PC Matt York was attached to Tom’s team, and he tried not to let his excitement show. Inside he was bubbling.
Four cars were despatched, two to each address, and so the day began. Both men grumbled they would have liked some notice, but as Tom and Holly later pointed out to them, prior knowledge would have turned the exercise into a rather pointless one.
Before the day was over, some things would have been resolved. At least, that’s what Tom Fowler hoped as he pulled up outside Kenny West’s house.
22
Graham Andrews watched almost with resignation as the house came alive with police officers. He was advised to sit in the lounge and he would be given a receipt for anything they removed.
He couldn’t imagine for one minute what they could possibly take away, so he made himself a cup of tea, watching as everything in his shed was moved out on to the lawn, then went and sat on the sofa with a book.
Unlike Carla, he’d never been a big reader, certainly not fiction, but Carla had a bookcase full of books she couldn’t bear to part with, and so he had taken advantage of these on the nights he didn’t want to go out and have to take condolences every time he met up with anybody. He was currently reading one called Circe, and so soon became lost in a world of Greek gods that he last vaguely remembered from school. Very vaguely.
When Holly moved into the lounge, Graham lifted his eyes in query. ‘Do you want to stay in here or move into the kitchen?’ she asked.
He didn’t answer her question; he asked one of his own. ‘This house was spotlessly clean and tidy. I hope it will be like that when you go. Are you putting everything back you take out?’
Holly bristled. Didn’t this moron of a man know he was a prime suspect in at least two murders, possibly three, and arson? ‘We’re putting everything back that we’re not taking with us,’ she said, and watched him crumple. He stared at her, picked up his book and empty cup and walked through to the kitchen saying nothing further.
‘Boss!’
Holly walked to the bottom of the stairs and saw a stuffed rabbit being held out of Kelly Andrews’ bedroom door. Holly took it as a signal that she was meant to go up, without words being heard by Graham, so ran upstairs.
Adele showed her a black leather-bound book, quite small, but about an inch and a half thick. It measured around four and a half by six and a half inches and was embossed on the front with the single word ‘Believe’. The edges of the pages were gold, and Holly longed to stroke it but knew it had to be handled carefully.
‘What is it?’ She checked inside the room. ‘Is it Kelly’s?’
‘No, boss. We found it inside the rabbit. The rabbit’s really a nightie case, got a zip up its back, and it appears to live on top of the wardrobe. The book is written by Carla, and I can’t say it’s a diary because the pages are simply pages, but she’s used it as a sort of journal.’
‘Bag it, Adele, we’ll get it fingerprinted and then we’ll have a look in it. It’ll be interesting to see if there are any of Graham Andrews’ fingerprints on it. He’s obviously not meant to see it. Good hiding spot. Kelly wouldn’t have been able to reach it, so I bet her mum suggested this spot to her and to use it for decoration. Thanks, eagle eyes, smart catch. Anything else?’
Adele shook her head. ‘Not as far as I’m aware.’
Holly left her and the two others to it, and went back downstairs to the lounge.
Graham was standing in the kitchen doorway. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Fine, Mr Andrews,’ she said. ‘You have every right to be in the room that’s being searched, but most people get quite upset so we suggest they might want to be in a different room. However, if it upsets you that we’re doing this, please feel free to stay in the lounge with me, you’ll see that we treat your home with respect.’
‘No, you’re okay.’ His tone was gruff. ‘I’ll go back in there when you’re done.’
‘We shouldn’t be much longer. The shed is finished and put back tidily, but I can’t guarantee you’ll be able to lay your hands on stuff. You might want to go in after we’ve gone and sort it.’
‘And did you find anything in my man cave?’ The sarcasm was evident.
‘Yes. Two petrol cans.’
Graham couldn’t speak for a minute. When he did, it was explosively. ‘It’s a fucking petrol mower! I have to have petrol cans.’
‘And we would expect to find only two sets of fingerprints on them, yours and Carla’s. Supposing there are other prints…’
It must have been a spectacular lightbulb moment; Graham’s eyes widened and his breathing became rapid. ‘Oh no. You’re not pinning that one on me, bloody Charlie Linwood’s house.’
‘Mr Andrews,’ Holly said, ‘please calm down. Nobody is accusing anybody of anything. This is standard procedure, and the cans will be returned to you once they have been checked. In fact everything will eventually be returned to you if we rule you out of the investigation.’
His breathing once more became ragged, and Holly knew she was winding him up but she continued to push. ‘Do you have a lock-up of any description? A garage away from here?’
‘DS Jones, I work in the planning department of the council, I have no need of a lock-up, you’ve seen the small amount of tools I have in my shed, enough for minor repairs. Any big jobs we get in an expert. No, I don’t have bloody lock-ups, garages, or even a fucking tent.’ He turned his back on her, stormed across to the kitchen door and went outside into the garden. His shed was closed up once more.
Holly smiled and returned to the lounge. One-nil to her.
When Graham was handed the receipt for the items they were taking, he didn’t even look at it, merely threw it into a drawer and firmly closed and locked his front door as the last person left.
Holly smiled to herself as she climbed into the passenger seat beside Adele. Okay, so he hadn’t looked at the receipt, but she could guarantee he’d be looking right now.
Graham Andrews sat down on the sofa with a thud, clutching the receipt in his left hand. His mind was reeling. What fucking journal?
Kenny spoke to no one as they moved from room to room, peering into everything, removing items from drawers, but always putting the stuff back. They searched the attic a little more thoroughly than he would have thought necessary, and they certainly concentrated on Lorraine’s wardrobe. That had revealed the jackpot when they had found her other phone.
They also spent a considerable amount of time in Isaac’s room, although this had been searched previously, shortly after he had gone missing. They removed the book left on his bedside table, and in the end this proved to be the only item taken away for forensic screening.
Tom thanked Kenny politely for his co-operation and Kenny responded.
‘What would have happened if I hadn’t co-operated?’
‘I would have arrested you.’
‘I thought so. You’re looking in the wrong place, you know. Graham and I lost our wives, and it’s looking increasingly likely I may have lost my son. Family are family in this neighbourhood, and we don’t kill our own.’