Something Evil Comes Read online

  As Crystal came in Maisie shook off the hand. ‘Get off, Mom! I said I’m OK.’

  Hanson searched the heart-shaped face, picking up sounds of her research students arriving inside her room, one of the voices Julian’s. She went to the door, closed it and came back. ‘I’ve got a meeting for the next hour. Stay here with Crystal and don’t pester her and she might make you a hot drink.’ She watched Maisie brighten. Obviously not seriously off-colour. ‘As soon as my meeting finishes I’ll take you home. What about your second lecture?’

  Maisie shrugged, her eyes skimming Hanson’s and away. ‘Same lecturer as this morning. I already told her I was ill.’

  Hanson gazed down at her daughter. ‘Crystal, is it OK with you if Maisie stays in here?’

  Crystal grinned at Maisie. ‘Of course it is. I’ve got some biscuits in my drawer.’

  ‘Cool,’ said Maisie. Seeing her mother’s frown she lost the smile. ‘I’m starting to sort of, feel slightly better now.’

  Hanson came into the house, Maisie trailing her. ‘I know you’re not unwell. I also know there’s something going on. If you won’t talk to me I can’t sort it out, but count on it, Maisie, I’ll find out what it is.’ Ignoring the tut-and-pout as Maisie stomped the stairs, Hanson went into the kitchen.

  Charlie looked up from the Independent crossword. ‘Hello! I wasn’t expecting you home just yet.’

  ‘Neither was I. Maisie came to my office this afternoon.’ She saw his quick concern. ‘She’s fine but she’s up to something and I’m needed at headquarters. Can I leave her with you?’ Getting a quick nod she headed into the hall. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

  Fifteen minutes later she was inside UCU. ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Better than we hoped,’ said Corrigan.

  Watts’s wide face was stretched into a pleased grin. Hanson rolled her eyes. Just like the Cheshire cat. ‘You missed the interview with Graham. He sang like a canary,’ he said.

  ‘A well-worn but efficient idiom,’ she snapped.

  The cat-grin disappeared. ‘What’s got your goat now?’

  ‘Nothing. Carry on, preferably without more animals.’

  ‘According to Graham they were approached over twelve months ago by some bloke they didn’t know who told them they could make a few grand by having the plants at the house and managing them. It was put to them as a no-risk set-up. Everything was supplied, brought to the house. When the crop was ready, it was taken away, again by people they didn’t know. According to Graham, that is.’

  ‘Twelve months?’ queried Hanson. ‘That means Matthew Flynn had to have been involved. Or at least aware.’

  ‘Seems like it,’ said Watts.

  She looked across at Corrigan. ‘Do you think Matthew was a willing participant?’

  He raised both hands. ‘He was living there. We go with what we’re told until we learn otherwise.’

  ‘But it’s so contrary to what we know about him. Look.’ She pointed at the words on the board.

  Watts eyed them. ‘Like Corrigan just said, it’s what we’ve been told, doc, which might not be the whole picture.’

  ‘But Terri Brennan knew Matthew.’

  ‘Graham and Addison knew him. Probably better than she did.’

  Head propped on one hand, Hanson’s gaze was still on the board when Corrigan lifted the phone at its first ring. ‘We’re on our way,’ he said.

  They headed for the door, Corrigan turning to her. ‘Zach Addison is ready for interview. Come and observe what I’m guessing will be a sanitized version of My Life as a Marijuana Grower.’

  She watched her colleagues walk into the interview room and take seats opposite a twenty-something male and his white-haired solicitor. Zach Addison was good looking with the kind of inbred self-assurance she guessed had its roots in a background of serious money. She listened as Corrigan established Addison’s history. It confirmed her suspicion: money made by his banker father, reduced somewhat at the time of the economic downturn but still a family of significant means. Hanson’s eyes narrowed as she listened. Whatever ‘reduced’ meant in terms of a banker’s family, Addison’s self-assurance was now looking more like a sense of entitlement.

  Watts took up the questioning. ‘Tell us who set you up in the marijuana business.’

  Addison eyes passed slowly over Watts’s face and creased suit. When he spoke, his voice was clipped, the accent metropolitan. ‘Sorry. Could you repeat the question? I’m not quite clear what you said.’

