Chapter 13

The man stood bolt upright and swung around. Far on the wrong side of middle-aged, taller than average and wide-eyed, the man opened his mouth as if to respond, but ultimately stayed quiet. His eyes flicked to the left and Jain thought he might start to run away, but instead stood still and silent. Curious, the damp detective climbed the gate, before speaking again.

"Who are you, what are you doing and why are you here?"

"Nothing." Said the man.

"That's not really answering my questions. Let's start again. My name is Detective Constable Sajid Jain. What's your yours?"

"I don't really have to talk to you if I don't want to, do I?"

"Well, that depends," Jain responded, "if I suspect you've done something wrong then you most certainly do have to tell me your name."

"I haven't done anything wrong." The man said, sheepishly.

"But, if I suspect you have, and you don't tell me who you are, then I will have to arrest you. And that means you'll be stuck with me for hours down at the police station, which is pretty miserable for both of us, eh?"

"Have you got any ID?" The man replied, with a confused look on his well-lined face. Jain took out his warrant card and showed it to the man, confirming he was indeed who he said he was.

"I'm Gerald."

"And?"

"And what?"

"And what indeed. And, what are you doing?" Jain was running out of patience with this weird guy.

"I'm the gardener. I wondered whose car this was. Why it was in front of the gate." Gerald explained, at last.

"So, do you know where the owners are? Is anybody home?" Jain asked.

"No. There's no one home. They're on holiday. I just do the gardens for them."

Jain thought back to the elderly couple whom he had met many years ago and was not convinced they were the sort to still go on holidays beyond their front door. He decided that Gerald was too strange for his own good and wanted to know more.

"Do you have a key to the house, Gerald?"

"No. Just the shed. I don't need to go in the house."

"When are they coming back?"

"Um. Not really sure. Maybe a week or two."

"Didn't they tell you when they were coming back?"

"They don't tell me much. I just do the gardens"

"I went into the shed, Gerald. Have you cut yourself recently?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm always cutting myself by accident. All the tools and that." Said Gerald and showed his hands, which were indeed scarred around the fingers in various places.

"Recently, I said. Have you cut yourself today? There's blood in the shed."

"Oh, yeah, I scratched my finger"

"On a 6 foot high shelf?"

"What?"

"A shelf. There's blood on a shelf and on the floor."

"Yeah, I banged my head. I'm clumsy like that."

"Can I see?" Asked Jain, beyond frustration with this supposed gardener.

"It's just a little nick on the head." Gerald replied, bowing his head to show a greasy mop of grey and black hair. Jain could not see anything to indicate an injury but was not in the mood to go digging around this man's follicles.

"Alright. Alright. Fair enough. Anyway, I'm here to ask if you've seen someone who's been reported missing. His name's James. Male, 30 years old, about six foot tall, medium build, short hair. Have you seen anyone like that today?"

"No." Gerald quickly replied.

"Are you sure? Have you seen anyone around here at all?"

Gerald sounded certain. "No."

Jain frowned. "Maybe another worker. A postman. A salesman. Have you seen another human today?"

Gerald looked directly into Jain's eyes and repeated, "No. No one has been here except me for days. There haven't been any postmen and I'm the only one working on this estate. Sorry I can't help."

Jain looked at the tip of his pen, firmly pressed against the paper, poised to imprint wisdom, yet it remained in the same static position on his notebook. The ink was bleeding a large black dot on the page, which was about as useful as this entire conversation. He clicked the pen, flipped the notebook closed and put both in his shirt pocket. He thanked Gerald, trying his best to hide the sarcasm, and opened his car door. As he sat back behind the steering wheel, he watched the old gardener unlock the padlock on the gate. Strange, thought Jain, that he was so careful to keep the padlock on the gate in constant use yet the shed full of tools had been left wide open. 'Strange' was the word of the day for Detective Constable Jain. Jain drove away as the odd man walked up the path.

Gerald's heart was pounding so hard it felt as though a heart attack was on the way. What the hell were the police doing here? How had someone reported the man, Jeff, James, whatever his name was, missing already? How did they know he'd been here. What if the detective had arrested him? Searched him? Taken him away? It didn't bear thinking about. That sarcastic Indian copper didn't know anything and had no reason to come back (he desperately hoped). Jesus, he should have just walked away and left that guy alone.

It's too late now. He had a body to get rid of.