Kill Them Cold Page 24

  "I'll pop it on the table for you," Eric said before Hendry could object.

  "It's very decent of you to bring these back for me, Detective Const—"

  "Eric, please," he said over his shoulder, trying to turn but catching the box on the panelling lining the hall. "Oops … sorry."

  Hendry seemed irritated but Eric just resumed his course into the kitchen. The room opened out in front of him and Eric placed the box on the table, eyeing the newspaper and a half-drunk cup of coffee alongside it. Tim Hendry followed him in. Eric glanced at the paper, pointing to it with a flick of his hand.

  "How are you after last night?"

  Hendry shifted his weight between his feet, rocking sideways. "I'm okay. Really, it was Julia who suffered the most. I just helped her after the fact." Eric nodded. "Tell me, is there any word on … on Alex?"

  "Yes. I'm sorry to tell you Alex's body was recovered from the sea early this morning. He was pronounced dead at the scene," Eric said, anticipating the next question. Hendry looked glumly at the floor.

  "It is an odd sensation, Eric … to find someone you thought you knew so very well is in fact someone completely alien to you." His eyes looked up at Eric and away again. "Very odd indeed. My rational head tells me I should not mourn him but … I do. I miss him very much." He fixed Eric with a stare. "Is that something you can understand?"

  Eric smiled weakly. "I can only imagine, but it makes sense."

  Reading the sadness in his expression, Eric realised now would be a terrible moment to start talking about his favourite archaeological documentaries. The best he could hope for would be to come back another time. Besides, looking at the clock on the wall, he had to go. He hesitated, struggling to think how he could engineer a return visit. Avoiding Hendry's strangely intense gaze, Eric noticed a spillage on the floor on the other side of the table, along with some shards of broken cup. Hendry followed Eric's eye and moved to pick up the pieces of smashed ceramic.

  "Oh, let me help," Eric said, ignoring Hendry's protestations, moving around the table and kneeling to help clear up the mess. Eric saw the dog sniffing at a door off the hallway, about halfway down it, probably to an under-stairs cupboard or cellar. It tentatively scratched at the base of the door with its paw before casting a sideways glance into the kitchen. Eric turned his attention back to collecting the broken pieces just as Hendry picked up the last piece.

  "No harm done," Hendry said, taking the pieces from Eric into his cupped hand and crossing the kitchen to drop them in the bin.

  "Butter fingers, this morning?"

  "Accidents happen," Hendry said, watching the dog approach, "the furry one here got under my feet just as you rang the bell and I tripped, dropping my cup."

  The comment piqued Eric's curiosity. Just then a telephone rang in another room off the kitchen. Looking in that direction through an open door, it looked like a study. Hendry stood where he was and Eric awkwardly nodded towards the sound of the ringing phone.

  "Do you … want to get that?"

  Hendry's mouth formed an O, looking between the study and Eric. "I suppose I should." The phone was still ringing, the caller was persistent and didn't seem likely to give up. "Would you mind?"

  Eric shook his head, glancing at the clock. "I need to be off anyway. I have somewhere I need to be."

  "Right you are," Hendry said. "Would you mind seeing yourself out?"

  "Not at all but," Eric quickly looked around, "could I use your facilities before I go?"

  Hendry hesitated, the phone still trilling in the background. "Yes, by all means. It's the first door off the hall by the entrance."

  Eric smiled his thanks and Hendry begrudgingly went to answer the phone. The retriever came to Eric and nuzzled his leg. Eric dropped to his haunches and ruffled its head, scratching behind the dog's ear as he saw Hendry standing in his office lift the receiver on the call, one hand on his hip. Rising, Eric looked at the half-drunk cup of coffee on the table. Hendry had his back to him and Eric quickly took a couple of steps to his right and touched the cup; it was still warm. Something wasn't right here. Walking towards the hall the dog passed him and went to a door set beneath the stairs, stopping to scratch at the foot of it and then glancing at Eric.

  "What is it, boy?" Eric asked quietly, coming alongside the animal and lowering himself to its head height. He ran a hand along the dog's back. "What have you got in there?"

