Maddie walked through to the counter with Rhiannon just behind her. A young woman appeared from the door directly behind, where kitchen smells and sounds leaked out before it swung shut again. The woman looked to be in her early thirties and their presence at the counter seemed to make her jump. She gathered herself together and pulled a notebook from her apron.
‘What can I get you?’
‘Black coffee and pancakes for me, please, and she’ll have a cup of tea,’ Maddie said.
The woman hovered over her pad. She seemed to change her mind about something and slid it back into her apron. ‘Anything else?’ she said.
‘Just those, thanks.’ Maddie peered to her right. There was a big chalkboard with a mess of handwritten menu items. ‘I don’t see pancakes on there? Is that going to be okay?’
‘We took them off, but I can still do them.’ She gave a smile but it looked strained, nervous almost. ‘I’ll bring it all over.’
Maddie and Rhiannon picked a table against the far window and Rhiannon flicked idly through a local paper. Maddie was back to sizing up the other occupants. Their order came out quickly. The woman appeared by her side, catching her out.
‘That was quick! You must have had some left over!’ Maddie said.
‘We should bring them back, I say. But who am I?’ The woman shrugged then forced a laugh. ‘Enjoy your meal.’ She moved away.
‘Do you like pancakes?’ Maddie asked.
Rhiannon reached out for the plate. ‘I didn’t get my lunch yet. I love the syrup. I’d better not eat them all, though, otherwise how will our secret agent know that we did as he requested!’
‘Just be sure you don’t! I don’t think he’s here yet.’ Maddie was still looking beyond Rhiannon. She had already disregarded the biker group and the families didn’t fit the profile either. There were two tables of obvious tradesmen and there was no sign of them having any interest in anyone beyond the edges of their tables. Maddie was expecting someone on their own, someone standing out without meaning too. No one did so far. She glanced out at the car park: no movement there either. She checked her watch: ten past two. From the very specific instructions and the apparent excitement behind them she hadn’t expected their informant to be late. ‘How long do you think we should give it?’ Maddie said.
‘Well, I’m nearly done with these,’ Rhiannon said with her mouth full.
‘Fine. He has until I finish the coffee and then we’re gone.’
‘You’re going to drink that?’ Rhiannon asked.
Maddie answered by lifting the cup to her mouth. She hadn’t tried black coffee before; it was Harry’s tipple. It couldn’t be too bad surely? She took the smallest of sips. It was so bitter she almost spat it straight back into the cup.
Rhiannon laughed as she pulled a face. ‘I’ll take that as a no, then!’
As Maddie dabbed at her mouth, she was suddenly aware that the woman who’d served them was staring over. She looked away as Maddie made eye contact. Maddie stood up and pulled her coat on. ‘We’re wasting our time here, I reckon. He wouldn’t be late. He must have had a change of heart.’ She reached into her inside pocket. The waitress was serving someone. Maddie walked over and waited patiently behind them until they were well clear. Then she held out her card.
‘What’s this?’ the woman said.
‘I came here to meet someone — on his instruction. Seems I’ve been stood up. I don’t like being stood up. If you’re aware of someone coming in later that might have been here to meet me, would you mind passing on my details?’
The woman took the card and turned it over where Maddie had written her colleague’s details. ‘It gets busy. I don’t take much notice of people.’
Maddie smiled. ‘I’m sure you don’t. You never know, though. Someone might stand out. Maybe someone turns up looking late and hassled then asks you if someone ordered your pancakes. If that happens, hand over my card, would you. Is that okay?’
‘Sure,’ the woman replied, but she didn’t look it. She hung her head a little and there was no eye contact now. She did push the card into a pocket on the front of her apron.
‘Thank you. And the pancakes were lovely. I agree . . . you should put them back on the menu.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind.’
* * *
Harry had intended on just driving past this place. Probation was the other side of the town, a long way from where he had ended up. He was going to call the control room and find out where Maddie and Rhiannon were going, then hang in the area until they were clear. But at the roundabout for the motorway, he’d reached a decision. He was still angry, of course he was, but when he pulled at the wheel to deviate off at the first exit at the roundabout rather than the fourth, he realised that he was less in control of it than he’d have liked. He’d ignored the protestations of the drivers he’d cut up with his sudden change in direction and their horns did nothing to snap him out of his haze.
He was just going to drive past. And now he was parked up.
Daniel Wootan was at a property known to police and probation as a ‘halfway house’. There were a number of them around the county. They were a place for some offenders to go when they were released from prison. Some people on their release didn’t have anywhere to go and councils wouldn’t take housing applications from anyone who was still in prison. The halfway house was designed to be temporary, a place to spend a few months until their housing and other benefits kicked in around them. It was seen as a favourable alternative to forcing newly released criminals straight back into the world of crime. The reality was that it often took much longer, so that the system was clogged with convicts who did indeed find themselves homeless and with no access to finances. Wootan had been more fortunate. He’d been housed in a bedsit on the second floor. Door number seven. Harry couldn’t explain why he had deviated to drive past. Maybe he wanted to be sure it was still the rundown and dreary building he remembered from a few years before when he’d visited a man who was a likely witness to a murder in prison. In his career, he’d probably visited just about all of the halfway houses in the county for one reason or another.
