Devils way, p.9
Devil's Way, page 9
Kate looked around at the inside of the newsagent’s. It was almost identical to the one she remembered as a child. The tabloid newspapers fanned out in a row on a long low shelf, and above, rows of magazines reached up to the infamous ‘top shelf’ near the ceiling. Kate noticed that the copies of Razzle and Escort now had white plastic covering the front.
Next to the till were rows of chocolate bars, and a couple of tall glass-fronted fridges hummed. Behind the glass, along with the Coke, Sprite and Fanta, were fizzy drinks she’d long forgotten about: Panda Pops, Cream Soda, Shandy Bass, Irn-Bru and Cherry Coke. The rest of the shop was filled with frames of greetings cards and a section for cheap toys.
As Kate watched the two small children, she thought of what she’d missed out on with Jake; the little things like trips to the newsagent’s to buy sweets. Kate thought of Jean losing her grandson at such a young age. She’d always thought she lost custody of Jake, but Kate realised now that she never did. Her mother had taken over when she couldn’t look after him. How hard had it been for Jean to let go of Charlie and acknowledge he would never return?
Kate thought back to the missing person cases she’d worked on. The outcome was almost always a corpse or the remains of the missing loved one. Jean had gone as far as applying for a death certificate for Charlie, but now she thought he was still alive and wanted to find him.
What had prompted this? Could it really just have been a feeling she had?
The bell jangled on the door, and the woman left with the two children. The old man smiled and asked if he could help her. Kate was suddenly seized with a silly thought. She was no longer a child with only fifty pence to spend. She could buy as many sweets as she wanted.
Ten minutes later, Kate emerged out onto the road with a plastic bag filled with cans of fizzy drinks, chocolate bars and penny sweets. Luckily, a bus was just pulling up opposite, going to Ashdean. She hurried across the road and bought a ticket.
The bus was empty, and as it lurched off, Kate wobbled her way down the aisle and sat on the back seat. She opened the plastic bag, took out a Curly Wurly, and started to eat, feeling better when the sugar hit her tongue. The bus journey was pleasant, and once they left Exmoor, it was a slightly bumpy ride along the coastal road. A well-thumbed edition of the Okehampton Times was on the seat behind, and Kate picked it up and began to flick through. There were the usual stories about local council budgets being cut and a visit from the mayor of Craon, the French town twinned with Okehampton. And then Kate noticed an article about house prices in the Devon and Cornwall area.
It began in the usual way, with the legitimate complaints about non-locals buying up property as holiday lets. Then there was a byline article titled: 10 of the cheapest houses for sale in Devon that are perfect first-time buys! Kate read through the list, and a home second from the bottom caught her eye: 4 Kirby Cane Walk, Okehampton. It rang a bell in her mind. She rummaged around in her bag for her notebook. Flicking through the pages, she found the notes she’d made that morning in Exeter Records Office. Yes. Anna Treadwell had been found murdered at 4 Kirby Cane Walk, Okehampton.
‘Jesus!’ said Kate, loud enough for the bus driver to peer up at her in the reflection of his rear-view mirror. She checked the copy of the Okehampton Times. It was dated two weeks ago. The picture was of a run-down townhouse with what looked like metal grilles on the window. The garden was overgrown, and the description underneath read:
If you’re prepared to roll up your sleeves and get stuck in, this two-bedroom house could be a tremendous first-home fixer-upper! On sale with Coveney Estate Agents for just £100,000, this modern townhouse offers a great investment opportunity and is described as ‘requiring modernisation and TLC from a motivated buyer’. It provides an entrance hall, lounge, kitchen and dining room, utility, two bedrooms and a bathroom. The South Devon home also has gas central heating, double glazing, and a garden.
What an odd coincidence that this newspaper had been waiting for her on this bus. She peered at the photo of the townhouse.
Kate knew from her time in the police that houses were only boarded up with metal grilles when they were situated in a rough area, which this wasn’t, or if the house had been empty for a long time and was persistently visited by squatters and arsonists.
Why had Anna’s house sat empty for so long? thought Kate. How gruesome had her murder been?