  He stood up, nudging the dog to one side with his knee and eased the door open. The door opened to the cellar head which was narrow with limited head room due to the staircase passing overhead. A set of concrete steps led down into the darkness of the cellar itself and Eric felt a draught of cool damp air pass over him from below. The dog pushed past Eric and ran down the stairs with an excited bark. Eric grimaced. The dog would give away his snooping. He glanced back over his shoulder towards the kitchen, hearing Hendry's muffled conversation in the study. Looking around for the light switch, Eric found a dangling pull cord and tugged it. The cellar head was bathed in yellow light, some of it casting down into the cellar below to reveal peeling white paint from the walls in the stairwell.

  "Come here, boy!" Eric called in as an assertive tone as he could whilst refraining from raising his voice. He considered whistling but thought better of it. He couldn't really hold a note and he didn't know if that would work anyway. He'd always liked the idea of having a dog but wouldn't have a clue how to manage one. The dog didn't appear in any event and Eric cursed. He walked to the top of the stairs, searching for another pull cord. He found a switch and pressed it. His mouth fell open.

  Julia Rose lay unconscious at the bottom of the stairs, the dog standing over her. Blood poured from a wound to the side of her head. Eric rummaged in his pocket for his mobile phone. He hit the speed dial for Tom's mobile but there was silence. Glancing at the screen he saw he had no signal, enclosed on all sides as he was by thick brick walls. He had to call for help.

  Spinning on his heel, he met Tim Hendry standing directly in front of him. Eric felt pressure in his stomach like he'd been punched but this was different. Then there followed another similar blow and his legs went numb, the mobile slipping from his fingers and clattering to the floor. Not that he heard it. He reached out, open mouthed, trying to grasp hold of Hendry's shirt but all strength ebbed away from him and his knees buckled. Hendry, eyes wide and with gritted teeth, stepped forward and shoved Eric backwards. The numbness in his stomach vanished to be replaced with searing pain and he gasped just as he felt the floor disappear from under him and he tumbled backwards down the stairs.

  The light flickered and then everything went dark.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Tamara was looking at the pictures on the mantelpiece above the fire. Tom came to stand with her. One in particular stood out to him. The same one that'd caught his eye on his first visit where he'd mistaken Tim Hendry for Alex Hart. It seemed odd to him that Hart kept a photograph of his ex-girlfriend on show, especially one where he wasn't in shot with her but with his friend and competitor for his lover's affection. But then again, Hart was unaware of that fact. He stared at the image of Tim Hendry smiling at the camera with his arm around Julia Rose. The snap took on a new light in Tom's mind now that he knew the two of them had had a relationship of sorts behind Alex's back. Was their relationship during one of the couples' periods apart or was it adulterous? Neither was likely to tell him and he didn't really need to know. That picture, the two of them with the steep mountains set as the backdrop behind them falling away into the water. They were both well wrapped up for the climate; it looked cold, north European.

  "Did Elin ever come back to Cassie?" Tom asked. Tamara looked at him inquisitively. "Regarding the DNA?"

  "Yes. It was inconclusive, remember?"

  "In regard to Alex Hart and William Cannell, yes," Tom said. "Did we ever send anyone else's?"

  Tamara didn't get to answer, Tom's phone interrupted their conversation. He kept his eye on the photograph, not even looking
at the mobile screen Julia looked so happy and Tim Hendry alongside was grinning broadly beneath his orange woolly hat.

  "Tom Janssen," he said flatly. Casting an eye along the line of photographs they all appeared to be taken at archaeological dig locations rather than on holidays. He picked up the picture he was focussed on and passed it to Tamara, tapping the image when she had it. She stared at it, unsure of what he was getting at.

  "Hi Tom ..." He recognised the voice but she sounded distant and concerned. There was an echo and he could hear muffled voices behind her.

  "Becca. Hi, what can I do for you?"

  Tamara lifted her head upon hearing the name but returned to the photograph.

  "Um … I'm really sorry to bother you, Tom, but … by any chance do you know where Eric is?"

  "Eric?" Tom said, turning the corners of his mouth down. "Er … no, not really. He had to drop some files off nearby and then he had an errand to run but I'm afraid I don't—"

  "That was me," she said. He could hear frustration in her voice along with a touch of irritation, or maybe it was anger, he couldn't tell. "Eric was supposed to meet me and he's not here."

