Death in July (5 page)

'Richie, can you pull up a witness statement for me?'

'Who for?'

'The neighbour. The one who found Geoffrey and rang the police.'

Sam heard his old friend type away on the keyboard. There was a pause as Richie waited for the information to appear.

'Ah, here it is. John Carr. Next-door neighbour.'

John Carr? Sam was jolted by the name. The mild-mannered neighbour was certainly getting about. First, storming out of his house to confront a bunch of rowdy kids. Then, rushing downstairs to investigate noises in the night. Now, it appears he was the person who had discovered Geoffrey Compton's lifeless body.

'What's in the statement?'

Sam waited as the line went silent. He realised Richie was reading through it himself first. Sam smiled at his old buddy. A born detective.

Richie read the statement out. There wasn't much Sam didn't already know. John had knocked on Geoffrey's door just after seven that evening to check on him. He knew his neighbour wasn't going out to the club that night, hence his concern when he got no answer. He rang the police from his mobile immediately after spotting Geoffrey through the window. Then he waited by the front door until they arrived.

'What do you think?' asked Richie.

'Well, it all sounds plausible,' said Sam, rubbing his chin. 'Has John Carr ever been in trouble with the police?'

'Hold on. I'll have a look.'

Richie sounded surprised by the question.

'Nothing,' he told Sam seconds later. 'Our man is a model citizen.'

Something was bothering Sam. Why didn't John Carr have a key to Geoffrey's cottage? He lived next door. He called round regularly on his elderly neighbour. Surely it would have made sense to allow him access to the cottage in an emergency?

***

Sam got out and slammed the car door shut. He wanted to catch Moira before he went up to his flat.

'Sam!'

Alice was coming out of the flower shop, precariously balancing a box of flowers in her arms. She had her hair tied back and an apron over her jeans. Gingerly, she placed the box down on the floor and smiled at Sam. He locked up his Capri and sauntered over to her.

'How are you feeling now?' he asked. The bump on her face was already receding. However, a myriad of dark colours had come out around her eye.

'It's a bit tender to touch,' she told him, scrunching up her nose, 'but I'm okay. Just remind me never to go in that pub again.'

They both laughed.

'So, you're working for Moira today?'

Alice coloured a touch.

'I hope you don't mind,' she said. 'It's just that if I'm going to stay a few days, I'd like to help out, and she said you're likely to be busy this week.'

Sam looked into the shop. Moira gave him a hearty wave. He smiled back.

'I haven't caused any trouble, have I?' asked Alice, looking concerned.

Sam shook his head, smiling.

'No, Moira's right. I am going to be tied up this week. She'll need some help, so this suits everyone.'

'Good!' beamed Alice, giving a little clap of delight. 'I'm only here for a week, anyway.'

She bent down and picked the box up with care.

'Can you manage?' asked Sam.

Alice used her free hand to press the van's key fob. A sharp bleep sounded down the road.

'You can open the back door for me, if you don't mind.'

They started walking.

'How long have you been driving vans?' asked Sam.

Alice glanced quickly behind her. Then she put a finger to her lips.

'I've never driven one,' she whispered. 'But don't tell Aunt Moira that.'

Sam threw back his head and laughed.

'Anyway, driving a van that size can't be difficult,' protested Alice. 'It's not much bigger than my last car.'

'It probably isn't,' said Sam, 'but I presume you could see through the back window of your car. How are you with wing mirrors?'

Alice stopped as they reached the van. She looked at the blacked out windows and pulled a face.

They both laughed.

Sam settled down in the armchair and made himself comfortable. He left the light off, curtains open and faced down the road. The prospect of a long night sat in Geoffrey's front room didn't faze him. He thrived on the anticipation.

The danger.

The unexpected.

Sam heard voices passing Geoffrey's cottage. He peered out the front window and saw a young couple walk by hand in hand. Darkness was falling on Eastern Green Road. Sam had parked thirty yards away, strolling nonchalantly to the cottage before letting himself in. He saw it as the better option, copying Benjamin's key and waiting in here rather than advertising his presence by sitting outside in the car.

