by D. S. Butler
DI Morgan slowed the car so they had a better chance of spotting the house they were looking for. Luckily, there was no traffic behind them.
‘It’s that one,’ Karen said, pointing out a narrow detached house set back from the road. It wasn’t built from the type of stone that was popular around here. Instead, the house looked dark, grey and quite sombre.
DI Morgan pulled into the gravel driveway and drove slowly towards the house. The plot was surrounded by tall Himalayan cedar trees. Karen had one in her own garden, which was the only reason she recognised them. She tended to think they looked like overgrown Christmas trees, but she supposed they had a kind of dark, majestic appearance.
As DI Morgan parked outside the house, beside a silver Volvo that had seen better days, Karen quickly called Sophie. When they went in, she wanted to have the latest details to hand.
‘Have you got anything more for us, Sophie? We’re just about to go and speak to the family.’
‘I’ve confirmed the driver number with the DVLA, and it definitely belongs to Oliver Fox.’
‘Okay, Sophie. Thanks, I’ll let you know how it goes.’
‘Right,’ said Sophie morosely.
Karen guessed she’d had her nose put out of joint by DI Morgan saying she couldn’t come along, but that was the way things went on big cases. Sophie was ambitious, but the case came first and DI Morgan was right. In situations like this, it was better to have a more senior officer talk to the family. She would need to find some time to chat to Sophie later, though. The younger woman seemed a bit down. Her mind wasn’t focused on the job.
After Karen hung up, she turned to DI Morgan.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
Karen nodded firmly and then looked at the house. A curtain twitched downstairs.
Because DI Morgan had phoned ahead, Elizabeth Fox was expecting them, and she knew their visit concerned her husband’s disappearance. She had to be imagining bad news, and Karen didn’t want to keep her waiting any longer. Both officers got out of the car and walked across the driveway, their feet crunching the gravel.
Above the doorway, the year 1886 was carved in stone. It was an unusual house. The other houses along the same road were more modern, built from red brick and with uPVC windows. This one seemed strangely fixed in time, and out of place.
The door was opened by a petite woman with dark-red hair. For a moment she said nothing, but kept her green eyes fixed on them.
‘I’m Detective Inspector Scott Morgan, and this is my colleague Detective Sergeant Karen Hart. Are you Mrs Fox?’
The woman stepped back. ‘Yes, you’d better come in.’
As she opened the door wider, Karen noticed that there was another woman inside watching them. She stood in the hall at the foot of the stairs beside a grandfather clock. She had the same petite build, and although she had darker hair, the family resemblance was clear.
‘This is my sister, Laura. I asked her to come after I got your phone call,’ Elizabeth Fox explained.
‘Laura Nicholson.’ She held out her hand rather regally, and Karen and DI Morgan both shook it in turn.
Elizabeth led them into an old-fashioned drawing room. The ceilings were very high, and the windows were single-paned glass with wooden frames. Despite the fact it was mild outside, the house felt draughty and cold. A small fire burned in the grate but didn’t seem to be giving off much heat.
‘Please, have a seat.’
Elizabeth sat in a high-backed winged chair beside the fire, and her sister sat in the seat opposite.
DI Morgan and Karen took the sofa, which was hard and uncomfortable.
The room reminded Karen of something out of Victorian times, when parlours were supposed to be for show rather than comfort. Her own sofa had floppy cushions that constantly sagged and needed to be fluffed up, but at least it was comfortable.
‘You said on the phone you think you’ve found Oliver . . .’ Elizabeth said. Her hands were tightly clutched in her lap as she looked at DI Morgan.
‘We have found a body, and we have reason to believe it’s Oliver. His driver’s licence was found with the body.’
Elizabeth pressed a hand to her stomach and took a shaky breath. Laura got up from her seat and perched on the arm of her sister’s chair.
Karen thought she was going to pull her in for a hug and tell her everything was going to be okay, but instead she just patted Elizabeth’s shoulder perfunctorily and said, ‘Are you sure it’s him?’