  Tom looked at the clock. "Maybe he's running a bit behind? Have you tried calling him?"

  "Yes, of course but his mobile cuts to voicemail. Eric always has his phone on."

  Tom had to admit that was true.

  "I'm sure everything is fine. He'll be there as soon—"

  "No, you don't understand. He wouldn't be late, not for this."

  "Becca," Tom said, hearing a beeping sound in the background, "where are you?"

  There was a pause where all he could hear was the background noise. The voices sounded officious, professional. She hesitated for a moment longer.

  "I'm at the hospital, Tom. It's my twelve-week scan."

  Tom snapped his fingers to get Tamara's attention. She looked at him expectantly.

  "Tom?" Becca asked.

  "Yes, I'm here."

  "Can you find him for me? He should be here. I don't understand because he's talked about nothing else all week."

  "I had no idea—"

  "I'm sorry. We didn't tell anyone. We didn't want to jinx it, you know?"

  "Yes, of course," he said, rolling his tongue across the inside of his cheek. "Leave it with me. And don't worry – his car has probably got a flat and he's out of signal range or something."

  "Okay, you're right … it's just … you know?"

  "I do. Listen, you do what you need to do and I'll chase Eric up and give him a friendly kick in the backside, okay?"

  "Thanks, Tom. I'm sorry to have bothered you."

  "No trouble. And Becca – congratulations! I'm very pleased for you."

  Tom held the mobile in his hand, touching the tip of it to his lips. Tamara looked concerned. She made to speak but he held a hand up to stop her and began scrolling through his contacts to find Eric's number. Just as with Becca, the call passed straight to voicemail.

  "What is it, what's going on?" Tamara asked.

  "Eric was dropping by Tim Hendry's and then running a personal errand, right?" She nodded. "Well, Becca is pregnant," Tamara gaped at him, "and Eric hasn't shown up for the scan."

  Tamara chewed her lower lip. "That's unlike Eric. Do you think he just got talking with Hendry? I mean, you know what he's like when he gets going—"

  Tom shook his head. "I don't know but," he tapped the photo in her hand, "where would you say that was taken?"

  Tamara eyed the picture. "By the sheer angle of those cliff faces dropping straight into the water, I'd say Scandinavia. Maybe Norway."

  "Dig sites?" Tom queried.

  Tamara nodded. "Yes, I should think so."

  "But Tim Hendry never worked in Scandinavia. That's why we focussed on William Cannell, and Alex Hart because of his connection with Julia Rose. And we never sent Hendry's DNA sample to Norway for comparison—"

  "Because he never worked there."

  "But did he visit – much like William Cannell did?" Tom said, as he felt his stomach flip momentarily. "They were a tight group and even Cannell called in on Julia's dig in Kristiansand. Hart came over as well, so …"

  "Why not Hendry?" Tamara finished for him.

  "He was in Norway—" he pointed to the picture in her hands again. "With Julia Rose and he was visiting Alex Hart regularly." Tom cast an eye in the direction of the garage as if he could see through the walls. "The net is closing in, so why not place a few trophies where we can easily find them to divert attention away from himself? He told Julia and us, that he didn't make it over to see Alex Hart last night like he promised he would, but we only have his word for that."

  Tamara shook her head, her eyebrows knitting and held up a hand to Tom. "Hang on. There's no way Hendry could have known Hart would die yesterday—"

  "No, but you met Hart. He had no idea what he had or hadn't done most of the time. He looked on the verge of confessing to anything and everything on the grounds that he didn't know whether he'd done it! Think about it. Who would believe him if he were put on the stand? The man didn't look like he believed himself!"

  Tamara exhaled heavily. "And Eric is …"

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The door creaked half open and Tim Hendry first looked beyond Tom and then eyed him up and down, apparently surprised to see him.

  "Detective Inspector Janssen. I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon."

  "Expecting or hoping?" Tom asked.

  "Whatever do you mean?"

  "May I come in?"

  Hendry looked back over his shoulder into the house, hesitated, and then checked his watch. "Well, I do have a call coming up—"

  "I'll not keep you long," Tom said, smiling broadly. "I promise."

