by Anita Waller
‘Maybe we should have the coffee, now.’
Tom picked up the phone. ‘Karen, can we have three coffees, please? And then I need you in here when DI Brent has left, please. We have things to organise.’
‘Your secretary can’t see the letter, Mr Banton. That won’t be in the public domain for quite some time, if ever. Obviously, this will never go to Crown Court, just the Coroner’s Court. When you tell your staff, give them the bare facts. No reference to Hardwick’s state of mind, tell them it was suicide.’
Tom nodded. ‘I understand. I have to tell them today. They have to know what we’re facing.’ He handed the letter back to Brent as Karen walked through the door, holding the tray of drinks.
As she turned to go, she asked how Liz was.
‘She’s okay, missing her little boy,’ Lynda responded before Brent could answer. ‘I’ll tell her you asked about her.’
Karen smiled. ‘Thank you. Give her my best wishes.’
Nobody spoke until she had gone. And then all three spoke at once.
‘What…?
‘When…?
‘If…?’
They all smiled, and decided not to bother. The coffee was too good to spoil with conversation, and the two police officers realised Tom needed to think.
He ran his fingers through his unruly ginger hair, and frowned. ‘It’s too much to take in, isn’t it?’
Brent nodded. ‘Couldn’t agree more. When it was first handed to me, I read it aloud to one of our forensic chaps. He’d already read it, and I asked him to listen to it being verbalised. Sometimes you can pick things up by listening, instead of reading. I found it so disturbing, I felt physically sick. Like you, I wouldn’t have believed it of Oliver Hardwick. However, it leaves us with a massive problem.’
‘You don’t know where he’s stashed them. Latimer and Jake, I mean.’
‘It seems Mr Hardwick has properties even his wife didn’t know about. Did you know he owned the house Mrs Hardwick is currently renting?’
‘What? No, I didn’t. And he’s charging her rent? I take it she didn’t know.’
‘No, she didn’t. She was none too pleased, I can tell you. And did you know his brother?’
‘I didn’t even know he had a brother. This is ridiculous. Do you know how long I’ve known him? It seems I know nothing. Who’s this brother?’
We’re not sure. Julia… Mrs Hardwick, seems to think his name is Jared, but she also thought that was his second name, and his first name begins with O. He was considerably older than Oliver, she thought about ten years. She did say she’d never met him, and that Oliver bought him out of his half-share in the family home, when the parents died. He apparently had a construction company, but that was many years ago.’
Tom carried his coffee to the window, and stared out at the darkening sky. ‘What a shitty winter this has been. We were so looking forward to having Liz back with us. She’s so efficient, funny, and an absolute star at generally dealing with problems. Oliver clearly didn’t feel the same.’
‘Did he ever suggest he didn’t want her back?’
‘Never. He was the one who insisted she started at ten instead of nine, he bought the new coffee machine to make life easier for her – nothing would have suggested this level of hatred. To take her child…’
‘He made sure she was never in danger.’ Lynda spoke quietly, bringing a level of sensitivity to the discussion. ‘He wanted her to live, to know that the man she truly loved, Phil Latimer, and her baby, had both been taken. There can be no worse punishment, I could tell that the first time I met her. She’s a caring person, not only for her family, but for her friends too.’ And then a small smile lit up Lynda’s face. ‘In fact, she cares about everybody except DI Brent.’
Tom returned to his desk. ‘Oh? You’ve upset her, then?’
‘Only every time I see her,’ he said ruefully. ‘She doesn’t half bawl me out. I can’t do right for doing wrong, as the saying goes. I guess we rub each other up…’
Tom looked at the policeman. ‘Never, in all the twelve or so years I have known Liz have I heard her raise her voice. I’ve heard the odd bugger but that’s as far as it goes. She must really have some issues with you.’
He shrugged. ‘I’m here to do a job. Half of it is done; the murders are solved. I need you to give some thought to any properties Hardwick may have owned, or rented, or anything else. This could go back many years, so don’t dismiss anything. Where would he keep deeds? There’s nothing at his house, but if I was the one in his situation, I would have made damn sure those deeds were well locked away, and out of sight.’
