Syn (The Merseyside Crime Series Book 2), Malcolm Hollingdrake [best e reader for android .TXT] 📗

been afraid to say something and they wanted to afford him some space. It was an interview technique gained only from experience when the person you were interviewing begins to feel safe enough to talk openly. They had both picked up on his body language. Brian was about to break his silence.

He turned to look directly at Tony. ‘When you came in the other day you were with the officer with the glass eye? She asked me when I’d last seen Carla. You will know that I agreed with my boss, that it was the evening before she went missing, when she left here. That wasn’t the truth, I’m sorry.’

‘So, Brian, where did you see her last?’ April asked. She rested a protective hand on his arm.

‘I should have said, I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t worry, just tell us where you last saw her, Brian?’ April asked again, her voice reassuring. Tony knew to say nothing. However, he smiled inwardly at Carlos’s description of Skeeter. It was not the first time someone had made the mistake of referring to her eyes in such a way.

‘A few weeks back I was telling her I was putting on weight, too many biscuits and chocolate. She was beautiful and so slim. I knew she ran most days and she suggested I should start. I knew where she ran and she offered to run with me but I told her I was going to start walking and then build up to a jog. Can you believe she bought me some shorts and a top? That’s the kind of person she was, certainly was to me at any rate.’

April glanced at Tony and she knew what he was thinking.

‘Go on, Brian, she obviously liked you very much.’

‘It went well and after a week I was walking and running. I needed a lot of rests but I didn’t give in. On occasion we passed each other – well to be honest she passed me. She ran a circuit by Park Golf Club. Most times I’d be walking but once I was running and she came up behind me and …’ He paused, giggled and blushed slightly. ‘Tapped my bottom. Cheeky minx!’

‘Was that the day she went missing?’

‘No, I think it was a couple of days before. On the day she disappeared I was running down Fleetwood Road just before you turn onto Park Road. Do you know the area?’

April nodded. ‘Go on.’

‘She had passed me about five minutes before. She paused briefly, pulled off her headphones before kissing my cheek. “Good for you!” she said and then ran on. I’ll never forget that. Made me run a bit faster. As I got to the corner that’s when I saw her. She was in the passenger seat of a car.’

‘And it was definitely her?’ April quizzed.

‘Without a doubt. On my mother’s life.’

Tony leaned forward. ‘Did you and Carla always run in the same direction. Clockwise around the course?’

‘Every time I saw her, she ran that way, yes, that’s why I did the same.’

Tony glanced at April and raised an eyebrow.

‘Brian, the running gear Carla bought you. What make was it?’

He flicked his finger as if making a tick. ‘Nike, the one like she wore, the one with just the tick.’

Chapter 15

The investigation into the car seen on the webcam near the golf club entrance had so far failed to find a match to that colour, make and model, even when those with number plates closely matching some of the details had been eliminated from the enquiry. It was likely that the car for which they searched had received a false or modified number. The vehicle was probably now hidden in a garage or under cover. Michael had produced an image with the number plate as seen on the webcam and posted it on Merseyside Police social media sites in the hope of jogging someone’s memory and knowledge. No details of the broken brake light were mentioned. Long shots could often prove to be successful.

Stuart Groves sat alone listening to music streamed from his phone and played loudly through his car’s speakers that were attached to a holder to the right of the steering wheel. The music should have been unfamiliar to a young man, but this had been a favourite for many years. His hands beat out the rhythm onto the wheel, his eyes were closed and his head rocked to the heavy beat; the occasional tuneless lyric passed his lips. Wishbone Ash was not everyone’s cup of tea but he had loved the album Argus since childhood; it was his father’s favourite band. His friends had often remarked that he had been indoctrinated.

Hidden from view, the lone figure emerged from the door that led from the stairwell. He had seen the car arrive from across the road. Checking the time, he waited in the hope Groves would be settled before making an entrance. The carpark was once manned but now it was fully automated and with that had come the inevitable cameras. However, they were concentrated on the cars entering and leaving rather than the parked vehicles and public’s security. Over the last couple of weeks, the area had been checked for CCTV. The one pointing down Tulketh Street was not a problem; those within the lower stairwell and the one on the roof were easily avoided by simply looking down.

Sticking to the peripheral wall, he was confident he could remain out of sight of the car ensuring that Groves did not notice his approach. The high brick structure behind which the car was parked, the spot where he had been instructed to park the car, left him isolated and vulnerable. He believed his afternoon’s activity would be neither honourable nor respectable so it suited the purpose perfectly. It was a good thirty seconds before Groves sensed someone standing by his driver’s window. It startled him. Seeing the broad smile across the stranger’s face made him relax and he stopped drumming, quickly muted the music before