THEN SHE RAN an absolutely gripping crime thriller with a massive twist

by Charlie Gallagher

  ‘Well remembered.’ She peeled off a glove to take up the handshake.

  ‘I never forget the names of the people I’m in debt to.’

  ‘You paid your debt. Over the phone as I recall.’

  ‘I still feel indebted.’

  ‘Well, now I have your invoice. So you can wave this at your finance people. Good luck with getting your money without a battle. I never did.’

  ‘That’s a real shame. You don’t know the difference you make. I couldn’t imagine Stan there coming back to this house if you hadn’t done your bit.’

  George looked over at the car. Kerry did too. Stan was in the front passenger seat. He was looking forwards but beyond them at his big, empty home.

  ‘Well, you know where I am if you reckon you can get a better system in place. It was a good contract. In theory.’

  ‘I told you I would do something about it. I’m a man of my word.’

  ‘We shall see.’ She smiled. George knew it was genuine. He waved at her van as she drove away down the drive. He spoke to the officers. Most had stood up out of their cars. Some had moved closer. A female officer with PC EDEN on a Velcro badge on her chest moved to give him the house keys.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It’s been checked through, sir — just to make sure there was no police equipment left. It’s all good. We’ve been out a little while. We were told that we all need to leave together?’ She looked at him as if she was confused by the request.

  ‘That’s right. Are you all ready to go?’ He got a round of nods. ‘Perfect. Can you make sure the scene log is dropped into Major Crime — whoever has it?’ Someone waved the book at him. ‘Ideal. Thanks all for your help. I know Stan in there appreciates what you’ve all done for him.’

  George moved the car forward so they were closer to the front door. He stepped out in time to see the convoy of marked police vehicles meandering down the drive. There was no way anyone could fail to notice that.

  Chapter 29

  George walked into the kitchen behind Stan. He had some paperwork to complete following the search of his house. Two signatures and he could leave. Louise immediately excused herself to use the toilet.

  ‘I’ll make some tea, George,’ Stan said. ‘Can I interest you in one?’

  ‘No, thank you. I had better get straight off. Are you sure you don’t want me to make it? Why don’t you have a sit down?’

  ‘No, I’m fine, thank you.’ His tone carried a little annoyance. Maybe he’d heard enough concern over the last few days. The kitchen was spotless. Ali had been right: they had done a great job. You would never know it had been the scene of a horrific murder just a few days before. Stan must have been thinking the exact same thing.

  ‘It’s like they were never in here, George. It’s like it never happened.’

  ‘I know what you mean. They’ve done a good job tidying it up.’

  ‘So, now what? It’s all straightened up and scrubbed down in here, so life just goes on? It seems disrespectful almost. I don’t know what I mean, it just . . . doesn’t feel right. Me, stood here making a cup of tea, my Janice . . .’

  ‘I know what you mean, Stan. It’s human nature. We feel guilty when we lose someone close and it will happen a lot. I lost someone close to me once and I remember the same. The first time I laughed, the first time I felt like I was enjoying myself or if I went a few hours without thinking about her, I felt ashamed. Like I had no right to just move on.’

  ‘That’s it. That’s it exactly.’ Stan had the kettle in his hand. It hovered over the Aga, the liquid sloshing inside. For a moment he looked unsteady, the kettle thumped down on the hob as he regained his balance.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yeah. My balance is still a bit shot.’

  ‘They said it might be for a while. You’re supposed to be resting. What would your daughter say if she knew I was letting you make the tea? She could walk through here any minute!’

  ‘Ah, she don’t scare me, George.’

  ‘I’m not talking about you, Stan! She scares me. I reckon she’s got a lot of your strength.’

  ‘She’s a good girl. I wish we’d seen more of her in the last few years. I suppose if we had known . . . well, they get their own lives, don’t they?’

  ‘They do. I meant what I said. Try and make the most of having her here for a few days. Try not to put up any walls for her — she only wants to help.’

