Forty-One

Gavin rapped his knuckles on the door to the flat and took a step back, casting his gaze down the length of the hallway.

A narrow window at the far end let in a meagre amount of weak sunlight, mould clinging to the sill and damp patches peppering the ceiling tiles.

The walls were bare brick rather than plaster, and he noticed that several bulbs were missing from the light sockets.

Barnes was reading a fire evacuation notice yellowing within a glass frame pinned to the wall beside the door, and snorted.

‘Christ, you’d need plenty of time to navigate this rabbit warren in the dark.’

They turned as a chain rattled against the back of the door, and then the grinding of a lock before it opened a crack.

Dark eyes peered out from under a floppy unkempt fringe. ‘Who’re you?’

Gavin held up his warrant card. ‘DC Piper, and my colleague DS Ian Barnes. Xander Beech?’

‘Yeah. What d’you want?’

‘A word. Mind if we come in?’

‘Hang on. Need to put some pants on.’

The face disappeared, and Gavin turned to Barnes.

‘Does he mean that in the American sense, or…’

‘I hope so. After you.’

Gavin sighed, and pushed open the door, resisting the urge to cover his nose with his sleeve as a dank sour smell assaulted him.

Xander Beech appeared from a doorway off to the right, balancing on one leg as he pulled on a pair of jeans, his pale skin almost translucent in the poor light.

‘Bloody hell, give me a chance, will you?’ he grumbled, then disappeared back into what Gavin assumed was his bedroom, before emerging once more while tugging a sweatshirt over his head. ‘Living room’s through ’ere.’

The young man padded along the carpeted floor to an open-plan room at the back of the flat that had been split into part-living space, part-kitchen.

To Gavin’s relief, he shoved open a window above the sink and gave them a rueful smile.

‘Sorry. I don’t do much housework since my girlfriend left me.’

His sense of humour faded when Gavin recited the formal caution. He dropped into the nearest shabby armchair and picked at a hole in his jeans while the two detectives found somewhere to lean rather than risk the sofa.

Barnes pulled out his notebook and gave Gavin a quick nod.

‘Xander, we’re investigating the deaths of Felicity Gregor and Gary Lovell,’ Gavin began. ‘Do you know either of them?’

‘Yeah. I mean, only in passing, like. My brother hung out with them mostly. A business club he’s got running.’

‘Did you ever meet them there?’

‘Yeah. Occasionally. When Damian said I could go along.’ Xander emitted a bitter laugh. ‘He doesn’t think I’m good enough for his little group.’

‘Ever meet them at the club in town where you DJ?’

The younger man leaned back into the armchair and sucked in his cheeks.

‘Maybe,’ he said eventually. ‘Hard to remember. I’m usually busy working y’see and when I’m in between sessions there’s a lot of people who want to talk to me. I can’t remember everyone I see – there’s so many of them.’

‘Do you deal drugs, Mr Beech?’

‘What?’

‘Ketamine powder, in particular.’ Gavin cocked his head to one side as Xander’s gaze slid away towards the window. ‘Are you dealing drugs while you’re at the nightclub?’

Xander shook his head vehemently. ‘No. No, I don’t. I DJ at the club – part-time. I’m only just starting out so I take what I can get work-wise. Yeah, all right, this place doesn’t look much but…’

‘You want to be successful, like Damian.’

‘I wouldn’t mind.’

‘The nightclub – is that where you met Daisy Stiles?’

Gavin watched as panic crossed the man’s face before he recovered and attempted a nonchalant shrug.

‘Can’t remember.’

‘But you do know Daisy Stiles.’

Xander sighed, rose to his feet and crossed to the floor-to-ceiling window.

A narrow balcony had been built beyond the glass, and Gavin watched nervously as Xander hovered at the door, wondering whether he was going to do something drastic – or stupid.

Instead, the man turned back to him, his eyes hardening.

‘She’s a dippy cow. I know her, yeah – but not that well. We was at sixth form together, that’s all.’

‘You know her well enough to meet her outside Turner’s Veterinary Practice last Monday. Why’d you pick her up outside, instead of in the car park?’

‘I dunno. That’s where she said I had to meet her.’

‘Where did you go after that?’

Xander blinked. ‘I took her home.’

‘And then?’

‘Nothing. Came back here. She said she had to go and get her parents from the airport, so it wasn’t like I was going to go with her, was it?’

‘Why didn’t she drive herself to the vet?’

‘She said that cat of hers doesn’t travel well. She didn’t want it to play up while she was driving in case she had an accident.’

‘And you came straight back here after taking her home?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can anyone vouch for you?’

‘Damian.’

‘Damian?’ Gavin raised his eyebrows, then glanced at Barnes. ‘What was he doing here?’

‘Playing games.’ Xander pointed at a console under the television, two controllers thrown haphazardly on top of it.

‘A moment ago, I got the impression you didn’t like your brother very much.’

‘We’re brothers.’ Another shrug. ‘We have good days and bad days, same as anyone else.’

‘Who won?’ said Barnes.

‘What?’ Xander’s brow furrowed.

‘I said, who won?’

‘Damien. He always does.’

Gavin heard the dejection in Xander’s voice, reached into his jacket pocket for a business card and held it out. ‘We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions. We’ll see ourselves out.’