‘We have archives in our basement here, and we store many sets of deeds for clients. Can I tell Karen what has happened? I’ll ask her to take time away from what she’s currently doing, and go down into the storage room and go through everything. It would be logical to hide them in plain sight, wouldn’t it? And Oliver was always logical, if nothing else. You can, of course, send one of your officers to do the job, but Karen will be able to recognise anything out of the ordinary much easier than your people. She’s not been here long, but she’s worked for solicitors, and the courts, over many years. Her knowledge is pretty impressive.’
Brent put down his empty cup and stood. ‘Thank you, Tom. That will be helpful. Will she be okay to start in the morning? Time is of the essence, as I’m sure you’ll realise.’
Tom looked at his watch. ‘It’s four now. We’ll both work until as late as we can without falling asleep. We can send out for a pizza or something to keep us going. There’s a lot to look through, but we’ll be meticulous. I feel as if I should be apologising to you for what he’s done…’
Brent shook his hand. ‘Don’t take that on board, for God’s sake. This is entirely down to Oliver Hardwick, not you, not your practice. Yes, your business will take a knock, but it won’t last forever. You have an excellent reputation, and that will save the jobs. Tell Karen everything, but she can be the only one. The others can know he committed suicide, until we find our two missing people. And thank you, Tom, for doing this search.’ He handed Tom a small piece of paper. ‘This is Julia’s address. If you look for this first, and find it, I think that’s a pretty good indicator that any more properties he owned will be there as well. This one, by the way, doesn’t need to go on any list, it’s already been checked.’
Brent and Lynda left the warmth of the solicitor’s office, and stepped out into the freezing early evening air. Lynda shivered. ‘Nice man,’ she said. ‘Let’s hope he finds something, because if he doesn’t, what do we do?’
Brent gave a deep sigh. ‘Something will come from somewhere. I’ll not let them down. And that you can believe.’
Lynda nodded. She believed.
Tom watched from his office window as they drove away, then he pressed the intercom for Karen. She answered immediately.
‘Karen, do you have anything to rush home for?’
‘Not if you need me.’
‘I do. We have to go into the basement, stay down there for a few hours, and look through some of the most boring files you’ll ever come across. There’ll be the two of us, but I will buy you a pizza. How does that sound?’
‘Delightful,’ she said drily. ‘And will there be spiders?’
‘Not many.’
‘Oh, deep joy. I’ll cancel my date for tonight then.’
‘Did you have a date?’
‘No, I didn’t want you to think I’m a sad old woman who has nothing in her life but boring old files. Are we going down now?’
‘Half an hour. I want some time with the rest of the staff. I’ll fill you in fully later, but the rest will be told that Oliver committed suicide, and we don’t know the reasons fully, yet.’
‘But we do?’ Her tone was sombre, the banter had died.
‘We do. DI Brent has asked that I don’t reveal details to anyone, but I think you’re excluded from that. You deserve to know the truth.’
‘Go and do what you have to do, Tom, I’ll f
inish off in here. Maybe you should send everyone home, after you’ve finished telling them. I imagine there will be some upset staff tonight. As soon as we’ve locked up behind everyone, we can start on those files.’
* * *
By half past four they were downstairs, and holding the deeds to Julia’s address; Tom began to talk.
49
Rosie Latimer opened the door as soon as she heard the doorbell chime.
Her hair had turned an even dirtier shade of grey, causing a haggard look; without make-up to help, her skin was sallow.
‘Mrs Latimer? Thank you for your patience. We were with Tom Banton longer than expected.’
‘That’s okay, DI Brent. I didn’t have anything else to do. Melissa is with my mum – in fact, Melissa almost seems to have moved in with them. I don’t blame her, life’s not a bundle of joy anymore, is it?’
‘Can we sit down?’
She led them into the lounge. It was cold, and she bent down and switched on a gas fire. ‘I’ve stopped using the central heating. It costs too much to heat a house this size, so I heat whatever room I am using.’
