Where Secrets Lie

by D. S. Butler

  ‘Has the post-mortem been completed yet?’ he asked.

  DI Morgan shook his head. ‘No, in older cases like this, it takes a little longer.’

  Robert Fox glanced around the office. Karen was glad she’d thought ahead and moved the whiteboard with the case notes into one of the empty interview rooms.

  ‘I suppose you still can’t tell me where the body was found?’

  Karen shook her head. ‘No, but we’ll provide you with an update on the post-mortem as soon as we can.’

  His features tightened, the skin around his eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘And the reason you think it was Oliver’s body is the driver’s licence? After all this time, his remains must have been unrecognisable.’

  Karen answered. ‘Yes, and the evidence indicates the man was in the same age range as Oliver. We’ll be carrying out a dental record comparison to make sure. And, of course, we have DNA these days to double-check we’ve identified the right person.’

  Robert Fox took a deep breath. ‘I don’t envy the pathologist’s job.’ He turned to look at Karen. ‘Will I be able to see him? I mean, I understand there won’t be much left of him to see, but . . .’

  Karen observed him carefully. ‘You’ll be able to see him as soon as the pathologist has concluded the post-mortem. I’ll let you know as soon as that happens.’

  ‘Right, of course. Thank you for being so open with me.’

  ‘Not at all,’ DI Morgan said. ‘We’ll walk back to reception with you.’

  ‘There is something you might be able to help us with,’ Karen said. ‘Do you remember any names of your brother’s work colleagues? We’d like to talk to them.’

  Detective Superintendent Fox thought for a moment and shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, but names escape me at the moment. I’ll have a think and get back to you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Karen said. ‘We should be talking to the original SIO on the investigation later today.’

  ‘DI Goodfield?’ Robert Fox raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good luck. I’m not sure you’ll get much out of him. I wasn’t happy with him at the time.’

  ‘No? Why was that?’ Karen asked.

  She noticed DI Morgan staring intently at the detective superintendent.

  ‘He was a drinker. I was disappointed. I wanted someone who would really put a good effort into looking for Oliver. In fact, I’d be surprised if DI Goodfield is still alive. He was a very heavy drinker.’

  As they reached reception, Karen opened the door. ‘Thanks for the heads-up.’

  They said their goodbyes, and Karen and DI Morgan both paused by the door to watch him leave.

  ‘What did you make of that?’ DI Morgan said.

  ‘Detective Superintendent Fox seems to be open about things on the surface, but then I get the impression he’s holding back. What about you?’

  DI Morgan grinned. ‘You want to know what my instincts are telling me?’

  Karen rolled her eyes. It was a running joke between them. Karen tended to rely on her gut when she was evaluating people, but DI Morgan dismissed that as vague nonsense. He insisted he only liked to deal with facts.

  ‘I’m not sure about him,’ DI Morgan said. ‘Yesterday I thought he was going to be a pain in the backside, but today I felt sorry for him.’

  They turned and started to walk back towards the stairs, and Karen said, ‘I agree. It can’t be easy. He must want to get involved and lead the investigation, so us not telling him much must be frustrating.’

  DI Morgan frowned. ‘Yes, but he seems to be dealing with it quite well. It’s a shame he couldn’t remember more about his brother’s colleagues. I think our best bet is to ask Elizabeth Fox about that directly. She might be more relaxed and able to remember things today. Yesterday must have been a hell of a shock.’

  ‘I’m very keen to talk to DI Goodfield now,’ Karen said.

  ‘Agreed,’ DI Morgan said as he pushed open the door to the office. ‘And as right now our only link between Albert Johnson and Oliver Fox is Greenhill Secondary, it’s worth checking in with the school and asking to view their staff records.’

  ‘Right, good idea. I’ll pay them a visit after I talk to Elizabeth Fox this morning. Should I mention Oliver’s affair with her sister?’

