by A L Fraine
“He’s close to the Woods’ house,” Jon said.
“Very,” Kate agreed, following his gaze. “Just a short walk.
“Hmm,” Jon replied and took the lead. Walking up to the front door of the house, he rang the bell. Evan answered a short time later.
“Oh, Detectives,” he said, obviously a little surprised.
“Well remembered,” Jon said, unable to stop a little sarcasm slipping out. “I’m DCI Pilgrim, and this is Detective O’Connell.”
“Okay. Do you want to come in?”
“If that’s okay, we just want to talk.”
“Yeah, fuck it, whatever.”
Evan led them into the front room, an open-plan affair that went right through the house to the back, creating a lounge/diner. The furniture was sparse and functional. The only cluttered space was a dresser, covered in photos of people in camouflage, a beret, and several display frames with medals in them. It was impressive, he thought, as he caught Evan watching him. Jon took a seat beside Kate.
“This is about the house, right?” Evan asked from where he sat on the sofa. “I heard they found bodies in there?”
“It is.”
“Am I a suspect?”
“You’re just someone we need to speak to,” Jon answered.
“Right,” he replied, unimpressed. “Well go on then, shoot.”
“It was your home, wasn’t it?”
“That’s right. Once,” he replied, looking down and balling his fists. This seemed to be an emotional subject for him.
“And you want it to be again?” Jon asked.
Even let out a long breath. “Honestly, I don’t know. Not now. I mean, I did, yeah. After mum died, I… I think it was the only connection I had to them.”
“You went away, though, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. I needed to. I couldn’t stay there. I…” Evan took another long, steadying breath as Jon noticed his hands shaking. He balled his fists several times over. “I’ve spoken about this a lot with my shrink. I’m sorry but, it seems that I have some anger issues. I’m working through them, and I take medication but, I struggle with it.”
“I understand,” Jon replied. “Take your time.”
“Thanks,” he replied with a sigh. He attempted to calm himself, but Jon could see the anger beneath the surface, bubbling away, waiting to burst forth. “I went away, yes. I joined the army and travelled around. I was good at it. But when I heard that mum had died, I knew I had to come back. I needed to reconnect or something. I’m not sure I should ever have left in the first place and left my mum alone like that.”
“And then you come back and find that your brother is renting the house out.”
Evan stood up suddenly and kicked the small wooden coffee table, knocking it over.
Evan stalked to the nearby front window and put his head in his hands. “Sorry,” he said, turning back to them. “But, he shouldn’t have done that. I can’t believe he did it. I hated… I found it difficult to deal with that he’d started renting it. It was our house, our mother’s. We shouldn’t be renting it out to any old shithead.”
“I take it you’re angry with Duncan for this?”
“Um yeah. I guess you could… Yeah, I have some issues there. That’s what my shrink says, anyway—some unresolved issues. I need to deal with them, but then this happens. How am I supposed to get over this when this shit happens? Huh? How? Tell me that. Tell me how I’m supposed to deal with his fucking shit when bodies are found in my fucking mother's house?” He was shouting at them by the time he stopped.
“Calm down, Mr Reid,” Jon said, raising his hands. He looked like he was about to break something or put his hand through a wall.
Evan took a deep breath. “I know, I’m sorry. I just get so angry.”
“I understand. We don’t have to do this now if you don’t want.”
“No, please. You need to ask your questions. Please, go on.”
“Alright. Well, I can see you’re upset with Duncan.”
“Pissed fucking off, more like it.”
Jon gave Evan a look.
“Sorry,” Evan said.
“That’s okay. Why are you upset at him?”
“It’s the disrespect. Duncan doesn’t care about the house, clearly. How could he if he rents it out and then sells it? It should have stayed in the family, it should have gone to me, and then maybe none of this shit would have happened.”
“I see. But it didn’t, did it? It got sold to the Woods family.”
“Pompous, stuck up snobs. They think their shit don’t stink. Well, I’ve got news for them, it does. Look at the fucking mess they’re in now.”
“You couldn’t afford it, could you?”
“No,” Evan confirmed. “It’s all just money, money, money, these days isn’t it? Duncan should have sold it to me. I’m supposed to be his brother, after all. I would have looked after it, kept it nice for mum. Instead, the Woods just want to butcher it, destroy it and turn it into something else. Well, look where that got them.”
“Are you saying they deserved it?” Kate asked.
“I’m saying they shouldn’t have gone changing things. That’s our legacy, my mother’s legacy, and they’ve defiled it.”
“Okay, so do you know where the bodies came from? We found several in the walls of the house. The wall between the kitchen and the backroom, specifically.”
Evan shrugged. “How should I know? I’ve got no idea how they ended up there.”
“No idea at all?”
“Nope.”
“Do you think it might have been your brother or his tenant? Or someone else?”
“Yeah, maybe. They’d fucking deserve it if it was, anyway. Serves them right. Fuck ‘em.”
“I see,” Jon said, shocked by what Evan was telling them.
Later, in the car, Jon looked over at Kate. “He’s a man on the edge.”
“For a moment there, I thought he was going to attack us,” Kate said. “He’s got some serious anger issues.”