It was a miserable looking room. It had no atmosphere, no colour, no warmth, and Rosie knew why Melissa was usually to be found with her grandparents.
‘Lynda,’ Will Brent said. ‘Perhaps Mrs Latimer might like a cup of tea.’
‘Oh, no…’ Rosie started to say.
‘Mrs Latimer, have the cup of tea. You will need it, I’m sure. We have some news.’
‘Philip? Is he…’
‘No, he isn’t.’ He waited while Lynda went in search of the kitchen, and then took out the letter from his jacket pocket. ‘The man who murdered Gareth Chambers and Sadie Fremantle, and who currently is holding your husband and baby Jake, committed suicide. It’s Oliver Hardwick. He left a note.’
Brent handed the letter to Rosie. Oblivious to the sound of the rattle of cups and saucers, the kettle as it boiled, she was lost in the words of a dead man. She read it in its entirety once, then read it again as if unbelieving of the contents she had read the first time around, before handing it back to Brent.
‘Pure, pure evil.’ She took a tissue from her sleeve, and dabbed at her eyes. ‘Do you have any idea…?’
Brent shook his head. ‘We have a couple of leads, that are really nothing much more than ideas, but other than that, we’re struggling. He hadn’t even come on to our radar as a suspect, he was a clever man. I must ask you not to leak any of this, we don’t want the investigation jeopardising by any information being out in the public arena. Did you know Oliver Hardwick?’
She nodded, her face a picture of misery. ‘I did. I went to see him. Prior to that we had only dealt with Liz Chambers, throughout our compensation claim. She handled all of it. When I found out about Phil and Liz, and that the baby was his, I was so angry I went to see Mr Hardwick. I told him. This would have been June or July. Shortly after that, Phil disappeared.’
‘Did you tell Phil you had been to see Hardwick?’
‘I did. It’s really the reason I didn’t report him as a missing person. I thought he had simply left me, that what I had done, in trying to get Liz the sack, was the final nail in our marriage’s coffin. It was only when Liz started making waves, wanting to know where he was, that I realised that something may have happened to him. He hadn’t contacted us in any way, not even Melissa. I can cope with him having stopped loving me, but he adored our daughter. He wouldn’t have walked away from her.’
Lynda came back into the room and handed Rosie a cup of tea. Rosie raised her head and thanked her. ‘You two aren’t having one?’
‘Our bodies won’t take any more,’ Brent smiled at her. ‘During investigations, we drink so much tea and coffee we become waterlogged. It’s the go-to thing to do, and I bet you feel better for simply holding that cup, yes?’
Rosie nodded. ‘Yes, I do. I’m not eating properly… I just want to know he’s okay. If he wants Liz, that’s fine. I don’t want him to be dead.’
‘We’re doing our best, Rosie. We won’t let this go. You stay there, we’ll see ourselves out.’
She heard their car pull away, and stood to lock the door. She walked into the kitchen, went into the cupboard and took down a chunky candle. She placed it in a storm jar and stood it on the windowsill of the bay window, before lighting it.
‘Come home safe, Phil,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll keep this lit until you do.’
He went on his own to see Christian, and handed him the letter.
‘Oliver Hardwick, the solicitor Liz works for.’ Christian frowned. ‘This man, this upholder of the law, he killed my mother, without any thought as to the consequences.’
‘He did. It seems his somewhat unfounded hatred for Liz was what drove him to it; he was quite deeply mentally ill, Christian. No excuses, he knew what he was doing, but I think his entire view on his life, at that moment, was well skewed.’
Christian repeated the actions of everyone who had seen the letter; he read it through once, and then, as if unable to truly believe what he had seen, he read it once more. ‘He’s a fucking maniac. I lost Mum cos he couldn’t hang on to his wife?’
‘I know. Murders are often committed for far milder reasons than that, trust me. You know as much as anybody else with close links to this case, and if you want to talk at any time, you have my number. You’re a bright lad, Christian, and this is a tragedy. But don’t let it stop you living the rest of your life to its fullest. I’ll be saying the same to Dan. You’ve both got a lot of living to do yet.’
