Someone Who Isn't Me Danuta Kot (best books to read .TXT) 📖

‘Was it just the one time?’

‘No. I’ve been, kind of, watching. I saw his car once on that street that runs down from the main road. He came out of that café, you know? And he was carrying a couple of bags then.’

‘And he keeps them in the cellar?’

‘I think so. He’s always funny about us going down there. There’s a sort of cupboard place. It’s locked. You’re a copper. Why don’t you go and look?’

Frustration flooded through him. He wanted to get down there and carry out a search but this had to be by the book, or at least look as though it was by the book. ‘Because I need evidence and I haven’t got it.’

‘I just told you,’ she objected.

He could just imagine what would happen if he went asking for a warrant because Becca the Barmaid – who clearly had her own experiences with the police, which he must check up on sometime – said she’d seen a landlord put some bags in his cellar. ‘That’s not enough, Becca. You saw some bags. Nothing wrong there.’ He let the silence build up. ‘You know, Andy was right about that. You could get those photographs. Of the bags, and what’s in them.’

He held his breath while she sat there, very still, very quiet. This was it. This was what he needed. One bit of solid proof about what was kept in that cellar, and he’d be vindicated.

‘The cupboard’s locked. I don’t have the key.’

‘But you know where it is. You could get it.’

‘Yeah, but…’ She shook her head.

‘I understand that you’re scared, but there’s no need. I’ve got your back. Listen, just don’t talk to anyone else – there’s someone dodgy on the team, and I don’t know who it is. Get me those pictures, and I can sort it. It’s drugs, Becca. I’m pretty sure it’s drugs. Andy—’

But mentioning Andy was a mistake. ‘I’ve told you what I know. Leave me alone!’ She pushed open the car door and stepped out into the rain, slamming it behind her. She held her head up as she crossed the road, not looking as she went. A car horn sounded. Then she was gone.

How much time did he have? As soon as Dinah told Hammond that B the B and Andy had been an item, Hammond would send someone in to question her. He was pretty sure now that she wouldn’t tell them anything, or not at once. He’d put a stopper on that. If he’d judged her right, his dare – because that’s what it had been – would drive her into the cellar, and he’d get his evidence. But he needed her to do that before Hammond got to her.

It was tight, but if it all went to plan, he’d get the photos before Hammond got the information out of her.

The road was empty, the street lamps making pools of light in the darkness. Another motorbike came along the road, sending a spray of water up from the gutter as it passed him and vanished.

Chapter 20

Sunk Island

Kay’s day had not gone as planned after her broken night’s sleep, and she felt like she was playing catch-up. It looked as though someone had been in the fuel store – but she still wasn’t convinced. Compost thieves. The whole idea was so ridiculous, she was beginning to doubt what she’d seen. She thought she’d seen bags of compost in there, but she’d been distracted with a hundred other things.

There was no point in calling the police – what could she say? Some bags of compost that I’m almost sure were there have gone missing, and my dog’s behaving as though someone got into the house.

That would bring them running. Catherine Ford had been very clear about police inaction.

In the end, she decided she’d ask the estate agent to change the locks on the outside door of the fuel store, and in the meantime, she’d buy her own padlock.

Officially, she wasn’t working today, but the notes left by her predecessor, Xanthe, were in such a state she’d decided to spend the day getting them sorted out. Cool Xanthe might have been, organised she was not.

Kay spent the morning identifying all the missing areas – visits that had not been properly recorded, rough notes that hadn’t been transcribed, contact details that had not been updated. Then she began to write outline action plans for each of her clients so that their support could finally get back into a more structured form.

That brought her to Poppy. When Dev had given Kay her caseload, he’d implied that Poppy was well on the road to a full recovery. That didn’t match what Kay had seen.

She turned to Xanthe’s notes and started reading, gradually feeling more and more puzzled. What Dev had told her tallied with the information she had here. According to the notes, far from her drug use getting worse, Poppy had been doing well – tapering her use of opioids, coming in regularly for counselling sessions, getting a part-time job and talking about picking up her interrupted college course.

Who was Poppy working for? Kay checked the notes. It was a beauty salon, Carla’s. The owner, or manager – it wasn’t clear – was a Ms A. Traynor. There was a mobile number and a scribbled note not to call Poppy at the salon during working hours. Kay made a note to check this in more detail later and went back to work.

And then the notes stopped, at least a fortnight before Xanthe left. Kay had already checked the appointments calendar. Poppy had had three appointments in that fortnight. According to the log book, she’d come in as arranged. Xanthe just hadn’t written up her notes for these sessions.

Kay knew where the story picked up again, with a strung-out Poppy in a trashed squat in Hull. What she didn’t have was the bit in between.

What had Xanthe been doing? She wasn’t responsible for the chaos the system