Footsteps approached at speed. Sam could hear heavy breathing. A man in a training top and jogging bottoms ran past. Sam settled back in the chair. He had a perfect view of the front of the property. He was confident no-one could vault the fence into the back garden without him noticing. He considered who he might be waiting for, if anyone at all. A random burglar wouldn't be returning, not after being scared off last night, but someone with a particular interest in Geoffrey or his cottage may want to pay another visit.

A middle-aged man stopped suddenly outside the cottage and stared at the front door. Sam perked up. Then the man called out and a small dog ran up to him. The two of them continued on their way. Sam checked his silenced phone. Nothing. He had purposely kept this vigil quiet from Benjamin to avoid being bombarded with requests for updates all night. Anyway, until Sam knew exactly what was going on, the less people who knew the better.

Sam heard a commotion. A group was approaching, youngsters talking excitedly. They halted outside. Sam could make out half a dozen youths in the dark, sitting just yards away on the front wall. Sam was philosophical about it. Kids. A burglar. Something more sinister. It all had to be ruled out. Or dealt with.

For half an hour, Sam listened to the small crowd chatting amongst each other. Gradually, their behaviour began to change. Sam couldn't tell if they were drinking, but the language started getting stronger and their voices louder. Suddenly, a stone ricocheted off the window. Sam heard laughter.

'Come out, old man!'

More laughter. The shout told Sam one thing. Those kids didn't know Geoffrey had passed away. He supposed anyone looking through the window would presume the house was still inhabited. Benjamin had only removed the smaller items. All the furniture was still here.

A strange sensation swept over Sam. Sat here in Geoffrey's chair, playing out the dead man's nightly ritual. Sam imagined himself forty years older, cooped up in here. Listening to that din outside. Wondering if his window or door was about to go in.

Would he be fearful in that situation? He thought he might.

The volume outside increased another notch. Sam watched the kids jump to their feet, whooping and hollering at something further up the road. Suddenly, the whole group turned on their heels and ran off. Seconds later, another group of youths ran past the cottage, screaming and shouting. Sam turned in his chair and watched the two sets of kids disappear down the road. As silence returned, he nestled back in the chair and smiled. Rival gangs. He recalled his own wayward youth, and how his entry into the police force had curbed his recklessness.

To a point.

A sudden noise caught Sam's attention, coming from the rear of the cottage. The sound of someone having a go at the kitchen window. Sam got up and crept into the hallway. He heard the noise again. The window frame was being worked on. Sam cussed softly. Distracted by the commotion outside, he had lost focus for mere seconds and missed someone going over the fence. Still, all was not lost. He still had the element of surprise.

But not for much longer.

Sam heard the window pop open. The intruder was in. Sam edged further down the hallway and sneaked into the back room just as someone climbed in through the window. He purposely left the door to the back room open and hid behind it.

Then he waited.

Slow, steady footsteps left the kitchen and proceeded up the hallway. Something clicked on. Sam peeked through the gap in the door and saw a beam of light dance around the walls of the hallway. The intruder drew level with the back room and stopped. Sam held his breath. Suddenly, the torch light appeared on the far wall opposite him. This was it. Sam pressed his back into the wall and placed his palm lightly against the door.

He got ready to pounce.

Then, to his dismay, he heard a key being placed in the front door. The intruder drew a sharp intake of breath and switched off his torch. The key turned and the front door opened.

Then all hell broke loose.

The intruder made a dash for the front door. Sam heard a startled cry.

'What the-'

Benjamin!

Sam couldn't believe the timing of it. As he came out from behind the door, he heard the sound of a struggle taking place, then someone taking a blow and slumping to the floor. In the hallway, Sam found Benjamin on his knees, doubled over, clutching his stomach.

Benjamin looked up at Sam, startled.

'Sam?' he croaked, confusion on his face. 'What are you-'

'Are you okay?' asked Sam.

Benjamin nodded, despite his pain.

'He punched me in-'

'Take deep breaths, Benjamin,' said Sam, giving him a pat on the shoulder before moving past him. 'Deep breaths.'

'Where are you going?' Benjamin whined.

