Kill Who You Want

Chapter Twenty-Five

Plot reminder: In an earlier chapter Vince followed the man he believes to be the murderer to the modern residential complex which is also the home of DS Wye. The national press have got hold of Kubič's suspension from duty for drink driving some years earlier. Wye has been surprised by the visit of her ex-boyfriend Ewan with whom she had cut all ties.

~~~~~

It didn't mean anything, Vince tried to convince himself as he pushed open the side gate. Nothing had been decided. There weren't even any options to decide from. It was just curiosity, that was all. A simple act of nosiness.

His tread was light over the driveway gravel, almost a tiptoe. As if by limiting any noise his presence would make he might also limit his visibility. Become as see-through as a ghost.

The complex had been constructed only six or seven years ago. He remembered playing there with friends when it was still just a building site. Blocky, the name of the game they'd always used to play - a kind of uptempo version of hide and seek. With so many foundation pillars, half built walls and piles of bricks to crouch behind, the place had been perfect. Harry Kendall had twisted his ankle running over a shovel blade, he recalled. As the fastest and fittest, it had been Vince himself who'd had to scarper all the way to Harry's house to inform his mum. How life had been simpler back then, he reflected as he floated towards the line of parked cars beneath the oak tree. When all you had to worry about was finding a good hiding place, avoiding discarded work tools as you hurtled back to base.

The dark blue C-Max wasn't there. Vince found himself wondering where it might be. Where the man might be, what he was doing. Something sinister - yes, perhaps. More probably though, just something mundane, run-of-the-mill. Even psychopaths needed to do a supermarket run every now and again, he supposed. Had elderly relatives they had to pay occasional visits to.

Whatever the case, the man's absence seemed to open up an invitation for continued exploration...

A nose, Vince reminded himself. Just a quick snoop. There was absolutely no more to it than that.

The sound of crunched gravel caused him to spin. A couple had emerged from the complex entrance door - she a pretty blonde, he dark and unshaven, both in their late-twenties. They looked solemn somehow, as if on their way to visit a terminally ill relative in hospital. The woman in particular seemed to eye him suspiciously as the pair trudged past.

"Far is it?" he heard the man ask.

"Ten minutes," the woman shrugged back. "In a place like Ravensby, you're never more than ten minutes from where you're going."

Not a couple then it seemed: she lived in the town and he was just visiting. They had the same strange accent: Welsh or something.

He waited until they were out of the gate, then stepped towards the entrance door. This, as he suspected, was self-locking. On the wall beside was the same beady-eye type of camera lens common to cashpoint machines. Beneath this was a column of six intercom buzzers; no names, just the flat numbers in ascending order. Palms curved on each side of head, he peered in through the glass of the door. He could make out a potted plant, beyond that the stairwell leading upwards. Not much else. Blowing out an exhale, he considered his next move.

Nothing else for it...

Grimacing at his own cackhanded invasiveness - it was nine o'clock on Sunday morning, after all - he poked a finger to the uppermost button. Several seconds passed with no reply. He knew the residents of at least two of the flats were currently out; maybe flat 1 was one of them. He had to be sure though, he thought, pressing finger once more to button. This time there came a hiss of background noise, a gruff, unimpressed voice.