Unfinished Business (11 page)

“That Sarah’s a stuck up bitch who can’t be trusted, that was the general jist.”

“He wanted a chance to get that across to you without anyone else around who could contradict him.”

“Maybe. Let’s discuss it in detail later.”

“Okay. So what did you want to talk to me about?”

“My contact called. Another woman’s gone missing. Dark hair and eyes. I didn’t want to mention it in front of Sarah, she’s on the edge as it is and her husband has been staying alone in a hotel with no one to keep a close eye on his movements.”

“They think she was taken by The Carver?”

“Possibly. Actually probably. Her name’s Samantha Knotts. Twenty five years old, engaged to a man she’s madly in love with and a good career in advertising. Not the type to run away.”

“Shit,” he huffed, running his hands through his hair. “Any leads?”

“Same as the others. Disappeared after a night out clubbing with friends. But, unlike the others, her night out was a last minute decision for a friend’s birthday party. Initially they were going to a restaurant for dinner but the restaurant closed after a kitchen fire so they were forced to go elsewhere.”

“You are well informed. Who’s your source?”

“An old friend.”

Brodie’s jaw tensed. “An intimate friend?”

“No. He wanted to be but I told him no in a way he’ll never forget.”

“I assume he ended up in a lot of pain?”

“Tremendous amounts of pain,” she smiled slyly. “Just so you know, he’s not a copper. I don’t know anyone in Manchester Police but my friend does.”

“I see. They’ll keep you up to speed?”

“If they know what’s good for them.”

Brodie’s heart pounded. He found her hardness so damn exciting.

“Are you nearly done in there?” called Sarah impatiently.

“She’s losing it,” whispered Cass.

“Understandable in the circumstances I suppose. Let’s get back in there before she ruptures something.”

Cass nodded in understanding and followed him back through to the lounge where Sarah sat sipping a vodka.

“Can we get back to my situation now you’ve finished discussing someone else who isn’t even here?” she snapped, lips forming themselves into a pout.

Brodie was starting to sympathise with Seth Creegan. “I’m sorry about that Sarah but it was urgent. Now we need to run a couple of errands.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“I’m afraid you can’t,” said Cass when she got to her feet. “It’s work-related. We’re not going shopping.”

Sarah scowled at her. “If it’s to do with me I’ve a right to be there.”

“It’s really best if you’re not, it could compromise our entire investigation,” replied Brodie.

“And what exactly are you investigating?” she said, plonking herself back down on the couch, slopping vodka all over her skirt and not seeming to either notice or care. “I need this resolved before the girls come back next week.”

“I understand the urgency and we’re doing everything we can. Hopefully we’ll have it all tied up before they come home.”

“I just called Mark while you were whispering in the kitchen. He’s coming round to talk.”

“Will you be alright alone with him?” said Cass.

“I think so. He’s never been violent to me in all the years we’ve been married and I find it hard to believe he’s going to start now.”

“Call us if you need us,” said Brodie.

“I’ll be fine, as long as Seth stays away from me.”

“He will. He knows the consequences of getting too close.”

Sarah appeared surprised by the coldness in Brodie’s tone. The corner of Cass’s mouth lifted. He could seem like the friendliest, most laid-back bloke in the world or he could seem like the coldest, hardest bastard that ever walked the earth. It was all in the look in his whisky eyes, the tone of his voice, the aggression in his stance. Subtle yet extremely effective. It gave Sarah confidence in his words.

“Well I’m glad. Seth’s got a thick head and sometimes it takes a while for things to sink in,” she said disdainfully.

“He’s got the message, I made sure of it.”

“If anyone’s The Carver it’s him, not Mark.”

A thought occurred to Brodie. “Do you know if Seth’s artistic at all?”

“Artistic, that Neanderthal?” Sarah’s brow furrowed. “Actually, come to think of it he is very good at drawing. I saw some sketches he did once, they were really good but that was a few years ago, I don’t know if he kept it up. Like I said, I try to have as little to do with him as possible.”

“Has he ever been into woodworking? Either him or Mark?”

“I don’t know about Seth but Mark used to be. He has a shed out back that he used to practice in.”

Both Cass and Brodie blinked at her. “He does?” said Brodie, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. “Does he still use it?”

“Yes. Why?” she frowned. “Is it important?”

“No, just curious,” he said casually. “Mind if we take a look?”

“I don’t but you might not be able to get in. It’s padlocked and Mark has the key, I don’t know where he keeps it.”

“That won’t be a problem,” he smiled.

Sarah gave him an odd look before getting to her feet, too tired to probe deeper. “I’ll take a shower and smarten myself up. I don’t want Mark thinking I’m letting myself go just because he’s not around.”

“We’ll be off after we’ve taken a look at the shed,” said Brodie. “We’ll leave through the garden so you can lock up behind us.”

Sarah followed them to the back door and slammed it shut behind them. Brodie paused to listen to her lock up before wandering across the immaculate lawn towards the shed, which sat brown and squat at the bottom of the garden.

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we opened that up and found lots of souvenirs in there,” said Cass. “Case closed, a murderer’s caught and we can go home.”

“It would be fucking fantastic but I doubt it’s going to happen.”

“Allow me to dream, won’t you?”

They reached the shed and walked all the way around it, assessing it.

“There’s not enough room to hold a person here for a couple of days and there’s always the chance Sarah or one of the girls might find them,” said Brodie.

“Plus the walls are thin and any screams would be heard a mile off,” commented Cass.

“True.” He stared at the padlock. “Not a problem,” he said, taking out his little toolkit.

