A horn blared and she looked over her shoulder as the first of the reporters showed up, cameras at the ready.
‘The vultures are arriving,’ she said with disdain.
Reese followed her gaze and then he stepped forwards. ‘You OK in there, Doc?’
Kelly looked up from the body and nodded. ‘Yeah, if you’re worried about the pricks with the cameras then you can close the door, I’ll be a while yet.’
Reese and Marnie exited the garage, he grabbed the handle of the up-and-over door and dragged it down.
‘Come on, let’s go around the back,’ the DCI said, they walked around the side of the garage and into the rear garden. ‘Nice tree house,’ he commented with a hint of admiration.
Marnie looked up into the branches, in her mind’s eye she could see father and daughter sitting looking out at the world from their elevated position, no doubt talking things through and sharing memories about the wife and mother they had lost. Their grief bringing them closer together, strengthening the bond between them.
Marnie closed her eyes for a moment trying to gather her thoughts, if it was John Hall in the garage then it was obvious that Rowan had been taken, spirited away by someone. She pictured the scene, the girl in her bedroom unaware that her father lay dead in the garage, did she hear the killer enter the house, and even if she had, wouldn’t it be logical for her to assume it was her father coming back indoors?
The distressing image played out behind Marnie’s closed lids, Rowan sitting cross-legged on her bed, perhaps she had the headphones on listening to music, feeling happy, feeling safe and then …
‘You OK?’ Reese asked. Marnie opened her eyes and winced against the sparkling sunlight.
‘I found this in Rowan’s bedroom,’ she said, lifting the diary from her pocket and handing it over.
Reese opened the book and lifted the picture out, flicking it over he frowned. ‘Tom Conway?’ he asked.
Marnie nodded. ‘It fits the description that Polly Hardy provided.’
Reese riffled through a few random pages before handing it back, Marnie dropping it back into her pocket.
‘What do you want me to do?’ she asked.
Reese tilted his face skywards and sighed. ‘As far as I can see we have two separate cases that may or may not be linked. What we do know is that someone is trying to take over from that scumbag Rae and now we have all this.’ He waved a hand towards the garage. ‘We need to know if Rae had anything to do with it and if he did then what has he done with the girl?’
‘Even if he is involved he’s hardly going to admit it,’ Marnie replied.
Reese looked at her, she could see the anguish buried deep in his eyes, his lips set in a thin line. ‘OK, let’s say you’re right about this Conway character, he killed Hamer and then paid Chelsea a visit to gather information, what would his next move be?’
‘It depends what she told him.’
Reese nodded, looking back at the tree house. ‘You’ve met the woman; do you think she’d be willing to talk?’
Marnie thought back to the heated conversation she’d had with Whitlow’s sister, the anger in her eyes before Marnie had even told her of her brother’s death. The insolence smeared across her face as she warned Marnie that she was no grass and if she continued to harass her then she would …
‘Arnie Phelps,’ Marnie whispered.
Reese raised a questioning eyebrow. ‘Who?’
‘When I arrived at Tam’s house and asked her about her brother she threatened me with a solicitor.’
Reese scowled as a blackbird flew across the garden and landed on top of the tree house. ‘And?’
‘She said if I didn’t back off then she would give this Phelps a call and make sure he’d “sue the arse” off me.’
‘So, she has a Rottweiler for a solicitor, their sort usually does?’
‘Yes, but what if Phelps is tied in with Rae as well.’
Marnie saw the smile creep onto Reese’s face. ‘That would make sense, after all they all usually piss in the same pot.’
Marnie watched as the blackbird sang out before taking to the air again, vanishing into a bush at the bottom of the long garden.
‘She would have kept her mouth closed for as long as possible but once he started cutting then all bets would have been off,’ she said.
Reese nodded in agreement. ‘OK, find out where Phelps lives and pay the man a visit, because if you’re right then he could well be the next person that Conway questions and we both know how that will end.’
‘Will do.’
