Scared to Death (A Detective Kay Hunter novel) Read online

  ‘Bye, Mum.’

  Kay hung up the phone, and placed it gently into the cradle, despite wanting to throw it across the room. She took a deep breath.

  Her mother knew how to rattle her. Had done for years, with constant comparisons to her older sister, her dislike of her job – she’d only recently stopped berating her for living with Adam without being married, and that was after several years of telling her he wasn’t good enough for her.

  Before that, growing up, it was about the way she dressed, who her friends were, how her exam results hadn’t turned out to match her mother’s expectations.

  Kay had been quite pleased with her exam results. It meant she could take an offer from a university several counties away from her mother, for a start.

  And her degree had led to her joining Kent Police within months of graduating. It was either that, or return to her hometown.

  The thought made her shiver.

  It also irked her that, so many years later, her mother could still get under her skin so easily.

  She took a deep breath. She hadn’t told her mother about the miscarriage. If she was honest, she didn’t know how to start the conversation. If she was really honest, she was also slightly relieved that she hadn’t.

  It would simply have encouraged her to become even more overbearing.

  She pressed the microwave button to give her food a quick blast, pulled a wine glass from the cupboard above it, and poured a small measure of the pinot.

  ‘Cheers anyway, Mum,’ she said, toasted the silent telephone, and took a sip.

  ELEVEN

  Eli Matthews climbed off the moped and stowed his helmet in the box on the back.

  He cricked his neck, then ran a hand through his straw-coloured hair and ambled towards the wide open doors of the depot, his lanky frame casting a long shadow over the asphalt.

  The early morning air washed over him, a freshness that tugged at his hair and filled his nostrils, despite the urban sprawl of car dealerships, industrial units, and interlaced roads that surrounded the building.

  No doubt, by the time he was halfway through his shift today, the humidity levels would have gone through the roof once more, and the air conditioning in the van would fail.

  The grating squeal of the wire mesh security gate rolling back into place across the entrance to the car park filled his ears as he sniffed the air a final time, a feeling of expectation seizing him.

  After a week off work, he was almost looking forward to returning. If it hadn’t been for the little side project he’d concocted for his absence from the bedlam of the depot, he would’ve gone out of his mind being in the same house for a whole seven days trying to avoid his mother.

  Her sniping remarks echoed in his mind even now, and he gritted his teeth, forcing the memories away.

  He needed to concentrate today.

  Especially today.

  Act normal.

  Except it was going to be hard, because everything was so different now.

  He’d done it. Finally done it.

  A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  ‘Blimey, Eli. You should piss off on holiday more often. Never seen you looking so cheerful.’

  Eli scowled.

  Bob Rogers, one of the depot managers, leaned against one of the steel doors, and took a long drag on a half-consumed cigarette.

  ‘It’s because I wasn’t here,’ said Eli, as he walked past.

  Rogers chuckled. ‘Good to see you, too.’

  Eli entered the depot, before he turned left through a wide entryway. He swiped his security card at a turnstile, and then walked along a passageway to the locker room.

  He held his breath as he opened the door, then exhaled with relief when he saw the space was empty.

  He hated having to make small talk; didn’t see the point of it, and didn’t want the others to spoil his good mood. Rogers had already tried that, and it had nearly worked.

  The air in the locker room was musty, a tangible fug of sweat and damp clothes seeping into the whitewashed brick walls.

  He pulled a small key from his pocket, opened his locker, and stuffed his leather jacket inside. He kept a fresh set of work clothes in the locker at all times, as well as spare pairs of socks and a towel. A storm was predicted for later in the week, and he wanted at least one set of dry clothing.

  As he went to shut the door, an envelope on the top shelf caught his eye, and he reached in, pulling it towards him. His good mood returned; he’d forgotten about the pay rise they’d been awarded two weeks ago – his mind had been on other things.

  He shoved the envelope back in place, and closed the door. He wouldn’t take it home – his mother would find it, and then the arguing would start when she wanted to know why he wouldn’t give her more money.

  He’d given up months ago explaining to her that he wasn’t responsible for her smoking and drinking habits. She received enough on benefits, as it was.

  No, he’d keep the news to himself, tuck it away out of sight when he had the chance.

  He had a special place for secrets like that.

  A place his mother knew nothing about and never would.

  He dropped the key into his pocket as the door to the locker room swung open.

  ‘Hey, the straggler returns.’

  Eli turned, and nodded. ‘Steve.’

  A second man followed in the first’s wake. ‘Good week off?’

  ‘Yes, thanks.’

  ‘What you get up to?’

  ‘Nothing much.’

  He forced a small smile, then brushed past the second man, and hurried from the room, making a point of checking his watch.

  His shift started in five minutes.

  ELI RELEASED THE HANDBRAKE, and the van rolled out of its space and towards the security gates.

  He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel while he waited for a space big enough to get the van through, and then turned right and pressed the accelerator.

  For the rest of the morning, he drove out of the town, through the outlying villages of Leeds and Chart Sutton, looping through farmland and criss-crossing the A20 then north over the high-speed train line. All the time, he hummed under his breath, content to make his deliveries and enjoy the relative solitude.

