Gone to Ground

by Rachel Amphlett

  ‘Notwithstanding the lead Gavin’s got for us, we still have other victims who we know nothing about. Debbie – anything from the missing persons database?’

  The uniformed police officer rose from her seat so she could address the room.

  ‘There are a number of missing persons in the Kent area, some of whom have been missing for over a year or more. We’ve narrowed that list down to concentrate on adult males only for the time being, based on Harriet’s advice on the finds yesterday. Today, I plan to work through that refined list to make sure it’s up to date before we start making further enquiries with family members.’

  ‘Good. Work with Carys to put together a summary for us by the end of today. Harriet has confirmed the forensic anthropologist is available tomorrow morning, and they’ll be conducting a series of tests on the finds to see if they can extract DNA or any other information to supplement Lucas’s post mortem report. Hopefully, that’ll help us.’

  Kay wrote an update on the whiteboard next to each action. ‘Ian – have you got that list of employees from Whitman?’

  Barnes held up a sheaf of paper. ‘Came through this morning on email. I’m working with uniform to check through these to see if there are any prior convictions or anything like that. Whitman is also sending us CCTV footage for the past month so we can track the comings and goings for the public access to the landfill.’

  ‘That’s great, thanks.’ Kay checked her watch, then recapped the pen and tossed it onto the metal shelf under the whiteboard. ‘Barnes – you’re in charge here while I go with Gavin to interview this podiatrist. We’ll have another briefing late afternoon so we can bring you all up to date on our findings.’

  Kay checked her emails on her phone as Gavin shifted gear and tapped the steering wheel in frustration.

  She glanced up, saw that they had only travelled another few metres towards the roundabout and the junction with the A21, and sighed.

  ‘Jesus, this reminds me why I don’t come to Tunbridge Wells as often as I used to. I swear the traffic gets worse every time.’

  ‘This is actually quite good,’ said Gavin. ‘You should see it when the schools empty out at half past three.’

  ‘Where does the podiatrist have his surgery?’

  ‘The other side of town – over at Mount Ephraim.’

  ‘Blimey, he must be doing all right for himself.’

  Gavin smiled. ‘Private practice.’

  Half an hour later, he’d found a parking space on The Common close to The Mount Edgcumbe pub, and after locking the car, led the way past a large rock formation that dominated the green space to their right.

  A light breeze caught Kay’s hair as she followed him along the narrow road, and she took in the view across the busy town centre from the steep incline.

  She could see why the town had been popular with gentrified visitors from London hundreds of years ago and still had its share of tourists year-round.

  Eighteenth-century houses overlooked the Common, away from the busy town centre, interspersed with an occasional modern office between the historical buildings.

  They paused at the top of the hill to negotiate the busy road, then Gavin turned right.

  ‘It’s along here,’ he said, and pointed at a large house further along the street.

  White stonework shone in the afternoon sunlight. Dark slates covered the roof and as Kay left the pavement and crunched across the gravel driveway that led to the front door, she found herself envying the residents who could sit in the bay windows of their homes and look out over the rest of the spa town below.

  ‘Does he own all of this?’ she said under her breath.

  Gavin grinned. ‘No. Most of the houses along here have been divided up into apartments, but they’ll still cost you over half a million or more. Dr Andrews has the lower apartment as his practice, and he and his family live in one of the others above.’

  He stepped into the porch that sheltered the front door from the elements in colder weather and pressed an intercom next to a stained-glass partition window before announcing their arrival.

  A figure appeared on the other side of the door a moment later, blurred by the mottled effect of the bright colours in the glass. The door was opened and a bespectacled man in his late fifties peered out, a rueful smile on his face.

  ‘I figured you got caught in traffic.’

  ‘Sorry we’re late, Dr Andrews,’ said Gavin. He introduced Kay, and she shook hands with the specialist.

  ‘Thanks for seeing us at short notice.’

  ‘No problem. Please, call me Rob. Come on through to the clinic.’

  As she followed the podiatrist across the tiled and spacious hallway, Kay glanced left and right at the bespoke furniture that lined the room.

  To one side, a dark mahogany credenza held brochures and advertisements for local gyms and alternative therapies, while on the other a row of matching chairs sat empty.

  ‘You’re lucky, the clinic is quiet today so we don’t have to rush.’ Andrews opened a door to the side of the hallway and waved them through.

  Kay entered a light and airy space, an enormous bay window commanding the room and providing a view across The Common while off to the far side, a stone surround fireplace was complemented by fitted bookcases to either side. A large desk was to the right of the room. Two armchairs sat on each side of the fireplace and it was to these that Andrews gestured.

  ‘Might as well make ourselves comfortable rather than using one of the consulting rooms,’ he smiled. His face grew serious as he sat at the desk and folded his hands in front of him. ‘Now, I expect you’d like to get on and ask me about my missing patient.’

  ‘If we could.’ Kay waited until Gavin had rummaged in his pocket for his notebook and a pen, then turned back to Andrews. ‘What can you tell us about him?’

  ‘Clive Wallis. Forty-two years old. Single, lives in Camden Park on the other side of town.’

  ‘What were you treating him for?’

