‘Reliable witness, that last one?’ Gill said.
‘Yes,’ Mitch said, ‘local councillor. Martin Bleaklow. Runs the car repair place further down Shuttling Way. Keen to improve the area.’
‘And those sightings fit with the one we already have from the resident, Mr Hicks, and from Rachel,’ Gill said.
‘Were they carrying anything?’ Rachel asked.
‘Possibly,’ Mitch said. ‘Bleaklow thought one of them was carrying a bag.’
‘With a can of petrol in it, bet you,’ Kevin said, smiling.
‘Excellent,’ said Gill. ‘So, bring me Greg Tandy, then let’s find out how the Perrys explain their clothes being awash with Shell FuelSave unleaded.’
Rachel tried Janet before she and Mitch left but it went to voicemail. Janet was probably driving in, couldn’t answer the phone, well – wouldn’t answer the phone – conscientious to a tee. The result of having a schoolteacher for a mother, Rachel reckoned, instead of a… the word slapper came to mind. Rachel felt a tinge of guilt. Sharon wasn’t exactly a slapper, or a slag or a tart, all names her dad threw about once Sharon had gone off and left them. Likes a good time, that’s all. Was that fair? Rachel was sick of thinking about it.
Greg Tandy’s address on Manton Road was a couple of minutes from the Manorclough precinct. To get there they took a turning just after the warehouse on Shuttling Way, fire engines at work there.
‘It’s not still burning?’ Rachel said to Mitch.
‘Probably be there as a precaution. You can get secondaries, somewhere cinders smoulder then they get going again. Could be an insurance job, the developer went bust last year. No one’s going to take it on in this climate.’
‘What was he developing?’ Rachel said.
‘Luxury housing,’ Mitch said.
Rachel snorted. ‘On Manorclough? They’d need bloody high fences, watchtowers and sub-machine guns to keep the lowlifes out.’
‘Concierge, gated. Even so, the demand’s not there. Places sitting empty in Manchester, aren’t there?’
‘Left after the bridge,’ Rachel said. ‘You don’t think it’s the Perrys, then, the warehouse?’
Mitch shrugged. ‘No idea. Maybe someone wants us to think that. Opportunistic.’
She could imagine them doing it though. Revved up after the murder and burning the chapel, wanting to see a bigger, fiercer fire. In the back of her mind a note of caution sounded – they hadn’t got proof yet that the Perrys had shot Richard Kavanagh. They were still only suspects. ‘Listen to your instincts but follow the evidence,’ that’s what the boss always said.
Tandy’s house was the end terrace, there was room to park close by. The place was in reasonable repair, clean net curtains at the windows, UPVC windows and doors, unlike those at some of the neighbours’ who still had wooden frames with peeling paint.