  At five to eleven, he pulled the van over, outside a village convenience store, the bright signage of a national chain hanging above the low doorframe.

  He nodded at the cashier, pulled an energy drink from the refrigerator at the back of the shop, took a plastic-wrapped, thick sausage roll from the display in the chiller cabinet, and made his way to the cash register. A stack of local papers had been placed on the floor near his feet.

  His brow creased as his eyes scanned the headlines.

  ‘Anything else?’

  He glanced up, then crouched and picked up one of the papers. ‘I’ll take this, too.’

  The cashier’s eyes fell to the bruises on Eli’s forearm as he took his money, before he blinked and looked away, added up his purchases, and handed him his change. ‘Have a nice day,’ he muttered.

  Eli snatched the change away, and spun on his heel.

  Returning to the van, he cracked open the can of soft drink, and took a swig before placing it in the cup holder between the front seats. He put the sausage roll on the dashboard, then flicked open the paper, turning page after page.

  Nothing.

  He frowned.

  Maybe it was too early. Maybe they missed the print run?

  He threw the paper onto the passenger seat, unwrapped the sausage roll, and pressed the power button for the radio.

  He hated commercial radio, but he needed to know. Needed to hear.

  The digital clock set into the dashboard counted down the seconds to the hourly news, and he increased the volume.

  The news announcer began on time, right after the last commercial had aired, and the last notes of the station’s jingle faded, but started with a story about something the prime minister was do
ing in London.

  Eli munched in silence.

  The next story came and went; a thirty second spiel about the drink driving campaign that Kent police had rolled out across the county, and then a third story. Followed by the sports headlines, and finally the weather.

  Eli stared at the radio, swallowed the last mouthful of sausage roll, and then blinked.

  Nothing was being reported.

  Fuming, he scrunched up the empty wrapper, shoved it into the pocket in the side of the driver’s door, and reached for the energy drink. He took a long swallow, slammed the can back into the cup holder, and gunned the engine.

  ‘Patience,’ he reminded himself. ‘Be patient. Give them time.’

  TWELVE

  Carys swung the car into the small business park, and Kay ran over her tactics in her mind while noting the sign at the entrance to the area that touted it as the region’s newest innovation centre.

  There seemed to be renewed effort to pull down the derelict buildings around the town, and replace them with housing and business parks as soon as possible. She couldn’t help but wonder what history might be lost along the way, especially as some of the developments seemed to be taking months to complete, despite the haste with which the old landmarks were demolished.

  She roused herself from her thoughts as the vehicle eased to a standstill outside a business unit, one of four in a row that backed onto the main road. Each building comprised a large roller door that stretched from the ground to the roof eaves, a single glass door next to it, and two windows above the entrance door.

  Kay unclipped her seatbelt, climbed out, and stretched her back while she waited for Carys to lock the car, then made her way to the reception door.

  It was locked, and there was no answer when she pressed the intercom.

  ‘Tradesman’s entrance it is, then,’ she said to Carys, and led the way to the open roller door. ‘I’ll find out more about the business generally, and I’ll leave you to speak with whoever’s in charge of the accounts to see what you can turn up, sound good?’

  ‘Works for me.’

  Kay peered into the gloom.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Over here.’

  Kay moved into the warehouse space, and registered movement towards the back as her eyes adjusted to the gloom.

  She weaved between boxes and packing crates that lined an ill-formed aisle. Most were open; those that were sealed had been taped shut with generous layers of sticky tape.

  ‘Can I help you?’

  An older woman who looked to be in her early sixties approached, adjusting her hair that had been tied in a loose topknot, and was now trying to escape its bindings. Curled tendrils fell into the woman’s eyes, and she brushed them aside as she squinted up at Kay.

  ‘I’m DS Kay Hunter, this is DC Carys Miles. I wondered if I could speak with you and your colleagues about Melanie Richards?’

  The woman bit her lip, her eyes watering.

  ‘Of course,’ she said. She held out her hand. ‘I’m Sheila Milborough. I look after the warehousing and stock. Come on up to the office.’

  She moved past the two detectives, reached out for a cord next to the warehouse entrance, and hit a button.

  The door began to slide down from the ceiling, and Sheila checked its progress before she returned to them and beckoned them to follow her. ‘This way.’

  Kay inclined her head towards Carys, and she followed them both through the maze of boxes to an internal door that opened into a reception area.

  Sheila checked the front door was locked, and then led them past an overstuffed sofa that faced a sparse reception desk, and up a flight of stairs.

  Kay was surprised at the compact size of the office space. It was evident that the warehouse took up the majority of the building’s footprint, leaving the staff with a cramped space they had somehow managed to squeeze four desks into. Three filing cabinets filled the space in front of the window, obliterating much of the natural light.

  Sheila introduced Belinda and Annie, who she described as customer service officers, and looked at Kay expectantly.

  ‘Is there anyone else?’ said Kay, surprised.

  ‘No, it’s just us,’ said Annie. She sniffed, and dabbed a paper tissue at her nose. ‘Unless Melanie dropped by to help.’

  Belinda snorted, and looked away.