  Hanson felt heat rise in her chest. Watts repeated it.

  ‘No idea,’ said Addison. ‘I never met anyone connected with it.’

  ‘Our information is that you and Graham were approached with a proposition that could net you a thousand pounds a month and that following an agreement by you the equipment and plants were delivered to the house. What do you say?’

  ‘If Graham told you that, he’s a liar. He and Matthew Flynn sorted it all out. Graham had to have Flynn on side because the house belonged to his family. That stuff was already on the third floor before I knew anything about it.’

  Watts gazed at him with deep dislike. ‘Yeah, we get it. It was nothing to do with you.’

  Addison’s solicitor frowned. Corrigan took up the questioning. ‘Where and when did that first approach happen?’

  Addison raised his shoulders. ‘For the tape!’ snapped Watts.

  ‘I just told you, I don’t know.’

  ‘Why did Matthew Flynn agree to be involved?’ asked Corrigan.

  The solicitor intervened, looking irritated. ‘My client has already told you that he had no direct involvement in this “proposal”. He cannot provide information about an arrangement to which he was not a party.’

  Addison nodded, his voice smooth. ‘I think you’ll find that whereas I have no prior dealings with the law, Flynn already had a record for drugs.’

  ‘You didn’t dissociate yourself from what was on offer,’ said Corrigan.

  Addison shrugged. ‘Like you said earlier, Matthew’s family owned the house. It was Graham’s idea. Once Matthew knew and he was cool with it, what could I do?’

  ‘You could have found somewhere else to live!’ snapped Watts.

  ‘Why would I? It was a nice house. Comfortable. Convenient. I decided to ignore what was going on.’

  ‘You expect us to believe you never benefitted financially from the stuff on the third floor?’ asked Watts, his voice heavy with disbelief.

  ‘I’m telling you, I didn’t.’

  ‘In which case it won’t worry you that we’ll be requesting your financial records.’ Addison looked away.

  Corrigan changed course. ‘Like you said, the house belongs to Matthew Flynn’s family. His parents would have visited to check on how Matthew was doing and that the house was being taken care of?’ No response from Addison. ‘Or was it only Mrs Flynn who made the house calls?’

  Hanson saw wariness in Addison’s face. His mouth remained firmly closed.

  ‘It didn’t concern you that she might go upstairs?’ asked Corrigan. ‘Discover what was going on up there?’

  ‘That stuff was on the third floor. Graham used one small room up there as a study. Hardly more than a cupboard. The rest of it was unfurnished. She had no reason to go up there.’

  Something in his tone, the first indication of emotion in Addison’s voice, snagged Hanson’s attention. Corrigan had certainly touched a tender spot. Her eyes fixed on Addison’s face, the straight nose, the strong jawline around which she could see tension in the muscles beneath the skin. He’s dropped the dismissive, patronising attitude. He’s not exactly nervous but he’s busy thinking. About what?

  Corrigan continued. ‘From what we know Mrs Flynn is a nice lady. Did she want the house to be comfortable for tenants? Did she care enough to provide high-end kitchen appliances?’

  Addison’s face set. He looked away. ‘Her son lived there. Why wouldn’t she?’

  ‘Was she willing to provide comfort for tenan
ts elsewhere in that house?’

  Hanson knew where Corrigan’s questions were leading. Addison’s face tightened. ‘No, and I don’t like the inference you’re making there.’

  ‘What inference might that be?’

  Addison’s solicitor intervened, his voice weary. ‘If we could move on, keeping to the facts of why my client has been arrested, please?’

  ‘That’s what I’m doing right now,’ said Corrigan, his eyes fixed on Addison. ‘Are you saying that Diana Flynn never went anywhere but the ground floor of that house?’

  Addison’s eyes shifted from Corrigan to Watts. ‘Yes.’ He looked up as both officers stood.

  ‘You’re looking worried, Mr Addison,’ observed Corrigan. ‘How about we take a short break while you consider your situation here?’

  They returned to UCU. Hanson went straight to the board, read through all of the information they had on the Flynn family then looked at Corrigan. ‘You think there was something going on between Addison and Diana Flynn?’

