Chapter 19

Chapter 19

The folding metal shrieked in anguish as the two iron plates embraced each other, crushing the aged Ford Fiesta. It was an awesome sight, a solid, robust object that had once been someone's pride and joy flattened in a matter of seconds. But Helen was not here for sightseeing, she had a job to do.

‘I'm simply asking how it could have happened,' she continued, returning her attention to her companion, as she marched past the flattened car. ‘That Renault Movano was clearly scheduled for destruction two months ago , so what on earth is it doing on the roads?'

The site manager, a heavy-set, unshaven man in coveralls and a hi-vis jacket was struggling to keep up with Helen, his responses breathless and scared.

‘Are you sure it's the same vehicle?' he enquired.

‘Same reg plates, same colour, even the same alloys. So, yes, it's the same vehicle.'

‘Well, I can't explain it. It doesn't make any sense.'

‘Try again, Mr Chapman,' Helen replied dismissively, increasing her stride. ‘I can shut this place down if I don't like the answers I get.'

‘OK, OK,' he replied, wheezing, ‘no need to fly off the handle.'

‘Then talk.'

The site manager ground to a halt, utterly out of breath, holding up his hand for Helen to stop. Slowing, she turned to him, eyeballing him directly, giving him no room for manoeuvre.

‘Look, from time to time, vehicles do go missing. They're on the schedule, then suddenly they're not. I should say this happens once in a blue moon and most of the lads here are extremely reliable, but I do get sent a lot of ex-offenders. I've been working with the probation service for a while now, it's a good source of cheap labour, and in general the boys I get want to make a go of it. But every now and again you get a bad apple and it's not possible for me to keep my eyes on them every second of every day. We're massively short-staffed, currently it's just me and the wife managing the place, so …'

He looked at her entreatingly, perhaps soliciting pity, but Helen had none to give.

‘So some site employees steal the vehicles, sell them on?'

‘I'm guessing, but honestly it's incredibly rare, two or three times a year max. We try hard to run a tight ship here.'

‘Not tight enough,' Helen replied coolly. ‘All right, as you've been honest with me, I'm going to let you keep the site open for now.'

Relief flooded the man's face, but Helen was quick to qualify her generosity.

‘But you are on probation for six months. Any more vehicles go walkies, I'll be straight round to the council and you can start planning your retirement, OK?'

He nodded dumbly, taken aback by her vehemence.

‘Also, I want a full list of all your site employees, going back eighteen months. Names, addresses, telephone numbers, the works.'

‘Sure … but it'll take me a day or so to get that together, we've got a full schedule today.'

‘I'll expect it via email within the next two hours,' Helen contradicted him, handing him her card. ‘If I don't, I'll be straight back here. So I'd advise you to comply, Mr Chapman – this is me playing nice.'

Helen stared hard at the shrinking manager, then turned and walked away. John Chapman watched her go, open-mouthed. He had never met a woman – no, scratch that, he'd never met anyone quite like Detective Inspector Helen Grace.