Sam ignored him and peered up the road. A tall, muscular man, dressed all in black, wearing a hat and gloves, was walking off casually.

'Benjamin!' Sam whispered urgently. 'What did he look like?'

'Uh?'

Sam popped his head back in the doorway. Benjamin was struggling to his feet.

'The bloke who hit you. What did he look like?'

'Er, big...dark clothes...a hat-'

That was good enough for Sam. He set off in the man's wake, falling into the same easy stride as his quarry. Sam didn't want to alert him. He was a good twenty yards behind and wouldn't necessarily back himself to catch the man if it came down to a foot race. He found himself intrigued by the person he was tracking. The stranger hadn't looked around once, content to saunter along with the calm air of a man taking a leisurely evening stroll. That showed nerve and discipline.

Sam had just passed his own car when he noticed the man slow down, coming to a halt, withdrawing something out of his pocket. Sam feared the worst until he saw a set of keys in the man's hand. He stopped and watched as the man unlocked the door of a parked car. A small hatchback. Sam started back-pedalling towards his own vehicle. The hatchback pulled out and eased away up the road.

Sam got out his own keys, pointed them at his black Capri and cursed his rotten luck tonight. The car was facing the wrong way. He got in, did a rapid three point turn and started after the hatchback. By the time he got to the first junction, the car was nowhere in sight. Sam blew out his cheeks. What a farce.

However, the night had not been an entire waste of time.

***

Back at the cottage, Benjamin bombarded him with a stream of questions.

'Who the hell was that?'

'I don't know, Benjamin. I was just about to find out when you turned up and scared him off.'

'What were you doing here?'

'What do you think I was doing here? I was waiting for our mystery prowler so I could find out what his game is...which I would have done if you hadn't-'

'Okay, Sam. Point taken. How did you get in to the cottage?'

'I picked my way in,' lied Sam with a shrug. He didn't think Benjamin would be too thrilled at the truth. 'You did say to do whatever was needed.'

'Why didn't you tell me what you were doing?'

'Because I do things my own way, Benjamin,' sighed Sam. 'By myself. It's the way I get results.'

Benjamin narrowed his eyes at Sam.

'What about tonight? Did you get a result?'

Sam shook his head.

'He got away.'

Benjamin looked crestfallen. Sam smiled at him.

'But I did get his number plate.'

Sam gave Richie a call the next morning and got a name and address for the licence plate holder. A Mrs Geraldine McGoldrick, living just thirty miles up the coast in a small town called Grisstoke. Sam peered out his office window. A clear blue sky. A good day for a trip out.

He bumped onto Moira on his way out the flat.

'How's the crime-busting going, Sam?'

Sam thought back to last night's events and how close he had been to making progress.

'So-so,' he replied. 'I'm off out on a lead this morning.'

'Oh, yeah? Anything exciting?'

Sam shook his head.

'Er, no. Dull as dishwater. I'm making some enquiries, that's all.'

'Any danger involved?'

Sam frowned at this sudden interest.

'No, Moira. It's just surveillance. Anyway, how's your new employee doing?'

'You can ask her yourself,' smiled Moira. 'Here she comes.'

Alice came out of the shop with a watering can in her hand and a pre-occupied look on her face. To the amusement of Sam and Moira, she walked past them both without a word and began watering the flowers outside the shop.

'Morning, Alice,' said Sam cheerfully. 'Are you alright?'

Alice looked at him and gave him a weak smile.

'Sorry, Sam. I didn't notice you there. Miles away.'

Moira gave Sam a nudge in the ribs.

'The poor girl's having a hard time,' she told him. 'She could do with something to take her mind off things for a few hours. A nice drive in the company of a proper gentleman, for instance.'

Alice gave her aunt a confused look. Sam shook his head at her.

'No way, Moira. I'm not taking-'

'Ah, come on, Sam. You said yourself your trip was going to be dull.'

Sam sighed.

***

They were only halfway to Grisstoke, and Sam was already regretting letting Moira persuade him to take her niece along. Alice hadn't spoken two words since they set off.

'What's on your mind, Alice?'