  ‘I know that. Sometimes you can have too much of a good thing though, right, George?’

  ‘Makes sense to me, and I can take a hint. I’ll get going, okay? You’re sure you’re happy for us to leave?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘The emergency button, you know—’

  ‘Press it. I mean, that’s it, right?’

  George chuckled. ‘Yeah, I suppose it isn’t rocket science. It’s on a toggle, Stan, so you can wear it. That way it’s always on you.’

  ‘Noted.’

  ‘We won’t let it out of our sight, don’t you worry about that!’ Louise had entered and must have heard the last of the conversation.

  ‘Well, good. You both have my number. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need me. I did say to Louise I would come over and see you both tomorrow. Just to see how you’re settling in.’

  ‘Thanks, George, but don’t you start fussing, too.’

  George tugged his coat closer as he stepped back out onto the gravel. The temperature was dropping with the sun and he instantly missed the constant heat from that Aga. He stuffed his signed paperwork in the glove box and drove slowly back down the drive. He turned left and accelerated away. It was always a strange feeling leaving a scene when you knew it was under surveillance. George had instructed the Covert Rural Operations Team — CROPS — to cover Stan’s property. They were the experts in surveillance outside of the towns and cities. They would be dug into a woodland hide or unmoving in a treetop or in thick bushes. George couldn’t see any sign of them — that was the whole idea. If they did as they were instructed, no one would notice them, not any would-be robbers returning to get rid of the only witness to a terrible murder. And not Stan or Louise.

  George called Emily as soon as he was clear.

  ‘George.’

  ‘Hey, Ryker. I need your help.’

  ‘Well, of course you do. I don’t think you know any other type of call.’

  ‘I know you like to feel wanted.’

  ‘I’m still pissed off with you, George. This had better be good.’

  ‘Our friend at the hospital . . . she talked about some land separate from the Wingmore estate. It might still be owned by them — or at least rented. What can you find out quick-time?’

  ‘I can run land registry checks. That usually takes a few days but I have ways of speeding it up in emergencies.’

  ‘Sounds ideal. That won’t cover if they are renting though, right?’

  ‘No. It only shows up anything they own. What’s the land being used for?’

  ‘There’s a stable block on it. That’s all I know.’

  ‘As a business?’

  ‘I couldn’t tell you, Ryker.’

  ‘You don’t like to make things easy, do you? I’ll do some digging, see what I can find out.’

  ‘Thanks, Ryker.’

  ‘Whatever.’

  George’s next call was to his chief inspector.

  ‘George.’

  ‘Major, do you have any news on my tactical team yet?’

  ‘You mean the team you want on permanent standby, but we can’t tell them what for? Do you have anything more to tell them yet?’

  ‘No, sir. That is still the briefing.’

  ‘You don’t like to make things easy, do you, George?’

  ‘Apparently not, Major.’

  ‘I have a team of four. That’s the best I can do tonight. They’re sucking me dry for overtime too. I haven’t managed to resource tomorrow yet.’

  ‘That’ll have to do for now. Thanks, boss. I know it’s not ideal.
’

  ‘Nothing’s ideal until we get a result, George. Get that and nothing matters.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do, Major.’

  ‘Don’t you always.’

  Chapter 30

  ‘How did I know you would still be here?’ Emily must have been silent on entering the Major Crime floor. Certainly George didn’t hear her coming. It was late. The day had flashed past and George didn’t feel like he had got much done.

  ‘Because you know just how dedicated I am, I suppose.’

  ‘Yeah, that must be it. It definitely won’t be that I know you have no life outside of this place.’

  ‘Well, I’m working on that. You’re hardly the socialite yourself, Ryker!’

  ‘True. I don’t really like people.’

  ‘I know the feeling. Please tell me you have something for me? Right now there are a number of people who don’t like me and I have to add a bored tactical team to the list. I’ve just got off the phone. They don’t seem to understand that sometimes they might need to wait for nothing to happen.’

