Chapter 7
DAY TWO
The Scout Hut was a surprise, though it shouldn’t have been.
As Murphy said, Mason had enough money to do the job properly, which meant an attractive timber-clad building with double glazed windows and a slate roof.
It felt instantly welcoming as he and Murphy stepped inside, with a warm wooden floor and soft-close doors.
The volunteers — a mixture of ages and both men and women — sat around a table in the middle of the hall.
Some were in Scout-leader uniforms and others were in jeans and sweatshirts. One of the uniformed men stood up.
“Everyone, this is Mason’s friend, who I told you about,” he said.
“Brody Murphy,” Murphy smiled. “And this is Detective Constable Deryn Kent.” Most of the volunteers looked interested, but one older man frowned at the Kent name.
“Grab yourselves some chairs,” the first man said. Chairs were stacked at the side of the room, and Deryn collected two. There was a shuffling around to make room at the table.
“Thank you for meeting us,” he said once everyone was settled. “We are hoping to learn more about where Mr Abruzzi might be. Mr Murphy is concerned, and the more time that passes, so am I.” He asked if they would mind him recording their conversation and got a series of quiet agreements.
The first man, who introduced himself as Dai Howell, went round the table giving names and roles within the Scouts.
There were seven people altogether, three women and four men.
Most of them were involved with at least one group of Scouts, from the littlest Squirrels to the almost-adult Explorers.
“Mason never misses a meeting,” Dai Howell said.
“Not just meeting-meetings like this one; he’s also a leader in the Cubs, the Scouts and the Explorers, so that’s two or three evenings plus preparation and anything that’s happening at the weekend. ”
“We rent this building out when we aren’t using it,” one of the women, Hayley, said, “and Mason kept the diary and the accounts.”
“And he pays all the suppliers, and keeps accounts for that, too,” another of the women said.
“He is extremely community minded. Even though he has only been here a few years.” This was from the man who had frowned at Deryn.
His name was Tudor Evans, a name Deryn remembered from growing up in the village.
His comment had been pointed, and he had been looking at Deryn as he spoke.
Suddenly the air felt crackly with tension.
“Mason was worried, seriously worried, that we were losing our young people to more exciting pursuits,” Evans continued.
“Not all of them, but enough, and he hated losing even one.”
Dai Howell cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I think we all realise that Scouts, even Explorers, isn’t seen as cool for every teenager.”
“We did take them into Cardiff. Mason even paid for a trip to watch Wales play in the Six Nations last year,” said one of the men. “Not that we won, but it was pretty amazing.”
“And a litter-pick at Barry Island, that was basically an excuse for them to have a day out on the beach,” Hayley said with a smile.
“Tonight we were supposed to talk about kart racing, and a visit to a film set … he was talking about the chance to be in a film as extras,” Dai Howell said.
“But we won’t be able to do any of those things without Mason.
” He sounded worried. “He had the money, you see, and the money gave him the contacts.”
Deryn glanced over at Murphy. His eyes had a glazed look, and he appeared to be holding his lips closed with his hand. “Mason seems to have made quite a difference,” Murphy said, and his voice had a tiny squeak. Deryn made a mental note to ask what was going on. Was Murphy trying not to laugh?
“He wanted to show young people that there are alternatives to spending your life in this valley, and taking to petty crime,” Tudor Evans said, and the tension was back.
“I think we could all get behind that sentiment,” Deryn said.
“Two people died yesterday. Of drugs.” Evans wasn’t making any effort to hide his focus on Deryn.
“I know,” Deryn said. “I was the first police officer on the scene.” He emphasised the words police and officer.
Everyone except Murphy and Evans were looking down at the table, perhaps in the hope that if they couldn’t see it, the face-off wasn’t happening.
“This isn’t helping us find Mr Abruzzi,” he said.
“Mason did want to do something about drugs in the area,” Dai Howell said.
“As do Glamorgan Police,” Deryn said firmly.
“They haven’t done a very good job so far,” Evans said. “Mason said he knew who was dealing, and recruiting local kids as runners. He was going after them.”
“That was all talk, surely,” Hayley said. “He might have made a call to Crimestoppers; he isn’t a vigilante.”
“We didn’t believe he would rebuild the Scout Hut but here we are sitting in it,” was Evans’ retort.
