Something Evil Comes Read online

‘Can you recall anything of that Wednesday evening when Matthew was here? Was there anything about him, the way he was, what he said which you now think might be relevant to what happened to him?’

  ‘The police asked us at the time. No. It was the usual family get together. Good food. Diana’s a first-rate cook. Good conversation. A bit of heated discussion.’

  Watts looked up from his notes. ‘Heated discussion?’

  Flynn nodded. ‘The usual business talk between Dom and me, mainly.’

  ‘Matthew didn’t work for you?’

  ‘No. Dom is the one with the business head, the organisational skills. He gets that from me. Matthew was creative, open, idealistic.’ He looked away from them. ‘A bit too open and idealistic. If he’d toughened up he would have done well with us. I offered to put him in charge of our gym business but he refused.’

  ‘So what was he doing at the time he disappeared?’ asked Watts.

  Flynn shrugged. ‘He got a place at Aston University the previous August then decided it wasn’t for him. He struggled after that to decide what he did want. He signed up with an agency and worked temporary jobs while he tried to make up his mind. He was still doing that when he … went. Excuse me.’ They watched him go to a tray of bottles and glasses on a low table, pour himself a drink and swallow it in one.

  ‘You and Mrs Flynn supported his decision to do what he was doing?’

  ‘Yes. Matthew had to make his own life in his own way.’

  Watts continued his note-taking. From his early impression of Flynn, this acceptance of his younger son’s choices came as a surprise. ‘Matthew wasn’t part of the “heated discussion” you mentioned?’

  Flynn turned, stared at Watts. ‘If you’re looking at this family for an explanation of why Matthew decided to leave it, you’re looking in the wrong place.’

  Watts arranged his face into an expression intended to sooth. Obviously, Flynn’s view was that Matthew had disappeared by choice. He might have done. But whatever he’d had planned back then, he hadn’t had long to enjoy it. Chong’s view was that his body was placed inside the crypt not long after he disappeared. Not scientific but as a guide it was the best they had.

  ‘What about Matthew’s belongings, sir?’ asked Corrigan. ‘Are they here?’

  Flynn stood, turned to him, four-square and Watts felt his own muscles involuntarily tense. ‘His belongings? There aren’t any. Your records should tell you that he took his few clothes with him in a backpack when he left.’

  True, thought Watts. But clothes didn’t signify a life. ‘What about the things he kept at the place where he lived? His books, computer, personal papers, all of that?’

  Flynn gave him a steady look. ‘There’s a box here with a few papers in it. He took his laptop with him. He’d bought books for the course he didn’t take up. His mother gave them to the university.’

  Watts eyed him. ‘I want that box, Mr Flynn.’ He saw the first sign of weariness in Flynn and felt a surge of sympathy. Until he heard Flynn’s next two words.

  ‘You people.’

  Watts’s feelings were now on hold. He wanted to tell this man that these people had been working on his son’s case from the early hours when his body was discovered, work which hadn’t stopped. He’d read up on the family history: Mrs Flynn had been her husband’s secretary from when he’d started his first business, bankrolled by his father to the tune of five hundred thousand on reaching his twenty-first birthday and which he’d developed over several years into what might now be described as a business empire. He glanced around the room. It whispered wealth. Watts recalled his occasional spats with Hanson when she first joined UCU. He hadn’t immediately taken to her academic background and what he regarded as her posh southern accent. To him it said privilege. Her response had been that his chip was showing. ‘You people.’ The chip was back.

  He chose his words. ‘We’d be grateful if you’d let us have the box before we leave.’ Somewhere just beyond the house there was the thrum of a powerful car then a short silence punctuated by a door slam.

  ‘That’ll be Dom,’ said Flynn. ‘I phoned him to say you were coming. He was out running.’ The sound of a key in the front door was followed by footsteps across the wood floor of the hall. The sitting room door opened. If Watts and Corrigan hadn’t known who this man was they would have guessed. He had the same dark hair and large features as his father, only the merest hint of his mother. Her small, regular features were visible on the remains now stored in the pathology suite’s walk-in refrigerator. Dominic Flynn looked to be in his late twenties, possibly early thirties, muscular in running gear. Watts’s attention was on his hair which was pulled back and secured behind his head.