18
It was late afternoon, and Tristan had just finished working out at the gym on Ashdean pier. He had been expecting to hear from Kate about her meeting with Jean, but when his phone rang, he saw it was Ade.
‘You sound out of breath,’ said Ade when Tristan answered. ‘Are you having fun?’
‘No. I’m at the gym.’ Tristan grabbed his towel and water bottle from the floor next to the bench press and moved aside to let a guy use the machine. He came over to the window.
‘Nothing on earth would make me use a gym. Only criminals run, is my motto. Anyway. I called for a reason. I managed to track down that police officer, Lewis Tate, through an old colleague.’
‘Does he live locally?’
‘About an hour away,’ said Ade. ‘But he’s willing to talk to you about the Charlie Julings case. However, he has some requests.’
‘What kind of requests?’
‘He wants to meet in Plymouth.’
‘I’m happy to talk to him on the phone.’
‘He wants to meet in person. And he wants cash for talking.’
‘What does he have to say?’
‘He says he worked the Charlie Julings case for four months and saw a lot. He didn’t want to elaborate.’
‘How much does he want?’ sighed Tristan.
‘A hundred quid.’
‘A hundred?’ Tristan looked out of the window at the beach crowded with people. It was unusual to pay people for information, and he was a little annoyed with Ade for getting into a negotiation with this Lewis without calling him first.
‘Is money out of the question?’ asked Ade.
‘I’d need to talk to Kate,’ said Tristan. Money was still tight in the agency, and the caravan site was still their primary source of income.
‘I think Lewis is hard up. No one likes a bent copper. And he’s thinking back to his days on the force when we had our narks who would pass information on to the police for cash,’ said Ade.
‘But I’m not a police officer. And isn’t this the same guy who went down for stealing drugs from police stores?’ asked Tristan.
‘Yes.’
‘How do I know he isn’t just going to make a load of crap up?’
‘I’ll text you his number,’ said Ade. ‘You two can thrash it out.’
‘What would you do, Ade? If you were me.’
‘Well. I’d be having a lot more fun if I looked like you.’
‘I’m serious.’
Ade sighed.
‘Lewis has very little to lose. If you agree to give him money, then make it clear that you only want the truth, even if it seems bland and uninteresting. The most interesting nuggets of information can come from the smallest comment or facial expression.’
Tristan heard a ping on his phone.
‘Okay, thanks, Ade. I got the number.’ As Tristan ended the call, he saw he also had a message from Joel Mansfield, Charlie’s father. Joel had written that he was in Spain on holiday for the next week with his wife and daughters, but he would be happy to meet with Tristan and Kate on his return. Tristan tried Kate’s phone, but it was engaged, so he went to have a shower.
Sarah and Leo had returned home, so Tristan’s flat was empty. He savoured the quiet when he stepped through the door, and then busied himself making a huge omelette. He had just served it up when there was a ring on the doorbell. Kate was outside.
‘I was wondering where you’d got to,’ he said when she entered the hallway. ‘Would you like some eggs?’
‘No. I’ve just eaten half a bag of chocolate and sweets. I think I’m regretting it,’ she said, holding up the carrier bag with the discarded wrappers.
She came into the kitchen, and as Tristan ate, she filled him in on what had happened at her meeting with Jean.
‘I still don’t know what’s going on in her head,’ Kate said. ‘I think Jean feels guilt that Charlie vanished on her watch and blames herself for Becky’s death. She thinks going to the high court to get the death certificate triggered Becky’s suicide. But at the same time, she insists that Declan had nothing to do with Charlie going missing.’
‘But he pimped her out,’ said Tristan. ‘He was violent to her for years and had a thing for underage girls.’
‘And he went down for GBH,’ said Kate. ‘But Jean wants us to look at other suspects, and she now thinks Charlie is alive.’
Tristan sighed, and they were quiet for a moment.
‘Joel is away on holiday in Spain for a week, and Lewis Tate, the police officer who worked on the case, won’t talk to us unless we pay him a hundred quid in cash,’ said Tristan gloomily.