Reese checked his watch. ‘Right, take Bev Harvey with you but I want to be kept in the loop, Marnie, I …’
Doc Kelly appeared around the side of the house, his mop of dark hair bouncing as he walked towards them.
‘So, what’s the score?’ Reese asked.
Kelly snapped off the gloves and dropped them into an evidence bag. ‘Single blow to the back of the head, the killer used a heavy-bladed weapon. Once I’ve run tests I should be able to give you a timeline but he’s been dead for at least three to four weeks. The deceased is wearing a wedding ring with the names John and Carol inscribed on the band.’
Marnie sighed at the news and then she thought of Rowan, the poor girl had already lost her mother and now her father was dead, though the way things were looking, if Rowan were still alive then the death of her father would be the least of her worries. Marnie felt the familiar quickening of her heart as she realised that time was against them and that by now, Rowan Hall could be dead or wishing that she was. The anger inside spluttered to life and she made fists of her hands then thrust them into her pockets.
‘You said he was killed by a single blow with a heavy-bladed weapon?’ she asked.
Kelly lifted a pack of wine gums from his pocket and popped one into his mouth. ‘That’s right.’
‘Could it be the same kind of weapon used to kill Whitlow?’
Kelly stopped chewing, his face thoughtful. ‘I’m not sure but I can take a look at Whitlow see if I can match the wounds to our friend in there.’
Reese kicked at a tiny stone on the floor sending it into the flower bed. ‘Hang on, Marnie, I know there’s a link between John Hall and Hamer but Whitlow was a gangland killing, a warning to Rae. I mean, we were there when the bloody body parts came hurtling through the window.’
Marnie knew the DCI was right but then she squared her shoulders and nodded. ‘I know you’re probably right, but it’s still worth checking.’
Reese held her gaze for a moment before turning to the doctor. ‘OK, see what you can do.’
Kelly started to chew again and then he swallowed the sweet and licked his lips tasting the sweet, sugary taste. ‘I’ll get the body moved and get to work.’
‘Good man,’ Reese replied as the doctor vanished around the side of the house.
‘Right, Marnie, go and see Phelps, I want answers and I want them ASAP.’
Marnie moved away, as she reached the corner she looked back, Reese was looking up at the tree house admiringly, his long arms hanging by his sides, his shoulders slightly stooped as if he were carrying the weight of the world on his back.
Turning away, she went in search of Bev Harvey.
53
Arnie Phelps stood at the bedroom window looking out over the garden, the undulating lawn swept away from the house to the seven-foot fence that bordered the property and the fields beyond. To his left, he could see the huge hot tub looking strangely out of place in the middle of the garden. He thought back to the party of a few weeks earlier, lounging in the tub with champagne in one hand and a cigar in the other watching the breasts of the bimbo shimmering beneath the water. The garden had been full of hangers-on, some were acquaintances, none were what Arnie would class as friends. The truth was, Arnie Phelps had no real friends and he liked it that way. In his line of work it paid not to let people get too close, he knew if he wanted to throw a party then all he had to do was spread the word and the blood sucker
s would arrive en masse ready to eat his food and drink his champagne. For a few hours, he would convince himself that the people had come because they actually enjoyed his company. The following day he had stood in the garden looking at the empty bottles littered around the garden and smiled at the absurdity of the situation. People came and went and he could live with that, the random bimbo had blown him as he lay in the lounger by the huge patio heater and when he had climaxed he had risen from the chair and told all the fuckers to get off his property. The crowd of people had left without an argument, each one aware that this was how one of Arnie’s parties normally ended.
At the window, Arnie felt his balls tighten as the memory of the party faded and reality flooded back into his distressed mind. He was dressed in a bathrobe that seemed two sizes too big, the sleeves rolled back, his face damp with a mixture of water from the shower and perspiration.
His thinning hair was plastered to his head, his small gimlet eyes moved left to right as if he was searching for something hiding in the garden.