He knew he should be staying well away, that he could only cause himself issues. But he was just going to drive past — no harm in that. Then there had been a gap among the parked cars. The road was always busy, always choked with traffic in both directions. Parking was typically impossible. But there’d been a gap. And he’d taken it as if he was on autopilot.
He stared over at the frontage of the building. Before being divvied up into bedsits, it would have been one very large and probably very grand house. It had a front door in the middle that was flanked by two bay windows on the ground floor that repeated directly above. There were windows in the slant of the roof, too. Harry’s previous visit had been to one of those rooms. It was a cramped, dingy place with a single bed pushed under the sharp angle of the pitch. The windows were tiny. That day had been in the middle of the summer; it was sweltering and the whole building had been thick with the stench of perspiration. It was cooler on this day but he’d wager that the smell would be no better. The lower ground windows were part-covered by patchy conifers. Once, they might have been in a neat row with trimmed edges; now, the hedge on the right side of the front path was unkempt with a brown patch in its middle while the left side was largely cut to stumps. At least it allowed a clear sight through to the long, thick grass of the front garden, which was dominated by two wheelie bins that had their orange lids pushed upwards by overflowing sacks of refuse. He looked up to the second floor. The bay windows on this level both had curtains pulled across. On the right side the curtain wasn’t wide enough and it left a thick, black shadow in its middle. Harry couldn’t be sure on which side of the building number seven would be nor whether Wootan was even there right now.
Then Harry noticed the front door being opened and a man stepped out in a grey tracksuit with the hood up and a black body-warmer over the top. The door closed behind him slowly as if
it was on a slow spring and he was bent forward, his face covered by both hands as he lit a cigarette. He straightened and blew a cloud upwards. Harry could see his face now. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t Wootan.
It took a large expulsion of air for Harry to be aware that he had been holding his breath in the first place. His pulse was racing and his left hand was gripped tightly around the steering wheel, but his right rested on the door handle and he was leaning forward. He slumped back in his seat as he exhaled and moved his hand away from the door.
‘And what exactly were you going to do?’ he said to himself and shook his head. He still watched the smoking man, who eventually turned back to the door and pushed it open. He hadn’t used a key, just the handle. It wasn’t locked. Harry shook his head again. He had no business noting that. He had no business being there at all.
The car was still ticking over. He was never intending on staying, after all; he was just driving past. He gave one more glance at the second floor of the building before checking his mirror and pulling back out into the stream of traffic.
Chapter 15
As Harry strode through the Major Crime floor towards his office, his thoughts were elsewhere, but he was wrenched from them by the sound of a familiar voice. DCI Julian Lowe was in conversation with one of his DC’s. He broke away immediately on seeing Harry.
‘Ah, just the man!’
‘Boss.’ Harry continued through to his office and Lowe followed him in. He pulled his jacket off and was hanging it up as Lowe pushed his door shut.
‘A closed-door session, boss?’ Harry said.
‘A short one.’ Lowe glanced around for a spare seat and, seeing there were none, looked uncomfortable standing. Harry sat and looked expectant.
‘I got an update from your team out there on Jarod Logan. Seems he has been an international man of mystery for the last few years at least. Detectives from your team have spent a lot of time with the girlfriend and, if she’s to be believed, she didn’t know too much about him either.’
‘Not his recent activity, no.’
‘And you believe her?’ Lowe’s hands moved to his hips, they pushed out his suit jacket.
‘I don’t see what reason she has to lie. I think she’s scared witless of whatever it was that got to Logan. If she knew enough to help us take the fear away, I think she would tell us in a heartbeat.’
‘Whatever?’
‘Well, whoever. But it seems he might have been part of something — a group, rather than just an individual. I just took a call from Charley Mace as a matter of fact. I have search teams out in the area where he was found. I figured he started his journey somewhere. They’ve had a positive hit on some blood.’
‘Positive that it’s Logan’s?’
‘No. Positive that it’s blood. CSI are running it as we speak. It might be nothing but, whatever, we’ll get to the bottom of it.’
‘I know you will,’ Lowe said. He looked even more awkward now. Harry decided to let him off the hook.
‘You didn’t close my door for that, boss. What is it?’
‘Daniel Wootan again, I’m afraid.’
‘Okay . . .’
‘Were you aware of his arrest earlier today?’
‘I was aware he was wanted, something about a theft. That was all.’
‘Vince Arnold went out first thing this morning to knock on his door. The arrest was . . . not without problems.’
‘Problems?’
‘The long and the short of it, Harry, is that a complaint has come in via his solicitor regarding the nature of the arrest and his treatment. Apparently our Vince was a little heavy handed. Wootan is claiming some bruising and being refused a drink of water among other basic human rights yada, yada. It’s rubbish and will go away very quickly. The arrest was lawful. I’ll speak with Vince as to when and how he put hands on just to draw a line under it.’
