Kay tugged her sweater sleeves over her wrists and blew on her hands as she turned away from a darkening winter sky beyond the incident room windows.
The radiator under the sill choked out warmth but did little to stem the draught from the door opening and closing with each arriving officer, and the hum of fan heaters under desks fought with the clacking of fingers on keyboards and phones ringing.
The air was thick with the smell of damp clothes drying out, and a line of woollen gloves covered the top of the radiator beside the photocopier on the opposite wall.
The team had returned from the Carters’ home an hour ago leaving behind the FLO and a pair of uniformed constables to keep a stubborn media at bay.
Kay and her colleagues had spent the time since at their computers adding all the gathered statements and reports into the HOLMES2 database and following up various threads of information that would create the basis of their investigation.
She rubbed at her eyes and bit back a yawn as Higgins wandered over, two steaming mugs of tea in his hand.
‘Thanks, Simon. Do you want to sit near the front?’
‘Sounds good.’
DS
Sharp paced the thin carpet tiles in front of the whiteboard as the team shuffled into their seats, mumbled conversations falling silent as he turned to face them, his expression determined.
‘I have to report to DI Larch within the hour,’ he began, ‘so let’s make this a productive session. With regard to the remaining neighbours in the crescent, what else have we learned since this morning?’
Higgins raised his hand. ‘Sarge, I got in touch with the resident at the first house – Carol Abbott. When I went round there, another woman opened the door who introduced herself as her daughter, Grace. Mrs Abbott is partially deaf and says she spends a lot of her time sitting in an armchair next to the living room window that faces the street. She confirmed that she didn’t see anyone leaving the Carters’ house this morning between quarter to eight and eight-fifteen.’
Sharp’s brow creased. ‘Is she absolutely certain about the timing?’
‘Yes, she said she was having a cup of coffee while she was waiting for Grace to arrive to help her with her shopping this morning. They confirmed it’s a weekly fixture for them. They left before the first responders arrived and had no idea what happened until they got back home.’
‘We’ve also confirmed that the neighbours at number five, the last house in the crescent, are away at the moment,’ said DC Christie. ‘They left for Salzburg two days ago to visit the Christmas markets, and won’t be back until the weekend.’
Sharp’s shoulders slumped as he turned and drew a cross through the outline of their house on the whiteboard and then repeated the action for Carol Abbott’s home before tapping the pen on the outline of house number four. ‘What did Andrew Carter have to say about the altercation with Jeff Bernsen and the parking?’
‘He was embarrassed,’ said Christie, ‘and said it was something that got blown out of proportion at the time. He said he apologised to Jeff a couple of days later, and everything has been all right since. They were even talking about getting together for drinks on Christmas Eve.’
‘Remind me what Andrew Carter does for a living.’
‘He’s an architect, Sarge.’ Christie cleared his throat as he flicked through his notes. ‘He’s a partner in a small practice based in Sevenoaks – he and another bloke, Alan Cross, set it up six years ago and have a graduate student working for them part-time as well as a full-time admin assistant.’
‘Any problems there?’
‘None as far as any of them are aware when I spoke to them this afternoon,’ Christie said, and turned the page. ‘Liz worked as a legal secretary for a firm in Maidstone who specialise in environmental law. Again, no problems to report – and Andrew said that neither of them had received any threats.’
Sharp shoved his hands in his pockets, raised his gaze to the ceiling and exhaled before eyeing his team once more. ‘All right, then – the obvious question. Did Andrew Carter kill his wife?’
Christie gestured to the whiteboard. ‘Michael and Stephanie Carter confirm that their mother called out from the kitchen at eight o’clock and told them to get a move on – Stephanie said she remembers checking the time on her mobile phone. The kids also confirmed that their dad didn’t come into the living room until ten past eight to use his mobile to call 999, so he’s the only suspect we’ve got at the moment. Otherwise, how did someone get into the Carters’ house, kill Liz, and leave without being seen? It’s impossible.’
‘There was no weapon near her body or in the house,’ said Kay, ‘and the CSIs have confirmed they finished their search of the garage and garden shed half an hour ago. If Andrew killed his wife, what did he do with the weapon? Both kids’ statements confirm he stayed with them as soon as he found Liz until the ambulance arrived, so he didn’t have time to hide it anywhere else.’
A hush descended on the room as her words sank in.
‘We wait for the post mortem results,’ said Sharp. ‘Maybe Lucas Anderson will find something.’
‘Do you think Carter poisoned her, Sarge?’ Higgins leaned forward and jerked his chin at the list of names on the board. ‘Perhaps she simply hit her head when she passed out.’
‘It’s a good point,’ said the detective sergeant, ‘except that when Lucas was at the scene before you got there he reckoned the damage to her head was caused by a heavy blow rather than the fall.’
Kay chewed the end of her pen as Sharp called the briefing to a close, then wandered back to her desk as an idea began to form.