‘Unless we come up against another Oliver Hardwick.’ The scorn was evident in Christian’s voice.
‘Not likely, believe me.’ He stood. ‘I’ll be at your mum’s funeral on Wednesday. You’ll have people there to support you?’
‘Mum’s parents, and her sister and brother, are all coming the day before. They live on the south coast – one of the reasons I chose Solent. I guess from now on, my life will be with them. I’ll sell this place as soon as possible.’
Brent held out his hand. ‘Good luck, Christian. I’ll see myself out.’
He was halfway to the station when he realised he had forgotten to pick up the letter from the coffee table. He turned the car around and headed back.
Christian saw him pull up, and went out to meet him, holding the letter.
‘Guessed you’d be back,’ he said with a smile.
‘Thank you,’ Brent called, and set off for the second time.
He headed along Birley Lane, and thought about the two young men involved in all of this. Both Dan and Christian were good lads, and he wondered how the hell you simply ‘got on with your life’ after nightmares of the sort they were experiencing.
Christian went inside, and picked up the copy he had run through his printer. He didn’t know why he’d done it, just that he had. It might come in useful, at some point. He hadn’t written his eulogy for the funeral yet…
They finished checking the files at 10.23pm. Tom pulled the list towards him and sighed. ‘I’m knackered.’
‘My bum’s numb,’ Karen countered.
‘Shall we ring Brent now?’
‘I think so, and tell him I’ll email them in about ten minutes. I need to learn to walk again first, so I can get up those stairs.’
‘And I don’t want to see you in work, tomorrow. What you’ve done tonight is way beyond your job description.’
‘I’ll be in. He may need additional information. Don’t argue, Tom. I’ll come in a bit later, but that’s all. Now come on, let’s get back in the office, and get this sent off. You ring him, while I’m typing up the list of houses.’
They checked that all the cabinets were locked, before unlocking the door. The stairs leading up to the offices were steep; to Karen, they felt like a mountain. She waited halfway until Tom had locked the door behind him, and then continued up.
There was a ping as Tom picked up his receiver, and pressed for the outside line. Powering up her computer, she
typed from the list in front of her.
She heard Tom confirm that they had six addresses, all owned by Oliver Hardwick. They were scattered in various parts of the city, and yes, Karen was typing them on to an email as they were speaking.
Karen was also praying that in one of those addresses, a small baby was sleeping, waiting to be reunited with his mummy. She double-checked the list, then hit send.
‘It’s gone,’ she called through to Tom’s office.
Tom repeated the phrase, and then put down the phone. ‘He says thank you. And he realises it’s an inadequate word. Now, I’ll drop you at home. Let me ring Chloe, she’s a bit frazzled by everything that’s happened. I can tell her I’m on my way, she’ll maybe stop worrying, then.’
Half an hour later, he went through his own front entrance, threw down his briefcase, and pulled Chloe into his arms. ‘What a shitty day,’ he murmured into her ear. ‘Do not, under any circumstances, offer me a cup of tea or coffee, I want the biggest glass in the house, and I want it full of whisky.’
She held him tightly. ‘Or do you want to cut out the middle bit and go straight to bed?’
He thought for a second. ‘A smaller glass of whisky, and straight to bed.’
She smiled. ‘It’s already waiting on the bedside table. You go up, have your shower, and I’ll lock up. And do me a favour, don’t mention Oliver Hardwick again tonight.’
Will Brent stared at the emailed list. Six addresses, different areas of the city – where to start? He didn’t have enough manpower to have one search team per property, so he needed to prioritise, and go for the most likely, first.
He had organised search warrants for all the properties already, and had contacted every member of his team to tell them it would be an early start; he wanted everyone there by 5.30am. Nobody groaned, nobody queried it, they all said yes, sir, and he knew they would be there even earlier. This case had touched everyone’s heart; it felt as though it was coming to an end, and it would be a good result.
He printed off the email, closed his computer and left the building. It had been a long day, and his hopes for the morning were high.
