Desmond Jordan’s house was situated right on the edge of Mildenheath. Wendy noted that it would have been beyond the point at which the temporary roadblock would’ve been situated on the west side of the town. If the roadblocks had been put in place — presuming Jordan was the killer — could they have avoided the last two murders?
Wendy put these thoughts out of her head as she approached Desmond Jordan’s house. The large crescent-moon driveway was damp with brown leaves, with green lichen coating the paved area on which the smart new Jaguar car was parked.
To the left of the house was a wide, white-doored garage and to the right were tall conifers, with a shingled driveway between them and the house. As Wendy got out of her car, she looked up this side driveway and noticed the familiar sight of Luke Baxter’s car parked up the side of the house.
Just as she was comprehending what this meant, the large front door opened and DS Baxter stepped out, turning to shake the hand of a tall, professional looking man who she assumed to be Desmond Jordan. She couldn’t hear what Baxter was saying, but Jordan’s booming American lilt was unmistakeable.
‘That’s absolutely fine. I quite understand. If you need anything else, you know where to find me.’
With that, the door was closed and Wendy found herself facing Luke Baxter, who was looking partly very proud of himself and partly like a rabbit caught in the headlights.
‘Luke, what are you doing here?’
‘Interviewing Desmond Jordan. What does it look like?’ he replied, walking past Wendy and heading to his car.
‘That was my job! I was coming up here now to do that!’
‘Well I’ve done it now, so you don’t need to.’
Wendy got in between Baxter and his car, stopping him from opening the driver’s side door.
‘What’s this all about, Luke? This isn’t the first time you’ve got in the way and tried to make me look like some sort of incompetent idiot. Do you really think this is the sort of thing Culverhouse is impressed by? Because I can tell you now it isn’t.’ Deep down, Wendy wasn’t even sure she believed her own words. ‘Why couldn’t you just leave it to me to speak to Jordan later on, like I said I would?’
‘I was trying to save you time.’
‘If that was the case, why didn’t you ask me? Offer to help? Tell me you were doing it? But no, you went behind my back to make me look like a fucking idiot.’
‘Wendy, you’re taking this a bit far, don’t you think? Desmond Jordan is—’ He stopped and turned to look behind him, before continuing in a far quieter voice. ‘Desmond Jordan is a person of interest. It’s not the sort of thing we can afford to waste time on.’
‘We’ve got over a month left before the next date, Luke. You know that. It could have waited another hour. There’s procedure to be followed, you know? Certain ways things have to be done. You can’t just ride roughshod over procedure because you think you can do things better.’
‘What, like your darling Culverhouse?’ Baxter replied, smirking.
‘And what’s that meant to mean?’
‘Nothing, nothing at all,’ he said, reaching for his door handle. Wendy batted his hand away.
‘You just don’t get it, do you? This is the police force, Luke. We are in charge of catching dangerous criminals. Possibly the most dangerous criminal in this particular case, and you’re treating it as some sort of game. Some sort of power play. You need to grow up, and grow up fast.’
‘Power play? Is that what you think it is?’ Baxter laughed out loud. ‘The only person who seems to have a problem with power is you. You’ve had a bug up your arse ever since I made DS. Listen, I’m sorry you’ve not had your efforts recognised but what can I say? Just keep trying, yeah?’
Wendy was too shocked to stop Luke from ushering her out of the way and getting into his car. She watched as he drove away, leaves and shingle kicked up by his tyres before she trundled over to her own car, got in and closed the door. She sat in silence for a few moments before turning the key in the ignition and driving away.