‘Kay?’
She held up her hand to stop Christie interrupting and waved him to a seat beside her as she logged in to the database and typed in Ryan West’s name.
Seconds later, she grinned in triumph and spun the screen around to face the older DC.
‘I knew his name rang a bell,’ she said. ‘West was given a restraining order six months ago.’
Christie frowned as he read the text accompanying the man’s photograph. ‘It says here that his ex-wife filed it.’
‘When uniform arrived at the scene, I don’t suppose anyone noticed whether there were tread marks in the snow on his driveway?’
He frowned and pushed back his chair. ‘I’ll have to check. Hang on.’
Kay watched as he hurried over to a pair of constables who were headed out of the door, spoke to the male officer and then gestured for him to join them.
‘Kay, this is Rob Paige – he and Lisa Nash were first on scene this morning.’
‘Rob, did you notice whether there were any fresh tyre tracks in the driveway next door when you got there?’
Paige pulled out his mobile phone and scrolled through the photos. ‘Here. I went outside and took a panoramic shot of the crescent while Lisa was talking to the family.’
Kay took the phone from him and exhaled before holding it up to show Christie, her heart pounding.
‘There are tread marks on West’s driveway. That doesn’t make sense,’ she said. ‘It started snowing at eight o’clock last night, right?’
‘Right. Where are you going with this?’
‘If it didn’t start snowing until he was already at work, then there shouldn’t have been any tyre prints in his driveway until he got home when we saw him – they would’ve been covered up, wouldn’t they?’
Christie’s eyes narrowed. ‘I think we need to have another chat with Mr West.’
Chapter Five
Kay opened the car door before Christie had applied the handbrake, her jaw set as she stalked around the front of the car and waited for him to climb out.
Fine snowflakes stuck to her hair and clung to her wool coat, obscuring the arc lights that shone over the warehouse car park and six articulated trucks parked outside loading bays.
A peacefulness enveloped the industrial park, the snow muting the sounds emanating from the low-slung brick building that housed the food distribution company.
‘I’ll lead this one,’ Christie said, aiming the key fob over his shoulder as they hurried towards a set of open roller doors. ‘Give me a signal if you notice something I don’t, or if you want to jump in with a question. We’ll keep this formal, but I don’t want to make him nervous. According to Sharp, Andrew Carter is still a suspect, too.’
‘Will do. Are you going to the post mortem in the morning?’
‘Yes. Want to come?’
She grimaced. ‘Only if you need me.’
‘I’ll let you continue going through the statements. We’ll catch up when I get back if you like?’
‘Sounds good, thanks.’
‘Here we go.’ He held up his warrant card to a man in an orange high visibility vest who emerged from a small office to the left of the doors and walked towards them. ‘We’re looking for Ryan West.’
‘Can’t he talk to you later? He’s working.’
‘And we’re investigating a murder so it won’t wait.’ Christie cocked his head to one side. ‘I’m sure you understand.’
The man swallowed, then pointed to where a forklift was moving back and forth between floor-to-ceiling shelves stacked
with crates of tomatoes and lettuces. ‘He’s over there. You’ll need to complete a health and safety assessment first, though – I can’t have you wandering around here without it.’
‘Tell you what,’ said Christie, nodding towards the open office door. ‘Why don’t we wait in there, and you tell Ryan to join us? It’ll be safer that way, and save us some time as well.’
The man exhaled before turning away.
‘What if West makes a run for it?’ said Kay, glancing over her shoulder as she followed Christie into the office.
‘He won’t get far.’ Christie leaned against a wall and ran his gaze over the paperwork pinned to a corkboard beside him. ‘Anyway, we know where he lives, right?’
Moments later, Ryan West entered the room wiping his hands on a rag and wearing a sullen expression.
‘Mr West, take a seat.’ Christie spun around the single chair in the office, the castors rattling as if about to fall off, and patted his hand on the back of it. ‘Hopefully this won’t take a minute.’
‘I’ll stand, thanks.’ West flipped the rag over his shoulder and crossed his arms over his chest. ‘What do you want?’
‘Very well.’ Christie recited the formal caution, his voice level. ‘We’d like you to explain where you were last night.’
Kay heard West swallow, then stepped towards the doorway as the man’s gaze shifted. ‘Just tell us the truth, Ryan.’
He emitted a strangled groan, then shook his head. ‘I knew I should’ve said something this morning. I knew it’d look worse when you found out.’
She remained silent, taking her cue from Christie as West stared at his feet for a moment.
‘I forgot my asthma inhaler,’ he said as his gaze lifted to hers. ‘I went back home for it, that’s all.’
‘What time?’ said Christie.
‘About ten o’clock, I suppose.’ West nodded towards the computer. ‘Derek’ll have the exact time I clocked off on there. You can check with him.’
‘When did you get back here?’ said Kay.
Blood on Snow Page 2
