Death in July Read online

  'Are you alright, John?' he asked as the pair left the garden. 'Only you've gone a bit quiet.'

  John blinked several times, as though waking from a trance.

  'Yeah, I'm just trying to get my head round what they were saying. Conspiracy theories and all that.'

  'Don't take too much notice,' Sam told him casually. 'They've got a lot going on right now. So, about last night. You're sure you didn't see anyone?'

  John looked at Sam warily.

  'Er, no,' he muttered. 'Like I said, I only heard noises.'

  'What did they sound like? The noises you heard before you came outside?'

  'I don't really know.'

  'Take a guess, John.'

  John scratched his head and glanced over at his house.

  'Er, I suppose it was a scratching sound, creaking. It was difficult to tell.'

  Sam chewed on his lip.

  'You didn't hear a car drive off?'

  John shook his head.

  'Look, I've got to go. I've told Benjamin to call on me if the police need to ask any more questions.'

  Sam watched him go next door. He sighed and gazed up and down the road. If there had been no car, then it could have been kids trying their luck, especially if they knew the house was empty. Sam walked over to the fence and studied the grass at the bottom of it. No footprints. The same on the other side. He gazed upwards. No clear scuff marks on the fence. Nothing snagged on the top.

  The garden was deserted. The Compton brothers must have gone inside. Sam took a proper look around the garden for the first time. It wasn't large. Some decking at the rear of the house. A small lawn surrounded by thick bushes forming an impenetrable barrier all the way around the edge. No other way in from any neighbouring properties. The only way to gain entry was via the fence or through the house.

  Sam inspected the back of the house. He couldn't see any evidence of attempted forced entry. Perhaps John had scared them off before they got to work. Or maybe he just imagined the noises.

  Inside the cottage, Sam found the tension palpable. Benjamin was pottering around the kitchen, while Arnold was pacing up and down the hallway. Each man was ignoring the other. Sam shook his head. Two mature men behaving like children.

  'Why don't we get some fresh air?' he said.

  Both men looked at him.

  ***

  'Happy memories?'

  Arnold stopped and gazed around the deserted park. It had been his choice of destination. Sam didn't care where they ended up, he just wanted to talk to Arnold alone.

  'I used to come over here a lot when I was younger...'

  Arnold halted, remembering he was in the company of someone he hardly knew.

  'It's okay, Arnold,' said Sam, keen to put him at ease. 'Benjamin's told me about your father.'

  Arnold looked at Sam in surprise.

  'He has? Well, in that case, you'll have worked out this is where I used to come to escape.'

  'You left home at an early age, I hear.'

  Arnold hesitated, giving Sam a meaningful stare.

  'My brother seems to have told you a hell of a lot about our personal lives.'

  Sam simply shrugged. Arnold sighed.

  'I practically lived on the streets for a while after moving out, but I didn't care. I felt free. Things would only have turned violent if I'd stayed at home. Our father's outbursts used to upset Benny, whereas they made me angry. I didn't see why we should put up with it. Maybe it was because I was the oldest.'

  'When did you move to Scotland?' asked Sam.

  'Thirty-five years ago. I used to come back and see Benny and my mother every so often, but I didn't see my father once during that time.'

  The two men starting walking again. The sun was edging out from behind the clouds, allowing weak sunshine to infiltrate the park.

  'So, how long have you known my brother?' asked Arnold.

  'Quite some time,' replied Sam, caught unaware by his own favourite tactic. The sudden question, delivered out the blue. Arnold Compton was a sharp man.

  'He's never mentioned you.'

  'I'm just a friend,' countered Sam.

  'Benny doesn't do friends,' reasoned Arnold. 'Especially ones like you.'

  'Meaning?'

  Arnold smiled easily.

  'You've got a certain way about you, Sam. A smart mind and a sharp tongue. You know how to handle people. I imagine you're also capable of looking after yourself. Benny would normally run a mile from someone like you.'

  Sam wasn't sure if this was a compliment or insult. He asked Arnold to elaborate.

