‘What’s the address?’ she asked, swinging her feet out of bed and heading over to the wardrobe.
‘Number six, Belfour Drive.’
‘I’m on my way,’ Marnie said, ending the call.
She looked back at the crumpled bed, it was the first time in an age that she had fallen asleep without the demons coming to call and yet here she was being dragged out into the wind and rain barely minutes after going to sleep.
‘Sod’s law,’ she sighed as she hurried into her clothes.
Ten minutes later, she was showered and dressed and heading through the door, car keys in hand.
47
By the time she arrived at the address, SOCO were already in attendance, dressed in white paper suits and masks, she could see them on the driveway like spectral ghosts in the darkness. Climbing from the car, she spotted Bev Harvey standing by the side of a squad car, parked half on the kerb.
Closing the door, she beeped on the alarm and made her way over.
‘Where are we up to?’ Marnie asked, dropping the car keys into her pocket.
‘I’ve got Joseph Bold in the back of the car and—’
‘I thought he would have been taken to the hospital?’ Marnie interrupted with a frown.
‘The paramedic checked him out and said he’d like Bold to go to A&E once you’ve had a word.’
Marnie looked at the house, it was hidden away down a long dark driveway, the front door was open and she could see the SOCO team in the hallway
‘OK, let’s get this sorted then you can run him to the hospital,’ she said, opening the rear door and getting in. When Bev opened the driver’s door and got behind the wheel the interior light came on, illuminating the strip of wadding taped to the side of Bold’s head. Bold had his lips pressed together, his hands pulling and tugging at one another in pain and distress.
‘Good evening, Mr Bold, I—’
‘I didn’t attack my wife, I swear to God it wasn’t me,’ he spewed out the words.
‘Someone else was in the house, is that what you’re saying?’
Joseph nodded and then winced in pain. ‘That’s right, he just turned up at the front door. I let him in and then—’
‘Did you know this person?’ Marnie interrupted.
The injured man looked at her and swallowed. ‘No, I’d never seen him before.’
‘So why did you let him in?’
Joseph lowered his head and paused for a moment, Marnie glanced at the rear-view mirror and saw Bev raise an eyebrow at this statement.
‘Two days ago, my wife’s brother was killed, he—’
‘Yes, Mr Bold, we know.’
For a couple of seconds, Joseph looked totally bemused and then he sighed. ‘Of course, you do.’
‘So, what did this man want?’
‘He wanted a word with Chelsea, he said he was trying to get in touch with Tam and when I explained what had happened he asked to see my wife.’
Another police car arrived, lights swirling, filling the inside of their car with blue light.
‘Did this man seemed shocked when you told him about the murder of Mr Whitlow?’ Marnie asked as the light vanished.
Bold thought for a moment before answering. ‘To be honest he seemed more disappointed than shocked.’
‘Yet you still let this total stranger into your home?’ Bev asked from the front seat.
Bold looked terrified, his eyes shimmering with tears. ‘I don’t know why I did it but he seemed friendly and I thought maybe he had some news about what had happened to Tam.’
Marnie looked at the man closely, unsure what to make of what he was saying.
‘Can you tell me how your wife has been since her brother’s death?’ she asked.
Bold groaned and closed his eyes, Marnie watched as the tears slid free and trickled down his cheeks.
‘The truth is, I was scared of the way she was behaving, she’d fallen asleep on the sofa – she’d been drinking heavily – and I was on my way to the kitchen when the doorbell rang.’
Marnie and Bev exchanged a quick glance as they waited for him to continue.
‘I didn’t want her to wake up so I let him in,’ he brushed the tears from his face and looked at Marnie. ‘My wife can be volatile at the best of times but this has tipped her over the edge.’
Marnie thought about Chelsea attacking her when she had broken the news about her brother, claws extended, face fixed with a snarl of hatred.
‘Prior to the man turning up at the door, had your wife attacked you, Mr Bold?’