Elizabeth shot her sister a sharp look. ‘Don’t crowd me, Laura.’
Laura muttered something under her breath, then stood up and returned her own seat.
‘Do you need me to identify him, Inspector?’ Elizabeth asked in a tremulous voice.
DI Morgan cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. ‘I’m afraid, due to the length of time your husband—’
Elizabeth’s hands flew to her face. ‘Of course. Sorry, I’m not thinking straight. There won’t be anything left for me to identify, will there? There will just be bones.’
‘You wouldn’t be able to recognise him,’ Karen said. ‘But when we’ve finished our investigation, you will be able to give him a proper burial and hold a service for him.’
Elizabeth blinked at Karen as though only just remembering she was there. ‘How long do you think the investigation will take?’
‘I’m afraid that’s very difficult to say at this stage. We want to complete the investigation as quickly as possible, so you’re able to get closure and lay Oliver to rest, but at the same time, we need to make sure we don’t miss anything.’
Elizabeth’s glance flickered to the window. ‘I’ve told my sons. I knew they’d want to hear the news as soon as possible. They should be here soon.’
‘Do they both still live nearby?’ Karen asked.
‘Yes,’ Elizabeth said, ‘they both live in Lincoln. They were only young when Oliver went missing. Stephen was ten and Martin only eight.’
‘It must have been incredibly difficult for them,’ Karen said.
‘How do you think he died?’ Laura asked. ‘Was it an accident or . . .’ She broke off, not finishing her sentence, and glanced at her sister.
‘We’re not sure at this stage. That’s something we’re looking into.’
‘Where did you find him?’
It seemed cruel not to tell them all the details, but they didn’t want to give away too much information at this point. Elizabeth Fox looked very much the grieving widow, and Karen guessed by the size of her she was unlikely to have killed her husband, put him in a suitcase and hidden the case in Albert Johnson’s loft, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t working in cahoots with someone. For all they knew, Elizabeth could have had some kind of a relationship with Albert. Someone had sent that threatening letter. It could well have been someone in the Fox family.
DI Morgan saved her from having to answer. ‘I’m afraid we need to keep the details confidential at this stage. We’ll be able to give you the full story once the investigation is completed.’
‘So you can’t even tell me where you found him?’
DI Morgan shook his head. ‘I’m very sorry, but no, we can’t tell you that yet.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Laura said sharply, leaning forward in her seat and glaring at DI Morgan. ‘Don’t you think our family has been through enough? The very least you could do is tell us what happened.’
‘We don’t know what happened yet, Laura. When we do, and when we have the whole story, the family will be the first to know.’
‘Can you at least tell me if he was found nearby, or had he gone somewhere . . .’ Elizabeth asked in a small voice.
Karen understood what she was asking. She’d probably spent the last thirty years wondering whether Oliver had abandoned her and their two young sons.
‘Once we have more information, Mrs Fox, we’ll pass it on.’
Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly, then turned to look at the fire.
‘What c
an you tell us about the day Oliver went missing?’ Karen asked.
Most of this was already in the missing persons report, but there could be something that was overlooked or not recorded at the time.
‘It was a normal Thursday. He was supervising after-school football training, so I wasn’t surprised when he was a little late, but he never came home. I called everyone we knew in the village. I even went to the school, but there was no sign of him. I reported him missing. The police didn’t take me seriously at first. They said he was a grown man and maybe he’d turn up tomorrow. I tried to explain it wasn’t like Oliver to go missing, but . . .’ She shrugged. ‘I think I knew that day that something awful had happened to him.’
There was a noise behind them in the hall and they heard the front door open, letting in a draught which almost put the fire out.
Elizabeth got to her feet. ‘That will be one of the boys. We’re in here,’ she called out.
A tall, thin man appeared in the doorway. He had dark eyes and closely cropped dark hair. Karen and DI Morgan stood up to shake his hand and introduced themselves.
‘I’m Stephen Fox,’ was all he managed.
Karen noticed his hands were shaking.
