Impression (DI Gardener 4)

“What?”

“There was a serious amount of money in his flat, hidden all over the place. Have you any idea where he could have gotten that kind of money?”

Billy Morrison sat gazing at the wall. “Here we are again, talking about someone else. I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”

“Then you’d better strap yourself into that seat now, son, because that wasn’t the only thing we found.”

“What, are you’re going to tell me the place was loaded to the rafters with drugs?”

No one spoke. Gardener simply stared at Billy Morrison, willing him to explain further. He slumped forward on the table.

“Oh, please don’t tell me he was into drugs.”

Gardener leaned forward. “We probably found as much in drugs as we did money. Can I ask you once again, do you know anything about what we’ve told you that will help?”

“No. I’ve told you I didn’t know anything about what he was up to.” Billy ran his hands down his face. “How bad is this? Sounds like I didn’t even know my own brother.”

“You’ve never seen him take drugs, or sell them?”

“No. I can’t say I have, but then again, I’ve never suspected him, so I haven’t been watching.”

“You’ve never noticed him huddled away in a corner speaking to people you didn’t know?”

“I’ve seen him speaking to people we didn’t know, that was the nature of the business. But not huddled away in a corner, looking to see who was watching him, no.”

“You’ve never walked in on a phone call that you didn’t understand? Thought he might have put the phone down a little too quickly?”

Billy ruffled his hands through his hair. “Not that I can think of.”

“Is there any chance he could have been running his drugs operation from the business?”

“Operation? Who do you think he was, Al Capone?”

“He clearly wasn’t who you thought he was.”

“Jesus Christ,” said Billy. “What a fucking mess.”

“Did he have a mobile phone?’

“Of course he had one. Haven’t you found that? You’ve found everything else, by the sound of it.”

“No. But perhaps you can call it for us.”

Billy hesitated, but pulled his phone out of his pocket and rang his dead brother’s number. He waited for what seemed an eternity before someone finally answered.

“Who’s that?” Billy asked. “Where are you? Okay, I’ll speak to you later.” Billy put his phone on the table before addressing Gardener.

“That was one of the drivers.”

“Which one?”

“New lad, Alan Sargent.”

“Why did he have Barry’s phone?”

“He didn’t. He’s at the office. Apparently, our Barry’s phone was underneath the portacabin.”

Although it was evidence from a crime scene, Gardener wasn’t too worried that someone else had handled it. He suspected that they would find Barry’s prints and Alan Sargent’s, but as he’d already seen, the killer had been wearing a scene suit and gloves, and had left no trace of his existence anywhere else. He rose from the kitchen chair.