  'I'm talking about people living on the edge. Wiseguys, hustlers, chancers. People with an eye for danger and excitement.'

  Arnold halted and studied Sam. He tilted his head, an amused look on his face.

  'Yet instinct tells me you're one of the good guys, Sam, which would make you...'

  Arnold broke out in a wide grin.

  'Benny's hired you, hasn't he? He's asked you to investigate our father's death!'

  Sam nodded. There was no point denying it.

  'Okay,' he said. 'Now you know, what's your honest opinion about your father's death?'

  'My opinion?' said Arnold, shaking his head. 'I don't have one, Sam. I didn't know the old man any more. Benny and I never discussed him when we met up. My father died a stranger to me.'

  Sam heard no malice or regret in the words. It appeared Arnold had moved on in a way his brother had never quite managed.

  Sam's phone began ringing. It was Benjamin. The police had arrived.

  Chapter 7

  The two policemen were scrutinising the back door of the cottage. Sam folded his arms and watched them. One of the officers was tall and skinny, the other short and round. To Sam, they resembled a bad comedy duo. They even sounded like one.

  'No damage to the back door, Charlie.'

  'That's right.'

  'Nothing on the fence, either.'

  'Nope.'

  'A cat or a dog, perhaps?'

  'Maybe.'

  'Could have been anything.'

  'Mmmm.'

  That was pretty much the sum total of their investigation. They asked Benjamin some questions. When did his father pass away? How long was the cottage going to remain empty? Sam could see their hearts weren't in it. He knew the score. No crime had actually taken place. The cottage hadn't been broken into. No prowler had been sighted. Nothing they could do. They told Benjamin to get in touch if there were any further developments. He wasn't impressed.

  'What you mean is call you when somebody has actually broken into my father's cottage...when it's too late.'

  Sam watched Benjamin with interest. He was getting exasperated, frustrated by this perceived lack of interest. It was the second time Sam had seen him lose his decorum today. All of a sudden, Benjamin Compton looked a man under pressure. He actually had a point this time, but his grumbling wasn't going to make a scrap of difference. The tall officer addressed him in a measured tone.

  'Sir, I understand your concern, but short of conducting a twenty-four hour watch on the property, which we are not in a position to implement, there is very little we can do at the present time.'

  Sam nearly applauded, so impressed was he by the thinly-veiled sarcasm mixed with barely-concealed pomposity. He sighed mournfully. The longer he was out the force, the more things he found to detest about it.

  For his part, Benjamin looked ready to commit grievous bodily harm. He spat his words out with clear distaste.

  'Officer, I get the distinct impression you are being intentionally-'

  Sam rolled his eyes and looked away. Gazing at the kitchen, something caught his attention. He stared at the window frame. How had he missed that earlier? Sam recalled John's words. A scratching noise. Creaking.

  Sam stepped in front of Benjamin.

  'What Mr Compton is trying to say is thank-you very much for your time and have a most successful and productive day. Now, if we've all finished here...'

  Benjamin
gave him a strange look. The officers looked equally bemused.

  'And you are?'

  'Sam Carlisle. A friend.'

  'A good friend of the family,' piped up Arnold, much to Benjamin's confusion.

  The two policemen exchanged looks. Sam saw something in their eyes. They had recognised the name.

  'Sam Carlisle?' said the shorter policeman. 'Now, where have I heard that name before...?'

  Conveniently for Sam, his phone began to ring. At the same time, the officer's radio crackled into life. Sam put his phone to his ear. It was Moira, letting him know he needn't rush back to the shop today as Alice had offered to help with the deliveries. Sam didn't mind. The truth was both his part-time jobs needed to go on the back-burner for now.

  By the time he came off the phone, the policemen had gone. Benjamin and Arnold were both giving him the hard stare. He put his hands out.

  'What?' he smiled.

  ***

  'What was all that about?' asked Arnold. The three men were back inside the cottage, sat in the front room. Benjamin and Arnold were watching Sam keenly. 'You should have let Benny have his say to that copper.'

  Sam raised his eyebrows.