“You’re not kidding.”
15
Jon wandered across the forecourt and into the main entrance of Miller Bodyworks, with Kate beside him. Men worked on cars all around them. Several looked up at the visitors.
Jon scanned the workshop, looking for Brent, but couldn’t see him right away.
“Jon,” Kate said.
He looked over, and Kate was pointing through a nearby window into a side office, where Brent sat at a desk on the phone, apparently oblivious to their entry.
“There you are,” Jon muttered and set off towards the door. As they closed in, a man stepped in front of them, his hands up.
“Whoa, hold on there. Where do you think you’re going?”
Jon frowned, making sure to look suitably confused. “In there,” he said, pointing to the office behind him.
“You can’t go in there.”
“Why not?”
The man squared up to him, his expression hardening. “Because I said so, dick head.”
Jon was about to reach for his warrant card when Kate shoved hers in his face.
“Oi, dick head,” she barked. “Move it, or you get a free trip to the station.”
“Oh, sorry,” the man said and backed up.
“What’s the matter?” Jon asked. “It’s a lovely station. The cells are especially nice. Don’t you want to see?”
“No, no. You’re good,” the man said, looking cautious. He hustled over to the office and poked his head inside. As Jon approached, he heard him speak to Brent. “Boss, the pigs are here, what do you want to do?”
Brent glanced through the window at them. He spoke into the phone and ended the call before speaking to the mechanic, his words lost in the noise of the garage. The man turned to Jon and Kate and opened the office door wider. “In you go,” the mechanic said, watching them closely.
Jon nodded to him with a smug smile. As he walked through, he patted the man on the shoulder. “You did the right thing
.” Followed by Kate, who thanked him sweetly.
“Detectives,” Brent said brightly, holding his hands wide. He remained seated, though. “And who do I have the pleasure of meeting today?”
“I’m DCI Pilgrim, this is DS O’Connell.”
“Pilgrim and O’Connell. Right you are. What can I do for you this fine day? I don’t believe I’ve done anything to cause such a visit.”
“Nope,” Jon replied. “You haven’t.”
“Oh good, that’s what I like to hear. Please then, take a seat. I must say, you’ve taken me by surprise. I usually know if I’m going to get a visit from the local plods.”
“I’m pleased to surprise you,” Jon replied.
“I’m not,” he said, a note of threat in his voice. After a moment’s pause, he carried on in a lighter tone. “So, what can I do for Surrey’s finest?”
“We were wondering if you might be able to tell us where a friend of yours is,” Jon asked.
“A friend of mine? Well, that depends on the friend, but I’ll certainly try,” he replied, putting some mock effort into his voice.
Jon frowned at his blatant disrespect for the law, and them specifically. He was a Miller, after all, and one of the younger ones. He didn’t look old enough to run a business like this, and that annoyed Jon. He was born into a life of privilege and crime, and likely as not, walked into this job without any worries at all. That felt wrong, but it was just the way things were.
Turning from the desk, Jon looked through the window into the workshop. Several of the men had stopped working and were standing in small groups, talking and glancing furtively at him and Kate. They were no doubt worried about their boss.
Jon grimaced and wondered how many of them had criminal records and were aware of what the Millers did? Several of them most likely.
“Nice place you have here,” Jon said.
“Thanks. It does alright.”
“Family business, is it?”
“Something like that,” Brent replied. “Can I get you a drink, officers? Tea, coffee? Something stronger maybe? Rum? Brandy?”
“No thanks, Mr Miller,” Kate replied, all business.
“As the lady says,” Jon added.
“Well, I’m having one.” Brent walked to a nearby drinks cabinet and poured himself a generous helping of what looked like whisky. “Are you sure I can’t tempt you?”
“Not while I’m working,” Jon answered.
“That’s dedication to the job. I’m impressed.”
“Really?” Jon replied, turning back to him. “That impressed you? Wow, you have low standards.”
Brent’s expression grew dark. “What can I do for you?”
“How’s Dillon these days?” Jon asked. “And Irving? Are they well?”
“They’re alright.”
“Have you seen Dillon recently?”
Brent shrugged.
“What about Corey Grant?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know if you’ve seen Dillon and Corey recently? Well, I think you might need to go to the doctor. Looks like you’ve got a memory issue going on there. That’s really not good in a man as young as you are. I think you should get that checked out.”
“Yeah, that’s really bad,” Kate agreed. “Might be early onset Alzheimer’s or something.”
“I had a relative who had that,” Jon continued. “Ended up not knowing what day of the week it was. It was all very sad. Sorry mate, the outlook doesn’t look good.”
“I ain’t seen Corey in ages, alright?” Brent snapped. “I’ve got no idea where he is. Is that what you want to know?”
“You’ve not seen him in ages?”
“No.”
“Ages? Is that a technical term I’m not aware of, Kate? Is that like weeks or months?”
“I don’t know,” Brent said, before Kate could reply. “Months maybe?”
“Months. Alright, that’s helpful. Do you have a contact number for him or anything?”
“Nope,” Brent replied.
“You’re sure?”