After that, the discussion deteriorated. No one had anything concrete to add about Mason’s movements, and all seemed embarrassed by Evans’ outburst, and his hostility to Deryn. Deryn left cards for them all to contact him if they thought of anything useful. Evans didn’t pick one up.
“What was that all about?” Murphy said once they were outside.
Deryn considered pretending he didn’t understand, but Murphy wasn’t a fool. “A place like this, where everyone knows everyone else … there’s always a family no one likes. The sort of family with a reputation for being a bit close to the line, legally speaking …”
“Your family,” Murphy interrupted. “That’s why Mrs Davies didn’t want to talk this morning. And that guy in there implied that you knew more than you should about drug dealing.”
“My brother-in-law is the local dealer, and not just this valley, the whole county. Like the wholesaler, the big cheese,” Deryn blurted out, “and everyone knows it. My dad ran a raft of dodgy businesses, and he protected them with his fists. Most of my sibs are up to their eyes in the family business. My sisters are all married to thugs. But two of my brothers are coppers. Just not round here. Because round here, Kent equals bent. So now you know.”
“But you aren’t bent.”
“My brother-in-law is still walking the streets,” was all Deryn had to say. Because he might have shared one secret with the FBI man, but he wasn’t sharing any others. “Is that why Mason asked you to come over? To help nail my family?” Which would be absolutely fine with him.
Murphy shrugged. “The Mason they were talking about in there, that’s not who he was back home.
He said he’d changed, that he’d found what he wanted to do with his life.
But I hadn’t heard from him for years. I got an email out of the blue, pretty much begging me to come.
Gotta be honest, I’m not New York field office employee of the month just now, so it seemed like a good time to take a vacation. ”
“Is he the kind of bloke to go after drug dealers? You did say he wasn’t a fan of law enforcement.”
“If he hasn’t had a complete personality transplant, he’s reckless enough to try.
And if people like that Evans guy told him that the local police are corrupt, then it’s possible.
He knows the police can be bought, because that’s what his family did to get him off the hook for drunk driving. Twice.”
“We need to search his house. See if he left any information about what he was up to,” Deryn said. He wasn’t sure if we meant him and Murphy, or Glamorgan Police, but Murphy made the decision for him.
“Let’s go. We’ll probably only find copies of Camping and Woodcraft, but we won’t know unless we look.” Murphy set off at a brisk pace towards Mason’s house, leaving Deryn no choice but to follow.
They both paused at the police tape across the back door of Mason’s house. Once they crossed the threshold, the crime scene, if that’s what it was, would be compromised. Any evidence might not be admissible in court.
“We don’t even have gloves,” Deryn said.
“If it helps us find him …” Murphy said, and pulled the tape away from the door. He slid it open and stepped inside.
Deryn wasn’t a hundred percent convinced they were doing the right thing, but, he was increasingly convinced Mason was in trouble.
With Glover concentrating on the two overdose deaths, he wasn’t going to persuade her, or anyone else, to resource a search for an able-bodied, wealthy American on the basis of a bit of overturned furniture and a couple of small bloodstains.
There were too many innocent explanations.
He moved over to the bookshelf. There was no Camping and Woodcraft but there were a lot of books about Scouting.
There was also an entire shelf about Buddhism, and half a shelf about spiritual quests.
A small section, including maps, dealt with the local area, and another with community work.
The rest were fiction. Deryn recognised many of the titles from his own collection of LGBTQ mysteries.
“Look at this,” Murphy said from behind him.
Deryn turned and saw that Murphy was pointing to a calendar — one with a picture above the fold and a small square for each date below.
Deryn moved next to Murphy and peered at the scribbled notes on the squares.
Most were for Scout group meetings, but on the day before was “Brody, Heathrow, 7am,” with a red circle around it.
“He meant to meet you,” Deryn said.
“And what’s this?” Murphy said, pointing to a blank space at the bottom of the calendar. Also in a red circle was the word “Fromow, tunnel?”
“Fromow is my brother-in-law’s surname,” Deryn said.
“So, maybe Mason really was chasing the local drug dealer,” Murphy said.
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” A wave of determination rolled through him, settling the anxiety that had plagued him for days. He had done with making resolutions, it was time to act. “Right now.”