  'Quite right, Arnold,' agreed Benjamin, giving his brother a subtle nod. 'Thank-you.'

  He turned to Sam.

  'And another thing, Sam. Why did they recognise your name? What have you done?'

  Sam smiled. They had turned the tables on him.

  'Firstly, I cut Benjamin off because he was going to get himself into trouble. He was just wasting time arguing with them. The police can't do anything else, and we need to accept that fact.'

  Both brothers had moved to the edge of their seats. Sam noticed how their body posture was almost identical. Knees together, hands clasped, heads slightly tilted. It was uncanny.

  'Secondly, the police missed something. I only noticed it myself by chance.'

  'What?'

  'Fresh scuff marks on the outside of the kitchen window frame. It appears somebody did try and get in here last night.'

  Both men stared at him open-mouthed.

  'Why don't you take a look for yourselves?' Sam suggested.

  Benjamin and Arnold were out of their seats like a shot. Sam waited until he heard them open the back door, then stood up and slid a small case out of his inside pocket. He picked Benjamin's keys up off the ledge and worked fast. He finished his task moments before the two brothers returned to the room.

  'Did you see it?' he asked, sitting back down.

  Both men nodded.

  'John must have disturbed them,' said Benjamin. 'Why didn't you mention it to the police?'

  'Trust me, it wouldn't have made a difference,' replied Sam. 'They still wouldn't have done anything.'

  Arnold narrowed his eyes at Sam.

  'You seem to know a lot about how the police work. Why was your name familiar to those policemen?'

  Sam sighed. He had hoped they might have forgotten.

  'I'm in the business,' lied Sam. 'Police get to know private investigators.'

  Arnold shook his head. He wasn't buying it.

  'No, Sam. It's more than that. I could see it in their faces.'

  Sam Carlisle had nothing to hide about his past. He just didn't want to dredge it all up again, especially with two men he hardly knew. Sam had become competent at painting a vague picture of his former life. One that contained no colour and hardly any detail. A story that told no lies and revealed the minimum of truth. Sam Carlisle had learnt how to protect himself from prying eyes.

  From his own emotions.

  'I was a police officer until a few years ago. I was involved in some high-profile cases. Word tends to get around the force.'

  Sam looked at his watch.

  'Right, I've got to get off,' he said, levering himself out of the chair.

  'Hold on, Sam,' said Arnold. 'I want to ask you something else.'

  Sam closed his eyes. He was afraid this would happen. A string of questions. Thankfully, Arnold wasn't interested in his past.

  'You were a good copper by the sound of it. I take it you're an equally competent private eye. Does all this interest on your part mean you're taking Benny's doubts about the old man's death seriously?'

  Benjamin nodded along with Arnold's question, aware now his older brother knew the reason for Sam's presence at the cottage.

  Sam didn't want to jump to conclusions. He had been sceptical when Benjamin came to him with his suspicions regarding his father's suicide.

  And now, two days later?

  He had found no evidence to suggest anything sinister had occurred, even taking into account today's developments. Nor was his instinct telling him anything yet. But Sam wanted to give it a chance. Dig a little deeper and see what turned up. If nothing materialised, then he would call it a day.

  He told them he was keeping an open mind.

  ***

  Sam was down the path, getting his car keys out, when he slapped his hands together. He couldn't believe his oversight. All this time, and it hadn't crossed his mind to ask which neighbour had found Geoffrey the night he died.

  Scolding himself for his ineptitude, he turned back to the cottage, then stopped. He told himself to leave it. There were other ways to find out.

  When Sam had left the cottage moments earlier, Benjamin was getting his father's chest out. He wanted to show Arnold the photos he had found. Sam didn't hang around. It was a private matter between two brothers. Perhaps, sharing their memories would be the first step towards healing old wounds. Or maybe Arnold just wouldn't be interested.

  Time would tell.

  Chapter 8

  'Richie, can you pull up a witness statement for me?'

  'Who for?'

  'The neighbour. The one who found Geoffrey and rang the police.'

