Snarl (13 page)

Chapter Eighteen

The house
where their suspect used to live was in the middle of a tired estate of mid-century houses, most of which had probably been built as social housing after the Second World War. Here and there were pretty front gardens and a brave – and in the context, somewhat pathetic – attempt to smarten up the exterior of a house. These few well-kept houses stood out in contrast to the dirty pebbledash, broken windows and rubbish-filled front gardens of most of the others. Kate had grown up on an estate not too dissimilar. She felt the same wave of depression wash over her as she had when she used to visit her mother. At least their estrangement meant she didn’t have to do that anymore. Silver linings, and all that…

The landlady, Mrs
Grenson, was a fat, blousy woman, with greying blonde hair scraped back into a scrappy ponytail and a lit cigarette dangling permanently from her fingers. The building in which she lived had once been a three bedroom house; she now occupied the ground floor, renting out the rooms upstairs as bedsits. Guy Ward had apparently lived there for six months, before disappearing eight weeks earlier.

“What was he like?” asked Kate, trying not to breath
e in any more smoke than she had to, a hopeless task.

Mrs
Grenson shrugged. “He was quiet, I’ll give him that. Didn’t make much trouble. Only thing I had to take him up on was the pets. I said no pets, see, and he still brought them in. A kitten and an effing great rabbit. Made a right mess of the carpet, chewed it all up.”

“Did he ever have any visitors, people to stay?”

“Not that I ever saw.”

“Do you know if he had any family?”

“Nah.”

“I don’t suppose he left any forwarding address or anything like that?”

Mrs Grenson laughed a cynical laugh. “Nah,” she said, again.

“Do you have any tenants now?” asked Theo
, as Kate was overtaken by a coughing fit. Mrs Grenson looked at her in disgust, as if she were putting it on.

“Just one. ‘E’s up there now
, if you want to talk to ‘im. Number one.”

They escape
d the downstairs flat thoughtfully and climbed the stairs. The smell of smoke gradually lessened, but was replaced by others just as unpleasant. Kate took a quick look into the bathroom and wished she hadn’t.

The tenant of room number one took a long time to answer the door. When he did so, he looked at the police in sleepy confusion, which swiftly became panic as he realised who they were. Noting his bloodshot eyes and the reek of marijuana smoke that came from the room, Kate raised
her hand in a placating gesture. “We’re not going to arrest you for having a spliff,” she said. “So you can calm down. We need to talk to you about Guy Wade.”

The tenant, who turned out to be called Paul, looked to be about twenty two
; he was skinny and pale, like someone who hadn’t seen much daylight recently. He claimed firstly not to know who they were talking about, but after being shown Wade’s photograph, foggy comprehension dawned.

“Oh,
that
guy. He was a nutter. Seriously weird eyes, like, I dunno,
dead
or something.”

“Were you friends? Did you spend any time with him?”

“That guy didn’t have any friends, I’m telling you. No one ever came to see him. He just used to spend his time watching these well loud films or porn. I’m telling you.”

“How do you know?”

“These flats are so shit, you can hear everything through the walls, man.”

“Did you ever hear him talk on the phone, perhaps?”

Paul sniffed. “Dunno. Oh yeah, maybe a couple of times. He was mumbling though, couldn’t really hear what he was saying.”

They persisted for a few more questions
, but it was obvious that neither Paul nor Mrs Grenson could help them any further. Returning to the car, Kate sniffed her shirt sleeve, grimacing.

“Come on,” said Theo, “That wasn’t the worst house you’ve ever been in, not by a long shot.”

Momentarily, the bloodied drawing room of the Dorseys’ house recurred to Kate.

“No,” she said
, after a moment. “There have been worse.”

Their next destination was Royal Wootten Bassett, the scene of so many sad homecomings of soldiers who’d paid the ultimate price for the service of their country. As Theo drove along the main street, Kate remembered the crowds who turned out to line the pavements, the solemn onlookers, the tearstained faces of the grieving families. Had Guy Wade’s experiences in the army turned him from patriot to misanthropist, or did his apparent hatred of the human race go deeper than that?

Guy Wade’s once commanding officer, Peter Wentworth
, was a distinguished looking man of about fifty, still with a thick head of hair scarcely touched by grey, except at the temples. He reminded Kate a little of Anderton, except without the latter’s unceasing energy. Captain Wentworth had a clipped but calm manner, and courteously offered them both refreshments before they got down to business.

“Guy Thomas
Wade,” said the captain. “Yes, I remember him. He was a troubled man.”

“Really?”

“He came from a very lowly background. Born the wrong side of the blanket, no real father figure. Rackety kind of childhood. I only know this second-hand, of course, from his fellow soldiers.”

Kate tried not to resent the words used. She’d been ‘born on the wrong side of the blanket’, stupid term. She’d had a rackety kind of childhood.
We can’t all have a privileged upbringing, mate.

The
captain went on speaking. “I often see it in the ranks,” he said. “Plenty of men and women join the forces because they’re looking for order and stability, and the comfort of having someone else tell you what to do.”

Again, Kate was pierced by his words. It was true. Why else had she wanted to be a police officer? Catching the bad guys, of course, that was the conscious reason. But the unconscious one was to bring more order to the chaos of life. She remembered her first week at Hendon, settling in with her dorm-mates. She even remembered the first night there; lying in a strange bed in a strange room, in a building filled with strangers. She should have been homesick – instead, she remembered feeling an overwhelming relief. She remembered Stuart at Olbeck’s dinner table, head down, clutching his glass.
That’s why I joined the force…

She brought herself back to the present with an effort. Theo had obviously just asked a question and the
captain was frowning.