  Andrews pursed his lips. ‘Issues relating to Type 2 diabetes. Unfortunately, Mr Wallis is a bit too fond of his sugary snacks and alcohol and refuses to lose weight, so he’s started to experience ulcerations that are slow to heal. One particular wound got infected and I had no option but to recommend day surgery for him at the local hospital – it was more than I could deal with here.’

  ‘And when was this?’

  Andrews turned to his laptop and hit a few keystrokes, then pushed his glasses up his nose and ran a finger down the screen.

  ‘He had surgery fourteen days ago. He was due to see me first thing Friday morning last week, so I could check how it was healing up and change the dressing to avoid infection.’

  ‘What did you do when he missed his appointment?’

  ‘Jenny, my receptionist, phoned his mobile number fifteen minutes after he was due, but there was no answer. I tried again later that evening and left a voicemail message for him. It was never returned, and I had to drive up to Oxford for a conference over the weekend. I had a note in my calendar to call him again today, but then I saw the headline on the Sunday newspaper my wife had put out for the recycling this morning, and that’s when I phoned the police.’

  ‘What does he do for a living?’

  ‘Hang on. Sorry. I’ll have to look it up.’ Andrews’ brow creased as his fingers tapped the keyboard again. ‘Ah, here you go – he’s an import and export consultant for a company based down at Dover. He works from home a lot of the time, but I seem to recall him saying he has to go to head office once a month for meetings and the like.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got a note of his employers’ details?’ said Kay.

  ‘Actually, yes, I do.’ Andrews reached out for a notepad and scrawled across the page before he pushed back his chair and walked around to where she sat. ‘I’ve written down his home address, too.’

  ‘Have you tried his home phone number?’

  He shook his head. ‘Doesn’t have one. A lot of my patients
these days have done away with landlines in favour of mobile phones.’

  ‘And no next of kin noted on his records?’

  ‘None at all.’ He removed his glasses and stuck one of the arms in the neck of his short-sleeved shirt. ‘He was an only child, apparently. Said he inherited his house from his father.’

  He moved back to the desk, turning to lean against it and folded his arms. ‘Look, do you think Clive is your victim? I mean, it’s a bit of a coincidence, isn’t it?’

  Kay rose from her chair, and Gavin followed suit.

  ‘Too early to say at the moment.’ She held out her hand. ‘Thank you very much for your time though. I appreciate it.’

  ‘Not at all. You know where to find me if you need me.’

  ‘Thanks – and if Mr Wallis should reappear, you’ll let me know?’

  ‘Straight away, Detective Hunter.’

  Nineteen

  ‘What now, guv?’

  Kay peered over the roof of the car towards the brick buildings and slate rooftops of the centre of Tunbridge Wells, her brow creased.

  ‘Get onto the locals. Let them know we’re going to take a look at Clive Wallis’s house at Camden Park and to be on standby if we need them.’

  ‘Will do.’

  Gavin ducked out of sight, his voice carrying through the open passenger door to where Kay stood, mulling over what Rob Andrews had told them.

  Although she’d never admit it to the specialist, he was right – it was too much of a coincidence that his patient had gone missing without a trace, and within the timeframe Lucas’s post mortem report had identified.

  Yet she couldn’t reconcile the thought that if the man was recovering from minor surgery, then how had he met his fate?

  Surely, he would have been resting at home until his next appointment?

  She blinked and tried to concentrate.

  Would their killer attack Wallis at home, then risk transporting his body all the way over to Boughton Monchelsea?

  And, why?

  Did they know each other? Why not dump the body closer to Tunbridge Wells?

  A tap on the window pulled her from her thoughts, and she glanced down as Gavin pushed the door open.

  ‘In you get. We’re on.’

  ‘What did they say?’ said Kay. She clipped her seatbelt into place while he negotiated the narrow road and squeezed their vehicle past the wing mirrors of parked cars on both sides.

  ‘Apparently, a neighbour phoned them this morning – said she was concerned she hadn’t seen Wallis for a few days and wondered if local uniform could check the hospitals to make sure he was okay. It’s on the task list for today’s duty roster – they hadn’t got around to it yet.’

  ‘Saves them a job, then.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  Gavin edged the car into traffic on Mount Ephraim before taking a left-hand turn that led them back towards the town centre.

  Kay used the time to open a search engine app on her phone and typed in Clive Wallis’s employers’ details. ‘This company he works for – they import wine from France and Germany, and export local wine and spirits and other foodstuff.’

  ‘Not exactly the rough and tumble trade you’d expect to result in a murder, is it?’ said Gavin. He swore under his breath as a motorcyclist swerved around their car to beat them to the mini-roundabout at the bottom of the hill.

  ‘No, it isn’t.’ She checked the progress of the satellite navigation, then peered through the windscreen. ‘There should be a turning on the right a bit further up here, then take the second right before the railway station.’

  Moments later, Gavin reversed the car into a space opposite a semi-circle of elegant Regency homes.

  Kay recalled that one of the residences had recently sold for close to one million pounds, and as she climbed from the vehicle she cast her eyes over the ornate cream brickwork and bordering beech hedgerows, and couldn’t prevent the murmur of awe that escaped her lips.