“Quite sure.”
“So, you’re admitting that you know Corey, then. You worked with him, right?”
“I didn’t say that,” Brent answered, as he flushed, looking a little panicked. “I just said I’ve not seen him in a while. I don’t really know him, not well, anyway. He’s just a friend of a friend.”
“Just a friend, I see. So you’ve not worked with him at all?”
“How? On what? Here, in the garage?”
“I don’t know, maybe.”
“I have no idea what you’re going on about. You know what?” Brent asked. “I feel a phone call to Irving coming on. I think we should have a chat. He’s quite friendly with some of the top brass in the Surrey police, you know.”
Jon narrowed his eyes and leaned in. “You do that. See if I care.”
“I think you might care, Mr Detective man.”
“Wow, these insults are intense,” Jon said. “I might not sleep tonight.”
“I nearly wet myself with that last one,” Kate agreed.
“Yeah, it gave me the willies.”
“Have you got what you came here for, Pilgrim?”
“I think so,” Jon replied as his phone buzzed once in his pocket. He pulled it out and checked the notification. It was from Nathan, who had apparently just got out of a meeting with Dillon Harris.
“Good day then, officers,” Brent said, standing up. “We’ve got work to do, and I can’t sit around talking to you all day.”
“Quite,” Jon said. “We’ll be in touch if we need to speak to you again.”
“Can’t wait,” Brent answered as he showed them out.
Jon and Kate were soon back at the car, where Jon pulled out his phone and started tapping. “Nathan messaged. I’ll just give him a quick call.”
Kate nodded as the call went through, and Nathan answered.
“Guv,” Nathan said.
“How’d it go with Dillon?”
“How do you think? He was singularly unhelpful. About the only thing he did tell me was that he hasn’t seen Corey in a while.”
“Yeah, same for us,” Jon replied. “He might be lying and just deflecting, but I can’t say for sure.”
“No, me neither. Okay, I’ll see you back at the office.”
“Will do,” Jon said, and ended the call.
“He got nothing too?”
“Aye. Bugger all.”
“Not very surprising, though, is it?”
“Not really,” Jon agreed. “Right, what’s next?”
16
“Mrs Polly Elliot, is it?” Jon asked the woman who answered the door.
She was short and a little stocky, wearing a business skirt and blouse with her hair tied up. He thought it was slightly odd clothing to wear around the house, but didn’t think anything more of it. “Yes, how can I help you?”
Jon raised his warrant card. “I’m Detective Jon Pilgrim, Ma’am, and this is DS Kate O’Connell. We were wondering if we might speak to you regarding a case we’re looking into.”
“A case? What case? Should I be worried?”
“Hopefully not, Mrs Elliot, and you’re not in any trouble. But you might know some useful information. Can we come in?”
“Sorry, yes, of course. Come in, please,” she said and let them into the modest house on the outskirts of Redhill. Everything was well looked after in the garden outside, and the inside was equally clean and orderly. “Come through to, um… Let’s go to the kitchen, I suppose. Can I get either of you a drink? I’ve just brewed up some tea.”
“That would be lovely, thanks,” Jon said as they followed her through to the kitchen at the back of the house, where she poured out two mugs and offered them milk and sugar.
“Are you sure you don’t want to speak to my husband?”
“I don’t know, maybe. Who deals with the houses you rent out?”
“Oh, that’s me,” she said. “My husband’s a
dentist. He doesn’t have much to do with the houses. They’re my thing. They keep me out of trouble. I work from home, mostly, with the occasional trip out.”
“Very good,” Jon replied, supposing that explained her mode of dress.
“So, how can I help you?” she asked, finally joining them at the table with her own mug.
“We’d like to ask you about one of your tenants, a Mr Reid. Duncan Reid.”
“Oh, yes. He’s not a tenant anymore, though. More’s the pity.”
“We understand he stopped renting from you a few weeks ago, right?”
“That’s right, yes. We were sorry to see him go, actually.”
“Why’s that?” Kate asked.
“Because he was a good tenant. Always paid on time, looked after the place, and he was just a nice man. Unlike the man who came after him. Ugh, he just skipped out on me, disappeared. Left the place in a right mess.”
“Duncan Reid rented from you for about ten, eleven months, right?” Jon said, wanting to keep on track and not get derailed by talking about another tenant.
“That’s right.”
“Did you know he already owned a house?” Jon asked.
“Yes. I did. He told me that he wanted somewhere closer to Redhill that he could use after a night out here. I mean, I thought it was a little curious, but I know other landlords who’ve had similar tenants who have houses and rent out small flats or terrace houses for them to use close to work and such. It was none of my business, though, really. He paid me, looked after it, and was only there occasionally. I have his actual address if you need it.”
“No, no. We have it, thanks,” Jon replied.
“Oh, okay.”
“And what was your impression of Duncan?”
“I, err, I don’t know. He seemed nice enough. He was a tenant, not a friend. I didn’t really spend much time with him, but he seemed pleasant enough, though. Why, is he not?”
“He’s linked to a case we’re looking into, and I was just looking for a character assessment from you, really, to see what you thought of him.”