  ‘I think it’s very likely, although whether he’ll admit it today isn’t a sure thing,’ said Corrigan.

  Hanson walked to the window, gazed out. ‘I’m struggling with the idea of Matthew Flynn being involved in that drugs set up.’

  Watts shrugged. ‘Maybe he wasn’t the blue-eyed type that woman who worked with him said he was. Addison is right about him having form.’

  Hanson wasn’t about to let it go. ‘One caution when he was a teenager? That doesn’t make him some kind of drug baron five years later.’

  ‘It’s a tough judgement to make right now,’ said Corrigan. ‘We need to know more about him.’

  Hanson left the window. ‘What about Diana Flynn? We don’t know much about her. I want to talk to her.’ Watts and Corrigan exchanged glances. ‘When do you plan to release this latest news about the marijuana?’ she asked.

  ‘Not until after the interviews are done and Graham and Addison have been charged,’ said Watts. ‘That house is in an area full of rental properties, a floating population and the raid was low key. Even if there has been local media interest there’s probably nothing the Flynn family would have picked up on. It’ll be a couple of days at least before they know what’s happened and Graham and Addison won’t be in a position to tell them.’ She eyed him. ‘OK, doc. Go and see her but don’t let the cat out of the bag.’

  ‘As if.’ She headed for the door. ‘I’ll phone her later and arrange something.’

  Hearing music playing upstairs, Hanson went into her study and started a search through her notes for the Flynn family’s mobile numbers. She dialled one of them and waited. Her call was picked up. ‘Hello?’ said a female voice.

  ‘Mrs Flynn? This is Kate Hanson. I’m part of the investigation into what happened to your son, Matthew. I want to say how sorry I am about that.’ She left a pause. Diana Flynn didn’t respond. ‘I’d appreciate meeting you, say tomorrow if at all possible?’

  ‘Why? Have the police got some news?’

  Hanson closed her eyes against the hope in the voice. This was a bad time to talk to her. Has to be done. ‘The investigation is ongoing and likely to be for some time. I need to talk to you.’ She wrote down Diana Flynn’s reluctant suggestion of a meeting at a hotel coffee shop in the city centre the following day. As the call ended she picked up movement on the upstairs landing. She came into the hall as Maisie leapt down the last three stairs. On seeing her, Maisie’s facial expression changed to a pout.

  ‘Maisie, we need to talk about today.’

  ‘There’s nothing to talk about.’ She scowled. ‘Nothing happened.’

  ‘I’ve got no reason to believe that anything has,’ said Hanson, frowning at her. ‘But you’ve never come to my office unexpectedly before so, why today?’

  ‘Why are you always like this?’ she demanded. ‘Like, totally suspicious and looking for problems. Why can’t you be like other mothers and just accept what I’m saying without going on? It’s really annoying.’

  They came into the kitchen. Charlie gave Hanson a quizzical look and pointed to the lasagne she’d put in the oven earlier. She nodded and he opened the oven door. ‘I doubt the existence of the mothers you describe, Maisie, and you haven’t actually told me anything about today. I’m getting the idea that something did happen and I want to know what it was. Now.’ She waited. Nothing. Placing her hands on her daughter’s shoulders she turned her round. ‘Look, Maisie, if there’s any kind of problem with the maths lectures, if you’re unhappy about anything, I can sort that out …’

  Maisie wriggled free. ‘You always think you can sort everything out, Mom, but you … There isn’t anything.’

  Watching Maisie sit at the table, elbows on it, her face closed, Hanson let the issue go. Whatever was on her daughter’s mind – and Hanson was sure now that it had something to do with the maths lectures at the university – right now there was little she could do if Maisie wouldn’t talk.