  ‘Blimey,’ said Gavin as they crossed the path to the front door of the house they’d identified as Wallis’s. ‘What the hell did his father do for a living to be able to afford this?’

  ‘God knows,’ she said, ‘but given we’re within walking distance of the train station, I’ll bet he worked in the City.’

  ‘They don’t even have private gardens – look; they’re all communal.’

  ‘Well, the whole park is private, so it’s not like you’re going to be tripping over your neighbours if you live around here.’

  She broke off at the sound of another vehicle approaching and stepped out of the way as a uniform patrol car braked to a standstill beside them.

  Two officers climbed out, and she introduced herself and Gavin.

  ‘Nigel Best, ma’am,’ said the shorter of the two. ‘And this is Ben Allen. We were requested to attend, in case you needed a hand.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Kay. ‘Do you want to start by trying the neighbours either side? I presume it was one of them who made the report this morning.’

  ‘Will do.’

  As the two officers split up and approached the neighbouring properties, Kay turned her attention back to Wallis’s house.

  The curtains to the room overlooking the crescent hadn’t been drawn and she negotiated a shrubbery before shielding the window with her hand and peering in.

  Inside, a spacious drawing room appeared to be deserted, the furniture immaculate – even from her position she could see the gleam of polish on the mahogany legs of a chaise longue, while the room itself appeared light and airy – and devoid of its usual occupant.

  She straightened at the sound of footsteps to see Best and Allen hurrying towards her.

  ‘Both neighbours confirm he hasn’t been seen since last week,’ said Best. ‘I checked around the back, too – the place seems deserted.’

  ‘I don’t suppose either of them had a key?’

  In response, he held up a brass object.

  ‘Good. Come on.’

  They moved to the front door and she nodded to the uniformed officer who, after first knocking to ascertain whether Wallis was home, twisted the key in the lock and gave the door a shove.

  It opened, and he turned to Kay when there was no response from inside to his shouted enquiry. ‘With all due respect, guv, I’ll check it’s safe first.’

  ‘Go on, then.’

  He stepped over the threshold and disappeared off to his right, calling out Clive’s name as he worked his way through the house.

  Kay bit her lip and waited for what seemed an age as he moved into her line of vision before making his way upstairs.

  Eventually, he returned, and shook his head. ‘No-one in. You’re safe to proceed, guv.’

  Kay took a pair of gloves Gavin held out to her, slipped them on and moved into the hallway.

  The first thing that struck her was how clean the place was – Wallis may have been a bachelor, but he was fastidious in his tidiness.

  She sniffed the air.

  A light scent of furniture polish teased her senses, and as she glanced over her shoulder to see Gavin making his way up the stairs, she noticed the high sheen on the black and white tiles that covered the floor.

  ‘Yell if you need me, Gav.’

  ‘Will do.’

  ‘Best? Could you stay by the door and make sure none of the neighbours disturb us?’

  ‘Guv.’

  Gavin disappeared from sight, and Kay made her way through an open door and into a living area.

  The walls had been painted deep green, accentuated by a selection of potted plants that had been strategically placed around the room, giving a relaxed atmosphere to the space.

  A large desk took up the far end of the living area, and Kay wandered over to it, casting her gaze over the framed photographs that were displayed in one corner.

  It was the first time she’d seen a picture of Wallis, and in all the photographs he was receiving awards, his face beaming with pride.

  Despite the podiatrist�
�s description of him, Kay thought the man was quite good-looking. He was tall enough that his weight seemed evenly distributed, and in all the photographs, he was immaculately dressed.

  She put down the last of the frames and turned to survey the rest of the room. A bookcase stood against the wall to the left of the desk and contained a mixture of action adventure thrillers and business tomes with titles that professed to teach the reader how to influence customers and management alike.

  Here was a man who appeared to live for his career.

  She stopped in the middle of the room and frowned. There were no personal touches, no indication of what Wallis enjoyed outside of his working life. Not only that, there was also no computer.

  She left the living room and stepped into the hallway once more. PC Best stood on the doorstep, his back to the house. Kay turned right and found a large kitchen that Adam would have drooled over. Every appliance gleamed in the sunlight that streamed through the back window, and each appliance was a top of the range choice for a discerning chef.

  Except, as Kay rummaged through the cupboards and then opened the door to an empty refrigerator, it didn’t appear as if Wallis ever cooked.

  Her eyes fell upon a key on the worktop. She swept it up and inserted it into the lock in the back door.

  Outside, she found the rubbish bin to the left of the back door and flipped the lid open.

  She was rewarded with the sweet stench of discarded pizza boxes. Batting away a fly, she closed the lid and went back to the kitchen, locking the door behind her and replacing the key.

  She began to open each of the kitchen drawers, looking for anything that might give her a clue as to the man’s fate, when she heard Gavin call out.

  She slammed the drawer back into place, hurried across the hallway, and ran up the stairs two at a time, using the newel post at the top to slow her pace.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I think I know what’s happened to Clive.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Bathroom. Back of the house.’

  She strode along the passageway, following his voice until she found him crouched next to a vanity unit under a porcelain sink.