“There were – incidents,” he
said. “There were several fights, both with other soldiers and with civilians. It culminated, as you know doubt know, in a discharge from the services.”

Kate recalled the notes of the case.
“He was involved in the serious beating of an Iraqi citizen, who later died from his injuries,” she said. “So, he was court-martialled?”

Captain
Wentworth looked uncomfortable. “No. No, it never actually came to that. There was a lack of evidence – one of the key witnesses’ testimony was very unreliable. The family of the victim eventually dropped the charges.”

“Why?”

Captain Wentworth sat back in his chair, one thumb running along the edge of his jaw. “Let’s just say that they probably didn’t want too much close attention paid to their… situation. The victim was – well, let’s just say he was a person of interest to our side.”

Theo
looked puzzled. Kate felt like giving him a poke in the ribs.

“They were insurgents?” she asked and watched Theo’s face clear.

“Possibly.”

“Was it—
” Kate looked down at the notes on her lap. “What was Guy Wade’s motive for the attack? Did he have one?”

Incredibly,
Captain Wentworth chuckled, a single dry cough of a laugh. Then he cleared his throat. “Forgive me. I actually remember what Wade said, after we’d arrested him. He said he did it because the victim had been flogging his donkey.”

For a moment, Kate thought that was some kind of sexual euphemism. Then she realised it was the literal truth. Guy Wade had killed a man for being cruel to an animal. She and Theo exchanged a glance.

“One more thing, captain. Did Wade ever work in bomb disposal, or with explosives in any way?”

“No. No, not that I’m aware. We do
, of course, have such units in each of our battalions, and it’s possible that Wade had some friends or contacts in those units. He was a fairly quick learner. He was a violent, troubled man, like I said, but he wasn’t without intelligence.”

*

“So, what do you think?” Kate asked as they made their way back to the car.

Theo glanced over at her.
“Sounds like our guy, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does. So now we just have to find him.”

Chapter Nineteen

Those were Anderton’s sentiments when they arrived back at the station for the debrief.

“I need Stuart back here,” he said. “Things are moving quickly, now. Someone go and get him in – pretend to arrest him, if you have to.”

There were a few grins at this and Kate could see that several people quite fancied the novelty of ‘arresting’ one of their colleagues. Let’s hope we never have to do it for real, she thought.

“Anyone got anything else to add?”

Something had been nagging at Kate, something to do with the whiteboards. As she swept her gaze along them, it snagged on whatever had been nudging her. Someone, Anderton probably, had drawn a couple of pound signs and circled them, right by the crime scene pictures of the Dorsey house. She raised her hand.

“Sir, I’d like to go and interview Alexander Hargreaves. I’ve got several questions for him.”

“Fine. Do that. Take someone with you.”

“I’m fine—”

“No buts, DS Redman.” Kate fought down an angry blush. Patronising git. “I’m not having my officers wandering around that isolated spot without back-up.”

“I’ll come,” said Theo, helpfully. Kate tried to look grateful.

At least this time Kate could insist on driving, as she’d been there once before and Theo hadn’t. Her radio station had been tuned to Classic FM
, which came on automatically when she started the engine but she turned it off rather pointedly.

“Cor,” Theo
said as they drew up beside the lakeside house. “Nice gaff. I’d love something like this.”

Kate made an agreeing noise as she parked the car. Theo was craning to see out of the windows, shielding his eyes against the
glare of the sunlight.

“I think I saw this on
Grand Designs
, once. I love that show. I’m going to have a place like this, one day.”

“Really?” asked Kate, trying not to sound too surprised – or too cynical. She thought of pointing out to Theo that even if he rose to become Chief Superintendent, the likelihood of him being able to afford a multi-million pound house was nothing but a faint, distant dream
; but why stamp on the poor bloke’s aspirations?

Once they were out of the car, Kate once
again became aware of the sense of isolation. It was a warmer, sunnier day than the time she and Anderton had visited, but there was still a pressing sense of solitude as they stood in the driveway. She could hear the faint lap of the lake waters against the posts of the jetty. The pine trees stood by the lakeside like needled sentinels. A car that Kate vaguely recognised as the large BMW that had been parked here on their previous visit was parked inside the open garage.

“Looks like he’s home,” she said
, and Theo nodded.

But no one answered their knocks on the door and rings of the doorbell. After five minutes, Kate gestured to Theo and they began to walk around the decking that ran along the back of the house. Theo exclaimed over the view.

“I know, it’s nice but—” Kate began and then stopped dead.

The long wall of glass at the back of the house was currently in shadow
, and the interior of the house was clearly visible. Kate’s heart leapt into her throat. Within the dim interior, she could see a figure, slumped in one of the armchairs around the glass coffee table, and there was a dark stain on the fluffy white rug on the slate floor. She clutched Theo’s arm.

“Oh, fuck,” said Theo, taking it in. “Shit. Is it him?”

“Alex Hargreaves? I think so.” Kate pressed her hands up against the glass, trying to see as much as she could through the twin barriers of glass and low light. “Oh my god. Theo, we’ve got to get in.”

“I know.” Theo sounded as shaken as she was. She knew what he was thinking – was this another murder? “I’m going to call it in right now
, and then we’ll get that door down.”

They ran back around to the front of the house, Theo already talking to Dispatch. After he’d hung up, he tried Anderton, terminating the call with a curse when he obviously got his voicemail. Kate was already calling Olbeck.

“Oh, Lord,” said Olbeck. Kate pressed the phone to her ear, grimacing – he sounded like he was walking down a wind tunnel. “I’m just leaving the office – I’ll be there as quick as I can. Are you okay?”