Page 38 of Twisted Lies
‘You own all six houses?’
Jenner nodded. ‘Bought them all ten years ago, after a compulsory purchase order was placed for a new road that never got built.’
‘So you got them cheap?’
‘They were reasonably priced. All six tenants are on long-term leases.’
Kim knew from his portfolio that he didn’t buy and sell, giving his tenants long-term security of having a roof over their heads.
‘So you met the family how many times during the last five years?’
‘Maybe three times.’
‘And there was nothing that struck you as odd?’
‘Only that they were a bit quiet and didn’t invite conversation. They seemed like a decent family. To my knowledge they weren’t doing or selling drugs, fencing stolen goods or conducting any other kind of criminal activity. They had no wild parties, caused no complaints, looked after the place and paid their rent on time for four and a half years.’
‘Okay, Mr Jenner, thank you for… hang on,’ she said, feeling the frown rest on her face. ‘The neighbour said they’d been here for five years.’
Maybe nothing but the timeline could become important.
‘Yes, they were. Almost five years to the day.’
‘But you just said—’
‘Sorry, I should clarify. The rent was never late for the duration of the time the Phippses were paying me.’
‘Mr Jenner, could you explain?’
‘Of course. For the first six months of their lease, the rent was being paid by someone else.’
Twenty-Nine
It was after ten when Frost pulled into the narrow street in Prestwich. The traffic had been kind to her, and the Audi had greedily eaten up the miles of motorway.
She hadn’t tried to call the woman, guessing she would refuse to speak to her. It was harder to do that when she was standing on the doorstep.
Frost locked the car and headed for number twenty-seven. She saw the irony in the fact the property was unassuming and brought no attention to itself.
She knocked twice on the solid wooden door before spotting a small camera and speaker to her left.
It buzzed into life.
‘May I help you?’
Even through the electronic device Frost could hear the hesitancy in her voice.
‘My name is Tracy Frost. I’m here to talk to you about Trisha Morley.’
‘I don’t know anyone by that—’
‘Ariane, I know who you are. Please let me speak to you for a moment.’
‘Please leave. I have nothing to say to you.’
‘Just five minutes of your time,’ Frost pleaded. ‘If you’ve been watching the news, you know what’s going on.’
‘I can’t help you.’