More tears slid free as he pulled back the collar of his shirt to reveal the large black bruise on his shoulder. ‘She hit me with a wine bottle, she was screaming and shouting about how it should have been me who died and not her brother.’
Marnie looked at Bold’s face and believed him completely. ‘So. You let the man in and then what happened?’
As he explained, Bev turned back to face the front, Marnie giving Joseph Bold her full attention.
‘And then he hit her, I couldn’t believe it, he just knocked her flying and there was blood on her face and then he turned to me and …’ his voice drifted to a halt as more tears leaked from his eyes.
‘Do you have any idea why he would want to attack your wife?’
Bold ran a hand under his leaking nose. ‘He wanted to know about Tam and his friends.’
‘What friends?’
‘He asked me about Jimmy Rae but I told him I knew nothing, I’d only ever met him on a handful of occasions and to be honest I didn’t get into conversation with the man.’
‘Why not?’ Marnie asked.
Bold shrugged. ‘When I married Chelsea, I knew nothing of her brother or Rae but once we were married I heard certain things about them and I knew I didn’t want to get involved in any of that.’
‘Any of what?’
Marnie saw a hint of colour rise in his cheeks. ‘I own three car dealerships and I know how hard you have to work to make a success of your life, but neither Tam nor Rae ever seemed to work and yet they had the big house and the flash car. I know I look a mess now but I’m not a stupid man, I put two and two together and decided that they must make their money through illegal means.’
Marnie pursed her lips and nodded. ‘Can you describe the man who came to your house?’
‘Tall, about six-two or three with short dark hair and a thin face; but I tell you – his eyes were hard. I knew I shouldn’t have let him in but by the time I realised my mistake it was too late, and he didn’t look like the type of man you could just ask to leave.’
Marnie thought back to her visit to the hostel, and her conversation with Emma and Polly. Before leaving she had asked Polly to describe the man called Conway and now Bold was giving her the same details, tall and lean with brown eyes and short dark hair. She pictured Hamer dead by the side of the road, his fingers bent back and broken, his face a mangled pulp of torn flesh.
‘Right, Mr Bold, thank you for the help. PC Harvey will run you to the hospital and as soon as you are feeling up to it, you can make a statement,’ Marnie went to open the door.
‘Is that it?’ Bold asked in surprise.
Marnie had one foot on the wet pavement as she turned. ‘That’s all for now – unless you have something you’d like to add?’
Bold looked at her wide eyed. ‘Er no, I don’t think so.’
Marnie smiled as she climbed out and closed the door, slapping a hand on the roof in farewell.
She watched Bev pull away from the kerb before tilting her head to the night sky, closing her eyes she let the rain fall, cold, on her upturned face.
Tam Whitlow was dead and according to Joseph Bold the man he had let into the house had been disappointed by the news of Whitlow’s demise.
She thought of Tam Whitlow’s remains being hurled through Rae’s window. Marnie lowered her head and considered the facts. Someone had killed Whitlow, a man who was high up in the Rae empire. Whitlow had died before Hamer, so if someone wa
s after information on Rae then why had Hamer been killed? She knew the Hamers of this world were never more than errand boys, dealing a bit of smack and keeping an eye on the girls, making sure that the punters paid and the girls stayed drugged and pliable. Marnie wiped a hand across her wet hair before flicking the droplets away. The only thing that made any sense was if the two men – Whitlow and Hamer – had been killed independently of each other by separate killers. Whitlow had died because someone was trying to take over Jimmy Rae’s patch and Hamer had been killed because of the way he had treated Emma Winstanley. Suddenly, it made sense, it felt right. Bill Armitage had said that Conway had a short fuse and if he was trying to find out about Rowan and John Hall then the first place he would visit would be the hostel which had led him to Hamer. And if Hamer had been working for Rae then there was a possibility that it could have led Conway to Chelsea Bold.
Heading for the Bold’s house, she rang Reese; by the time she had made it to the kitchen and saw the bloodstain on the floor he had answered.