  DI Morgan thought for a moment, then shook his head. ‘No, don’t bring it up. Try to get her on side. We need her to be as cooperative as possible.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘I have a feeling this case is about to get complicated.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  When Karen visited Elizabeth Fox later that morning, the woman was alone. There was no sign of her sister or her sons.

  She led Karen into a large glass orangery at the back of the house. It was a sunny morning, but there had been a chill in the air outside, and Karen was surprised it was so hot in the orangery.

  She settled down in a rattan armchair as Elizabeth served tea using a blue-and-white china tea service, which looked expensive. There were plants covering every surface, and the smell of compost hung in the air, mixed with the scent of green herbs.

  In the corner of the room there was a large electric heater. So that was what was pumping out the heat and making Karen feel so uncomfortable. She shrugged off her jacket after balancing her teacup and saucer on the arm of the chair.

  ‘How are you doing?’ Karen asked.

  Elizabeth bowed her head, looking at her hands and twisting her wedding band. ‘I’m all right. The news did leave me shaken. To be honest, I didn’t think when the news came I would feel so upset. I mean, I knew something had happened to Oliver, so . . .’

  ‘What did you think had happened to him?’

  ‘As far as I could see, there were three options. One, he’d run off and left us; two, there’d been some kind of accident and he’d died, but for some reason, his body was never recovered; and three, someone had killed him.’

  ‘Was there any reason to suggest he might leave you and the boys? Was he under stress at the time?’

  Elizabeth shook her head. ‘Not really. We had our ups and downs as any couple does, but we were happy. He adored the boys. You do hear about that sort of thing happening, and for a while, I wanted to believe he’d run off. At least that way there was a chance of him coming home.’ She looked up, her bright green eyes trained on Karen’s face. ‘Can you understand that, or does it seem silly?’

  ‘It doesn’t seem silly at all. It must have been incredibly difficult to go through that and bring up two young sons on your own.’

  Elizabeth lowered her head. ‘It certainly wasn’t easy, especially with Martin . . .’ She trailed off.

  ‘Especially with Martin . . . ?’ Karen prompted, wondering what she had been about to say.

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing. Martin was just a little more demanding.’

  Karen sensed there was something Elizabeth wasn’t telling her, but now wasn’t the time to press the matter.

  ‘I was hoping you could give me some names of people who worked with your husband at the school.’

  ‘Oh, why?’

  ‘We just want to gather as much background information as we can about Oliver, and it’s possible his ex-colleagues might be able to remember something important.’

  ‘Right, well, we didn’t have much to do with them, to be honest. We didn’t socialise with them. There was Mr Moss, who was the religious education teacher. The head teacher was Mr Johnson. Albert, I think his name was. Then there was Mr Grant. His first name was Wilfrid or William. I believe he was the English teacher. Stephen or Martin might know more about the teachers. I could ask them, if you’d like?’

  Karen smiled. ‘Thank you. That would be very helpful.’

  She finished her tea and placed the cup on the saucer, studying the intricate pattern. She knew her next request might get Elizabeth’s back up. ‘Would you be able to give me your sister’s address?’

  There was an instant change in Elizabeth’s demeanour. ‘And why would you want to talk to her?
’

  Karen hesitated for a moment and then said, ‘For the same reason we want to talk to his old colleagues. We want to build an in-depth picture of Oliver’s life.’

  Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed, and she gave a cold chuckle. ‘Don’t worry, dear. I know you’ve found out my sister was having an affair with my husband.’

  Karen didn’t say anything. She wanted to see how much Elizabeth would give away. The fragility Karen had seen in her eyes was now replaced with steel.

  Elizabeth smoothed her skirt with one hand. ‘But their affair isn’t relevant. It was over long before Oliver died. It wasn’t the first time she’d done something like that. She was always jealous of me, always wanted what I had, even when we were little girls.’

  ‘But you’re still close? Laura came here as soon as you heard from us yesterday.’

  ‘It’s complicated,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Laura is a troubled woman. I look after her. If she didn’t have me, I don’t know what she would do.’

