Ian Barnes tucked his reading glasses into his jacket pocket, reached across the central console and opened the passenger door ready for Kay as she emerged from the back door of the police station and hurried towards the car.
She tossed a manila folder and her bag into the footwell and climbed in, fastening her seatbelt while he edged into the dual lane traffic.
He risked a sideways glance.
She looked tired, which was understandable given the night they’d all had, but there was an underlying weariness to her posture, as if the strain of the shooting incident and unparalleled workload was already taking its toll.
Especially now that Gavin was on his way to Northfleet with Sharp.
Negotiating the twisting one-way system, doubling back around the ring road, the car finally shot along the A20 towards Bearsted behind an empty single-decker bus hellbent on beating every red light out of town.
He wound the window down a crack, letting the warm air tickle his neck and losing some of the staleness from within the vehicle, which he was sure had been used for covert surveillance at some point within the past week if the underlying stench of fast food was any indication.
‘Laura all set up, then?’ he ventured, his eyes travelling to the dashboard GPS.
‘Yes.’
The single word came out in a sigh, and then his colleague chuckled.
‘Sorry – I’ve been a bit preoccupied this morning. How are you doing after last night? All right?’
He shrugged, then took a left-hand turn after passing a paddock filled with gymkhana paraphernalia. ‘It’s a lot to take in, guv. Biggest case we’ve worked on together so far, isn’t it? And the fact we have an armed man still on the loose is a worry.’
‘It is. Thank god Sharp was available to take on the gold commander role. I wouldn’t fancy managing this with someone I didn’t know. I mean, we’ve got all the procedures to follow but it makes such a difference working with a familiar team.’ She peered at the GPS as the soft voice of the computer directed him to take the next right. ‘Whereabouts do Lydia Terry and her husband live in relation to the pub’s location?’
‘About three miles east of it. It’s so small, it hasn’t even got a place name, just the name of the lane their house is on. We should be there in five minutes.’
‘Given that you interviewed them both last night before I got there, do you want to lead this one? At least then it’ll provide some continuity.’
‘No problem.’ He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘I know they were both in shock last night, Lydia in particular, but I’m interested to find out how much more forthcoming she might be.’
Kay snorted. ‘I’m sure Len Simpson has got mixed up in plenty of dodgy dealings in his lifetime. I suppose it depends on whether Lydia and Martin have ever benefited from some of that.’
‘It’s a big leap from bagging a few pheasants here and there to murdering some poor bloke though, isn’t it?’ He slowed, anticipating the Terrys’ cottage within the next few hundred metres. ‘And given Lydia’s had a few hours to think about it, and time to talk it over with her husband, maybe they’ll decide it’s time to say something.’
‘Perhaps.’ Kay straightened and pointed through the windscreen. ‘Is that the place?’
Barnes eased to a standstill beside a terrace of five farmworkers’ cottages, the rough stonework battered and bruised by the elements.
Slate tiles covered the roof, and each property had a wooden porch in various states of disrepair that provided a modicum of protection from the elements in inclement weather.
‘Nice view,’ he said.
Opposite the houses, the roadside verge gave way to a panorama of tumbling hillsides, golden barley bobbing and swaying as a breeze rippled across the landscape in gentle waves. Half a mile away, a dark green tractor dragged a trailer across a field behind a combine harvester, a cloud of dust rising into the air as the machines worked.
‘Wait until the winter, when that wind whips straight up here and into your front room,’ Kay said. ‘Hope these are well insulated.’
‘We’ve been spotted.’ Barnes watched as a curtain twitched at the downstairs window to Weavers Cottage. ‘Shall we?’
By the time they’d reached the front door, Martin Terry was standing on the threshold, brow furrowed.
‘You haven’t caught him yet, then?’ he said.
‘Only a matter of time,’ said Barnes, his voice neutral. ‘How are you both?’
Terry shrugged. ‘As well as can be expected. Lydia’s in the living room. She’s insisting on watching the news coverage, although I keep telling her it’s not a good idea.’