No answer. He looked across at his passenger. She was staring straight out front, wearing a pair of sunglasses, a white tee-shirt and faded jean shorts. Sam himself had on a light cotton shirt and long shorts. Summer attire was a must today. The air was muggy and humid, the brilliant sunshine dazzling everything in its path. Sam pulled the visor down on his windscreen.

'Alice?'

With the sunglasses on, Sam wasn't sure if Alice was napping, distracted or just plain ignoring him. Then she removed the glasses and wiped tears from beneath her eye. She placed the glasses back on her nose.

'I'm not much company today, am I?' she sniffed.

'Well, if you want to talk about it...'

Alice clearly did want to talk about it, and once she opened up there was no stopping her. She told Sam how her husband had cheated on her a year ago. Hurt and betrayed, she kicked him out and filed for divorce. Now the decree nisi was almost through, and she was looking to a new future, he was pestering her to take him back. Pleading for forgiveness. Insisting his fling had been a big mistake. Hence her impromptu appearance in Newgate. She had tired of the drunken phone calls and late-night appearances at her front door. His pleas were getting increasingly desperate and aggressive. He was scaring her. So much so, she filled an overnight bag, jumped on a train and headed somewhere he wouldn't find her. One hundred miles away, to a seaside town at the other end of the country.

Only, somehow, he had tracked her down.

'He sent me a text message last night,' she explained to Sam. 'He's given up ringing because I don't answer the phone to him any more.'

'And?'

'He knows I'm in Newgate.'

'How did he find that out?'

Alice took her glasses off once more and rubbed her eyes.

'I don't know. I didn't tell anyone I was coming here. I just said I was going away for a few days.'

'Does he know Moira lives here?'

Alice shook her head.

'I've never mentioned her to him, but if he's managed to find out which part of the country I'm in...'

Sam got the message. It was his turn to go quiet now. They were nearing Grisstoke, and his thoughts were split between Alice's predicament and the upcoming task at hand. He told himself to concentrate on the job. He could think about Alice later.

Sam found the property he was looking for with ease. A quaint little bungalow. Not a promising start. Parking down the road from it, he explained to Alice how it was now a waiting game.

'Don't you ever get bored?' she asked.

Sam shrugged, telling her he had never thought about it. He had worked as an undercover cop for years, sitting in cars for hours on end, observing people and properties just as he was doing now. It had become the norm to him. Patience was the key, and Sam Carlisle had all the time in the world.

'Strange man,' smiled Alice. 'Spying on people for a living.'

'Look who's talking,' replied Sam, laughing. 'What are you doing right now?'

She went to protest, but gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder instead. Sam was glad to see her distracted from her problems, even fleetingly. He would have a word with Moira later.

Suddenly, the garage door to the bungalow began to rise up. Sam noticed Alice bite her nails in anticipation next to him. A people carrier rolled out the garage, nosing its way onto the drive before coming to rest by the kerbside. A slim, middle-aged man got out, locked the garage doors, then went back in the bungalow. Sam couldn't see the number plate from where he was, but this wasn't looking good.

His worst fears were confirmed when the man re-appeared moments later, pushing a woman in a wheelchair out the bungalow and down the path. Sam looked at the photo Richie had sent through. That was her. Geraldine McGoldrick. He watched as she was loaded into the specially modified people carrier. Moments later, her male companion got in and drove the vehicle past Sam's Capri.

It had the same registration number as the hatchback last night.

The intruder had been driving on false plates.

***

'Any luck?'

Sam shook his head.

'What now?' asked Benjamin.

'Well, we're not quite back to square one, but we are stuck again.'

Benjamin's face dropped. The two men were in his deceptively spacious bungalow. It was the first time Sam had been inside the property. Benjamin's taste in home furnishing was minimal and refined, an apt description for the man himself.

'Anyway, where's your brother?'

Benjamin frowned.

'He's gone out. He didn't say where he was going, and he's not answering my calls.'

'Are you two getting on any better? Was he interested in the-'

'The photos?' said Benjamin, giving Sam a scornful look. 'No, he wouldn't even look at them. He said he hopes I find piece of mind over our father...whatever that means...but he is not interested himself.'