  ‘What’s happened?’ he asked. Flynn went and laid his hand on his son’s shoulder. Dominic Flynn didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on Watts and Corrigan. ‘Matthew?’

  Watts nodded. ‘Yes. We’re very sorry.’

  Now he looked at his father. ‘Where’s Mom?’

  ‘She’s upstairs.’ He watched his son head for the door. ‘Leave her.’

  Dominic was still on the move. ‘I’m fetching the dog in.’

  ‘No! Leave it in the car. These officers need our help. They want information about Matthew.’

  Dominic Flynn turned, took a few steps closer. ‘You don’t say?’

  Picking up more than a hint of antagonism, Watts gave him a direct look. ‘We need to know everything about your brother’s life. What he was doing around the time he disappeared. Who he was friendly with. Who he was seeing.’

  Dominic held Watts’s look. ‘Matthew and I didn’t spend a lot of time together. Now I’ve got a question for you: why weren’t the police interested in my calls to check on progress after he disappeared? Or the time I reported him having trouble with a couple of local thugs?’

  ‘Stop it, Dom,’ said Flynn.

  Watts had seen a report in the case file of harassment of Matthew made by Dominic Flynn following his brother’s disappearance. The report described the information he had provided as ‘brief and undetailed second-hand knowledge’ relating to three incidents which had occurred in the area where Matthew was living at the time. The report also indicated subsequent inquiries by the local force but nothing substantive coming to light.

  ‘It was investigated,’ said Watts.

  The sitting room door swung slowly open. Watts and Corrigan got to their feet.

  The woman in the doorway gestured them back to their seats. They’d seen Diana Flynn only briefly before she’d become upset and left the room. Watts was no good on women’s ages but now he guessed she was of similar age to her husband, mid-forties. She looked good in the figure-skimming pale grey dress, blonde hair well groomed. Her face told a different story. Efforts had been made to reduce the effects of crying but they were still there. Flynn went to her. ‘I’ve told these officers we’ll answer their questions now.’ He ignored Dominic’s snort.

  Diana Flynn pulled her hand from her husband’s and sat, her face turned to Watts. He listened to subdued words from which the Birmingham accent had been smoothed away. Almost. ‘I’m sorry about earlier. It’s just that the thoughts in my head are just too awful to think about.’ She looked down at her hands gripped together in her lap. Diamonds flashed in the room’s low lighting.

  Corrigan spoke. ‘Ma’am, if you feel able to talk to us, we’d appreciate any details you have of Matthew’s social life, his friends, work colleagues and anything else you can tell us about him and what he was doing prior to his disappearance.’

  She nodded, drawing herself upright. ‘As far as I know, most if not all of Matthew’s friends were people he worked with at the various places the agency sent him. Do you want the agency details?’ Getting a nod from Corrigan she got up, went to a small desk, located a printed sheet after a search of its drawers and brought it to him. ‘Most of the friends he had from when he was at school had gone to university so they were no longer around. I think Matthew found that hard to deal
with but he was a real people person and he enjoyed working in the coffee shops.’ She paused, bringing her voice under control. ‘It didn’t pay much but he was happy. He said he didn’t want the kind of work which carried a lot of responsibility.’

  Watts shot quick glances at Flynn and the elder son. Both were staring straight ahead, their faces closed. Diana Flynn continued. ‘My two boys were very different. Dominic was always robust and Matthew didn’t have his intellect but he was a sweet boy.’ She looked away from her husband as he spoke.

  ‘Dom thrives on business. He’s willing to put in the hours, upskill himself where needed. I spent more time with Dom than I did with Matthew. I had to. I knew he had what it took to succeed in business, grasp opportunities, become my full partner.’

  Dominic stared out of the window. ‘Eventually.’

  ‘Not the time or the place,’ snapped Flynn. He paused. ‘The boys were always poles apart in temperament. Matthew was never interested in business so I didn’t force it on him.’

  Corrigan looked to Diana Flynn. ‘Ma’am, can you add anything about Matthew’s life away from his work?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. Young people like to do their own thing, don’t they? I didn’t ask questions.’

