‘Well, it was in the garden. The wife remembered that the greenhouse was almost new when they moved in. He’s going to call back when they have something. You know what this means, though, don’t you?’

‘We need to verify and then get an ID on that body before we start counting our chickens.’

‘Let’s go and grab Jimmy Chilton,’ Imogen said. ‘He knows more than he is letting on. Walsh and I spoke to him before, and he told us he was going to tell us who was doing Corrigan’s dirty work for him.’

Imogen wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw the tiniest flash of something in Adrian’s eyes. Was she being paranoid now? Was she seeing things that weren’t there? She must have looked concerned, because Adrian offered her a weak smile.

‘He was probably just stalling for time,’ he said.

‘Maybe. Let’s find out.’

Chapter Seventy-One

Adrian thumped on the door to Jimmy Chilton’s house. It was afternoon and there was no indication that anyone was there. Still, Adrian had a bad feeling – not entirely unusual these days but still, something was off to him. He cupped his hands around his eyes and pressed them up against the glass part of the front door. There was no movement inside.

‘The receptionist said he was home,’ Imogen said.

‘Apparently. Said he left a little while after ten this morning.’

‘If he’s not here, then where is he?’

‘At the Corrigans’?’ Adrian said.

‘I doubt it; I think he was finally wising up to the fact that Corrigan wasn’t going to be getting away with this for ever.’

‘I’ll check the perimeter.’

Adrian walked to the side of the house. The bins were leaning against the wall and he could see through the side gate into the garden. No activity there, either.

At the other side of the house he noticed the garage door was jutting out a little at the bottom, as though unable to close properly. He lay flat on the ground and looked underneath. The car was inside but it was sticking out further than it should and the garage door was closed down on it. The room was dark, so Adrian fished around inside his back pocket and pulled his phone out.

The light from his phone torch illuminated the floor. He could see paint pots in the corners, smashed glass on the floor. He thought he could see a boot by the front wheel. He couldn’t quite tell if the boot was on a foot or not. There was barely any room to get in or out of the car. What was going on? There was enough space for him to slide underneath, but he would have just ended up under the car.

‘Give me a hand with this,’ he called to Imogen.