‘I heard him go out after Graham left. They’ve done the identification…’
‘Good. Can’t think of what Leo might know, but whatever it is, we don’t pass it on to Dad. Don’t want him locked up.’
‘You heard him on the phone last night?’
Isaac nodded again. ‘I did. We’ll have to watch him. And whatever he’s done, you can bet your life Graham’s done it too.’
Leo was at their house by the time Isaac came downstairs after his shower, and was happily munching on two slices of toast.
‘You not gone in then?’
‘Nah, figured I needed to see you two. It’s shitty, mate. Totes shitty. Carla and your mum. I’ve been asking round…’
Isaac placed three glasses of fruit juice on the table, and they worked their way through the mound of toast.
‘So, what have you heard?’ Jack picked up another half slice.
‘Summat and nowt really,’ Leo said, swallowing before continuing. ‘It’s about him, Graham Andrews. Might be connected, might not.’ Leo picked up his glass and drank half of it.
‘Get on with it, man,’ Isaac said.
‘Patience. Seems he’s been playing away. I heard my granddad telling my mum when he called in this morning.’
‘Who with?’ It came out of Jack’s mouth almost as a casual throwaway comment, as if he wasn’t really bothered what answer was given.
‘Dunno. Granddad shut up, so I bet Mum told him I was in the other room.’
‘But it was a robbery,’ Isaac said, puzzlement etched across his face as he digested the information.
‘Was it? What sort of plank tries to rob a bookies at ten in the morning? How stupid was that? Even you wouldn’t be that daft, Isaac.’
‘Thanks.’
‘You’re welcome. Go on then, what time would you go in?’
Isaac paused, giving it considerable thought. ‘About five, I guess. They’ve got the day’s takings and most of the punters will be heading home by that time.’
Leo nodded. ‘Spot on.’ He picked up another piece of toast. ‘This is nice.’
‘Don’t they feed you at home?’
‘Yeah, already had breakfast. This is my second one.’
‘Let’s go back to this playing away.’ Jack was frowning. ‘You think that’s the reason? How would that end up with my mum and Carla…’ He couldn’t finish the sentence, simply left it hanging in the air.
‘I don’t know,’ Leo said, ‘but I thought you’d want to know. At some point somebody’s gonna mention it to the police, so thought I’d better tell you.’
‘You think anybody who lives around here would voluntarily tell the police anything? I don’t. Let’s keep it to ourselves for now. Might have to tell my dad at some point, but not yet. He’s in a right state. Thinks we don’t know, but we do.’
The letterbox rattled and Jack went to the door, half prepared for it to be a journalist. They had hung around all the previous day, but he hoped they had got the message that they would get nothing from them.
He opened the door, and a neighbour stood there holding a casserole.
‘For your meal tonight,’ she said, and quickly headed down the path.
‘Thank you,’ he called, and carefully closed the door, balancing the still-warm dish in the crook of his arm.
‘Oh good,’ Leo said as Jack returned to the kitchen. ‘Is it lunchtime?’
5
Tom Fowler stood by the whiteboard and stared around the room. The upper echelons appeared to be throwing the lot at this, he reflected, the place was crowded. He banged on the desk with a pot of pens and instantly there was silence. He felt a little unnerved; silence amongst his team wasn’t normal.
‘Okay, first of all I want to say thank you for the initial work everyone has done. We were out on the streets quickly, and I know several of you have contacted some of the more nefarious characters around the area for information. These two ladies were much liked and extremely well known, and I’m hopeful we’ll start to see results from your work.’
Still nobody spoke; he saw several taking notes. ‘Both husbands came in yesterday and identified formally, the families have obviously been notified, and the newspapers are currently dining out on it. It goes without saying, I hope, that nobody speaks to any hack aiming to get a scoop.’
He glanced around the room, and saw several heads nodding simultaneously. The young ones, eager to please and impress on their first murder enquiry.
‘Let’s cover what we know, and if anybody has any relevant information not on the board, shout up when we’ve finished. Carla Andrews, age thirty-six, married to Graham for eleven years and mother to nine-year-old Kelly and Daniel, seven. Carla was manager of the betting shop. Lorraine West, age forty, married to Kenny for ten years but they’ve been together since school. They have twin lads, sixteen-year-olds, Jack and Isaac. She was an assistant manager, but on Saturday wasn’t in charge, she was the cashier.’
He paused for a moment to let the notetakers catch up, then continued. ‘The ladies were close friends, saw each other outside of work, their families socialised. Saturday, both Carla and Lorraine clocked in a few minutes before the start of the shift. They had a cup of coffee at some point before the masked person came through the door. At 10:04 he or she entered. I will refer to this person as “he” from here on, because from CCTV it appears to be a masculine figure, but keep an open mind on that. He wasn’t muscly, quite slim, and around five feet six inches tall, so it could easily be a woman.’
Apart from a couple of coughs and a sneeze strong enough to start a tsunami in Australia, the room was eerily silent. Having been despatched to do a variety of different jobs, the team was hearing everything for the first time, presented as a whole picture, and not in dribs and drabs. He knew that one or two people had actually had some contact with Carla when she had experienced problems with punters, and that had to impact on them in some way.
‘At this moment in time we have no idea who he is. We have the gun, we have the bag the gun was in, and nothing else apart from the CCTV captured at Sanderson’s security place. He left no trace, he wore gloves and a mask throughout, even at the point where he ran across the car park after he had killed the ladies. A man, Ben Craig, made the initial call, and then hid in the car park until we arrived. He confirmed the figure was still masked, and he showed us where the gun had been dumped. He can’t help us in any other way, and says it was pure instinct that made him think something was wrong. He’s been going to that bookies every Saturday at just after ten for nine years, and it’s always been open. I can’t for the life of me imagine he is involved with the murder, because he was the one who rang it in and he hung around, but I want an in-depth profile on him to totally rule him out.’
DC Terri Vincent held up a hand in acknowledgement, and Tom thanked her. ‘Everything, Terri. I want to know who he is. Is he known to us? Married? Any connection at all to Carla and Lorraine? Did he shag somebody at three o’clock last Wednesday afternoon? You know the stuff I want, but I want it in detail.’