The Major Crimes Team - Vol 1: Lines of Enquiry (9 page)

Another factor praying on his mind was the apparent expertise the perpetrator had with a chainsaw. That pointed to a professional woodsman or forester, yet it begged the question, why would they do something which would so obviously implicate them?

Knowing he wasn’t going to find the answers from a sheet of paper, Bhaki made a couple of calls, picked up his jacket and prepared to get soaked again.

*    *    *    *

Knocking on the door of the Giddy Goose, Bhaki was met by a worried looking man in chef’s whites.

‘You the detective who called?’ Ian Trent was a shadow of the person who often appeared on local news items. Without the make-up and lighting provided by TV he looked just like any other person would when confronted with bad news. The bubbly personality replaced by a matter of fact acceptance, the sparkle in his eye dulled by stress and the wild thoughts which accompanied setbacks.

Bhaki nodded. ‘I need to ask you a few questions.’

Trent gestured towards the nearest table. ‘Let’s have a seat yeah?’

Bhaki took a glance around as he pulled a notebook from his pocket on his way to the table. The décor of the room was ultra modern with clean lines and neutral tones. Splashes of colour were provided by examples of modern art hung on the walls.

‘How did you hear of the flood?’

‘Oliver Davies called me.’

Bhaki didn’t have to ask who Davies was. A sign for his construction company had been sited at the entrance of the road to the new restaurant.

‘We’re looking at everyone who has been or may be affected by the flood. Obviously as proprietor of the restaurant, your name is at the top of our list.’

Trent appeared to shrink in stature as he came to terms with the fact he may have been specifically targeted. ‘Why would someone do such a thing to me, I haven’t got any enemies, I’m fair in my business dealings and I pay my bills on time?’

‘We don’t know for certain who the intended target is. Can you think of anyone who may have a grudge against you?’

‘No.’ The answer was instinctive and delivered with conviction. ‘As I said, I pay my bills on time and play fair with suppliers and customers.’

‘What about professional rivals?’ Bhaki hesitated knowing his next sentence may not be well received. ‘Other chefs, local restaurant owners and so on?’

Trent’s head shook from side to side as he spoke. ‘I seriously doubt it. I have a good relationship with them all. Tell me, how much do you know about fine dining detective?’

‘Only that I can’t afford it.’

Trent’s frown deepened making Bhaki regret his flippant remark. ‘Perhaps not every week, but for a special occasion?’

‘I guess.’ Bhaki made the concession out of good manners rather than a sense of agreement. He’d never yet had a long term relationship and any family occasions were always hosted in his parent’s restaurant.

‘There you go. Besides, I did my research before even starting this project. What I’ll be offering at River View is going to be aimed at the more discerning customer. There’s no place within fifty miles which will be able to compete.’

‘Won’t that be the problem?’

‘Not at all. River View will provide a different level of food and service to anywhere in the region and will be priced accordingly.’ Trent gave a wry smile. ‘In short, I’m going after the posh pound and people celebrating special occasions.’

Trent’s insistence of not competing with local businesses made sense on some levels, but Bhaki doubted competing restaurateurs would see it the same way. There were only so many customers available and a new restaurant led by a chef who was fast become a national celebrity would impact on someone’s business.’

‘What about suppliers you’ve worked with or people from your personal life?’

‘I’ve used the same suppliers for the ten years I’ve had the lease on here and I married my school sweetheart.’ A fond smile twitched at Trent’s lips. ‘Fifteen years married and two kids and we still haven’t had a cross word.’

‘What about the people who work here with you? What will happen to them once you leave? Have you poached any staff from local restaurants?’ The questions tumbled from Bhaki’s mouth as fast as they entered his brain.

‘I’ve promoted staff here so I can concentrate on River View. The new staff haven’t been poached from anywhere, they’ve approached me personally or answered job ads I’ve put out. I look after my staff and they have all been very supportive and excited about the opening.’

‘Do you know anyone who is a woodsman or someone who is good with a chainsaw?’

Trent leaned back in his seat, his eyes raised to the ceiling. ‘Not that I can think of. My wife gets someone in to do our garden but I don’t know his name or if he even has a chainsaw. Why do you ask?’

When Bhaki told him the chef’s face paled to a milky white.

Bhaki stood to leave and held a card out. ‘If you think of anyone who may have a grudge against you or the builder, please don’t hesitate to contact me.’

As he left the restaurant, Bhaki thought about the suspicions he’d had. First of all, the restaurant was the most probable target in the area. So if Trent wasn’t the target who was?

The builder Oliver Davies may lose a few quid on materials lost, but he’d gain the extra work repairing the damage done by the flood. Davies himself may be responsible but it was a stretch that he was desperate enough to sabotage his own work. A call to DS Chisholm would soon establish the builder’s character and business dealings. After that he could look at a certain someone else and see what he could unearth there.

*    *    *    *

Bhaki pulled into the farmyard and parked between a mud splattered pick-up and a tractor. Once out of the car he retrieved his wellies from the boot – he’d learned the hard way about the damage a farm could do to a pair of brogues.

Not getting an answer from the farmhouse door he started to walk through the outbuildings, the deep rumble of tractor guiding his footsteps like a homing beacon.

He found the farmer dispensing silage from a fancy trailer with a side chute. When the farmer saw him he stopped the tractor and opened the door.

‘Mr Foster?’

‘Aye that’s me lad. Who are you?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t see reps wi’out an appointment mind.’

Bhaki explained who he was and why he was there. He watched as Foster clambered out of the tractor, the old man slow and deliberate with his movements.

‘What is it you want to know lad, I’ve a lot to be doing?’

Bhaki could tell the farmer’s mind was a lot quicker than his aged limbs so he cut to the chase. ‘I don’t know how much you’ve heard about the flood down by the bridge, but the blockage was done on purpose. What I want to know is who could be harmed by it and who would want to harm them?’