'Perhaps you'll just have to accept that,' suggested Sam. 'At least he's made the effort to come down here for the funeral.'

Benjamin nodded reluctantly.

'That reminds me,' he said. 'I would like to invite you to the funeral, Sam. It's beginning to feel as though you almost knew my father.'

Sam thought about the last few days and how much of Geoffrey's life he had experienced during that short time. Meeting his sons. Spending time in his home. Talking to his friends and neighbours. Sitting his armchair, for God's sake. There was something else, something he wouldn't admit out loud. Sam was actually growing to like Benjamin, despite the older man's quirky stiffness and serious manner. He couldn't explain why. Perhaps it was the combination of naive optimism and loyal defiance Benjamin was displaying following his father's death. A resilient desire for justice. Whatever, Sam admired him for it.

'I'd be happy to come along to the funeral, Benjamin.'

Benjamin was delighted. He had another request. Would Sam accompany him to the Ex-Servicemen's Club to discuss the final arrangements for the wake? The funeral was only two days away, and Arnold had promised to go with him, but now he had disappeared...

Sam nodded and agreed he would. Benjamin was oblivious to the reply, chuntering on nervously about his father's final request. A last hurrah in the place he knew so well, surrounded by his friends.

'Benjamin...'

Silence, at last. Benjamin gazed at Sam, managing to look quizzical, embarrassed and defiant all at the same time.

'I said I'll go, so let's get off before you talk me out of it.'

***

The club was no busier than on Sam's previous visit, although it wasn't the patrons Benjamin wanted to discuss matters with, it was the committee. Sam left him to talk over the ins and outs of Geoffrey’s wake in a side room with three of its members.

'Whisky?' asked the barman.

Sam nodded and settled on a stool. He was already finding the barman, Dave, more agreeable than last time. He supposed it was only natural for him to have been wary of Sam. A stranger turning up unannounced in a place like this. Sam looked around the room. He saw no sign of Harry.

'Your mate's not in yet,' said Dave. 'He'll be in sometime tonight.'

Sam recalled Harry's anguish at Geoffrey's passing.

'If I'd known he was going to get upset like that when I talked to him...'

Dave popped the whisky down on the bar and gave Sam an earnest look.

'It was a shock to us all, Geoffrey's passing. Not him dying...he was a certain age, after all. No, it was the way he went.'

Sam watched Dave shudder a touch.

'People keep mentioning that,' said Sam, careful with his words.

'Well, it's true,' insisted Dave. 'I mean, look at the way he refused to let that attack get him down last year. Many his age would have been terrified to set foot outside their front door again after something like that, especially after being set upon by a bloke that size...'

'I thought the police had no idea who did it?'

Dave started polishing the bar with one huge forearm.

'They don't,' he said. 'I only got a quick look at him in the dark. It wasn't enough-'

'You were the one who stopped the attack?' asked Sam.

'Yeah,' said Dave, rubbing at a particular stain with all his might. 'Geoffrey was the last one to leave here that night. As soon as his taxi picked him up, I set about cleaning up...'

Dave looked up and gave Sam a sheepish smile.

'...then I decided I couldn't be bothered, and it could wait until I was back in the next day. So, I closed up and left myself. As I got near Geoffrey's place, I saw his taxi drive off. I slowed down to make sure he had got in alright. He was opening his door as I went past...'

Dave hesitated a moment. He gave Sam a troubled look.

'A man was walking up his path. I remember thinking something wasn't right. It was too late for Geoffrey to be having visitors. Then I saw the man push Geoffrey over. I stopped, got out and started shouting. The man ran off, so I checked on Geoffrey. He was out cold. I stayed with him until the ambulance arrived. I wanted to go chasing after the bloke, I was that angry. I didn't care how big he was...'

Dave resumed his cleaning of the bar, attacking the wood with renewed vigour.

'A big guy, was he?' asked Sam. He thought about last night. Surely not?

'Yeah, didn't see his face...tall...lots of muscle...black clothes and a hat...'