  TWELVE

  Driving into the city centre, Hanson was conducting a debate inside her head. It concerned Diana Flynn and what she herself was about to do. Which was to question a woman who, only days earlier had been informed that her missing son was never coming home. Hanson knew that she might be about to add to that suffering by asking her some potentially awkward questions about her private life. Hanson turned into the car park, the debate continuing: If I don’t raise this issue with her now, get her talking, very soon she and the family will be aware of the rental house being a cannabis factory and the arrests of Graham and Addison and we could be dealing with wall-to-wall silence from her and others in the family about anything which was occurring at that house as a bid to protect the memory of Matthew. Zach Addison could well be facing a prison sentence and Diana Flynn might possibly have her own reasons for not wanting to divulge anything about him. Despite Watts’s expressed confidence about the findings at the house being kept under wraps, she wondered if Diana Flynn might already be aware of the development.

  She came into the hotel foyer and followed signs for its coffee shop. She was relieved to see that it was less than half full, Diana Flynn seated in a quiet corner. Hanson gave her a quick appraisal. Her blonde hair immaculate, she was wearing a cream sweater which Hanson guessed was cashmere, a long fitted skirt, the open edges at its front showing well-shaped legs in black tights and boots. Diana Flynn was managing her self-presentation but her drawn face indicated the effort required to hold herself together now that she knew what had happened to Matthew.

  ‘Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Mrs—’

  ‘What’s this about?’ The blue eyes on Hanson were tired and distant. ‘What do you want?’

  Hanson sat, looking at her directly. ‘I need information about the house in Erdington where Matthew was living at the time he disappeared.’

  ‘We already told you,’ she said wearily. ‘He shared it with two other students.’

  ‘A house which belonged to you and Mr Flynn?’

  She sighed. ‘Yes.’

  Hanson kept her tone relaxed. ‘But Matthew wasn’t a student at that time?’

  ‘No. We anticipated he would be by the time he started living there.’

  Hanson took her time before launching into her next question, thinking how best to proceed, guessing that a direct reference to what she wanted to know wasn’t going to be well received. ‘Did he know those two students beforehand?’

  Diana Flynn gave her a cool look. ‘No. Matthew was living at home prior to his move there.’

  Hanson chose her words. ‘I need to talk to you about Matthew’s caution for drugs.’

  Diana Flynn’s mouth became a thin line. ‘That was a long time ago. Neither his father nor I regarded it as a problem, either then or later. He never gave us any anxiety before that or afterwards. My husband has boundless energy. He works hard, long hours. I brought up both boys and I’m proud of them …’ She swallowed. ‘I was proud of Matthew. He needed me in a way Dom never did.’

  �
�He was sensitive?’ asked Hanson, mindful of what Terri Brennan had said about Matthew.

  ‘Yes. He was.’

  ‘To your and your husband’s knowledge, did Matthew have any involvement in drugs after receiving that caution?’

  Hanson watched a pale red wave wash over Diana Flynn’s neck. She stared at Hanson, her voice low but vehement. ‘Of course he didn’t! What he did at fifteen was a stupid, naïve action on his part when he was too young to appreciate the risks, the consequences. He would never have done anything like that again because he knew about those risks.’

  Hanson slow-nodded. ‘How did he know? Was he given professional support after the caution?’

  Diana Flynn looked away. ‘I don’t know what you mean. My husband dealt with the caution. We put it behind us. Forgot about it. We’re a strong family. That was all Matthew needed. We supported him one hundred percent.’

  Hanson gazed at her. ‘Tell me about his two housemates.’

  There was a lengthy pause. Again, Diana Flynn’s eyes moved from Hanson’s. ‘What about them?’

  ‘Did you know them prior to their leasing the house?’

  ‘No. We had the house registered with a letting agent. They were the two best applicants at the time.’

  ‘How, best?’

  Diana Flynn looked impatient. ‘The agent checked them out. They’d both successfully completed their first year of study and their financial status was such that they could afford the monthly rent plus the tenancy deposit. Look, I’m tired, I’ve still got a lot of shopping to do—’

  ‘And you’d never met either of them before that?’

  Diana Flynn gave her a cold look. ‘I already answered that. No.’

  ‘But you met with both of them subsequently?’

  Diana Flynn’s eyes were anywhere but on Hanson. ‘Of course I did. I called in occasionally to see how Matthew was. I also dropped by sometimes just to check that the house was being properly looked after.’

  ‘I thought agents did that.’

  She gave Hanson a level look. ‘There’s nothing better than doing those sorts of checks yourself.’