‘I need to know.’ A voice carried through from a doorway to the left of the hallway, and then Lydia appeared.
With her make-up removed since the previous night, her pale face was almost translucent against her dark hair, and Barnes could sense the stress emanating from her.
‘We won’t take up too much of your time,’ he said. ‘We just need to ask a few more questions.’
‘Come on through.’ Lydia turned on her heel, picked up the television remote from a low table beside an armchair and muted the newsreader’s commentary.
Barnes noticed the same repeating footage on the screen that had been playing across the local and national networks since the media release had been issued, and battened down the rising frustration at the amount of speculation being forced upon an already worried local population.
‘Would you like to sit down?’
He looked away from the television at Martin’s voice to see the man gesturing to a mushroom-coloured sofa under the front window, and waited until Kay was seated before perching on the arm and unbuttoning his jacket.
Flicking through his notes while the couple settled into matching armchairs, he glanced around the room.
Compared to the White Hart, their home was clean and tidy, with bookshelves each side of the television and an eclectic collection of trinkets and mementoes wedged in between the paperbacks.
The walls appeared to have been recently painted, a bright colour that offset the north-facing aspect and accentuated the framed prints above a stone mantelpiece.
When he turned his attention to Lydia, she was watching him closely.
‘What do you want to know, detective? I gave you my statement last night.’
‘And I appreciate that,’ he replied. ‘What I’d like to do now is go back over what happened, simply because I’m sure you were shocked by the events in the pub. It’s often the case that once we’ve had a chance to decompress after a stressful encounter that we remember extra details, and those details could be critical to our investigation.’
Lydia nodded, folding her hands in her lap. ‘Okay. That makes sense.’
‘Before we start, how are you both doing today?’
‘All right, I suppose.’ Lydia glanced at her husband, who gave a slight nod. ‘We didn’t get to bed until nearly three o’clock this morning…’
She paused as a helicopter clattered overhead, the windows shaking. After it had passed, she shot him a rueful smile. ‘Needless to say, it was near impossible to sleep.’
‘I can imagine. Apart from that?’
‘Like she said, we’re okay,’ said Martin, reaching out for his wife’s hand and giving it a squeeze. ‘We were talking about it this morning, and as long as you catch whoever did it, then it’ll be all right, won’t it?’
‘Good.’ Barnes smiled. ‘But do speak to your GP surgery if you need to. They can put you in touch with the right people if you find it does get overwhelming. So, back to last night. Lydia, what time did the two men come into the pub?’
The woman pursed her lips. ‘I was busy serving at the other end of the bar and had my back to the front door so I didn’t really see them at first. They only had one drink each. I poured those, but after that I didn’t take much notice of them again until Martin mentioned that they were arguing about something.’
‘Did you manage to overhear anything they were saying, Martin?’
The other man paused for a moment, staring at the carpet. Then, ‘I’ve been trying to remember. They were doing their best to keep their voices down but I think I heard snatches of the conversation. The odd word here and there, you know? I got the impression they only came to the pub to have that talk.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘One of them said something along the lines of “no one knows us”, something like that.’ He lifted his gaze, a sheepish expression crossing his face. ‘I tried to listen after that. It piqued my interest for some reason.’
‘Why was that?’
‘I’m not sure. Perhaps because I hadn’t seen them before, and – well, it’s no secret that Len’s place has a reputation for trouble, is it?’ Martin turned his attention to his wife. ‘I’ve never liked Lydia working there. I’m always worried she’s going to get caught up in the middle of something and get hurt. It’s why I try to call in on my way home from work when she’s there, just to keep an eye on her.’
‘Oh, love…’ Lydia wiped away tears and forced a smile before facing Barnes. ‘I’ve never had any bother with the locals before, and Len always keeps an eye on me…’
‘But you said the two men who were there last night weren’t locals?’ said Kay, leaning forward.