  Hendry frowned, lips pursed and reluctantly agreed, pulling open the door and gesturing with an open hand for him to enter. Tom stepped in, turning sideways on to face Hendry and glanced around the interior as the door was closed by his host. Hendry turned to Tom and raised his eyebrows in query. Tom said nothing.

  "I'm sorry to sound a little rude, Inspector …" He glanced nervously towards the kitchen as his dog appeared. "What is this regarding? I wasn't present last night until after the event—"

  The dog moved along the hall, stopping by the door to the cellar and sniffing at it.

  "D–Do come through, Inspector, please."

  Hendry led the way, taking the dog by the collar and guiding him assertively back to the kitchen and instructing him to sit on his bed in the far corner of the room.

  "There's no need," Tom said. "I'm quite used to dogs."

  Hendry dismissed the comment with a flick of the hand, turning to face Tom and standing in the middle of the breakfast room. He rested one hand on the table and the other on his hip. "Not everyone feels the same way, Inspector. I seldom have visitors at the house, so it generally isn't an issue."

  Tom nodded, looking around. His eyes lingered on a familiar archive box set down on the floor beside the French doors leading out on to the patio.

  "How about today?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "Visitors," Tom said, staring hard at him as Hendry registered a blank expression. "Have you had a visitor today?"

  Hendry stood upright, putting both hands to his side, his lips parting ever so slightly.

  "No. Today has been very quiet." He looked towards his study. "I've had a couple of work things to finish up and," he shrugged, "I've pretty much had my head down. What's this all about?" he asked, his brow wrinkling.

  Before Tom could answer, Tamara appeared on the other side of the French doors, making eye contact with Tom. Without waiting to be bidden entry, she tried the handle and the door opened. The dog leapt off its bed and ran to inspect the newcomer. She bobbed her head in Tom's direction – it was the signal he'd been waiting for and he stepped forward, took a hold of Hendry's shirt and spun him and shoved him face down across the breakfast table. The dog started barking. Hendry howled in protest as Tom forced his a
rm around his back and twisted his hand up towards his neck, the howl was stifled, morphing into a yelp of pain.

  "How dare—"

  "Where's DC Collet?"

  "I–I …"

  Tamara stepped forward, slamming the flat of her hand down on the table beside Hendry's head. He blinked furiously before his face contorted in pain as Tom exerted more pressure. "Eric's car is in your double garage!" Tamara said. "Where is he?"

  Hendry said nothing, gritting his teeth as Tom put even more of his body weight on Hendry's stricken frame. He shrieked, a tear escaping one eye, but as Tom eased off Hendry sucked deep gasps of air into his lungs and instead of answering the question he laughed. It was a twisted chuckle that incensed Tom.

  "Right!" Tom said, reapplying pressure to Hendry's twisted arm and grasping him by the collar. He hoisted him upright, manoeuvring him into the kitchen at speed. Hendry didn't find this so amusing and protested just as Tom slammed him into the cast-iron cooker, face down on the plates.

  "Tom!" Tamara shouted at him but he ignored her. He took out a set of handcuffs and slapped one around Hendry's right wrist, doing so with such force that it elicited a scream of pain. Tom slid the other cuff through the stainless-steel bar running the length of the cooker's front. Dragging Hendry unceremoniously back, he attached the second cuff to the wrist of his free hand. Hendry was secured in place. Tom looked at Tamara.

  "Now we'll tear this house apart."

  Tamara nodded, taking out her radio and summoning Cassie and the uniformed officers waiting nearby but out of sight. Hendry shot Tom a wicked smile and without a word, Tom kicked out with his right foot and side kicked Hendry's knee. The man's legs buckled and he sank to the floor with a groan, the smile vanishing. Tamara headed across the room to the study and Tom hurried to open the front door for Cassie, his intention to search the upstairs rooms. He reached the front door, pulled it open and grasped the bannister. The dog barked again and Tom hesitated, seeing it standing in the hall staring at him. It wasn't aggressive but when he made to climb the stairs it barked again, spinning round and on the spot, its front paws lifting off the ground with each bark. Instinct made Tom stop and then Cassie appeared in the doorway breathing heavily. She looked at him, hope in her expression.