Marnie stood in the doorway and explained about her suspicions, when she had finished she heard the exasperated groan float down the phone.
‘Bloody marvellous,’ Reese grumbled. ‘This case now has more knots than my cat’s tail.’
Marnie opened her mouth but found she had nothing to say.
48
Conway lay in the dark, eyes open and staring at the bedroom ceiling. It was cold in the house but it didn’t concern him, during his time in the army he had managed to sleep in everything from a tree to a waterlogged ditch.
When he closed his eyes, he pictured John and Rowan at Carol’s funeral, clinging to one another as if they were the last two people in the world. Both inconsolable with grief as the casket was lowered into the ground.
John had looked across the grave and managed to drag up a tearful smile, Conway had remained granite-faced, his emotions locked inside. He recalled a barbecue at their house, before Carol became ill. Tom had been home on leave, the steaks sizzling on the grill, John had been pushing Rowan on the swing.
‘So, when are you coming out of the army?’ Carol had asked with a smile.
‘I like the army and—’
‘Yes, and John liked it too but he got out.’
‘He had something worth getting out for.’
Carol had blushed lightly and punched his arm as he grinned at her. ‘You know what I mean, there is life out of uniform you know.’
Tom sighed at the memory as he continued to stare at the ceiling. Three short years later, she was dead, leaving father and daughter to try and pick up the pieces but now they had vanished and it was up to him to find out what had happened. The first thing he had done on arriving in the town had been to head to John’s house, after ringing the bell and peering through the windows he had headed around the back, letting himself in with the spare key that John had provided shortly after Carol’s funeral.
‘It’s just in case you need somewhere to stay and we’re out and about,’ John had explained before handing the key over.
Tom had wandered through the house, pausing only to look at snapshots of the family in the living room before heading upstairs. He had stopped in the doorway to Rowan’s room as if unsure whether he should enter, when he had seen the images of him and Rowan on her dresser he had felt his heart ache. Ten minutes later, he had left, none the wiser as to what had happened to his best friend and goddaughter.
With a frown, he pushed them from his mind and pictured Whitlow’s sister bleeding on the kitchen floor, her mouth hurrying to get the words out as he moved forward again with the knife.
By the time he left the house he had a list of names, people who worked for Rae, individuals who helped him to run the business. He had questioned the woman at length, the knife pointing straight at her Botoxed face as she spilled her guts. Like old Bill had said, Tam Whitlow had been Rae’s right-hand man and now he was dead, pieces hacked off and packed into a bag before being thrown through the window of Rae’s house.
When he had questioned her about John and Rowan she had shaken her head, tears of terror leaking from her eyes.
‘I told you, I’ve never heard of them and I swear to God, Tam never mentioned them to me.’
He rolled a cigarette and lit it, watching the smoke trail away into the darkness.
Chelsea had told him about Kane Acton, a man close to Rae in the same way her brother had been close, a mate, a confidante. As far as he could gather, the others she mentioned were just there to break bones or get rid of people that Rae wanted taking care of. Before leaving, he had demanded to know who took care of Rae’s cash, after all, he would need someone to launder the money, someone to make it all appear legitimate.
Chelsea had gasped the name Arnie Phelps as she slumped to the side, her head thudding against the granite tiles.
Conway had considered trying to wake her again but in the end, he decided it was futile, as far as he was concerned she had told him all she knew before passing out.
He tried to think of any rational reason why John would disappear and take Rowan with him. Polly, from the hostel, had said that he was dedicated to both the job and his daughter, so there was no way he would simply have walked away without uttering a word.
With a sense of foreboding, he dropped the cigarette into the empty tin can by his side before rolling over and pulling the sleeping bag over his head. It took him a long time to sleep, and when he did, his dreams consisted of two coffins being lowered into the wet ground, and somewhere in his dream, someone laughed, a bitter mocking sound.
49
Marnie entered the packed incident room bleary eyed and yawning after managing a mere four hours of sleep.
