After making arrangements to visit Lydia Terry and her husband the following morning, Kay allowed the couple to leave the pub and turned her attention to a group of CSIs working within the taped-off area of the car park.
Heads bowed, their protective suits stark against the temporary lights that had been erected around them, they moved methodically from one side to the other, their gait unhurried.
She glanced down as her mobile phone started to ring, a familiar name displayed across the screen.
Gavin Piper had been a regular member of her tight-knit team for a number of years now, and possessed a sixth sense when it came to anticipating her requirements.
‘Gav – any more news about the gunman?’ she said while she watched the forensics team.
‘Nothing yet, guv,’ came the reply. ‘No one driving erratically has been spotted on any CCTV in the immediate area, and there haven’t been any reports of unusual activity around houses or farms yet.’
‘Okay, well the tactical firearms team have handed over the scene to us here now, so I’ll let you know if we find anything to help you. Have you got arrest teams on standby?’
‘Yes, and your request for additional manpower has been escalated. I’ll keep you posted about that, guv.’
She ended the call and turned to Barnes. ‘This isn’t going to be easy, is it?’
‘Lydia and Martin say they can’t recall hearing a car drive off so although we’ve got roadblocks in place, there’s also the possibility the gunman escaped on foot.’ He scrolled through a new text message, his phone screen illuminating his clenched jaw. ‘Uniform are making house-to-house calls at the moment to warn people in the immediate vicinity, but we’re screwed without a better description of the older bloke they say was with the victim earlier.’
‘Christ.’ Kay frowned and eyed three vehicles parked at the fringes of the gravelled area. ‘Whose are those, then?’
‘The old four-by-four belongs to Len Simpson, the green hatchback is Martin Terry’s, and the other two belong to locals who had too much to drink tonight and decided to walk home.’
‘Have you got a note of their names?’
‘Yes, and addresses. I’ll pass them on to uniform when I leave here so they can interview them and make sure they’re not still over the limit when they come back for their cars tomorrow.’
‘Did you find anything on the system about Len Simpson?’
‘He’s been a licensee since being dishonourably discharged from the army almost thirty years ago. I can’t find anything that says why he left – I was going to suggest you might like a word with Sharp to see if he can find anything out for us.’
DCI Devon Sharp had been in the military police for a number of years prior to joining the civilian police force in Kent, and still kept in contact with many of his old colleagues.
‘I’ll make a note to speak to him after the briefing tomorrow. As soon as the call came in earlier, he went over to headquarters to coordinate at that end. With any luck, we’ll have some more manpower by the morning too,’ she said, then watched as Lucas’s assistants rolled their now-laden gurney towards the grey van, the dead man’s body encased within a body bag.
Barnes raised his hand to shield his eyes from a set of headlights as one of the patrol cars exited the car park in the van’s wake. ‘There have been plenty of complaints about this place over the years, not to mention rumours about what goes on here, but there’s never been enough to bring Simpson in front of a magistrates’ court. Somehow, he’s always managed to avoid that.’
‘How long has he been the licensee here?’
‘Six years now. It’s a free house, so that’s probably why he’s been here so long – he doesn’t have to worry about what a head office might think about the way he runs the place like he would if a pub company owned it.’
‘It’ll be interesting to hear what Lydia Terry has to say about it all when we speak to her tomorrow, out of earshot of him.’ She turned away from the pub, her attention returning to the painstaking search being undertaken by the gathered CSIs. ‘Let’s find out if they can tell us anything yet, so at least we can bring the team up to speed at the briefing.’
A familiar figure lowered a mask from her face and hurried towards them as they reached the cordon, pushing away her hood, her green eyes keen.
Kay lifted the tape for her. ‘Harriet – I didn’t know you were back from holiday.’
The other woman gave a grim smile, her protective suit crackling as she shifted a tablet computer in her grip. ‘We got back from Cancún yesterday. I have to admit, I already wish I was back on the beach…’
‘Has your team managed to find anything to give us a head start with this one?’
‘There wasn’t a wallet or mobile phone on him, and I’ve currently got some of my team searching the area with the help of uniform to try to find those. We’ve taken fingerprints and those have been sent for processing,’ said Harriet. ‘And we’ve got the two shell casings that were discharged.’
She beckoned to one of her assistants, who hurried over and held out an evidence bag. The lead CSI opened it, and Barnes shone his phone screen over the contents.
Inside, nestled within a plastic swab container and packed with polythene to stop it moving around during transit, Kay saw a gleaming brass casing and gave an involuntary shudder. ‘It’s bigger than I thought it would be.’
‘I’ll get my ballistics expert to confirm the calibre.’ Harriet closed the bag and handed it back. ‘I’m not promising anything, but we’ll obviously test both for traces of DNA. We’re currently trying to find the remains of the rounds that went through the victim, which is proving to be bloody difficult in this light.’
‘So a rifle, rather than a shotgun?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Those didn’t lodge inside him?’ said Barnes.
‘We can’t assume anything until Lucas has done the post mortem,’ Harriet explained. ‘Given the state of him, you’d think they went straight through but we have to process the area anyway. I’ll warn you now, though – we’ll be here well until daybreak.’
Kay bit her lip. ‘The second shot at the victim – why do that? I mean, that shot in his back was enough to kill him.’
‘Spite, perhaps?’
‘Or he didn’t want us to be able to identify him easily.’ Harriet glanced over her shoulder as one of her team members approached the cordon and beckoned to her. ‘I’m needed. I’ll let you two work out why this happened. In the meantime, I’ll make sure you get my report as to how it happened as soon as possible.’
‘Thanks,’ said Kay, and sighed as she watched the CSI manager walk away.
‘Okay, Ian – I’ll take it from here. Get yourself home and I’ll see you at seven tomorrow.’
‘Are you sure, guv? I don’t mind staying if you are.’
She managed a smile. ‘Thanks, but you’re going to have enough to do as it is. You’d better get your head down for a few hours.’
‘What are you going to do?’
Kay ran her eyes over the scene before her, then checked her wristwatch.
Almost one o’clock.
‘I’m going to make sure Gavin’s got someone processing those fingerprints from the victim, and then I think I’d better risk finding out what Len Simpson’s coffee is like.’