  ‘How about you, Mr Flynn? Can you tell us anything about Matthew’s social life?’

  ‘My wife’s just told you all we know.’

  Feeling Corrigan’s eyes on him, Dominic Flynn looked up. ‘There was nearly eleven years between Matthew and me so we didn’t have that much in common.’

  Corrigan transferred his attention back to Diana Flynn. ‘Matthew was working for low pay, yet he was able to live independently?’

  Dom Flynn glared at him with a muttered, ‘Bloody cheek.’

  His mother gave him a look then up at Corrigan. ‘Matthew was living rent-free in a house we own.’ She hesitated. ‘The area is a little … urban, but it was convenient for Matthew to travel into the city. Most of his jobs were in the Bull Ring or close to it.’

  ‘Did he live there alone?’

  ‘No. He had two housemates. They’re still there.’ She gave details which matched what Corrigan had already seen in the file. ‘Did he have his own transportation, ma’am?’

  ‘No.’ Brad Flynn spoke. ‘I offered to give him a car. He refused. He said public transport was good between where he was living and working. He didn’t want the hassle and cost of parking in the city centre.’

  Diana Flynn looked at both officers. ‘Matthew never gave us a moment’s worry. He was a sensible, good boy. Rather conventional for his age.’

  Watts’s eyes narrowed. Corrigan nodded. ‘Were you surprised when he got his tattoo?’

  All three stared at him. ‘His what?’ demanded Brad Flynn. ‘Matthew didn’t have a bloody tattoo.’

  Mrs Flynn was on her feet, staring at her husband, her eyes huge. ‘I knew it. I told you this was all wrong. It’s all some ghastly mistake. They’ve got the wrong person!’ She whirled on them, the atmosphere in the room charged. ‘Whoever you’ve found, it’s not my Matthew.’

  Corrigan spoke, his tone measured. ‘I’m sorry, ma’am, but we wouldn’t have brought you such terrible news without a DNA match.’

  She stared at him for several seconds then sank down onto her chair.

  Watts diverted his attention to Dominic Flynn. ‘What can you tell us about the two individuals who were causing problems for your brother near where he lived?’

  There was a brief silence as Dominic appeared to gather his thoughts. ‘The first incident Matt told me about was when they knocked him down and stole his bag.’

  ‘He didn’t report it?’

  ‘No, and by the time he told me about it there was no point me doing so.’

  ‘Why do you think your brother didn’t report it?’ asked Watts.

  ‘He probably also thought there was no point.’

  ‘What else?’

  Dominic’s eyes moved between Watts and Corrigan. ‘He told me about a couple more incidents after that, involving the same two people.’

  ‘And?’ prompted Corrigan.

  He shrugged. ‘They just appeared. Coming along the street. They shoved him around. Demanded money. The third time they hit him around the head as they walked past.’

  Watts looked up from his note-taking. ‘The same individuals each time, you say?’

  ‘That’s what Matt told me.’

  ‘This incident when they took his bag. Any money in it?’

  He shrugged again. ‘Matt said not.’

  Watts studied his notes. ‘Did they get any money during the incident when they shoved him around?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I don’t think so.’

  ‘Your brother definitely confirmed it was the same two individuals each time?’

  ‘That’s what he said.’

  ‘Did he give you a description?’

  Dominic nodded. ‘Around eighteen. White. Baseball caps, low-slung jeans. Look, the police know all of this—’

  ‘And your brother didn’t report any of the incidents,’ said Watts.

  Dominic Flynn gave him a cold look. ‘I just told you he didn’t. Maybe he didn’t bother because nothing was taken.’

  Watts eyed him. ‘What about his bag?’

  Dominic was looking impatient now. ‘He told me there was nothing of value in it. He probably knew the police wouldn’t be interested.’

  Watts let the comment go. ‘Did your brother offer any reason as to why these two individuals would victimise him three times?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you have any ideas about that?’

  Dominic gave him an angry look. ‘Do lowlife like that need a reason? This is my kid brother we’re talking about. Only twenty years old. He hadn’t done anything with his life, yet you’re making it sound as though it was his fault!’

