Shadowlocked by David Moody

Author:David Moody [Moody, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Infected Books
Published: 2024-05-30T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 21

He made a rookie error. I found Gavin Baxter’s address on the Malthouse Properties website, tucked away at the bottom of a page of T&Cs. He’s the owner, it looks like, and the company is registered at his home address. A broader Google search gave me all the confirmation I needed. He’s involved in a youth football club and he’s also a governor of a local school. A proper pillar of the community, by all accounts. And now here I am around the corner from his house, nervous at the thought of confronting him and finding out exactly what kind of shit Lucy had got herself mixed up in.

The place is exactly as I expected from the postcode, nestled right at the heart of this upmarket executive estate. I waited until evening and left the car a couple of streets away to avoid attracting attention, but the march up the long driveway to the front door still leaves me feeling exposed. Kayleigh suggested I speak to the police again first, but I know there’s no point. They’re not interested. I’m completely on my own here.

I take a deep breath, then ring the bell.

Lucy looks concerned. Bit late for that.

‘I wish you could tell me what you’d got yourself mixed up with, save me all this cloak and dagger bullshit.’

There’s no answer – either from Lucy or the house. I start hammering on the door with my fist.

‘Can I help you, pal?’

The voice catches me out because it comes from behind me. I turn around and there’s an older guy standing there. Shorts and a button-down collar shirt. A shock of grey hair. White socks and sandals. Gardening gloves and some kind of utility belt with a trowel and a pair of secateurs hanging from it.

I can tell a nosy neighbour a mile off. I act dumb.

‘Sorry... not sure if I’ve got the right address.’

‘Are you looking for Gavin and Michelle?’ he asks.

‘Yes.’

‘Both still at work, I expect. They’re at it all hours, those two. Probably won’t be home until late.’

‘Bugger.’

‘Is it important?’

‘It is, actually.’

‘Anything I can help you with?’

I walk back down the drive, meeting the guy midway. What do I tell him? It’s a cheap shot, but I go for the most obvious opening gambit. ‘I lost my wife a few weeks back.’

‘Jesus, I’m sorry to hear that. Gavin and Michelle knew her, did they?’

‘It’s a bit more complicated than that. She died in an accident.’

‘Bloody hell.’

Here goes everything.

‘I think Gavin might have been involved.’

‘What?’

‘It was late and dark, and it was pouring with rain... he drove into the back of us, and I don’t think he realised what he’d done. My wife lost control of the car and we ended up in the river.’

I’m being deliberately vague, avoiding any direct accusations, just giving enough. The man’s expression changes. ‘Good grief, I think I remember reading about that in the paper. That was you? And you’re saying Gavin was involved?’

‘Yes. His car was, anyway.’

Now he looks confused. ‘Wait, Gav’s new BMW? That’s the car you’re talking about? The red one?’

‘Yes.

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