Kay snuffled, a loud insistent ringing dragging her from her dreams before Adam elbowed her in the ribs.
‘Your phone’s going off.’
‘Shit.’ She threw back the duvet, rubbed sleep from her eyes and peered at the screen.
‘Ian? It’s five thirty – what’s going on?’
‘Guv, we’ve got a problem.’
‘What’s the matter?’
‘I’m on my way to Porter MacFarlane’s place – control just took a call about a suspected break-in, and in the circumstances I said we’d attend. How soon can you get yourself over there?’
Twenty minutes later, ruing the fact she hadn’t even had time to fill a travel cup with coffee on her way out the door, Kay powered her car along the narrow lane and gritted her teeth.
Overgrown branches smacked against the paintwork and the wheels slammed into potholes that she would normally have taken care to drive around.
Not today.
She stomped on the brake when she spotted the entrance for the MacFarlane property, anger and frustration at the turn of events mixing with an underlying fear that the situation was quickly deteriorating.
Almost a week later, they still had no idea who had murdered Dale Thorngrove in cold blood.
And now this.
Sunlight sparkled on fresh dew in the paddocks either side of the driveway, and a pair of grazing deer raised their heads in curiosity as her car shot past them, kicking up dust and stones that clicked and spat out from under the wheel arches.
She could see a patrol car parked outside the MacFarlanes’ house, and a uniformed constable climbed out as she approached, pointing to the track that led around the property.
She slowed and wound down her window. ‘Have they found anything?’
‘No, guv. DS Barnes is down at the shed with the owners.’
Shoving the car into gear, she eased down the winding track behind the house.
A small truck with a black box-like trailer was parked outside the shed where the MacFarlanes kept their props. There was a TV production company’s logo emblazoned down the side and two men hovering beside the open back doors, their expressions worried while they watched her park next to them.
The older of the two stepped forward as she got out her car. ‘Do you know when we’ll be able to get on the road? We’re due to be in Northumberland by three o’clock.’
‘Best you let your boss know you’re going to be late,’ she said, and walked over to where Barnes was standing beside Porter MacFarlane before following them into the shed.
Goosebumps flecked her arms in the coolness of the interior, and she buttoned up her jacket. After her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she saw Roman finish speaking with Kyle Walker at the far end and beckoned them over.
‘Right, what’s going on? Barnes said something about a break-in.’
The uniformed constable eyed the MacFarlanes, then turned his attention to her. ‘There was no sign of forced entry, guv. Apparently the doors were locked when they came down here with the production crew just after five.’
‘So what’s the problem?’
Porter flushed a deeper shade of red and walked over. ‘There seems to be an error with our inventory system, Detective Hunter. Most unusual.’
‘What error?’
‘We’re missing two .308 rifles,’ said Roman.
‘Two?’
‘Older models, and two that I had in mind to sell,’ Porter added. ‘They’re hardly ever rented out these days, so I figured I could still make a few hundred quid on them––’
‘Who else has access to this shed?’
‘Apart from us, no one unless they’re collecting stock, like these two gentlemen are. They’re waiting to take some replica sixteenth-century swords for a TV show being filmed up north.’
Kay shielded her eyes from the rising sun’s glare and peered out the shed doors to where the production crew were leaning against the truck, both smoking while the older of the two kept looking at his watch. ‘Do you accompany your clients at all times when stock’s being removed?’
‘Yes, most times,’ said Roman.
‘Most times?’ She turned back to him. ‘Why not at all times?’
Porter cleared his throat. ‘If one of our regular clients turns up and there’s a lot to load then we all lend a hand to get them on their way as soon as possible…’
‘It could be that one of them took the rifles,’ Roman added.
‘How would they have got into the inner room? It’s locked all the time, isn’t it?’
‘Somebody might’ve slipped in while we were distracted,’ mumbled Porter.
‘I thought you used a cloud-based system to keep a note of all of your inventory?’
‘We do, yes.’
Kay moved out of the way of one of the uniformed constables who carried a fingerprint dusting kit. ‘Then why isn’t it updated every time a firearm is checked out?’
‘It is, but against the purchase order so we know what we have to invoice for at the end of the month.’
‘The system also helps us to see what we’ve loaned out and what’s in stock when we’re negotiating new deals,’ Porter explained. ‘I mean, most of the time I know what’s down here off the top of my head. It’s Roman here who organised everything into a database of sorts for ease of reference.’
‘When did you last audit the stock?’
‘At the end of June.’ Porter sheepishly glanced sideways at his son. ‘That’s my fault. Roman suggested a few weeks ago that we ought to go through everything to make sure our licences were up to date and see whether we should sell some of the firearms that weren’t in demand. The problem is, it takes so much time out of the day when I could be finding us new work instead… I only got around to doing it today because your last visit reminded me how important it was.’
‘So, what you’re saying is that despite having an inventory system, you have no idea when the two rifles were stolen.’
Both men shuffled their feet.
‘No, we don’t,’ said Porter eventually. ‘Sorry.’
Kay bit back the curse that nearly flew from her lips. ‘While I remember – Roman, where were you last Wednesday night between eight and midnight?’
‘In here, cleaning the carriage we’ve just shipped over to New England for filming.’
Kay looked over to where he pointed, and saw a large space where the horse-drawn carriage had been parked on Friday afternoon.
She led the way back outside. ‘We’ll need the contact details for everyone who’s entered this shed since the date of the last audit. Not just company names, mind – I want names, addresses and phone numbers for each person. And that includes any private tours you’ve given, Porter.’
‘I understand.’
‘Who else might have had access to the property?’ She pointed to the gangly horse chestnut and oak trees that crowded the boundary line. ‘Is all of that fenced off from the road?’
‘It’s hard to say – there’s a public footpath that runs diagonally across our boundary about half a mile beyond those. There’s a wire fence that runs alongside it but I suppose anyone could’ve ducked underneath it if they knew what was here.’
‘They could’ve staked out the shed for days,’ said Roman, squinting against the sun that broke through the trees. ‘And then taken the rifles when we were busy with clients, I suppose.’
‘Bloody great,’ said Kay, and turned to Kyle. ‘Seal off that woodland, and work with Phillip to get the search underway.’
‘What can we do to help?’ Porter asked, wringing his hands while he watched the uniformed officer hurry away.
‘You can come back to the house with us and give us that list of names,’ said Kay. ‘And you can make me a bloody coffee.’