He strode across the room to hug his mother. ‘Are you okay?’ he whispered.
Elizabeth took a step back and blinked away tears. ‘Yes. They’ve found him.’
Stephen rubbed his hands over his face and then turned to Karen and DI Morgan. ‘Where did you find him?’
‘As we were just explaining to your mother, this is very early days in the investigation, and we can’t reveal too much at this stage. As we find out more, we’ll keep you updated.’
Stephen looked a little startled. ‘You can’t reveal too much? You think he was murdered, then?’
‘We’re not ruling anything out at this stage, Stephen. We’re treating this investigation like any other unexplained death.’
Stephen nodded slowly and then pulled over a chair and sat down.
‘Do you have a photograph of Oliver?’ Karen asked. She wanted to shift the subject away from the fact they were unable to give the family any information about where they’d found the body. Karen knew if it was her, she would be fuming at this point and demanding answers.
Elizabeth cleared her throat. ‘There’s one in the bedroom. Would you get it, Stephen?’
Stephen left the room, and when he came back he was holding a silver-framed photograph. It was a family shot, and Karen guessed it was probably one of the last ones they’d had taken of them all.
‘It was taken on our last holiday together,’ Stephen said. His mouth tilted up in a half-smile as he gazed at the photograph, then he passed it to Karen.
Elizabeth was in the photograph and hadn’t changed much at all. She even had the same hairstyle, a short choppy bob with a heavy fringe. Oliver stood with his hands on the shoulders of both boys. He had been a slim, tall man with dark hair, and she could see the resemblance to Stephen.
Stephen, the older boy, was looking at whoever was behind the camera with a big beaming smile and holding an ice cream.
His brother, on the other hand, didn’t look so happy. He had the same dark hair and tanned skin, but he was scowling at the camera.
‘Did your husband have any problems around the time he went missing?’ DI Morgan asked.
‘Problems?’
‘Perhaps money worries, or had he fallen out with friends? Issues at work?’
Elizabeth’s face tightened. ‘No, nothing of the sort. Everything was absolutely fine. He just didn’t come home one night.’
Laura shook her head slowly, and Karen switched her attention to the sister. There was something unusual about this family. Some unspoken secret was hanging heavily over the room. She’d expected grief and sadness but not sullen looks and guarded expressions. She made a mental note to talk to Laura alone at some point.
‘Yes, I can’t remember anything out of the ordinary. He seemed perfectly happy to me, but I was only ten when he went missing,’ Stephen said. ‘So, I’m afraid I’m not going to be much help. Why don’t I make us some tea, Mum?’
Elizabeth blinked. ‘Oh, yes, of course. I didn’t think to offer you anything. I’m sorry.’
‘Not at all,’ Karen said as she got to her feet. ‘I’ll give you a hand, Stephen.’
CHAPTER NINE
After seeing the front room, Karen had been expecting the kitchen to be drab and old-fashioned, so she was surprised when Stephen led her into a modern black-and-white kitchen with an open-plan dining area. The units were white and shiny, with chrome handles, and all the appliances were built-in. A large granite-topped island sat proudly in the middle of the room. The kitchen was spotless.
Stephen filled the kettle at the sink.
‘Can I help?’ Karen offered.
‘Yes, the cups are in that cupboard there.’ Stephen gestured to a cabinet above the microwave, and Karen took out five white mugs.
Stephen switched the kettle on and then looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head. ‘I knew this day was coming, so it shouldn’t be a surprise, but it’s really hit me for six.’
‘It’s understandable. It must be a terrible shock.’
‘I’ve had thirty years to prepare for it but it’s just horrible. I can’t stand to think that he’s been dead all this time and we didn’t know.’
Karen grabbed the milk out of the large chrome fridge and shot him a sympathetic smile.
‘Can you at least tell us when he died?’
‘I’m afraid we can’t say that for sure yet.’
‘But you suspect he died around the time he went missing?’
Karen nodded. ‘It looks that way.’