  Annie managed a small smile through her tears. ‘It’s why Yvonne’s so successful. She runs a lean operation.’

  Her colleagues nodded, and murmured in agreement.

  Kay let her eyes roam the space.

  A tiny meeting room had been partitioned off in the left-hand corner of the open-plan office at the rear of the room, and Sheila gestured towards it.

  ‘Yvonne sometimes uses that as a private office when she needs to get away from the hustle and bustle. You can use it if you want.’

  ‘That’s fine. Thank you.’

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on, and we’ll get started, shall we?’ said Carys.

  Again, there was a murmur of agreement, and Kay stood to one side as chairs were pushed back and mugs were collected, and Carys was shown where to find the small kitchenette set into the rear right-hand corner of the office space.

  By the time mugs of tea and coffee were handed out, the three staff members had relaxed.

  ‘Sheila, do you mind if I start with you?’ said Kay. ‘Carys can speak with Belinda and Annie, and then we’ll let you get on.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Kay took her mug of tea, and led the way over to the meeting room. She left the door open after Sheila had joined her – at the moment, they were only there to conduct preliminary questions, and there was no need to make the staff nervous by splitting them up; it was just easier to focus on answers if there were fewer involved at any one time.

  ‘Right,’ said Kay. ‘You mentioned that Melanie would drop by to help. How often did that happen?’

  ‘Maybe once or twice a week. It depended on what she had planned after school.’

  ‘What did she do while she was here?’

  ‘Answer the phones. Help out with the filing. Sometimes, if we had a lot of orders to get out the door, she’d help me pack the boxes. I think she thought it was all a bit of a giggle, to be honest.’

  ‘Did she get paid?’

  Sheila shrugged. I don’t know. Maybe.’

  ‘It would show on the books, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘I suppose so. You’d have to ask Annie.’

  Kay made a note for Carys to check.

  A bell suddenly rang out in the office, and a frown creased Sheila’s brow.

  ‘Hang on.’ The woman moved to the door. ‘Belinda? Could you see who that is, please?’

  She sat back down, and picked up her tea mug. ‘Sorry. Probably just the courier.’

  Kay waited until the woman had settled. ‘What about Tony Richards?’

  The woman’s expression hardened, and she shuffled in her seat. ‘I hate to speak ill of the dead.’

  Kay leaned forward slightly. ‘Anything you tell me won’t be repeated to Yvonne, or the other staff,’ she assured her.

  Sheila sighed. ‘It was awful,’ she said, and jutted her chin towards the door. ‘Yvonne gave him a job here after he was made redundant. Annie nearly quit, he was so rude to her. And he kept making mistakes, then blamed us.’ She shook her head. ‘Yvonne tried, she really did, but after he was rude to a client on the phone, she had to put her foot down.’

  ‘How long did he work here?’

  Sheila leaned back and blinked. ‘Well, let’s see. Maybe a few weeks? No longer than a month, I’d say.’

  Her eyes moved to a spot behind Kay’s shoulder.

  She turned to see a man in a short-sleeved shirt and long shorts appear at the top of the stairs.

  He held his hand up in their direction, then moved to a desk next to Carys, and picked up a large box, his voice carrying over to where she sat.

  He made a comment that sent Belinda and Annie into gi
ggles, and a smile crossed Carys’s face, before he turned and made his way back down the stairs.

  Kay turned back to Sheila. ‘He seems friendly.’

  ‘He’ll be devastated when he finds out about Melanie. They always used to flirt when she helped out on reception.’ She stopped and blew her nose.

  ‘Excuse me,’ said Kay.

  She left the woman sipping her tea, and hurried out to the main office. Carys saw her approaching, and stood up.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Catch up with that courier. Get his details. Apparently he and Melanie used to flirt when she worked here.’

  ‘Onto it.’

  Kay nodded her thanks, then returned to Sheila who was watching her wide-eyed.

  She smiled. ‘Don’t worry. We need to talk to everyone who knew Melanie, or saw her these past few weeks.’

  The woman nodded. ‘I know.’ She sighed. ‘I still can’t believe she’s gone.’

  Kay gestured to the office. ‘Will the three of you be okay while Yvonne’s away?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Belinda and Annie are more than capable of running the admin side of things, and I’ve got the warehouse under control,’ said Sheila. ‘Yvonne usually does the marketing side of things, and meets with new clients. There’s nothing in the diary at the moment because she’s only just got back from Milan. Oh dear.’ She broke off as tears welled up once more.

  Kay leaned forward, and patted the woman’s hand. ‘Thanks for talking with me, Sheila. We’ll be on our way now.’

  The woman nodded, and led Kay out of the meeting room.

  Kay handed business cards to all three staff members, then followed Sheila down the stairs.

  Carys was walking through the front door when they reached the reception area, but stopped short when she saw them.

  Kay raised an eyebrow at Carys, but the woman gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

  Nothing.

  ‘Right, I think that’s all for now,’ Kay said. ‘If anyone does recall something that you think might help us – anything at all – please get in touch.’

  Kay pushed through the double doors, but she waited to speak until she and Carys had reached the car.

  ‘What’s the story with the courier?’