Page 110 of Too Close To Home

“So do old fellas like me.”

Jake snorted.

He then grabbed his keys and headed out, almost walking straight into the path of another van careening up onto next door’s drive.

“Jesus. White van driver.” He tutted.

At the builder’s merchant, he grabbed a trolley and loaded it with what he needed for the current job and the usual bits that somehow never lasted as long as they were supposed to. Halfway down one aisle, he pulled his phone from his pocket to check his notes. There was something else he needed to sort out while he was here.

Larkspur Lane.

Harrison’s place.

The roof on that old cottage would need more than a patch job. Those single-storey stone places always did. Thicker insulation, a breathable membrane, timber cut to odd measurements because nothing in houses that old was ever square. Jake added the specialist materials to his order list anyway. Whether Harrison wanted him anywhere near the job now or not. Which, considering the circumstances, was probably not.

Still. If the materials had to be ordered in, they’d take time.

Might as well get ahead of it.

Jake steered the trolley towards the counter.

“Eh up, Jake?” Lance knew most of the regular trades who came through here by name. He barely glanced up as he scanned the items from Jake’s trolley. “How’s that rugby prodigy nephew of yours?”

“Good.” Jake nodded. “Won his match yesterday.”

“Course he did. Got my eye on that kid.” He scanned the items. “You take him over Leeds?”

“Have done once or twice, but you seen how much it costs?”

“Oh, aye…when he’s playing for them, you’ll get a free seat, I’m sure.”

Jake gave a brief nod. Normally he’d linger, throw a bit of banter back, but his head wasn’t quite in it today. Lance rang through the rest of the materials, the scanner beeping, as two men approached the counter behind him, carrying a long-boxed package between them and cut over him, anyway.

“Lance, that stuff arrive for the steel works? Order under Mitchell?”

Jake’s shoulders stiffened at the name.

Christ.

That bloke was everywhere.

“Aye,” Lance replied, scanning Jake’s screws. “Came in late Friday. Couple of carbide drill bits, cutting fluid, and the replacement magnetic drill he asked for.”

Jake tried not to think about what Mitchell was using all that stuff for. He knew enough about steel fabrication to know it was probably not for what his mind had conjured up. Heavy-duty kit for drilling through structural beams.

“Said he’d be in this morning to pick it up.”

“Aye, well, he can’t.”

Lance glanced up. “Why’s that?”

“Didn’t make it into work.”

“Sick?”

The man behind Jake shrugged. “Nah, the dick’s been pulled in for questioning by the police.”

Jake shot around. “What? When?”