DCI Reese looked up at her from behind the desk, one or two heads turned in her direction as she moved to stand by the water cooler.
‘OK, you lot, listen up,’ Reese demanded, loosening his tie.
Heads turned back in his direction as Marnie eased back against the wall and stifled another yawn. It was gone two o’clock by the time she slipped under the duvet and another hour before she drifted off to sleep, only to be woken by the alarm after what felt like five minutes. She had managed to crawl out of bed before hitting the shower and heading out, although the heat of the incident room was doing a good job of lulling her back to sleep.
‘So far we have Tam Whitlow murdered and hacked to pieces plus one of his possible associates killed and left on Mort Lane. As yet, we have no way to link the two, what we can say is that Hamer was keeping two young girls locked up in a shithole across town, he drugged them and then sold them for sex.’
One or two people shook their head in disgust at the news.
‘During the night, DS Hammond was called out to what we initially thought was a domestic but now that appears not to be the case,’ Reese raised a hand and beckoned Marnie over.
Walking to the head of the room she turned to face the team as Reese eased back in his chair and threaded his hands behind his head.
As she explained about the commotion at Chelsea Bold’s house she could see one or two frowns staring back at her. By the time she had finished a few more had joined the parade.
DI Oaks leaned forward in her chair, her short hair flecked with grey, her eyes sharp and keen. ‘You suspect this Conway character could have something to do with Hamer’s death but not the murder of Tam Whitlow?’
Marnie nodded. ‘Like the boss said, we don’t know if Hamer and Whitlow are linked in any way. Neither Emma Winstanley or Drew Watkins had ever heard of Whitlow or Jimmy Rae, as far as they were concerned Hamer was in charge.’
‘But it could still be a turf war, someone trying to take over and Hamer was just cannon fodder,’ Oaks replied.
Marnie thought for a moment before replying. ‘Whoever is trying to take over went straight for Whitlow, Rae’s best friend and right-hand man. If you wanted information on Rae, valuable information, then Whitlow would be ideally placed to provide answers. Even if Hamer was workin
g for Rae, he would have been way down the pecking order.’
Oaks grunted as she thought about it. ‘So, you think Conway is trying to find out about what happened to John and Rowan Hall?’
‘I do.’
‘And you suspect he killed Hamer and then went to Chelsea’s house to get more information on the Halls?’
Marnie held her ground, keeping her eyes locked on Oaks.
‘That’s what I think, yes.’
DI Oaks suddenly smiled, a reflex action that took years off her. ‘OK, so what do we know about the missing Halls?’
Marnie looked across the room to where DI Rogers was tapping away at his phone, head bent, the bald patch clearly visible through his thinning sandy-coloured hair.
Reese appeared at her shoulder, his face twitching in annoyance. ‘DI Rogers!’ he bellowed.
Rogers snapped his head up, his eyes springing wide when he realised he was the centre of attention.
‘Well?’ Reese demanded.
Rogers blinked several times before surreptitiously slipping the phone into his pocket.
‘Well what, boss?’ the DI asked, his face flooded with confusion.
Marnie heard Reese hiss in a sharp breath and she waited for him to explode. She didn’t have to wait long.
‘Jesus Christ, man, we are talking about a double murder and possibly more to come and you sit there lost in your own bullshit world! Perhaps you’d prefer the murder count to hit double figures before you tear yourself away from your imaginary heroics and come flying to the rescue on a flame-throwing dragon?’
Rogers cringed as Reese jabbed out a finger. ‘I want to know what you have done about the Hall family?’
For a few seconds, Rogers looked bamboozled and then he cleared his throat.
‘As far as we can tell they left without telling anyone where they were going,
and—’
‘We bloody well know that!’ Reese shouted in disbelief. ‘But what enquires have you made?’
Cut The Threads: A Serial Killer Thriller That Will Keep You Hooked (DS Marnie Hammond Book 2) Page 14
