Cold Revenge (Willis/Carter #6)(68)

Truscott took off his Wellingtons in the porch as they entered the farmhouse and moved into a parlour area with leaflets and a guest book.

‘Mr Truscott, you mentioned the press have been in touch?’

‘About Millie and Nicola, yes. They are talking about revenge. I told them it has nothing to do with me. I told them they must mean somewhere else.’

‘We’d appreciate it if you wait to talk with others about this, as we are investigating it at the moment,’ said Carter.

He held up his hands. ‘No problem. You can count on my discretion.’

‘That won’t put them off for long. I’m surprised they haven’t found a way in here?’

‘Well, I have considered hiring some security but I don’t see why I should need to, it was never anything to do with me. I lost my niece, I’ll have them remember.’ Carter nodded and smiled.

‘Mr Truscott, can we show you some photos and see if you can tell us who’s in them, please.’ Willis handed them over one by one. They had come from Millie’s flat.

‘I know these,’ he pointed out Gavin Heathcote, Yvonne and Cathy, ‘and I know him, that’s Stephen Perry.’

‘When was the last time you saw any of these people?’ asked Willis, taking out her notepad.

‘I used to see Millie with her father Don sometimes, but not for a long time. People told me she was on the streets, working as a prostitute in Hackney.’

‘Who told you that?’ Carter asked.

‘Must have been Gavin, he is the only one I see regularly. He still works in the area. I see his van about sometimes when I’m out and about. Gavin also said Don Stephens was looking to sell his business and move away from the area because Millie has become a nuisance, always wanting money.’

‘Gavin seems to know a lot about Millie and her family?’

‘I suppose so, he and Millie were close and I think him and Don have had words. Nothing serious, mind. Don’t be telling him I’m stirring up trouble when there is none. Poor old Don, he’s going to be devastated. As much as he’s a hard man, he loved that girl. She was all he had left. It wasn’t his fault how she turned out, it was Douglas’s, he twisted that young girl. I saw it happen before my eyes, although there was nothing I could have done.’

‘It seems like many people were affected by the things that went on here on your farm,’ said Willis.

‘Not to do with this farm, it was all about Douglas.’ Truscott turned away and busied himself sorting out some leaflets on the side table.

‘Before this incident, has anyone contacted you about anything to do with Heather’s disappearance in the last year?’

‘No. Is this what it’s all about? Heather? Is that why Millie was killed? Doesn’t make sense, why now?’

‘We are not sure yet,’ answered Carter, ‘but we have evidence to suggest that the person who killed Millie might have been somehow affected by things that went on with Douglas and with his disciples. Things that went on here, in other words.’

‘Jesus Christ, when will it ever end? If this gets out, people won’t want to come here.’

‘Rest assured, Mr Truscott, we are going to keep this low-key. We also don’t want another witch hunt.’

‘I regret ever letting Douglas and his girlfriend live there, but we can’t turn back time, can we?’ said Truscott, shaking his head mournfully.

‘At the time, you had quite a good relationship with Douglas and his girlfriend, didn’t you?’ said Willis, looking up from her note-taking.

‘They were good tenants. Douglas did me favours from time to time. I can’t lie. It seemed to be ideal. But if only I’d seen through them.’

‘And Nicola Stone was one of the reasons you let them rent the bungalow, wasn’t she?’ asked Willis. Truscott looked at her with a hint of embarrassment. As they were talking, a woman in her late twenties came to lean on the door, listening in. She was Asian and wearing a denim mini skirt with a plain T-shirt.

Truscott addressed her. ‘Go and keep your eye on the workmen, and keep your nose out of my business.’

‘Hello, excuse me, who are you?’ asked Willis, taking a step between the young woman and Truscott.

‘My wife,’ Truscott answered for her. ‘Melody.’

The woman nodded before she obediently moved away.

‘Have you been married long?’ asked Willis, after she had gone.

‘Too long.’ He shook his head. ‘I picked her out from a catalogue. I should have sent her home before the year was up but things were going so well till then, I didn’t bother. I regret it now. Should have traded her in for a new one, got my money back. But now I have a child.’ He looked at Willis. ‘I am only joking, don’t write that down.’ Willis carried on writing it word for word.

‘What about the others who worked here? Cathy Dwyer and Stephen Perry?’

‘Stephen didn’t work for me, he was a lazy useless toff who lorded it over everyone, but Douglas kept him on because it amused him. Cathy Dwyer was a weird girl, looked like a Goth, always blacked-out eyes and I never saw her smile. The others, I have never seen them since the day I kicked them all out. Since the day they chose to say nothing to help my Heather.’

‘You were close to Heather, weren’t you?’