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“Not at all,” he turned to Reilly. “Can you organize that please, Sean?”
“What did your last slave die of?”
“Answering me back,” replied the detective.
Reilly laughed but did as he was asked.
“So, to come back to the basement. If you have nothing of any value down there, you wouldn’t need a padlock, would you?” Gardener said.
“Not at all.”
“So, you definitely didn’t use one?”
“No.”
Gardener produced the empty box from the combination padlock he’d found on the trapdoor, sealed in a forensic bag.
“Do you recognize that, Mr Armitage?”
“Looks like one of mine, top of the range job as well. An ABUS 190. There should be four in stock. Where did you find that?”
“On the floor of your shop behind the counter. The lock itself was attached to the trapdoor. The hasp had been fixed with round-headed bolts, the nuts underneath.”
It was the first time Gardener had seen an expression of concern on Armitage’s features. “That was on the trapdoor leading to my basement?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Well, it’s not my doing, Mr Gardener. For the first time in thirty years I actually took a break this weekend. Me and my wife went to visit my sister. She lives on the east coast, Whitby. She’d been nagging us to go for long enough. My wife reckoned it was high time I relaxed a little. So, whoever did that had to have done so between Friday and Sunday.”
“Can you give us your sister’s details, address, phone number?”
“If I need to.”
Reilly returned with teas and a plateful of chocolate Hobnobs. Gardener glanced at them. “You’ve just had breakfast.”
“That was ages ago. Anyway, I’m a growing lad, so I am.”
“Which way?”
Gardener glanced at Armitage and passed his tea over. “Sorry, please carry on.”
Armitage did so. “See what happens when you take time off and leave the place to someone else? Wait till I see that bloody nephew of mine. I’d like to know what he knows about this.”
“When exactly did you last see him?”
Armitage thought for a moment. “That would have been Thursday night. He should have turned up for work on Friday, but I saw nothing of him.”
> “Does he normally take days off without your consent?”
“He’s family. He feels he has a right to.”
“Does he ever contact you when he is off?”
“Sometimes, but he’s not that far away, is he? You’ve had a good look around my place. I suspect you know by now where he lives.”
“Did you try and contact him on Friday?” asked Gardener.
“I knocked on his door a couple of times, but there was no answer.”
