When Kay got back to the Maidstone police station, she found Gavin hovering at the top of the stairs, consternation etching his face.
‘Ian, can you make sure uniform bring in Mark Redding?’ she said, sending the detective sergeant on ahead of her. Waiting until he’d disappeared into the incident room, she turned to her younger colleague.
‘What’s the latest?’
‘We were finishing the phone calls to the commercial waste collection companies in the area while you were gone,’ he began, wandering over to a plaster wall in desperate need of a repaint and leaning against it. ‘We’d concluded all the interviews when I got a call back from one of the smaller ones – not only did they have collections yesterday morning that were then dropped off at the waste facility, but they collect from the White Hart pub.’
‘They what?’ Kay blinked. ‘Really?’
Gavin smiled. ‘Really.’
‘Interesting. Did you get anything else?’
‘I did. I spoke to the delivery driver who was working yesterday. He said he doesn’t usually see Len Simpson – probably because his pick-up time is around eight o’clock in the morning and I’d imagine Simpson would still be in bed – but yesterday he was hovering at the back door next to the bins, watching. The driver said he thought he might want a word so he was going to wander over and see what he wanted after the bin was emptied but by then, Simpson had disappeared back inside. He mentioned it to his shift supervisor when he got back to the depot, who in turn confirmed she’d phoned Simpson to enquire if he had any questions or concerns about his collection service. Simpson – her words, mind – was rude, sexist and put the phone down on her before she’d had a chance to finish speaking.’
‘Sounds like Simpson to me.’ Kay folded her arms, mulling over the new information for a moment before speaking. ‘I think we ought to formally interview him before we speak to Mark Redding. Do you mind bringing him in, Gav?’
She saw some of the worry leave his eyes in response to the request.
‘I don’t mind at all, guv.’
He pushed away from the wall and followed her towards the incident room. ‘About that other matter…’
‘Porter MacFarlane?’ She paused, her hand on a metal door panel that was smeared with fingerprints. ‘How did you get on?’
‘I’ve got one more lead I want to speak to in person – a bloke by the name of Douglas Chilton. He hung up the phone when I called him earlier, and won’t respond to any of my messages.’
‘That’s odd.’
‘I’ve got his address off the DVLA. I was going to pop round to his house and see if I could speak to him in person.’
‘Okay – can you do that after you’ve fetched Len Simpson for me?’
‘No problem.’
‘What about Porter?’
‘Nothing to report, guv. Nothing on any of our systems, at least. I only found out about an unpaid parking ticket from a mate at the council, but MacFarlane’s only just been sent the reminder so…’
The door gave way under her touch, and she dropped her hand as Barnes emerged, a pair of manila folders under one arm that he handed to her.
‘Guv? I’m ready to go through these and prepare for Redding’s interview if you are.’
‘Be with you in a minute.’ She stepped aside to let him pass, then turned back to Gavin.
‘I’ll catch you later. Take Laura with you when you go over to the White Hart to fetch Len Simpson, all right? No heroics, either.’
‘Understood. Good luck, guv.’
‘You too.’