  Sam heard his old friend type away on the keyboard. There was a pause as Richie waited for the information to appear.

  'Ah, here it is. John Carr. Next-door neighbour.'

  John Carr? Sam was jolted by the name. The mild-mannered neighbour was certainly getting about. First, storming out of his house to confront a bunch of rowdy kids. Then, rushing downstairs to investigate noises in the night. Now, it appears he was the person who had discovered Geoffrey Compton's lifeless body.

  'What's in the statement?'

  Sam waited as the line went silent. He realised Richie was reading through it himself first. Sam smiled at his old buddy. A born detective.

  Richie read the statement out. There wasn't much Sam didn't already know. John had knocked on Geoffrey's door just after seven that evening to check on him. He knew his neighbour wasn't going out to the club that night, hence his concern when he got no answer. He rang the police from his mobile immediately after spotting Geoffrey through the window. Then he waited by the front door until they arrived.

  'What do you think?' asked Richie.

  'Well, it all sounds plausible,' said Sam, rubbing his chin. 'Has John Carr ever been in trouble with the police?'

  'Hold on. I'll have a look.'

  Richie sounded surprised by the question.

  'Nothing,' he told Sam seconds later. 'Our man is a model citizen.'

  Something was bothering Sam. Why didn't John Carr have a key to Geoffrey's cottage? He lived next door. He called round regularly on his elderly neighbour. Surely it would have made sense to allow him access to the cottage in an emergency?

  ***

  Sam got out and slammed the car door shut. He wanted to catch Moira before he went up to his flat.

  'Sam!'

  Alice was coming out of the flower shop, precariously balancing a box of flowers in her arms. She had her hair tied back and an apron over her jeans. Gingerly, she placed the box down on the floor and smiled at Sam. He locked up his Capri and sauntered over to her.

  'How are you feeling now?' he asked. The bump on her face was already receding. However, a myriad of dark colours had come out around her eye.

  'It's a bit tender to touc
h,' she told him, scrunching up her nose, 'but I'm okay. Just remind me never to go in that pub again.'

  They both laughed.

  'So, you're working for Moira today?'

  Alice coloured a touch.

  'I hope you don't mind,' she said. 'It's just that if I'm going to stay a few days, I'd like to help out, and she said you're likely to be busy this week.'

  Sam looked into the shop. Moira gave him a hearty wave. He smiled back.

  'I haven't caused any trouble, have I?' asked Alice, looking concerned.

  Sam shook his head, smiling.

  'No, Moira's right. I am going to be tied up this week. She'll need some help, so this suits everyone.'

  'Good!' beamed Alice, giving a little clap of delight. 'I'm only here for a week, anyway.'

  She bent down and picked the box up with care.

  'Can you manage?' asked Sam.

  Alice used her free hand to press the van's key fob. A sharp bleep sounded down the road.

  'You can open the back door for me, if you don't mind.'

  They started walking.

  'How long have you been driving vans?' asked Sam.

  Alice glanced quickly behind her. Then she put a finger to her lips.

  'I've never driven one,' she whispered. 'But don't tell Aunt Moira that.'

  Sam threw back his head and laughed.

  'Anyway, driving a van that size can't be difficult,' protested Alice. 'It's not much bigger than my last car.'

  'It probably isn't,' said Sam, 'but I presume you could see through the back window of your car. How are you with wing mirrors?'

  Alice stopped as they reached the van. She looked at the blacked out windows and pulled a face.

  They both laughed.

  Chapter 9

  Sam settled down in the armchair and made himself comfortable. He left the light off, curtains open and faced down the road. The prospect of a long night sat in Geoffrey's front room didn't faze him. He thrived on the anticipation.

  The danger.

  The unexpected.

  Sam heard voices passing Geoffrey's cottage. He peered out the front window and saw a young couple walk by hand in hand. Darkness was falling on Eastern Green Road. Sam had parked thirty yards away, strolling nonchalantly to the cottage before letting himself in. He saw it as the better option, copying Benjamin's key and waiting in here rather than advertising his presence by sitting outside in the car.