Frozen Grave (Willis/Carter #3)(11)

Willis was still making notes.

Carter was watching a heated discussion that had broken out at the PCs.

‘Is there anyone that comes here you think we should speak to about this incident?’ he asked.

Sheila stood and glared at the group who were arguing over the PCs. She looked down at Carter.

‘You should speak to the lads from the estate, that’s who.’ She leant forward, spoke now in a hissing whisper: ‘They kill someone for nothing. They kill as part of some bloody initiation rite. They’re always making trouble. They have attacked rough sleepers from this area before now.’

Willis was watching Lyndsey stare into her teacup.

‘Is that your judgement too, Lyndsey – that it could be someone from the estate?’

She looked up and shrugged.

‘I don’t know the area like Sheila but I know the people who come here will lie about most things – they’ll tell you anything they think you want to hear but I would not expect any of them to commit murder.’

Simon Smith appeared then, to sort out the dispute at the PCs.

Carter stood. ‘Thanks for your help, ladies, and for the tea,’ he said as Willis closed her notebook.

Simon stopped them on their way out.

‘Any good?’

‘Sheila and Lyndsey have been a great help, thanks. I wanted to ask you about a man named Toffee. Did you speak to him this morning?’

‘Toffee? Did I speak to him? Yes, briefly.’

‘What about?’

‘Just chit-chat, really.’

‘Nothing to concern you?’ Simon shook his head. ‘If you see Toffee again, can you ask him to get in touch with us, please. You have our direct line.’

‘Of course.’





Chapter 5


They got outside and walked to the car. Carter got in and slammed the door shut.

‘Christ Almighty, you’d think he was doing us a favour. A woman died here, probably killed by some people that Smith was serving breakfast to. Stuck-up twat.’ He looked across at Willis as she closed her door.

‘Simon Smith was a strange mix,’ she said as she did up her seat belt. ‘He looked and talked like a confident public-school boy but then he’s working in a homeless hostel. There must be more to him.’

‘Doesn’t need to work, probably,’ answered Carter.

‘Daddy’s money. Maybe this was his do-gooder phase, a project. Maybe Mummy says he needs to find out about the real world.’

‘But it’s a strange choice of project. It’s hard work. It must have something to do with the religious aspect. He didn’t stop smiling.’

‘Smug.’

‘He looked like he was but I’m not sure.’

‘We need to find out about him and the church,’ said Carter.

‘It’s things like – I would have thought he’d know his regulars; he’d make it his business to know them. He must get out and walk around the area,’ Willis added. ‘But he said he didn’t know them.’

‘Maybe he gets a taxi back to Knightsbridge every evening.’

Carter looked in his side mirror and saw Simon jogging across to them. ‘Hello? Talk of the devil,’ he said under his breath.

He wound down his window. ‘What can we help you with, Mr Smith?’

‘Sorry, I realized I must have come across as unhelpful. Look – I want to help. But it’s difficult for me. I’m not only the warden here – I’m a minister.’ He looked at each of them in turn, waiting for a reaction. He got a look of begrudging respect from Carter, who had had a broadly Catholic upbringing: dragged to church until he was too big to be cajoled or bribed or threatened. But his Catholicism affected him in many ways. It stopped him from getting married to Cabrina. He couldn’t risk the marriage failing. Simon got a look of suspicion from Willis, who had little regard for religion of any kind.

‘I have more than just an obligation to respect privacy. It is a matter of faith – them having faith in me and me sticking to mine. I don’t want people to stop using this centre. People around here rely on coming here when the weather gets cold like this.’

‘I understand.’ Carter was about to try his charm, thought Willis. He usually managed to win people over – male or female. She was intrigued to see what angle he’d take with Simon. ‘But, if the press get hold of the fact that a group of homeless people are involved in the murder of a hard-working family-law solicitor, well . . . after all . . . it’s a tricky thing for the public to get their head round. Even if it turns out to be nothing – it might be too late to stop more prejudice from creeping in. I can see how hard you work here and what a good job you do. I know how much you rely on funding.’

‘It has nothing to do with this hostel and we get funding by various commercial means. We are not reliant on government grants.’ Simon looked exasperated. He took a deep breath. ‘I was given something to look after this morning.’ Simon took a phone out of his pocket. He handed it to Carter.

Carter switched it on. ‘It’s hers,’ he said as he handed it to Willis. ‘Phone Robbo.’ Carter turned back to Simon. ‘Who gave this to you?’

‘Toffee. The man you mentioned.’

‘What did he say when he gave it to you?’