‘Somebody give me something to move this case forward.’
Kay stormed across the incident room ahead of Barnes, slapped the manila folder on top of a pile accumulating on the corner of her desk and put her hands on her hips.
She ignored the shocked stares from some of the junior administrative staff, instead stalking towards the whiteboard.
‘Come on. It’s been a week, and all we have is Mark Redding telling us his argument with Thorngrove was nothing more than a complaint about an invoice, and two alibis for him being in possession of a firearm without a valid certificate. Help me out here.’
Phillip scurried across to her, a pen tucked behind one ear and a report in his hand. ‘Guv, we’ve dusted the wallet – we’ve matched Thorngrove’s prints to the ones on file, but so far there’s nothing to suggest Redding handled it or the phone.’
‘Christ, Phillip – that’s not what I meant by helping.’ Kay ran her hand through her hair as the constable’s face fell. ‘What about those two names, Barnes?’
The detective sergeant held up his hand, his phone to his ear, then pointed across the room to where Laura was also speaking to someone on her phone, her voice little more than a murmur.
Kay eyed the darkened sky beyond the windows, checked her watch and bit back a surprised snort.
No wonder her team were looking exhausted.
It was already seven o’clock.
‘Phillip, do me a favour – go and see if Daniel’s still here, and ask him to run Redding’s alibis for the pheasant shoot through his database, will you?’
‘On it, guv.’
The constable dashed off, the relief in his expression evident at having a reason to escape the incident room.
‘What are we missing?’ Kay murmured, turning her attention back to the whiteboard and gazing up at the photographs of Thorngrove’s prone body splayed across the White Hart’s car park. ‘What the hell were you up to?’
‘Redding’s alibis check out, guv.’ Barnes joined her, peering over his reading glasses. ‘I spoke to Royce Maxton – he owns some land out west of Staplehurst, and he confirmed he invites Redding and the other bloke, Ambrose Weatherley, to go shooting every now and again. Laura’s spoken to Ambrose to cross-reference the facts, and he’s confirmed what Royce said, and that Mark brought along Thorngrove to give him a taster the other week.’
‘Bugger.’ She peered past him as Phillip reappeared.
The constable shook his head.
‘So Redding’s out of the picture, then,’ she said.
‘Do you want me to give Andy a call and find out if he’s managed to get anything else off of Thorngrove’s phone?’
‘No, that’ll do for today, Ian. Let’s get everyone home for the night. We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.’
Her phone pinged while she was walking back to her desk, and when she saw the text message from Adam, she smiled despite the late finish.
Meet you in the pub X.
‘Sounds like a bloody good idea to me, Turner,’ she muttered.
She texted a quick reply to him, and minutes later was zipping through the light traffic towards Bearsted, her thoughts alternating between the investigation and the thought of a relaxing drink with him.
She knew her team were doing all they could with the information available, but it was the lack of any leads via the media appeals and house-to-house enquiries that frustrated her.
Parking outside her house, she wandered back along the lane a few hundred metres to their local pub and found Adam at the bar, chatting to the landlord.
The place was a welcoming contrast to the White Hart, with a separate public bar at the front of the building that used to house the smokers before the nationwide ban sent them out into the gazebo by the front door, and a larger main bar area that swept around to a dining room.
Low music played in the background, and she nodded to the regulars gathered beside the beer pumps, their friendly banter interspersed with loud laughter.
‘Here she is,’ the publican beamed, already pouring a pint of lager for her.
‘Thanks.’ She sighed as some of the stress left her shoulders, and kissed Adam, tasting beer on his lips. ‘Been here long?’
He held up his glass. ‘This is my first. Honest.’
Waiting until she’d taken a gulp of lager, he pointed to a corner table. ‘Come on, we’ll sit over there, out of the way.’
Sinking into one of the old church pews adorned with plush cushions, Kay took another sip of her beer and tried to push away her frustration with the investigation.
As if sensing the strain she was under, Adam sidled closer and reached out for her hand.
‘That bad?’
‘We’re not getting anywhere.’ She eyed him for a moment, then lowered her glass. ‘Wasn’t today the day you were interviewing a new vet?’
His lips quirked. ‘Remember when you were interviewing prospective candidates for the DS job a few years ago?’
‘Yes…’
‘It’s been like that, but worse.’
‘Go on.’
She listened while he told her about the three candidates he and Scott had met that day, each progressively worse than the last, and covered her mouth to stifle her giggles as a couple of the regulars peered over their shoulders at them.
‘If that wasn’t bad enough,’ Adam continued, ‘the final candidate kicked off the interview by telling me he’d read my last journal article, and then proceeded to tell me everything that was wrong with it. Scott and I couldn’t get a word in edgeways, let alone ask a question.’
He waited until she was taking another sip of lager. ‘Halfway through the interview, Theresa knocked on the door saying she’d had an urgent call from a farmer over at Lenham with another pregnant cow that was in difficulties. I left Scott to it. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I figured being up to my armpits in cow again was better than listening to the bloke any longer.’
Despite her irritation about the investigation, and despite the weariness that seeped through her body, Kay snorted with laughter.
Beer shot up her nose and she began coughing, then slapped Adam on the arm.
‘You bastard,’ she wheezed. ‘You waited until I took a sip on purpose.’