Moving to the bed, he picked up the towel before absently rubbing at his hair. When his phone rang, his body jerked at the sound, hands shaking he picked it up from the bed; seeing Rae’s name flashing up at him, he closed his eyes, the panic flaring into fear. The phone continued to drone, the noise boring into Phelps’s brain like a dentist drill. After what seemed like an age, the ringing stopped and he cracked open one eye and looked at the screen, his balls shrinking ever tighter to his body as he saw the voicemail symbol flashing.
Moving back to the window, he took up his vigil again. He had worked for Rae for over ten years and in all that time he had managed to convince himself that Jimmy Rae was a businessman who did a good balancing act between legal and illegal enterprises. It had been his job to make sure that Rae stayed on the right side of the law, or at least to give the appearance that Rae was legitimate.
He had been paid handsomely to keep the wolves at bay and in those ten years, the police had never come close to fingering Rae. Oh, they had tried but Phelps had always known what they were up to, had always been given plenty of warning as to when they were sniffing around from his insider source.
But now things were different, the house of lies was close to crashing down and the thought terrified Arnie Phelps. For once, he didn’t have a couple of aces up his sleeve. Whilst working for Rae he had always made sure he had a get-out clause, an escape plan, things were in place that would allow him to vanish but now he knew that Jimmy Rae was the least of his worries.
There was a bigger fish in the pond, a shark swam below the choppy surface, moving silently back and forth, watching and waiting for Phelps to make a break for it.
His eyes lost focus as he realised he was caught in the snare, trapped between Rae and something much worse. He had no doubt that he could have vanished and given Rae the slip, he had always suspected that the time would come when he would have to leave quickly but Arnie knew that outrunning this other threat was simply not possible.
All his life, Phelps had known the benefit of leverage, it was what made the world go around. The more you knew about someone, the more dirt you had on them, the better. The police could come and look through Rae’s business empire and they would find nothing untoward but Phelps knew the truth and had all the details safely hidden away, details that would lead to Rae and his thugs being locked up for the rest of their lives. He liked to call it his insurance policy for the day when he vanished, he had intended leaving Rae in no doubt as to what would happen if he insisted on pursuing him. The truth would be released and Rae would be locked up and the key thrown away. Though now it was obvious that someone had the dirt on him, someone had been playing the long game, gathering information that would see Arnie behind bars in a secure unit designed to keep him safe from the other inmates.
The fear blossomed into terror as he pictured a small cell with no windows and a stainless-steel bowl in the corner, the all-seeing eye watching him twenty-four seven, and the thought made his blood run cold. Closing his eyes, he could almost hear the other inmates screaming abuse at him, threatening to kill him or cut him up.
Phelps yelped, his eyes sprang open, the threatening voices still echoing inside his frozen mind. He spun around as if he expected to see a police officer in the room walking towards him with handcuffs at the ready, face rigid with disgust.
Arnie cringed at the image and then he was running for the wardrobe, his bathrobe hanging open, his paunch wobbling as he grabbed the handle and yanked the ready-packed suitcase from the wardrobe. Then the truth of his situation came crashing down, there was no escape, no safe haven. If he ran then within hours his face would be on the television screens and plastered all over the Internet. Everyone would know his name and they would also know about his deviant ways. His hand sprang open and the case fell to the floor with a thump. Arnie followed it, crashing to his knees as the despair took over, when the phone rang again he looked at it through a shimmer of tears.
The unknown number continued to blink on the screen and he swallowed the fear as he tapped the answer icon.
54
Marnie eased up to the traffic lights, one hand resting on the wheel, the other on the gear lever, her eyes watching the cars that sped across the junction.
‘Do you think it was Hamer that killed Hall and took his daughter?’ Bev asked, her complexion still pale from the shock of seeing the body in the garage.
Marnie flicked her a quick glance before looking back at the traffic lights. ‘Well, he had reason to bear a grudge against Hall, we know that much.’
‘I know, but don’t you think it’s extreme to do something like that.’
