Authors: Kerry Wilkinson
‘What else can you tell me about Harley?’
‘What do you want to know?’
Jessica raised her eyebrows, speaking firmly. ‘That’s what I just asked you.’
For a moment, the man didn’t reply, chewing on his bottom lip. ‘He’s not around much. I think he’s got a job that takes him around the country. A lot of the time it was
just his daughter in the house.’
Jessica wasn’t hearing anything she wasn’t already aware of but didn’t want another rant about kids.
The man suggested they should leave an officer stationed at the end of his driveway just in case the perpetrator – or ‘perpetrators’, as he emphasised – should return.
His gravelly voice made it sound as if he endlessly smoked either cigarettes or cigars and his attitude was pushing her buttons.
Jessica told him to call the police if he had any further concerns and then left the house when, for one of the few times in her life, she was pleased to see it raining. It was the drizzly
nothing-type mist that was barely noticeable when out in it. If you got wet in the morning, however, you spent the rest of the day trying to dry out. There were still small scraps of burned black
material being blown across to them and the raindrops almost seemed to taste of the blaze.
‘Shite,’ Rowlands said as they made their way down the driveway.
‘Stop moaning,’ Jessica replied, pulling the jacket’s hood over her head.
Dave was wearing only his suit. He tried to yank the jacket over his head but it was a little too tight and he struggled to loosen it around his arms to enable him to lift it up.
Jessica laughed. ‘Covering your hair isn’t going to stop it going grey.’
Rowlands finally contorted his arm enough to free the jacket and he raised it over himself. ‘I keep telling you I’m not going grey,’ he said defensively.
‘Maybe you’re right . . . it might be white, I suppose.’
‘Sod off, is it.’
As they reached the main road, Jessica could see at least three more police cars had arrived. Their blue lights were silently spinning as if to remind people that, if the fire engines and flames
weren’t enough of an indication, there had been a blaze.
They began walking along the adjacent driveway but it was clear the fire was either out or close to it. Only one of the hoses still appeared to be in use and most of the fire officers who had
been tackling the blaze were now leaning against the side of one of the large vehicles sheltering from the rain and ash-like debris which was drifting on the breeze.
Jessica heard the car approaching before she saw it. She turned to see a large grey vehicle screech on to the driveway and accelerate past them before squealing to a stop close to the fire
engines and police cars. She saw the various officers jump to attention almost as one and, without knowing what he looked like, Jessica had no doubts the man who got out of the car was Harley
Todd.
Jessica quickened her pace with Rowlands by her side, as Harley ignored the officers who were trying to talk to him. Jessica didn’t realise how tall he was until she got closer to him. He
was definitely over six feet tall and, even from the back, she could see he was in pretty good shape. His suit appeared to be custom-fitted, tightly hugging his waist. She would have guessed it
cost a lot of money but Harley didn’t seem to care. He stood in the rain staring at the property, watching a thin plume of smoke rise into the air.
As they saw her approach, the other officers parted, almost as if Jessica was the welcoming committee. She suspected the truth was that none of them wanted to speak first.
‘Mr Todd?’ Jessica asked quietly but the man didn’t flinch. She circled around his car, pushing the driver’s door closed, and continued until she was standing in front of
him slightly off to one side. She could see the raindrops dribbling down Harley’s face, his eyes wide in disbelief. ‘Mr Todd?’ Jessica asked again.
The man mumbled a ‘yes’ without moving his eyes from the house.
‘I’m Detective Sergeant Daniel. Would you like to come and sit with me somewhere dry?’ Jessica spoke gently, placing an arm on his shoulder and finally drawing the man’s
eyes towards her.
‘I . . . I don’t know what to do,’ he stammered.
Jessica gripped his upper arm and motioned for him to turn around. Slowly, he followed as she led him towards the back of a police van. Rowlands had stopped trying to protect his hair with his
jacket and he walked quickly ahead of them, opening the rear doors and holding them for Jessica and Harley to step inside. Most of the vans in the police fleet were used to transport prisoners but
this one had seats that ran lengthways and was used to take officers to wherever they were needed at speed.