Stephen raked his fingers through his hair. ‘I remember so much about the day he went missing. We had fish fingers, waffles and peas for dinner.’ He gave another half-smile and shook his head. ‘My brother, Martin, was going through a phase and refused to eat any other vegetables. It was just after the Easter holidays. We’d spent a week at a caravan in Mablethorpe.’
‘Was that where the photograph was taken?’
Stephen’s face softened. ‘Yes, it was a happy holiday.’
He had looked happy in the photograph, but his younger brother hadn’t. Of course, a photograph only captured a split second in time and didn’t necessarily mean anything. But Karen couldn’t help wondering whether Martin held some of the answers. Could he have seen or overheard something? Perhaps Martin had seen something that upset him. Perhaps his father had asked him to keep a secret. An affair? Or had Oliver discovered an affair between Albert Johnson and his wife . . .
Stephen held his hand out for the milk and Karen passed him the plastic container. ‘Do you know a man called Albert Johnson?’
Stephen poured the hot water into the teapot and shook his head. ‘No, I don’t think so. Why?’
‘He used to work with your father.’
‘Oh, yes. Mr Johnson, the old headmaster. Yes, actually, he was the head at Greenhill Secondary when I was there. I started at the school the year after Dad went missing. That wasn’t easy. After a while, I got used to people pointing and making comments, but it’s a hard thing to go through when you’re only eleven.’
‘Was Mr Johnson close to your father? Did they socialise together?’
Stephen paused and turned to Karen. ‘Not really. Why are you interested in him? Do you think he had something to do with my father’s death?’
Karen shook her head. She didn’t want to lie outright, but she didn’t want to give too much away at this stage. Stephen’s hands were shaking, and he spilled some tea on the counter.
‘Here, let me help you,’ Karen said, reaching for the roll of kitchen towel and wiping up the mess. ‘You weren’t aware of any problems he had, or financial worries?’
‘He wasn’t really the type to talk about problems. But as far as financial worries go, I don’t know. I was only ten, so I wouldn’t have picked up on anything like that.’
<
br /> Suddenly, there was a loud crash, and Stephen looked up sharply as Karen went to the kitchen door. A man was standing in the hall. He had the same dark hair as Stephen, but his was receding and cut even shorter.
‘Who are you?’ the man demanded, striding towards the kitchen.
‘I’m DS Hart. Are you Martin?’
‘Yes. So, you’ve finally found him, have you? After all this time, you’ve finally got your finger out and discovered what happened to him.’
‘Martin . . .’ Stephen’s voice carried a warning.
Karen took a deep breath. ‘I’m very sorry to tell you this, Martin. But we have found a body alongside your father’s driver’s licence. We still need to confirm it’s him.’
Martin let out a bark of a laugh, which was a strange response under the circumstances.
Stephen walked forward, forgetting about making the tea, and put his arm around his brother’s shoulders. ‘Come on, Martin. Come through to the front room and talk to Mum. She needs you to be strong right now.’
Martin started to resist, but in the end he let Stephen lead him away. ‘I knew he hadn’t walked out and left us.’ He practically snarled the words at his brother. But Stephen didn’t react.
Karen contemplated finishing the tea, but she didn’t want to miss anything. Martin seemed to be a whirlwind of furious energy, and when people were angry, they often let slip small details that could provide clues. She followed them along the hall and paused by the doorway to see what happened.
‘I bet you all feel a bit stupid now, don’t you,’ Martin said.
‘Please, Martin, don’t do this now,’ Elizabeth Fox said in a weak voice. She was slumped in her chair, as though she couldn’t find the energy to get up and greet her youngest son.
‘Why didn’t you stick up for him at the time?’ Martin demanded. ‘Why were you so quick to believe that he would walk out on us?’
Nobody answered Martin’s questions. He strode forward, shaking off Stephen’s arm, and stopped beside the cabinet in the corner of the room, grabbing a crystal decanter and pouring himself a large measure of amber liquid. He swallowed it down in one go.
