Lisa Stone - Stalker

Beth still hadn’t started the engine but was gazing past him to the Khumalos’ splendid house and the alarm box mounted high on the front wall, just below the eaves.

‘Matt, you remember that newsagents I went to that had been broken into a second time?’

‘Yes, you mean the one you spent hours looking at the CCTV footage to see if you could add it to your string theory, then had to admit there wasn’t a link at all?’

‘I was trying to establish if it was the same intruder,’ she corrected, aware he was joking. ‘Probably just coincidence but the newsagents and the Khumalos use the same security firm – Home Security. I know it’s a long shot but I wonder if it might be worth seeing if it was the same engineer who fitted the cameras on both premises?’

‘Long shot! More like a flight of fantasy!’ Matt laughed. ‘What about the more obvious explanation that the security firm is crap. Mr Khumalo didn’t seem too impressed. But I’m game if you want to go. It’ll be a bit of light relief before I go back to my desk and follow up some real leads.’

She smiled and started the engine. ‘So make yourself useful and find out where Home Security is based, and we’ll pay them a surprise visit.’

Derek’s hand trembled and he felt hot and sick as he sat in his van and listened to the voicemail message. He’d heard his phone vibrate with an incoming call while he’d been talking to the prospective clients, but had waited until he’d finished and was in his van before playing the message. Mr Khumalo was so angry it was frightening. Derek didn’t like anger and people shouting at him. It upset him, made him scared and reminded him of his father.

Painful memories came flooding back of when he’d lain in bed as a child, listening to his father shouting at his mother, pushing her around and sometimes hitting her when he’d returned home drunk from the pub. Derek had spent the rest of his life avoiding anger and confrontation, and always tried to be nice to people. Yet now Mr Khumalo – one of his most prodigious clients whom he respected – was shouting at him: criticizing him and his work practice, saying that sending a recorded message was useless and that he’d sue him for negligence, despite the system doing its job. It was of no consolation that it wasn’t really his fault. Mr Khumalo was angry with him and that was enough.

The message ended with Mr Khumalo saying that he was terminating his contract as of now and would be using another security firm in future – one who knew what they were doing. And he’d let it be known Home Security was rubbish and couldn’t be trusted. Derek lowered his phone, his eyes brimming. He supposed he should really return Mr Khumalo’s call and apologize for what had happened, then try to make amends by offering to upgrade his surveillance system at cost price only. That would have been the adult, manly, thing to do, but Derek knew he wasn’t brave enough and Mr Khumalo had sounded far too angry and intimidating to approach even over the phone. He reminded Derek too much of his father, who he would never have approached when he was angry. Spineless, his father had called him and he supposed it was still true today.

A spineless coward. He had failed to protect his mother and now lived with the consequences that she was a bitter, dispirited woman. The only place Derek hadn’t felt weak and ineffectual was at work: seated in front of his monitors and in charge of his empire. Yet even there he seemed to be losing his grasp.

He was about to return his phone to his jacket when it rang again, making him start. Not Mr Khumalo, please no. He checked the caller display. A new number; the phone hadn’t recognized it. A new client maybe? How wonderful. It was just what he needed. When one door closes, another opens, he thought, brightening at the prospect, and accepted the call.

‘Is that Mr Flint of Home Security?’ the male voice asked.

‘Speaking,’ he said in his most professional voice. Fantastic. It was new business.

‘Good morning, Mr Flint, I’m DC Matt Davis from Coleshaw CID. Would it be possible to meet with you today? I have a few questions I’d like to ask you as part of a routine enquiry.’

The colour drained from Derek’s face, a knot formed in his stomach and it was a moment before he could reply. Struggling to keep his voice even, he said, ‘What is this about? I’m very busy.’

‘It’s in connection with a break-in on premises where your surveillance has been installed. If you’re free now that would be perfect, otherwise a time to suit you. My colleague and I are parked outside your office but clearly you’re not here.’

‘You’re outside my office?’ he repeated, horrified.

‘Yes. We thought there might be some clerical staff here who could help us, but the door to your office is locked. The receptionist in the electronics firm next door said you rarely use it.’

Derek fought to control his breathing. His chest felt tight and his palms sweaty. ‘It’s just a base,’ he stammered. ‘She’s right, I’m not there much.’

‘If it’s more convenient we could visit you at home?’

‘No,’ he said, far too quickly. He forced air into his lungs to try to calm himself. ‘I’ll come there now, but it will take me a good fifteen minutes.’

‘No problem. We’ll wait outside in the car.’

Heart drumming loudly and sick with fear, Derek started his van, swung out from the kerb and quickly completed a U-turn. Hell! What did they want? What break-in? Where? He hadn’t thought to ask. The police knew where his office was and where he lived. They were parked outside his ‘office’ now and had been asking questions about him in the firm next door. Shit! It had never happened before. He’d met the police by chance sometimes on premises that had been burgled but they never sought him out. Perhaps it was nothing to do with a break-in after all – perhaps his past was catching up with him. His mother had said it was bound to happen sooner or later – that such an evil act would come back to haunt him. Now it had.

His hands clenched the steering wheel as he drove as fast as the speed limit allowed, going through amber lights and taking corners in third gear. He needed to get there quickly to avoid the police spending more time talking to the receptionist of the electronics firm next door again. She was a nosy cow who never seemed to have enough work to do and spent most of her time filing her nails and gazing out through the office window. He would have sacked her if she’d worked for him but he supposed she was kept on because of her long blonde hair and big tits. She’d watched him come and go over the years, and he knew she didn’t like him. He’d overheard her refer to him as ‘that creep next door’ when she’d been talking to a colleague on their way in. He wondered how much she’d already told the police and his stomach contracted.

He took another corner too fast. The van rocked and he touched the brake. The officer had said it was routine, Derek reminded himself, and tried to calm down. The officer – what was his name? Davis? Yes – had said it was part of a routine enquiry into a break-in, but if it really was then what did they want him for and which break-in had he meant?

The Khumalo break-in seemed a strong possibility although there were others to choose from, he acknowledged bitterly. But why speak to him? Not because they wanted the footage from the cameras; that was for the clients to download, and if they needed help, the client contacted him. It wasn’t a police job, or it hadn’t been in the past. They’d only crossed paths if they were still at the crime scene when he helped the occupants download camera footage, or he had to repair a broken alarm or reconnect a camera disconnected in an attempted burglary. But the police had never asked to speak to him personally before, not since… No. He gave himself a shake. He wouldn’t think about that now.