Beyond Reach by Graham Hurley Page B

you were doing on Saturday night?’
    ‘Me?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘I was -’ she frowned as if trying to remember ‘- I was here, at home.’
    ‘Doing what?’
    ‘Watching TV mostly. It’s all rubbish on Saturday night, but to be honest I was exhausted. I work at the health centre. We’re on the go all the time. It’s just non-stop.’
    ‘Was anyone with you?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Did you make any phone calls?’
    She looked up at the ceiling a moment, concentrating hard. Then she nodded.
    ‘I phoned my friend Katie. She’s just come back from Greece. We had a bit of a chat. She had a lovely time out there. It was nice talking again.’
    ‘What time was that?’
    ‘I don’t know …’ She shrugged. ‘Eight? Nine? I’m sure you can check if you want to.’
    She gave Callan the number. She knew it by heart. Callan wanted to know what time she went to bed.
    ‘Early. I watched the news at ten then went straight upstairs. Like I say, I was just exhausted.’
    Callan glanced across at Faraday. He motioned for her to carry on. She turned back to Jeanette Morrissey.
    ‘And you went straight to sleep that night?’
    ‘Yes. Out like a light.’
    Callan nodded, scribbled herself another note.
    ‘Tell me about the following morning.’
    ‘Sunday? I woke up as usual, had a bit of a wash, went downstairs, made myself a pot of tea. Just the usual things.’
    ‘So when did you realise the camper had gone?’
    ‘When I pulled back the curtains in the front room. I leave it right outside the house. At first I didn’t believe it. In fact I got dressed and went out to check that I hadn’t parked it somewhere else.’
    ‘What time was this?’
    ‘About nine o’clock. On Sundays I have a bit of a lie-in.’
    ‘Was there any glass in the road outside? Any indication that someone might have broken a window to get into the van?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘You looked?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘And, thinking back, when you were lying in bed during the night, did you hear anything? A door closing? An engine starting?’
    ‘My bedroom’s at the back of the house. You get a lot of noise here at weekends, kids mainly. It’s quieter at the back.’
    ‘So you heard nothing?’
    ‘Nothing at all. Then next morning I got up, just like normal, and like I say … it had gone.’
    ‘So what did you do?’
    ‘I went to the police and told them what had happened.’
    ‘You didn’t phone first?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘Because there’s no point. We get lots of trouble up here. I’m not blaming the police. They must be really stretched. But a case like this -’ she shrugged ‘- I just thought it would be quicker for me to come to you. The sooner you’ve got all the details, the quicker you might get it back. Isn’t that right?’
    Callan said nothing. Neither did Faraday. Over the course of an extremely difficult year this woman had been in touch with the local police on countless occasions. She’d have made personal contacts, even friends. So why not lift the phone?
    It was Mrs Morrissey who broke the silence. She wanted to know why she was having to answer all these questions. Callan explained about the accident. Evidence recovered from the scene suggested that a red VW camper van might have been involved.
    ‘You mean mine?’
    ‘It’s possible.’ Callan glanced down at her notes. ‘The man who died … Kyle Munday. I understand you knew him.’
    ‘ Of him, certainly. He’s notorious round here. Nothing but trouble. A horrible, horrible man.’
    ‘He’d had dealings with your son … is that right?’
    ‘I wouldn’t call it dealings. Munday bullied him, hurt him, made Tim’s life a misery.’
    ‘Can you prove that?’
    ‘No. And neither could you lot. And you know why? Because everyone on this estate’s terrified of him. Or was. And that’s why no one had the courage to come forward and give evidence. He ruled the place with that dog of his. He just strutted around like no one could touch him. Decent kids, grown-ups,