A line of small white spot lamps were fitted to the ceiling and Rowlands walked around to the front of the vehicle to turn them on as Harley sat on one side with Jessica opposite. She leant
against the inside of the van, thinking of how long it seemed since she had been in the rear of a van with Martin Chadwick. Harley hunched forward, using one hand to support his head. Rowlands
joined them shortly after, sitting next to Jessica. She could feel the dampness of his suit on the back of her hand as he brushed against her.
‘I’m sure I didn’t leave anything on . . .’ Harley said, tailing off.
Jessica didn’t know for sure whether it had been started deliberately but it seemed too much of a coincidence for it to be accidental. ‘We have people who will look into what started
it,’ she replied.
‘I just . . . my daughter . . . and now . . .’ Harley stared at Jessica but she didn’t think he was really looking at her. His hair, which appeared to have been heavily
backcombed at some point, was now flat and damp.
‘Get a blanket,’ Jessica told Rowlands quietly. She knew there would be one somewhere on one of the fire engines.
As he climbed out of the vehicle, Jessica leant over to touch Harley’s hand. ‘I have to ask this,’ she said delicately. ‘Do you know someone who might have a grudge
against you?’
His eyes drifted into focus and Jessica could tell he was now looking at her properly. ‘Like who?’ he asked.
Jessica said nothing in reply, not knowing what she could tell a man who had lost his daughter and property within a week of each other.
Jessica had not got anything of any real note from Harley Todd, mainly as he was in shock. She left uniformed officers to make sure he was all right, one of whom would take a
formal statement at some point. She suspected it would not happen until the following morning at the earliest.
As she left the house, Jessica first checked with Reynolds and then called Bootle Street Police Station to tell them there was no reason to continue to hold Anthony Thompson. She told them he
might argue he wanted to stay in so he could keep a roof over his head but he was too difficult to read. Most people would simply go home but Anthony was anything but normal.
She had only wanted him kept in to see if he might have anything else for them in the morning but, given what had happened, there was no way she would have time to return to see him for a few
days.
In the morning briefing, Cole had received a provisional verdict from the investigating fire officer. As with the blaze at the Chadwicks’ house, the officer believed some sort of
accelerant – most likely petrol – had been used to start the fire at Harley Todd’s house. The rain had helped put out the flames but wasn’t helping with preserving the crime
scene, so the chief inspector told Jessica there would be no formal verdict for a while. Either way, she didn’t doubt that the two blazes were connected. Cole and Reynolds seemed less sure.
Jessica thought about revealing the drawings Aidan had passed her of Ryan’s but Reynolds’s words about her growing obsession were stuck in her mind.
The other thing that wasn’t helping was that the media had got hold of the story that the man whose daughter had committed suicide days earlier had now lost his home to fire. Their details
were sketchy but the
Manchester Morning Herald
’s website in particular had pictures, with the rest of the news media – including television – also reporting from the
scene. The
Herald
’s late edition led with the headline ‘TWISTED FIRESTARTER’, which wasn’t exactly helpful.
Jessica excused herself from the meeting as her phone rang, with Andrew Hunter’s name appearing on the screen. ‘Sergeant Daniel?’ he clarified, before she relented and told him
to call her ‘Jess’. She only made people who annoyed her use her title.
He asked if she knew about the fire, not knowing she had been there.
‘Have you heard from Harley?’ Jessica asked, walking down the stairs from the DCI’s office towards her own.
‘He woke me up at about five o’clock,’ Andrew replied, although he wasn’t complaining. ‘He had checked into a hotel and sounded like a completely different guy. I
didn’t know what to tell him.’
‘Why did he call you?’
Andrew sighed loudly. ‘Honestly? I think he just wanted someone to talk to. His daughter’s gone, he left his wife and I don’t get the feeling he’s in the type of industry
that appreciates you talking about those kinds of thing.’
Jessica opened the door to her office and was relieved to see it was empty. She moved to her own desk and leant back in her chair. ‘What does he do?’ she asked, realising she had no
idea.