  ‘I thought that would be something they were well used to.’

  ‘They’re on overtime, too. I can honestly say that this is the first time I have heard a team complain about being offered overtime to effectively sit on their arses.’

  ‘I have something.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Land registry shows the Wingmores have owned a lot of land, but it’s largely what you’ve seen — the farm estate. It stretches over roads and parks. It has a lot of complicated paths, bridleways and right-of-ways attached to it. But, when you get down to the detail, it’s relatively simple.’

  ‘Have owned?’

  ‘Yeah. They sold off a lot of it around a decade ago. Now it’s just eight acres of land with the house sat in the middle.’

  ‘Just eight acres!’

  ‘I know! But compared to what they had before — three times that or more — it’s not much.’

  ‘So they would have come into a lot of money.’

  ‘I’m sure they would have been comfortable after the sale, yes. But it’s commercial land. Specifically it can only be used for farming. So it wouldn’t be as valuable as, say, housing land.’

  ‘Okay. And you said largely what I’ve seen? I’m always interested in what I haven’t seen.’

  ‘What you haven’t seen is a much smaller plot that is separate from the main house. It’s still registered in the name of Janice Wingmore and it was purchased just over five years ago. Since then they have built outhouses on it, which are registered as stables.’

  ‘Excellent! That ties in.’

  ‘I thought that. There’s a little more to it. The plot is jointly owned. A Miss A. Jeffries is listed on the agreement as part owning. I did a little open source research — basically seeing what was available online. There’s the trace of a Miss Andrea Jeffries at Companies House. She registered a business around five years ago, with her company address as being this stable block. It’s Whitsun Avenue, the address shows as Canterbury but it’s the outskirts of Elham really.’

  ‘So not far from Wingmore Farm.’

  ‘Not far at all.’

  ‘I also found an old social media profile for her and some online advertising. It’s pretty clear that she was running stables there. She was advertising for people to house and exercise their horses. There was also a manège facility — that’s walking your horse about, according to Google.’

  ‘“I like walking the horse about!” Shame she didn’t ask you to help her with her advertising.’

  Emily pushed the folder onto his desk. ‘It’s all in there. She has an old phone number listed. That’s in there too, for when you want to call her with your questions.’

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘When have you ever not had follow-up questions?’

  ‘Fair point. Do you have an address for her? I prefer the turn-up-and-knock method.’

  ‘I knew you’d ask that too. I found a listing on the electoral register. She’s a bit closer to Canterbury, but not too far out.’

  George stood up. He scooped up the paperwork as he did. ‘Do you fancy a trip out?’

  ‘You’re going now?’

  ‘Right now. I mean, I know you probably have a date with all your mates . . .’

  ‘What do you need me for?’

  ‘Maybe I don’t need you for anything. Maybe I just thought you might like a trip out, you know? Get you out the office.’

  ‘You know I’m off-duty, right? That I’m already three hours past finishing?’

  ‘I was aware of that, yes.’

  ‘So again, what do you need me for?’

  ‘Fine. I need you to make a call. Get an out-of-hours technical request done.’

  ‘An out of hours? What for?’

  ‘I need a lump — a tracker stuck on the bottom of a horsebox. And I need it geo-fenced. The tactical team will have the monitoring equipment. Then I need an intelligence officer to brief them to stop it if it moves.’

  ‘You need . . . that makes no sense. What horsebox? I just told you . . . even if this plot exists, how would you know there’s a horsebox there.’

  George smiled. ‘I tell you what . . . if there isn’t, then we all get to go home.’

  Emily rolled her eyes. ‘I won’t hold my breath.’

  * * *

  Andrea Jeffries pulled the door open roughly. Her face wore an expression that suggested that a knock on her door at eight in the evening was not something she desired. Over jeans, she wore a tight-fitting Aran jumper that finished high on the neck. Her house smacked of country cottage to George. It was small, whitewashed and pretty. Perfectly formed. George stood at the front door that was dead centre.

