The Hard Way Duncan Brockwell (romance book recommendations .TXT) 📖

When you go, shake off anyone following you. No one but you can open the locker, not even me now. Everything will be explained when you see what’s inside the locker. I’m sorry I got you into this.”

The line went quiet. “Richard? What? Neil what?” She wasn’t expecting him to come out with such a vast amount of information; she was scared she didn’t hear it all. “Richard?” Nothing. She hung up.

Deciding to do some investigating, Charlotte picked up her laptop. After waiting for it to load, she clicked on Google, typed in Neil Safe Deposit, and waited. “Well, shit…”

On screen came her entries; the second one down made her heart light. Google had filled in the missing word for her. Neelkanth Safe Deposit, and when she clicked on its website, one address was near Richard’s workshop.

Thinking back to Richard’s one comment before he so abruptly hung up, he said, “That which I showed you earlier will fit in Neelkanth Safe Deposit.” What did he mean by “that which I showed you earlier”? He didn’t show her anything earlier, unless he meant the text. Glancing at his earlier message, it clicked: the key.

Her brother had hidden the key in the drain to prevent anyone from taking it, then he had to give her a cryptic clue as to what the key would fit. She had it: she would snatch the key from inside the drain, then drive to this Neelkanth place, pick up whatever he left in the locker, and that would be that. Why had he apologised to her?

Since she wouldn’t be sneaking into the workshop until after dark, she wouldn’t be able to use said key to open the safe until the morning. Charlotte picked up her phone, found Hayes’ card, and phoned the number. “Yeah, it’s Charlotte Edwards. I know where we need to go with the key once we’ve got it.”

After a short conversation with the detective, Charlotte hung up. In a few hours she would know why her brother’s and her lives were imploding. She would hopefully know why Colin and Henry, Brandy and Kurt had been murdered.

50

“This is the card the police officer gave me.” Mrs Parekh handed it to Hayes.

“Thank you, Mrs Parekh. I appreciate this, I really do.” Hayes exchanged sorrowful glances with the grieving wife. “I understand how hard all this is, believe me. And I know you have your suspicions about how your husband died.” She sat on the sofa next to Miller, who remained uncharacteristically quiet throughout the interview.

“The truth is, Mrs Parekh, we’ve been having the same doubts as you.” Miller’s first words made Parekh take note. “You told us earlier that he’d driven out of his way?”

With tears rolling down her cheeks, the dainty Indian woman studied Miller. “I phoned him when he said he was on his way home. When I found out where he’d crashed, I couldn’t get over why he would be there. It’s in the opposite direction. There was no reason, unless–”

“Unless he was chased,” Hayes finished. “That’s what you were going to say, isn’t it? You think he was run off the road?”

Her interviewee nodded. “I’m not one for conspiracy theories, detective. I’m a level-headed woman; I have to be in my line of work. Vanu could be quite paranoid at times, to the point of him scaring me, but he was very good at his job, and he told me one night how important his work at Fisher Valves was, about how when their project was complete, it would change the world as we know it, and how we’d be set for life.”

Hayes regarded Miller. “Mrs Parekh, please tell us what he’s working on.”

“I can’t do that. I don’t even know myself.” She sniffed. “But I know my husband, I know my Vanu; he wouldn’t just make that up. And I think that project is what got him killed. He was talking about being followed, all the time, about vans following him from the workshop. My guess is, the project’s almost complete, time to erase everyone associated with it. I saw on the news they picked up Richard Fisher for child pornography. They’re cleaning house, that’s what they’re doing.”

“We’ll see about that.” Hayes took her mobile out of her pocket and dialled the number on the card Mrs Parekh handed her. She introduced herself to the inspector. “Yeah, I’m calling with regards the Vanu Parekh collision.” She listened to him, said, “uh-huh” a few times. “I see. Can I trouble you for the photos?”

When she hung up, she gave Mrs Parekh a soft smile. “He’s emailing me the photos. He says they found two sets of tyre tracks on the approach to the collision site. They’re looking into the possibility of the car having collided with another vehicle, only he thought it more likely a hit-and-run. He’s not in full receipt of the facts.”

“Why didn’t he tell me?”

“I can’t say, I’m sorry. Maybe he wanted to get more evidence.”

Miller interrupted. “We ought to get going. It’s getting late, we should go see the tyre tracks for ourselves, if they haven’t been washed away already.” She turned to Mrs Parekh. “I don’t suppose you met, or knew any of your husband’s colleagues, did you?”

“Only Paula, we were quite good friends, actually,” Mrs Parekh replied. “Why?”

“I was just wondering if you had her address? The one we have for her might be old.” Miller followed their host to a bureau. “Thank you so much; this is a big help.”

“Is she the only one?” Hayes checked. “You never met Yurika Ishii, or Nathan Stewart?” When she received a negative, she nodded. “Okay, we have enough to be getting on with. Thank you, Mrs Parekh, you’ve been a huge help. And we’ll be in touch when we know more.” She waited for Miller to leave the room, then followed her out.

Outside in their Peugeot, Hayes sat in the driver’s seat. The email came through from the inspector she’d spoken to. “Look, clearly two sets