‘He runs some sort of consultancy firm. I don’t know the details exactly but I looked him up and it’s all about finance. It’s not the type of thing I would usually ask a
client.’
Jessica thought that explained the wealth. ‘Did he ever tell you about anyone who might have a grudge against him? A former business partner or something dull like that?’
Andrew ummed for a few moments before replying. ‘So you think it’s deliberate then?’
Jessica winced and was grateful no one had overheard her accidentally giving the information away. It would only be a matter of time before the media got hold of it properly but it
wouldn’t help if she was telling private investigators what they were thinking.
‘We’re looking at all the angles,’ she replied, thinking it sounded fairly unconvincing.
Andrew paused for a moment in a silence Jessica thought sounded distinctly smug.
‘The only person he’s mentioned that has a grudge is his ex-wife.’
‘It’s not her,’ Jessica said, relaxing into her chair. ‘He mentioned her to one of the officers last night. She’s in Mexico on holiday.’
‘Could she have hired someone?’
She knew that possibility was being looked into, although there was no reason to think the woman had done. Jessica laughed, thinking it was partial payback for the cocky-sounding silence he had
subjected her to moments earlier. ‘You’ve watched too many TV shows and not done enough proper work,’ she replied.
Andrew didn’t sound as if he had taken it to heart. ‘Do you have any other ideas?’
Jessica reminded him that she couldn’t give him those details as he was a ‘nobody’.
‘No offence,’ she added, knowing full well that anyone using those two words definitely did mean to be offensive. ‘What are you going to do now?’ she added, realising she
was being hypocritical in asking his business while refusing to tell him hers.
He replied anyway. ‘I’m off to see Harley at his hotel later. I’m not sure after that. It doesn’t seem right taking his money any longer.’
Jessica told him he could ring her if need be and hung up. As she did, her phone flashed to say she had two missed calls – both from a number she didn’t recognise. She slid the file
that contained Ryan’s drawings out from under the stack she had left it in and began to look through them, wishing she had passed them on in the first instance.
She understood why Reynolds said he wanted no part of them – but she was desperate to share her concerns about Ryan with people who might agree with her. Again, she tidied them away and
pushed the cardboard folder back to the bottom of the heap.
Looking back to her phone, and knowing she would regret it, Jessica redialled the missed calls number. It only rang once before a voice she instantly recognised answered. ‘Detective
Sergeant Daniel,’ the man said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. ‘How are you today?’
‘How did you get my number, Sebastian?’
Even without seeing him, Jessica could tell he was smiling. She remembered the cheeky way he smirked at her in the electrical store’s car park and the way his dark eyes matched the grin.
‘I know people who know people,’ he replied.
Jessica thought there was a certain news editor she would be having words with. ‘What do you want?’ she asked, trying to sound annoyed.
‘I’m following up about last night’s fire. I gather the person who the house belongs to is the same person whose daughter died last week. Is that correct?’
‘That’s what you printed so it must be true. Just like that story with the talking dog you had the other month.’ Jessica didn’t know why he was asking as the information
was already out.
Sebastian didn’t reply instantly but the fact she knew he was enjoying the conversation was winding her up. ‘It doesn’t do any harm to get a second source,’ the
journalist said. ‘Okay, how about a link to the fire at Martin Chadwick’s house?’
Jessica’s first thought was that Sebastian must somehow know something she didn’t about Ryan. ‘How do you mean?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
She could hear the man blowing through his teeth as a soft whisper echoed down the line. ‘Well, you have to admit it’s a bit of a coincidence that a known arsonist comes out of
prison and, within a week or so, his house and someone else’s in the city has been burned down.’
Jessica didn’t think it was a coincidence but she didn’t want to tell him that. She picked up a pen and began tapping it on her desk. ‘Why would someone burn their own house
down?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t say he did. I just said it was a coincidence that two houses burned down shortly after his release.’
Jessica stopped drumming the pen and instead launched it across the room. It clanged off the edge of the bin, launched vertically into the air and then bounced off the wall, ending up a good
metre away from the target.