‘And this has something to do with me, does it?’ Despite an internal battle, Harry didn’t think he was showing any reaction.
‘Not directly. The problem we have is that any further attempts to single out Wootan will likely lead to further complaints, cause more work for everyone, and we might get to the point where one of the complaints is upheld. I’ve heard through the grapevine that officers are actively looking to target him for stop and search in an effort to get him back in prison. I’m sure you understand what I am trying to say?’
Harry’s breathing had become deeper, he’d been taking big gulps to try and quench a growing anger. He took his deepest breath yet before his reply. ‘Single him out? He’s a known drug user, sometime dealer, and a prolific thief. Time was, singling out criminals like that for stop-searches was good police work.’
‘Times have changed, Harry.’
‘We don’t target criminals anymore?’
‘We play the game and we play it right.’
‘This isn’t a GAME!’ Harry’s feet were planted and he was standing upright before he had time to suppress it. His chest heaved. There’d been nothing he could do to conceal his emotions. ‘Not to me,’ he said, trying to gather himself back up. He picked up his cup and stayed standing, a sign that he was done.
‘You’re right. Poor turn of phrase. I just want to do this right. I want him back behind bars just as much as you do, but if we don’t do this right — if we play into his hands — then we face a situation where he rubs our faces in this whole nasty affair. We cannot be seen to be putting any more focus on him than we do other known criminals.’
‘This has nothing to do with me. If you need to speak with Vince then go ahead. I have no intention of singling him out as you put it, I’ve got too many years behind me to go looking for people like Daniel Wootan.’
‘I know that. I never assumed that you would be. But this does have something to do with you. As part of his complaint, Wootan’s solicitor brought up your name. The claim is that he is being targeted on your direction, because of who you are and what you do.’
‘Well, he isn’t,’ Harry shrugged.
‘I know that. But I thought you would want to know. We need to be sensible. We need to give this piece of work enough rope for him to hang himself with. And he will. We may just need to be a little more patient. Can you imagine how this would feel if he manages to get compensation as part of his complaint?’
‘Compensation?’
‘Yes. Of course he’s asking for that. They all do. Look, it will be dealt with and he will be told to wind his neck in. I just wanted you to be aware.’
‘And now I am.’
Julian hesitated like he had something else to say. If he did, he kept it to himself for now. Harry watched him leave. When he was out of sight he sat back down. Maddie Ives might have been waiting for him to finish; her appearance at the door was instant.
‘You okay?’
‘Always.’
‘No one’s okay always. How did it go with CPS?’
Harry lifted his eyes to meet with hers. ‘Same old. It wasn’t as productive as I’d hoped. There may be some more positive news around Logan’s investigation however. Charley Mace has confirmed a blood find. No idea whose or why. I’ve had CSI do what they need to do. There’s nothing else there apparently. I think I might take a drive out and take a look myself.’
‘Do you need to? If there’s nothing else there? If forensics have done their bit, we can just add it to our map showing key locations and wait for the photographs.’
‘She’s emailing them over. I know Charley, she’ll get the full scene in, too.’
‘So I’m missing something?’
Harry took his time to answer. ‘I like to get a feel. And I could do with getting some air.’
Maddie did that thing where she cocked her head to one side and narrowed her eyes a little. ‘You see, I told you no one could be okay all the time.’
‘I will be. Once I’ve got some air. You coming or not?’
‘Sure. I’ll drive.’
* * *
The ‘walk’ to
the car had been almost a jog for Maddie to keep up with Harry. She looked over at him in the passenger seat as he faced out of the window. ‘Bad day, Harry?’ she chanced. Harry wanted to get away from the station, she could understand that, but he’d asked her to come along, in his own way. He wouldn’t do that unless he wanted to talk.
‘Standard,’ he said.
‘Bad week, I reckon,’ she said. They joined the endless stream of traffic passing the front of Canterbury Police Station. They were turning away from the city centre at least, away from the traffic chaos.
‘I wouldn’t say that. In this job, bad has to be very bad.’
‘It does.’ The car fell silent. Once, Maddie might have either felt awkward or tried again to get Harry to say what was on his mind. She knew him a little better now; he would talk when he was ready. She turned the radio on low. A few moments later, Harry flinched like he’d been jabbed with something.
‘You okay?’
‘Oh, yeah. My watch . . . it vibrates. Catches me out a bit.’
Maddie looked down at his wrist and recognised a type of smartwatch. ‘Very posh. I looked at getting one of those for my running. Didn’t think it would be your sort of thing, though?’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, it’s complic—’ Maddie stopped herself. She grinned too but aimed it out of the window and away from her passenger. ‘It’s fandangled. I know you don’t like fandangled.’
‘You mean you know I can’t work fandangled!’
‘That’s exactly what I meant.’
‘It was my birthday present. Today’s the first day I’ve tried it.’ Maddie didn’t push him for any more detail; she could sense it coming. ‘From both my daughters.’
HE WILL FIND YOU an absolutely gripping crime thriller with a massive twist Page 14
