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“Thank you, Mr Morrison. You’re not going to like what I have to say next, but it has to be said nevertheless. I need the name and address of the bank you used for your business. In view of everything that we’ve found, I will need you to close the business for the foreseeable future so we can make a thorough search. I’ll also need you and your family to move into rented accommodation, or in with relatives, because we need to search this place as well.”
“You’re fucking joking. Shut the business, move everyone out of the house? You still think I’m in on this, don’t you? Why don’t you arrest me, then?”
“I can’t,” said Gardener.
“Why not?”
“I don’t have enough evidence.”
“No, and you know what? You’ll never find any, because I’m not guilty.”
“I believe you. This is just procedure. I don’t make the rules, I only follow them. So, I’d like you to call the car lot and tell them to expect us. There are a couple of officers outside the house. They will remain with you while you make other arrangements.”
Billy stepped back. “My wife’s gonna love this.”
As Gardener moved towards the front door, he turned. “One more question.”
“What is it this time? You found underage porn in Barry’s flat, and you’re gonna ask me if we directed and produced them together?”
“Don’t put ideas into my head, Mr Morrison. No, something completely different. Have you ever heard of a man called Steven Cooper?”
“No.”
Chapter Thirty-three
“The police?”
“That’s what I said. The police.”
“At the car lot?” asked Vanessa, glancing up from the ironing board.
“They’re all over it like a rash.” Sargent pulled a cup down from the cupboard. “You want a coffee?”
“If you’re making.”
He grabbed another cup and put the kettle on, staring out of the kitchen window.
The Sargents lived in the last house on the left in Morris Grove in Kirkstall. It was basically a two-up, two-down that had seen better days, but Alan Sargent had been out of work for quite some time, having only recently landed the driving job. Now that might be in jeopardy.
The
y had promised themselves that once they’d sorted out their financial problems, each room would have a makeover. Only the garden stood out, with its water features and rockeries and fishpond, only because he was a landscaper by trade.
The kettle boiled. He made the drinks, placing them on the kitchen table when he’d finished. Vanessa stopped ironing when the drinks were ready.
“What’s happened?” she asked.
“I’ve no idea. Yesterday they were sniffing round asking questions, trying to see what Billy knew about Barry.”
“Thick as thieves them two, bet there’s plenty he hasn’t told them.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. I never liked that Barry. He had shifty eyes, too close together.”
“He’s alright, is Barry.”
“No he isn’t… wasn’t, should I say.”