  ‘Cool it, Dom.’ Brad Flynn glared at him then looked at Watts and Corrigan. ‘You’ll have to excuse him. He and Matthew were very close despite the age difference and Dom’s been working hard this last few months. The employment and training agency I own is his pet project.’

  ‘Business, Dad.’

  Flynn turned to his wife. ‘I need to get moving. I’ve got a meeting in an hour so I need to eat.’

  She stared up at him, eyes wide. ‘You’re going out again? After what we’ve just been told?’

  ‘Just make me something simple.’

  ‘Surely you don’t have to go?’

  He gave her a direct look, his tone flat. ‘You’re not listening to me, Diana. I need to eat before I leave. I won’t get a chance later. Just see to it. Like I said, something simple.’

  Watts glanced at Corrigan and they stood. ‘Thank you for your time. We appreciate it. We’ll be in touch.’ On their way to the door, Watts turned, anticipating that the question in his head might worsen the tension here. It had to be raised. ‘We understand that Matthew was given a caution for drug possession when he was fifteen. I’m asking about it in case it has a bearing on what happened to him.’

  Brad Flynn shrugged. ‘I don’t see how. It was five years ago. Just youthful curiosity. It was nothing.’

  Diana Flynn nodded agreement. ‘Many youngsters dabble, experiment, which is what Matthew did. He never bothered again.’

  Her husband looked at her. ‘Diana? Food?’ Then to Watts. ‘I’ll fetch that box you want.’

  All four of them left the room, Watts and Corrigan continuing on to the front door.

  Back in UCU in the relative evening-quiet of headquarters Watts was looking at the case file. He tapped his pen as Corrigan brought coffee to the table. ‘It says here the last time the family saw Matthew was on the Wednesday for a family dinner, like Flynn told us.’ He gripped one of many Post-its and turned to another page. ‘And by the following Tuesday, mid-morning, this agency Matthew was working for is on the phone to his parents’ house because they can’t raise him on his mobile, wanting to know why he hadn’t shown up at work the previous day and�
� – another page-turn – ‘by the end of that week he was officially reported missing.’ He frowned at Corrigan. ‘His mother wasn’t able to contact him either. What happened to his phone? Did these two types Dominic Flynn reported take it? Surely a young bloke like Matthew would have reported the theft of a phone?’ He sighed, shook his head. ‘By the time it was realised that Matthew had gone, it was regarded as a twenty-year-old employed male with money and the freedom to do what he wanted doing exactly that.’

  Corrigan read the information on the complaints over Watts’s shoulder. ‘I’m looking for indications of the motivation of the two guys who harassed him. Three incidents suggests they were local to where Matthew was living.’ He pointed. ‘The first and second incidents were in the evening, after which they targeted him again, this time in daylight. That was a helluva risk to take. Matthew could have identified them.’

  ‘But he never reported any of it,’ said Watts. ‘I’m wondering why he didn’t.’

  Corrigan was at the board, looking up at Matthew Flynn smiling out of it. ‘Why did he hide money inside his boot?’ He shook his head and came back to the table. ‘It would be easier to understand if his two attackers believed he was in some way a vulnerable individual. Yet Matthew Flynn was anything but: he was a good-looking, twenty-year-old guy, smart enough to get a university place.’

  Watts gulped coffee and shrugged. ‘Maybe they knew him. Knew something about him.’

  ‘Like what?’ asked Corrigan.

  ‘Like I said, there’s a possible drugs angle here. Maybe he owed them.’ Watts dropped his pen onto the table and rubbed his face with both hands. ‘This “maybe” phase of an investigation gets me down.’ He looked at the information spread on the table, then up at Corrigan. ‘I don’t recall anybody mentioning that Matthew Flynn had a girlfriend, do you?’

  ‘Nope.’ Corrigan studied his colleague’s pensive expression and gave a quick headshake. ‘If I’m onto your line of thinking here, you’re way out of time, my friend. It’s all ‘Out-and-Proud’ now. A lot of that bad hassle has gone.’

  Watts returned his look. ‘That, Corrigan, depends on where you live. I want to know a lot more about these two street types and I’ve got somebody in mind who might help. While I do that, how’d you fancy a trip to church early tomorrow morning? More up your street than mine.’