  Elizabeth didn’t seem vulnerable anymore. She interlaced her fingers, resting her hands in her lap, and smiled.

  A chill ran up Karen’s spine. She had a feeling they’d underestimated Oliver Fox’s widow yesterday.

  After she left Elizabeth Fox, Karen called to check in with Rick to see if Albert Johnson was ready to talk.

  ‘I’m afraid not, Sarge,’ Rick said, sounding thoroughly fed up.

  ‘I should have expected as much.’

  ‘According to the nurse I spoke with this morning, he was awake last night, eating and drinking, and they’re happy his condition is improving. I got here just after eight o’clock this morning, and he’s remained stubbornly asleep the whole time. He didn’t even stir when they brought the tea trolley around.’

  ‘All right, Rick. I know it’s a tedious job but keep with it. Maybe sit beside him and have a bit of a chat.’

  ‘I think it’ll be a very one-sided chat, Sarge.’

  ‘You never know. If you just chatter away about normal, everyday things, it might convince him you’re not a threat and he’ll decide to talk.’

  ‘All right, I’ll do my best.’

  After she’d hung up on Rick, Karen called Sophie.

  ‘Any developments?’ Karen asked.

  ‘I called Greenhill Academy and made you an appointment for eleven o’clock. Do you think you can make it there by then?’

  Karen glanced at the clock on the dashboard and saw it was only ten thirty. ‘That shouldn’t be a problem. Thanks.’

  ‘The current head teacher is Terence Smith. I only spoke to the school secretary, but she said they were happy to provide any information they can to help.’

  ‘How much did you tell them?’

  ‘Don’t worry. I told them we’re investigating a cold case. I didn’t mention the fact we’ve discovered Oliver Fox’s body. I just said we were looking into his disappearance again.’

  ‘Great. Look, Sophie, is everything okay? You seem a bit down at the moment.’ Karen didn’t really want to have this conversation on the phone, but she’d never known Sophie to be so negative and it worried her. She was coping with the tasks assigned to her, but her attitude was off.

  ‘I’m fine, just tired,’ Sophie said after a moment’s pause, then continued in a businesslike manner. ‘I found a Facebook group for old students of Greenhill Secondary School, and some of the members have posted their memories of the staff. So I’ve made a list.’

  ‘Great. Can you email it to me?’

  ‘Already done.’

  ‘Thanks. Have we had any news back from Raj about the post-mortem? I thought we might have some preliminary results by now.’

  ‘He spoke to DI Morgan about half an hour ago, I think. He’s going to get an external expert to take a look at the bones. Apparently, he knows a specialist at Lincoln University. He believes Oliver Fox died from a blow to the head, but he wants an expert to take a look to see if they can give us any insight into how the injury was inflicted.’

  ‘Right, sounds promising, but I think it’s unlikely we’ll find the murder weapon after thirty years.’

  After Karen thanked Sophie and hung up, she checked her emails and opened the message from Sophie with the list of staff. It didn’t give employment dates, and in many cases they just had a surname to go on. But it would give her a starting point when she spoke to Terence Smith.

  Greenhill Academy was less than five minutes’ drive from Elizabeth Fox’s Skellingthorpe home, so Karen arrived early for her appointment with the headmaster.

  In one of the old newspaper articles describing Oliver Fox’s disappearance, there’d been a photograph of the old secondary school. The new academy had been extensively expanded and modernised, so it was barely recognisable.

  A long, sweeping drive led up to the main building, which was a square brick-and-glass construction that, according to Sophie’s research, had been remodelled in the nineties.

  She didn’t need to show any ID to get on to the school grounds, and just followed the driveway to the car park at the rear of the Academy. After getting out of the car, she looked around. There were playing fields at the back of the school and tennis courts beside the car park. It was clear a fair amount of money had been invested in the Academy.

  A large sign at the entrance declared the school had been rated excellent in a recent Ofsted report. Despite the fact she was still ten minutes early for her appointment with Terence Smith, Karen walked in through the swinging glass doors. She guessed lessons were underway, as all the corridors were quiet. To her right, she saw a sign for reception and walked along the hallway until she saw the reception area.