He had the padlock off in under thirty seconds and pulled the door open.

“Oh,” he said, disheartened. It was filled with nothing but garden implements. His sharp amber eyes spotted something in the corner so he stepped inside and crouched down. “Wait a minute, what’s this? Looks like wood shavings.”

“There’s something else,” said Cass, pulling on a pair of latex gloves - which she and Brodie both habitually carried in their pockets - and manoeuvring a pair of folded-up deck chairs away from the wall. “Brodie, you really want to see this.”

Brodie straightened up and his jaw dropped. “Bloody hell.”

It was a large section of smooth, planed wood, about eighteen square inches in size. The surface of it was carved and the image was Sarah’s face.

“Woah, it looks alive,” said Brodie.

“It’s gorgeous. Mark’s really talented,” said Cass. “Does this mean he’s The Carver?”

“Not necessarily but it’s shot him straight to the top of the suspect list.”

“Above Seth?”

Brodie thought about it then shook his head. “No, Mark’s not a serial killer.”

“It’s looking like he might be.”

“No, I’m not wrong.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

“If we broke in here then someone else could have done the same to plant this.”

“Possibly but only the killer would do that.”

“Which means he knows Mark has this shed and he likes wood carving.”

“Seth.”

“That’s more like what’s going on here.”

“Is this a threat? Could Sarah be on his hit list?” said Cass, gesturing to the carving.

“All The Carver’s victims have long dark hair and dark eyes. She’s the complete opposite. They could just have done the carving to convince everyone Mark made it, it’s obvious he’s crazy about his wife.”

“Or Mark’s The Carver.”

“No he’s not, trust me.”

“I do. I just don’t want you ignoring one possibility because of your gut. You’re not infallible.”

“I know but…oh hell, I don’t know. Let’s get a few pictures of this and the wood shavings then lock it back up.”

After both he and Cass took pictures of the incriminating evidence on their mobile phones they erased any trace of their presence and locked the shed back up.

“So where are we off to next?” said Cass as they strode back across the garden, around the side of the house and onto the drive.

“First of all I’m going to return this and get my Astra back,” replied Brodie, gesturing to the Ford Focus.

Cass frowned at the gleaming car. “Why? It’s much better than your clapped-out rust bucket.”

“Because I love my clapped-out rust bucket. We understand each other.”

“You make it sound like it’s alive.”

“
She
is alive, to me.”

“I don’t know why you keep it,” she said as they got into the hire car. “You’ve got plenty of money, get yourself something decent, something you can rely on to start in the morning and that won’t let you down when you really need it.”

“She’s never let me down yet and she’s got character. I like that in a car.”

“The only character that car has got is knackered. Stop being so bloody tight and spend a bit of cash.”

“I’m not tight and I don’t need to spend because there’s nothing wrong with my car.”

“On your head be it. One day you’ll want to make a quick getaway, you’ll start the engine and the whole sodding thing will collapse.”

“We’re picking up my car. If you don’t like it you can hire your own.”

“Okay. Can I put it on expenses?”

“No,” he retorted.

“Then I’ll stick with yours. Just don’t blame me if we need to go somewhere in a hurry and the engine explodes.”

Brodie let it wash over him, she was always on at him to get a better car but he loved his Astra, it was familiar, comfortable. For someone who’d had little stability in his life it meant a lot.

“Where are we off to then?” said Cass as they left Sarah’s house behind, deciding to drop the subject of the car.

“To talk to some people from Sarah’s early life. Who are they?”

Cass gave a wry smile and pulled a notebook out of her jacket pocket. She was one of those rare women who didn’t carry a handbag. Instead she always wore a jacket with pockets capacious enough to carry everything she needed. Her job could be a dangerous one and it was necessary to have both hands free to fight. She couldn’t be worrying about keeping hold of a bag.

“Parents Richard and Joy Tindell,” she recited. “Unfortunately they’re both abroad with the grandkids at the moment so we can’t talk to them but she does have a paternal aunt in Cheshire. Spinster. Lives alone with lots of cats. A bit doolally by all accounts. Aggressive. Charged with throwing one of her cats at a neighbour she’d been feuding with. Apparently a tree of hers was overhanging into the neighbour’s garden.”

“She threw a cat at them?” frowned Brodie. He’d heard of many strange things in his time but that was new.

“Barmy, isn’t it? She can’t love animals that much if she’s prepared to use them to bash people over the head with. The charges were dropped by the neighbour who moved away shortly after that incident. Apparently she was scared of Elspeth Tindell, most of her neighbours are.”

“Because of her preference for hurling cats about?”

“No. Apparently that was a one off. Just for weird, unstable behaviour in general - shouting in the street, physically threatening people, filling her front garden with piles of rubbish. She’s had several run-ins with neighbours and the council over it but apparently she’s got that particular problem under control now. When she was a teenager she used to get into a lot of fights too, not just with other girls but men too. By all accounts her right hook is legendary so bear that in mind.”

“I will. How old is she now?”

“Sixty six. She’s older than her brother and much more notorious. Her brother Richard, Sarah’s dad, is the quiet one. Complete opposites.”

Once again he was impressed by her thoroughness. If it had been left to Christian or Ross to do the research he’d have been lucky to get an address. “She sounds like the one we should start with.”

“Why are we looking into Sarah? I thought she was the victim in all this.”

“She is but I think it might help to get a bit of background on her too. Seth told me she exaggerated about her life, told a few wee porky’s, which makes it worthwhile looking at her more closely.”

“Fair enough but I think we should still be digging into the murder of the Creegan patriarch, I would love to know who really did it.”