‘Jean gave me Declan’s address, so we should pay him a visit. Also, look at this.’
Kate took the crumpled copy of the Okehampton Times from her bag and showed him the photo of Anna Treadwell’s house. ‘Anna was murdered a couple of weeks after Charlie went missing, and it looks like her house has been abandoned since then. There is no sale in the land registry records. It makes me wonder what the circumstances of her murder were. Was it notorious enough to put people off buying her house? Jean didn’t have a good word to say about Anna. She said that a neighbour called social services when she heard a row in the night between Jean and Declan. Charlie was away at the time with Becky and Joel. Jean says that she explained this to Anna, but she still started an investigation into Charlie’s welfare.’
‘Wouldn’t that be normal for a social worker to investigate complaints?’ said Tristan.
‘Jean seems to think Anna had an unhealthy interest in Charlie.’
‘What makes you think there is any link between Anna and Charlie going missing?’ asked Tristan.
‘I don’t know if there is,’ said Kate. ‘But there’s something about this that’s making me uncomfortable. I’d like to go and look at Anna Treadwell’s house and see if we can talk to any neighbours. I also want to talk to Sadie at the solicitor’s again and find out what she knew about this. And phone this police officer Lewis back. You never know, it might be worth a hundred quid to talk to him.’
19
The following day, Kate and Tristan drove to Kirby Cane Walk. It was on the edge of a modern housing development on the outskirts of Okehampton. To Kate’s relief, the weather was much cooler, and the sky was a grim grey.
They parked outside number four. The house was concealed behind a vast hedge of evergreens, and a faded For Sale sign was half-buried in the branches. Kate thought the name Kirby Cane Walk had sounded quite jaunty, but in reality, it was a grim little cul-de-sac of six homes. There was an empty patch of land next to number four, and it backed onto a scrubland of trees and undergrowth running behind the houses. Kate and Tristan got out of the car, walked around the tall evergreens, and onto the scrubland. Running along the side of number four was a low fence with a missing panel.
They were just debating going through the gap when they heard a voice.
‘Can I help you?’
An older man with a balding head was standing on the pavement, staring at them. Wisps of his remaining hair were dancing in the breeze, and he wore a long brown coat over jeans and crocs. Kate could tell from his trembling voice that he was a little scared of people and that coming out to talk to them had probably taken a lot of effort.
‘Sorry. Hi, me and my – ’ Kate made a lightning-quick decision, ‘ – son were just passing the end of the road, and we saw this house is for sale.’
‘Yeah. Sorry if we’re trespassing,’ said Tristan, walking back to the pavement.
‘Yes, sorry,’ repeated Kate. If in doubt, in England, say sorry. The man’s eyebrows rose, and after another apology from them both, they came to join him on the pavement. His shoulders seemed to relax.
‘That’s okay. We don’t see many new people here in the cul-de-sac,’ he said, sounding a little lonely and sad. He looked back at the house and sighed. ‘Well. It needs a lot of work, and don’t tell anyone I said this, but you could probably get it for a steal.’
‘Really?’ said Kate.
‘That’s good. Our budget isn’t huge, is it, Mum?’ said Tristan. Kate glanced at him for a second, worrying that he was laying it on too thick, but the man seemed to take what they were saying at face value.
‘So many estate agents have tried to sell the place,’ he said, looking at the faded sign. ‘This lot, Coveney’s, are the seventh or eighth. They’re nice. I’ve even got a key; I got to know Marcia there, and she would ask me to let people in for viewings.’
Kate glanced back at the fading sign, which had almost been consumed by the overgrown hedge.
‘Actually… Do you think you could show us around?’
He looked a little uneasy and pulled a face.
‘You should really ring the agent. I’m happy to let people in when asked, but I’m not qualified to tell you about the place. I’ve lost count of what the sale price is now. Having this here in this state has brought down prices for the rest of us,’ he sighed.
Kate nodded sympathetically.