  ‘I’m sorry to bother you, Miss Jeffries.’ George paused for a reaction. He got none and knew he was talking to the right person. ‘I’m Detective Inspector George Elms. I’m working out of Langthorne Police Station. There’s nothing to worry about, but I was hoping to have a few minutes of your time.’ George held up his badge.

  The woman’s expression changed all at once. Where she had looked ready for an argument, she now looked unsure. She stepped back into her property. ‘Did you want to come in?’

  The inside of the property was immaculate, everything in its place. George was led through to the kitchen where a slab of expensive-looking work surface jutted out towards the centre with high stools around it. She gestured for George to sit.

  ‘Can I get you a drink, Inspector?’

  ‘No, thank you. I don’t expect to be here long and, please, call me George.’

  ‘Thank you, but I prefer to keep these sorts of things formal. What did you say your surname was again, please?’

  ‘Elms.’

  ‘Like the tree?’

  ‘Well, like a couple of them, I suppose.’ He smiled, trying to lighten the mood. She made a show of writing down his details. ‘Did you need my force number too?’

  ‘No, thank you. That won’t be necessary. My partner plays golf at Etchinghill with a few of your bosses. Sometimes I tag along with the other wives. I just wanted to be sure I know who I’m talking about.’

  ‘Oh, well, I’m sure they’ll all know who I am.’

  ‘Quite. So how can I help you, Inspector? Can I assume this is about this awful business up at the farm?’

  ‘Which farm is that, Miss Jeffries?’

  She pursed her lips. ‘Is this a formal conversation? I can’t say I’ve ever had a formal conversation with a police officer.’

  ‘I can imagine. Good people rarely do, until something terrible happens.’

  ‘So you are here about Wingmore Farm? This is a small village, Inspector. I’m sure you understand how word gets around.’

  ‘I do. So tell me, what have you heard?’

  ‘Poor Mrs Wingmore, I heard she was murdered up there. A robbery gone wrong. I mean, my partner could probably find out all the details but I told him not to. We need to let the police do their t
hing. We need to trust them to keep us safe.’

  George bit his tongue. The next time she implied or mentioned links to senior officers he might not be able to. He came across it all the time, people thinking they needed to put you in your place from the start. Playing golf with a senior police officer might have meant something once. It certainly didn’t anymore.

  ‘You’re right, of course. But sometimes we need help to keep you safe. I understand you were close — to the Wingmores, I mean.’

  ‘Then you are misinformed, Inspector.’

  ‘Close enough to be business partners? To buy land together?’

  ‘An investment, a business proposition that they reneged upon is a more accurate description. I spoke with my solicitor just today in fact to establish whether the events at the farm impact on our situation.’

  ‘What situation is that?’

  ‘Once again, is this a formal conversation?’

  ‘Depends what you mean by a formal conversation, Miss Jeffries. I am trying to find out a little more about the use of the plot you co-own with my victim. If you tell me there is a dispute over that land, then of course I am interested in that too.’

  ‘A legal dispute you understand, nothing more. I am extremely frustrated, Inspector, but I don’t hold any personal grudges. I happened to be very fond of Janice. I think we all were.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘The Women’s Society. Janice and I were both active members. She hasn’t been coming quite so often recently. I think she became aware of the tension over some of her husband’s recent decisions.’

  ‘What decisions were they?’

  Andrea Jeffries sighed. ‘I met Janice through the Women’s Society. We had a mutual love of horses and we built a friendship around it. It escalated to the point where we agreed to acquire a plot of land where we would rent stables and I would be able to offer a few other services. We built an exercise yard — one of those all-weather affairs — and we had some agility equipment and a few other bits and pieces. I was even getting involved in the selling of some tack up there. I had a supplier who offered me a reasonable cut. It was worth my while.’