‘There’s only me owns land as is flooded, other than that fancy new restaurant. I had no sheep or cattle down there so it’s no big deal for me. I guess there’ll be a few fence posts need replacing and a bit of stuff to lift off the field but it’s nowt I’ve not had to deal with in the past. Mind, it’s never been owt like as bad as it is today.’

‘So I’d be right in saying the flooded fields won’t harm your business?’

‘You would.’ Foster spat a gob of phlegm under the tractor. ‘Can’t say the same for thon chef and Oliver Davies, this could cost them a right packet.’

‘What about anyone downstream from the bridge, is there anyone there who would suffer if that dam broke?’

A toothless grin etched itself onto Foster’s face. ‘Nah. There’s no-one as would be affected by more than a few lost sheep or ruined fences.’

Bhaki called Chisholm as he returned to his car. Listening with care he got all the details he’d asked for. As ever Chisholm had unearthed all the information requested and more besides.

Oliver Davies’s business was on a sure footing and his accounts showed a steady flow of work and profits which were in line with the size of his business. There was nothing about Davies on the PND other than a couple of speeding fines and a parking ticket.

*    *    *    *

Bhaki hadn’t even got out of his car when he was confronted by a man wearing sodden work clothes and a desperate air.

‘If you’re another one from the press then you can bugger off.’

Bhaki flashed his warrant card and watched as the man’s expression went from anger to pleading in a heartbeat.

‘I’ve a few questions for you Mr Davies. Is there somewhere we can talk out of the rain?’

Davies walked towards his office by way of an answer. An open door to a shed in his yard showed a bunch of workmen half-heartedly sweeping and stacking various goods and tools. 

Bhaki’s heart fluttered for a moment when a workman lifted a chainsaw and carried it towards a liveried van. As the man swung it round he saw its blade was too short to have felled the size of trees dropped into the river. Still, it showed Davies had the equipment and tools necessary.

Following Davies into the office, Bhaki saw a secretary with a phone wedged under one ear and a mass of papers stacked in neat piles on the two desks.

‘This is going to ruin me. Twenty-five years I’ve spent building up this business up and one flood is going to ruin me.’

Bhaki measured his words before speaking lest his racing pulse cause him to offend the distraught builder.

‘What do you mean Sir?’

‘I mean that I’ll never be able to pay the penalty clauses on late completion. I’ve got over fifty grand laid out for materials and the wage bill is touching twenty-five.’

Bhaki held up his hands in apology. ‘I’m sorry but I don’t understand. Can you explain how this will ruin you?’ It was cruel to ask Davies to spell it out but Bhaki knew he needed to get a proper understanding of the situation.

Davies’ heavy slump into a chair told Bhaki of the pressure he was under. ‘I gave Ian Trent a price of three hundred and twenty thousand to build his restaurant. It is to be paid in three instalments of a hundred grand with twenty held back for a year as retention for any building issues which arise. The first instalment was a third of the way through, the second at two thirds and the final one is to be paid upon completion.’

Every word from Davies’ mouth told of his burden, of the pressure he felt and of how near he was to admitting defeat. His tone was subdued, every muttered word carrying its own weight in self-pity.

‘Surely the final payment of a hundred thousand will cover your outlay?’

‘It would but it’s not that simple. There was ten grand’s worth of timber flooring waiting to be laid and the solid oak bar cost me eight grand to make. Plus there is a non-completion penalty of twenty thousand a week. By the time I replace those and then lose the money for late completion, I’ll be done for.’

Bhaki just managed to keep his internal wince from showing on his face. ‘Have you any idea how long it’ll take to repair the water damage?’

Davies didn’t lift his eyes from the desk when he answered. ‘I haven’t been allowed to even see the damage from the road but from what I’ve heard it’ll be a couple of months at least. And that’s working twelve hour days seven days a week.’

‘What about insurance, surely your insurance will cover you?’

‘They would if I’d taken any out. I do in towns and cities where there’s a good chance of having stuff nicked but not in a place like that.’

Bhaki let his mind comprehend the scale of the builder’s personal disaster while the older man shifted his gaze from the desk to the floor.

‘What about Mr Trent, won’t he have insurance that will cover the building?’

Davies gave a snort. ‘I spoke with him yesterday. He said he was gonna start doing all that kind of thing next week.’

‘Do you think he’ll hold you to the late completion penalties being as this was a malicious act that’s nothing to do with your workmanship?’

‘I can only hope so.’ Davies glanced at his watch. ‘I’m due to meet him and Chief Inspector Ingles over there in an hour. I’ll know then if my business is going to survive or not.’

Bhaki brushed away the feeling of being an intruder into grief and changed his tack.

‘The flooding of the restaurant was caused by a deliberate act and to my mind either you or Mr Trent were the intended targets. Bearing in mind what you’ve just told me, I’m inclined to think it was aimed at ruining you.’ Bhaki changed his voice from matter of fact to a more gentle tone. ‘Can you think of anyone who’d A, know how much you’d suffer and B, have the means and skill to cause the river to be dammed?’

A burning fire shone from Davies eyes when his head snapped up. ‘You mean this all happened because some bastard is trying to ruin me? If that’s true then you better hope you find him before I do.’

Bhaki’s hand shot up in a halt gesture as he matched the builder’s aggressive tone. ‘Stop right there. Vigilante justice isn’t the answer. You’ve enough to deal with without getting yourself into trouble with us.’

After pausing to let his words sink in he returned his voice to a less confrontational pitch. ‘You’d be a lot better off helping us catch the person who did this and then fighting to keep your business going. Let him stew in jail while you make money. Surely that’s a better punishment for him?’