‘Of course, we wouldn’t want to put you in an awkward position. If I bought it and did it up, it could be a nice home, and I’d be adding value. Listen. We’re only in the area for a short time. Would you be able to use your key and let us have a look? You’d really help me out, and I can call the agent if interested. I’m Kate, by the way, Kate Marshall,’ she said, smiling and holding out her hand. They shook.
‘And I’m Tristan.’
‘I’m Gregory Cleever,’ he said, shaking Tristan’s hand. He squinted at them again. ‘Okay. I suppose there’s no harm. Can you wait here? I’ll get the key.’
He hurried off back inside his house.
‘What is our budget, Mum?’ asked Tristan with a grin.
‘I was thinking on my feet.’
‘Can I choose my bedroom?’
‘Okay, very funny. He’s coming back,’ murmured Kate as she saw Gregory hurrying out of his front door and holding up a key.
* * *
The front gate was hanging off its hinges, and the front garden was wildly overgrown. The weeds were waist-high on either side of the path leading up to the door. A row of evergreens to the right of the house filled half of the garden.
The windows were covered with white metal grilles, one of which had been spray-painted with something illegible in black. The front door also had a tall grille with a padlock. Piles of rubbish had been blown up against the base of the walls, where weeds were growing out of the mess.
‘Who put the grilles up?’ asked Tristan as Gregory undid the padlock.
‘The council. People were breaking in,’ he said.
‘Squatters?’
‘Yes… and…’ He hesitated. ‘Yes,’ he repeated. The grille swung open with a groan, and he unlocked the front door. When they stepped into the hallway, it was very dark. ‘I brought a torch, there’s no electricity,’ said Gregory, flicking on a small penlight. Kate and Tristan switched on the lights on their phones. The hallway was bare, and there was a scrubbed look about the floors and walls. The smell of strong disinfectant was mixed with mould. Directly to the right was a door to the living room. There was a significant dip in the concrete floor.
‘What’s that?’ asked Kate.
‘Subsidence. The evergreens on the west side of the property have gone wild, and their roots have grown into the house’s foundations, pulling out all the moisture. We’ve been trying to get the council to come and cut them, but it’s too late now. Whoever buys this would have to shore up the foundations.’
‘That’s not good,’ said Kate. The living room walls were grimy and looked as if they’d been whitewashed. When Kate shone her phone light over the wall above an empty fireplace, she could make out some graffiti in a ghostly pink under the paintwork. Tristan angled his light up to the ceiling and stopped at a large patch of pink spread out around the light fitting. Again it had been painted over but needed another coat to cover it up adequately.
‘What’s that?’ asked Kate, her heart leaping a little. Gregory shone his torch up to the patch of pink. He hesitated.
‘The previous owner was… she was… she died, sadly,’ he said.
‘How?’ asked Tristan.
‘It was a break-in. Quite a few years ago. Anna, that was the previous owner. She was killed,’ he said.
‘Is that her blood?’
Gregory sighed.
‘Yes. Now you can see why this house has been impossible to sell. What with the subsidence and Anna’s death, which has never been solved. It really was a nice house when she was alive.’
His use of words interested Kate.
‘She was murdered?’
‘Yes,’ said Gregory.
‘Can we see the upstairs?’ asked Tristan.
‘Really? You’re still interested?’
‘We’re here now,’ said Kate. She saw Gregory’s face, and he looked surprised.
‘This way,’ he said. They followed him back into the hall and started climbing the stairs. It was very dark and cold, and the breeze blew through the grates over the windows with an eerie whistle.
20
At the top of the stairs was a poky landing with a small window. Sunlight shone through the grating, casting a pattern of tiny squares on the bare floorboards. There were three doors leading off the landing, and Kate moved to the door above the living room.
‘How long has the electricity been off?’ she asked, leaning in to flick the light switch. Nothing happened.
‘Years,’ said Gregory. Tristan followed Kate inside. The rust-coloured bloodstain was on the floor in the left-hand corner of the room. As Tristan moved his light up, she saw a faded pink column of blood spatter up the wall. ‘Do you know they’ve had people in to clean and paint over that twice now? But something keeps happening. A little while after they cover it, the stain keeps showing through.’
