he can lose the plot. I saw what happened with Amy. As to whether he actually did it, I have no idea.’
‘You wouldn’t vouch for him?’
‘How could I?’ said Birkett as he walked Tom to the front door and opened it onto the unfinished street.
‘I persuaded my wife to buy this place,’ he said. ‘She wanted an old townhouse but I told her we’d get more value for money round here, if we bought a newbuild, off-plan.’ He sounded desolate.
‘Well you probably will,’ Tom assured him, ‘once it’s finished.’
‘Finished?’ he said and he looked at Tom as if he was mad, ‘Does this look new to you?’ And it was not until he’d asked that question that Tom fully noticed his surroundings. A handful of weeds trying to grow through cracks in the pavement was the first clue. Then he realised some of the brickwork on the unfinished houses looked faded and battered by the weather.
‘No, it doesn’t,’ Tom admitted.
‘And do you see any work going on? We’ve been here two years,’ Birkett told him, ‘and they haven’t laid a brick in twelve months.’
‘What happened?’
‘Developers ran out of money.’ He surveyed the cul-de-sac with a renewed sense of disbelief.
‘Is there any chance that anyone else could …?’
‘Buy the place and finish the work?’ asked Birkett. ‘It would be cheaper to start afresh somewhere else than pick this mess up. There are properties here that have had the wind and rain battering them for months. You’d have to knock them down and start all over again. No one is going to do that.’
‘Won’t your insurance company …?’
‘They say I have a structurally sound house and they did not insure the surrounding infrastructure for me. They are only interested if I get burgled, experience subsidence, the house collapses or it burns down and, if it does catch fire, they pretty much implied I would be their first suspect,’ he concluded, ‘just in case I were to get any ideas.’
‘That’s awful.’
‘We’re trapped here,’ Birkett said. ‘I am paying a mortgage every month on a house that is literally worth nothing. Who is ever going to buy it from me when this is what they see when they draw back the curtains? There’s nobody else living in this street. We thought it would be a nice place to bring up kids but it’s a building site. My wife cries herself to sleep every night.’ He smiled grimly. ‘We are here to stay. Unless we win the lottery.’
It was dark and getting late by the time Tom finally returned home. He’d stopped at a pub for a pint and some food. He hadn’t felt like cooking and wanted some quiet time to re-read his notes and try to draw some conclusions about his client. If anything, Richard Bell looked guiltier than ever.
He walked wearily up the darkened driveway and a burly figure suddenly stepped from the shadows.
‘Jesus Christ!’ yelled Tom as he flinched from the sudden movement and stepped quickly back.
The man came fully into focus then.
‘Where the bloody hell have you been?’ demanded an exasperated DS Bradshaw.
Chapter Fifteen
‘What were you doing hiding in the shadows like that?’ demanded Tom as he handed Bradshaw a bottle of beer. ‘I nearly had a bloody heart attack.’
‘I wasn’t hiding,’ protested Bradshaw, ‘I was about to try your door bell for the umpteenth time when you came walking up the drive. You should get one of those security lights installed that come on when someone reaches your front door.’
‘Good idea, I’ll do that in my spare time,’ he said dryly so that Bradshaw would notice the chaos in his living room.
‘I heard you were doing a place up,’ said Bradshaw. ‘Big job is it?’
Tom ignored the question. ‘How did you find me?’
‘I’m a detective.’
‘Alright then, why did you find me?’
‘Because I needed a word.’
‘I remember the last time you had a word,’ Tom told him, ‘there were a fair number of them, in fact. You called me an arrogant, treacherous idiot as I recall.’
‘Did I?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I should never have called you an idiot,’ Bradshaw said reasonably. ‘I take that bit back. I’ve always thought you were very intelligent.’
‘For an arrogant traitor,’ said Tom. ‘Look, Ian, what exactly do you want?’
‘Have you heard of Frank Jarvis?’
‘The politician? Of course,’ said Tom, ‘I heard him on the radio recently talking about his missing daughter.’
‘Well, pin back your lugholes then, because I’ve got a tale to tell.’
It didn’t take long before the two men became embroiled in an argument. The detective