  Set behind a white, kidney-shaped desk were white bookshelves. There weren’t any books on them, but they were used to display pieces of modern art. Karen wondered whether the artwork had been produced by the students.

  The Academy didn’t look anything like Karen’s old school. It reminded her of one of those high-tech start-up companies. Everything was modern and sleek, and moulded plastic seemed to be the material of choice for everything from the bookshelves to the desks and chairs.

  Karen’s school had smelled of polished wood floors, but here there were plain white, shiny tiles, and everything was light and bright. There was no wood to be seen anywhere, and even the doors looked plastic.

  A woman in a red suit sat behind the desk. A large glass bowl of sweets sat at one edge of the desk, and the receptionist reached up, plunging her hand in the sweet bowl, not bothering to look up.

  When Karen cleared her throat, the woman jumped and snatched her hand back, as though she’d been caught stealing sweets. Then she pushed up the sleeves of her jacket and sniffed. ‘Can I help you?’

  Karen showed her warrant card. ‘DS Karen Hart. I have an appointment to see Mr Terence Smith, although I’m a little early.’

  ‘Ah, I think he’s in a meeting at the moment, but you shouldn’t have to wait too long. Perhaps you’d like to take a seat.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  The reception area wasn’t a proper office; it was more of an alcove attached to the main corridor. There was a line of four white chairs that looked comfortable enough, but instead of sitting down, Karen walked over to the bookshelves to look at the artwork. Most of it was pottery, and as she got closer, she saw a student’s name next to each piece. The bright colours of the pottery brightened up the place, as the only splash of colour in the otherwise white and sterile surroundings.

  She scrolled through the emails on her phone and saw a message from Raj, which just repeated the information Sophie had already relayed.

  By the time she had sorted her new emails into various folders, she heard the woman at the reception desk say, ‘If you’d like to come with me, DS Hart, Mr Smith is ready to see you now.’

  She followed the receptionist along the corridor. They passed a number of classrooms, and Karen peered through the windows as they walked.

  They reached a white door with a chrome plate which read Mr Smith,
and underneath was printed the word Head.

  Not head teacher or headmaster, just head. Karen thought that was a bit strange. That, together with the sleek modern look of the Academy, almost made her expect to see a disembodied head floating around in the office, like something out of a sci-fi programme.

  But when they entered the room, she saw that Terence Smith looked very ordinary. He was a small man with messy brown hair streaked with grey. His wire-rimmed glasses suited his round face. Karen judged him to be in his fifties.

  ‘DS Hart, please have a seat. Thank you, Denise,’ he said. He waved a hand at the receptionist, dismissing her.

  Denise turned and left, closing the door behind her.

  The room was decorated in a different style to the communal areas Karen had seen. For one thing, the large desk was made of real wood. There were wooden shelves on either side of the room, but no student artwork sitting on them. Instead, a variety of model cars were on display.

  Terence Smith sat directly in front of the window. Bright sunlight shone through the blinds, making Karen squint.

  ‘How can I help you, DS Hart?’ he asked, interlinking his fingers and smiling at her.

  ‘As my colleague mentioned when she called, we’re investigating a cold case. The disappearance of a man called Oliver Fox who used to work at the school.’

  Terence gave her a tight-lipped smile. ‘That was before my time, I’m afraid, but I will help in any way I can.’

  ‘Were any of the current teachers here at the Academy when Oliver Fox was a member of staff?’

  Terence shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not. The last teacher who worked with Oliver Fox left a good seven years ago now. That was William Grant. I worked with him for a year or two before he retired. And, of course, there’s Bert Johnson. He was the headmaster here for many years. That was before it became an academy, of course.’

  Karen didn’t react to Albert Johnson’s name. Terence Smith didn’t show any concern for the former headmaster’s welfare, so Karen guessed he hadn’t heard about the fall.