Marnie turned the heater up a notch. ‘Murder is always extreme, and we know Hamer was handy with his fists when it came to keeping Emma and Drew in line. But according to Polly Hardy, he didn’t retaliate when Hall threw him out.’
‘But that’s my point, Hamer was a coward and—’
‘He might not have taken Hall on face-to-face but I can see him sneaking up behind and attacking him. What I can’t see is Hamer taking the girl alone, it just feels too risky.’
Bev turned slightly in her seat. ‘Maybe he came mob-handed?’
The lights changed and Marnie started to pull forward. ‘It’s possible,’ she grabbed second gear. ‘But Drew Watkins said she only ever saw Hamer and Ronda at the flat, so perhaps Hamer didn’t have a mob to call on.’
‘What about Tom Conway, do you think he knows about Hall’s death?’
Marnie pondered the question for a moment. ‘If you think about it, then Conway would have been to the house, considering he was looking for his friend then it would be the first place to check.’
‘So, he finds John Hall and—’
‘I don’t think he found the body.’
Bev blinked in surprise. ‘I don’t understand?’
The road opened up, the traffic moving smoothly. ‘If Conway had found the body then he would have called us in,’ she said with conviction.
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘Because he wouldn’t waste time trying to sort it alone. Think about it, this is his best friend and goddaughter, if he had found Hall then he would have immediately known that the clock was ticking on Rowan and he wouldn’t take the risk of going it alone. He would have called us in and then he would have tried tracking down those responsible.’
‘But he’s already doing that,’ Bev said.
Marnie slowed down for the roundabout, checking right before zipping across.
‘Yes, but he’s doing it alone and I can’t see him finding his friend dead and then walking away without reporting it. Plus, Polly Hardy said he went to the hostel looking for both John and Rowan which points to the fact that he didn’t know Hall was dead.’
‘So, what does this Phelps character have to do with any of this?’ Bev asked as they drove past a parade of shops, metal grills over the windows.
As Marnie explained about the threats Chelsea had
spouted, the shops and houses ended and fields took over, the roadside bordered with stunted-looking trees, the grass verge littered with rubbish thrown from passing cars.
‘I still can’t believe DI Rogers didn’t follow this up sooner,’ Bev said with a sigh.
Marnie kept her mouth closed, the last thing she wanted to do was slag off the DI even though she agreed with Bev Harvey’s opinion of the man. She also knew that you couldn’t turn the clock back, Rowan had been taken and her father killed and now they had to try and find out what had happened to the girl.
‘Take the next left, Phelps has an office off Park Road,’ Bev said.
Marnie went down through the gears before indicating and turning left, more houses and shops appeared in the distance and she kept to the speed limit as pedestrians appeared on the pavements, walking in and out of the shops.
‘There it is,’ Bev pointed to the right and Marnie waited for a break in the traffic before manoeuvring across the road to park up outside the solicitor’s office. The window was opaque, the name Phelps stencilled onto the frosted glass in elaborate gold lettering.
‘Right, let’s go and have a word with the guy,’ Marnie said as she opened the door and stepped onto the pavement.
Bev followed suit and then Marnie was trying the handle of the solicitor’s office, frowning when she found the door locked. She looked for a bell and finding none, she rapped her knuckles on the glass, while Bev tried to peer through the frosted glass.
‘Can I help you?’
Marnie turned to find a woman in her early thirties with shoulder-length, dark hair, her face made up as if she were heading out for a night on the town. She wore sharp stilettoes with a fawn-coloured jacket, a designer bag hooped over her left arm, her right hand fumbling in the pocket of the coat.
‘We’re here to see Mr Phelps,’ Marnie replied.
The woman smiled, showing perfect teeth. ‘It’s obvious you don’t have an appointment because Arnie comes and goes as he likes,’ the woman answered as she slipped the key into the lock.
Cut The Threads: A Serial Killer Thriller That Will Keep You Hooked (DS Marnie Hammond Book 2) Page 16