‘No. Well, not local to the pub.’ Lydia shrugged. ‘I mean, they might be from around here, but I haven’t seen them drinking in the Hart before.’
‘Given that one of the men was murdered last night, would either of you recognise the other if you saw him again?’ Barnes asked.
The couple looked at each other for a moment, then Lydia spoke.
‘I don’t think so,’
‘I might,’ said Martin. ‘I mean, I was trying not to be obvious about it, but because I got the impression an argument might be about to start I did have a look when I thought I could get away with it.’
‘Did either of them notice you?’
The man shook his head. ‘Whatever it was they were discussing, they weren’t interested in anyone else in there. Every now and again one of them would look over his shoulder just to make sure no one was listening but I made sure they didn’t notice me.’
‘The gunshots you heard. What can you recall about those?’
‘When I heard the first one, I wasn’t sure what I was hearing,’ said Lydia, her voice trembling. ‘I mean, you hear shotguns around here all the time, people out shooting rabbits or pheasants. It just sounded so different coming from the car park, and so close by.’
‘Len was the first one to react,’ Martin added. ‘It’s almost like he knew straight away what was going on. He told us to get down on the floor, and a split second later we heard the second shot.’
‘How far apart were the two shots?’
‘They were close together,’ said Lydia. ‘Last night, it seemed like it slowed down after I heard the first shot, but I suppose that was just the shock at hearing it.’
‘Yeah, they were definitely close together,’ Martin said. ‘Maybe a second or two between them.’
‘What happened after you heard the second shot?’
‘We stayed on the floor.’ Lydia shuddered. ‘I was so scared he’d come back inside and kill us.’
‘What was Len doing during that time?’
‘He crawled around to the back of the bar and disappeared out the back for a bit,’ said Martin.
‘What was he doing?’
‘I’m not sure – I assumed he was locking the kitchen door so no one could come in through there.’
‘The thing is, we’re at a loss to understand why he left it so long to call triple nine,’ said Kay. ‘Given that there was an armed man in his car park, two shots fired and a likely injured or dying man out there too, he didn’t phone it in for another thirty minutes. Nor did you. Why was that?’
‘Len told us to stay still and not move, so we didn’t,’ said Martin. He jutted out his chin. ‘My phone was in my jacket, which was hanging on a peg under the bar and Lydia’s was in her handbag tucked behind the till. We couldn’t get to those without raising our heads––’
‘And there was no way I was doing that while I thought there was a man with a gun still wandering around out there,’ said Lydia.
‘When did Len come back to the bar?’
‘I don’t know, it seemed like a while. I couldn’t hear what he was doing.’
‘Was he still in the kitchen?’
‘I thought I heard him go upstairs,’ said Martin. ‘I figured he might be having a look out the window up there to see what was going on. I suppose it was about twenty minutes later he walked back in––’
‘Not crouching this time?’
‘No, which is why I figured whoever it was out there was gone. Len picked up his mobile from where he’d left it on the bar and called your lot.’
‘He didn’t take his phone with him when he went out to the kitchen?’
‘I suppose he was more concerned about making sure the back door was locked.’
‘Okay, fair enough.’ Barnes rose to his feet. ‘We’ll arrange to have one of our sketch artists come over later today while your memory is still fresh. I’d be grateful if you’d work with them to describe both men as best you can – it would be very helpful to our investigation.’
‘Of course.’ Martin gave his wife’s hand another squeeze, then showed the two detectives out of the room, easing the door shut behind him. Reaching the front door, he lowered his voice as he turned to Barnes.
‘I haven’t said anything to Lydia yet, but I’m going to ask around and see if I can find her a job somewhere else,’ he murmured. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done if anything had happened to her last night. It keeps going around in my head…’
‘Try not to worry yourself, Mr Terry,’ said Barnes. ‘She’s safe now, and here with you.’
He shook the man’s outstretched hand, the grip firm.
‘Just you make sure you catch whoever killed that man,’ said Martin. ‘That’s when I’ll know we’re safe.’