by Carla Kovach
The team were pulling on their gloves as she approached. Gina grabbed a set from Jacob who yawned. ‘You look like I feel,’ Gina said.
‘It’s been a long day, a really long day. Keith has headed back and is going through everything we took from Dale’s house. Jennifer is processing everything from the murder scene down at the river. And now, we’re conducting another search.’ He pasted a false grin across his face. ‘What exactly are we looking for?’
‘We can’t discount Susan’s house as a potential scene so we’re looking for anything that might help us to find her. Maybe Mary missed some of her appointments so paperwork is what we’re looking for. She must have a better diary-keeping system than a scrappy piece of paper. We need to know who her clients are, she could have seen any one of them after leaving Dale on Tuesday. We need to know why they argued. I know her car was left in Damson Close, which means she probably went missing between there and Dale’s house, but there’s nothing to say she isn’t involved in Dale Blair’s murder and then came back home on foot. It would have taken her a good half an hour but it could have been done.’
Jacob placed the key in the lock and opened the door. The smell of pine disinfectant mingled with lemon escaped the house. Gina spotted the scented reeds on the console table in the hallway, just past the door to what she thought would be the downstairs water closet. Above it was a photo of the children. Two girls, Jasmine and Phoebe, both smiling as they lift their little brother up, kissing a cheek each. The laminated hall floor shone like it had been buffed. Gina took another step, almost slipping in her boot cover. ‘Be careful. Slippy underfoot.’
She stepped to the side and took one carpeted stair at a time. A few seconds later, she stood at the top of the stairs. ‘Three bedrooms, a main bathroom, an en suite and an office.’
Jacob called back from the kitchen doorway. ‘Kitchen diner, large lounge and door to the garage, unlocked. Bi-fold doors to the garden, also unlocked.’
‘They’re not a security-conscious family,’ Gina muttered. ‘Jacob, we’ll start with her bedroom and the office.’ Gina led the way. The smell of bleach wafted out of the main bathroom. She took a mental note about how shiny everything looked. Mary had really gone to town with cleaning Susan’s house up. Gina hurried along the landing, the dangly crystal light fitting almost reaching the top of her head.
The room was large for a home office. Three large filing cabinets filled the one end giving it a claustrophobic feel. A set of trays were neatly placed on the desk and a recently dusted desktop computer sat neatly in the middle. A small strip of dust had been missed along the side. ‘We need to get the computer back to analyse what’s on it.’ She walked over to the cabinet and opened one. It contained all the financial information for clients of surnames beginning with A and B. ‘Smith and O’Connor are going to love us. I hate to say it, but we need to go through the lot. Any one of these people and businesses may know something. Susan could have been on her way to see any of them. I need all these files packed up.’ She flicked through the files that were full of month end accounts and charts.
‘There’s loads!’ Jacob began flicking through the drawers built into the side of her desk. ‘I’ve found her divorce letters. Looks like it was acrimonious.’
‘We already know that from what Mary said.’
‘She was after everything they owned and the children. She’s also accused him of having an affair but no one was named in the papers. There’s more, tucked in the back of the drawer.’
‘What have you found?’ Gina glanced over.
‘She’d not only accused him of trying to control her, not wanting her to go out, etcetera, but she also writes about him following her on occasions when she did put her foot down and go out.’
‘We know that too.’
‘Yes, I haven’t finished. She made a note of a time when he followed her to the pub where he hit one of her friends and accused her of cheating with him. She scribbled this out, I can just about read it under all the pen.’
‘I wonder why this was never reported. Anyway, we’ll take everything back to the station, go through the lot. We could do with finding out which friend Ryan Wheeler hit, and why.’
She wandered over to the desk as Jacob continued going through the other drawers. Paperwork spilled from a basket marked ‘in tray’. Folders were stacked up in it and beside it. There were bags of receipts, some grimy and covered in oil, others neat and slotted into ledger books. The paperwork in this pile represented people’s financial lives. ‘We need to make sure all this doesn’t get mixed up but we will be taking it to search through. These look to be her current jobs. She’s seen all these people recently and collected this work from them.’
Gina needed to check out the rest of the house. She ambled past the children’s bedrooms. The mattress was airing on its side in what looked to be Rory’s bedroom and a faint smell of urine hit her as she passed. A bottom stuck out as its owner peered under the bed. ‘Nothing here.’ She’d recognise that screechy voice anywhere. PC Kapoor kneeled up, leaning on the bed as she stood. ‘Alright, guv.’ That woman’s voice could shatter glass but it made Gina smile every time.
‘Anything?’
‘Only that the place is pristine. Clothes all tidily hung up, make-up laid out perfectly, drawers arranged in an orderly fashion, en suite as sanitised as an operating theatre. Her mother’s Marie Kondo’d the joint.’
Gina smiled. She wished Mary would come to hers and sprinkle some Marie Kondo order into her home. ‘You’re doing a grand job.’ She left Kapoor to it, hurrying back downstairs. A police constable was checking the drawers in the kitchen as Gina entered. ‘We have a computer upstairs, three filing cabinets and a stack of paperwork. I need it all loading onto the van with care and bringing back to the station. I emphasise the with care bit. Don’t mix any of it up. It’s full of confidential business information that is highly personal to its owners. Anything down here?’
‘Nothing obvious at the moment but we will keep looking. It’s getting dark now, I think we’ll be hours getting through all this,’ the PC said.
‘I’m a bit concerned that this place has been so immaculately cleaned.’ Gina’s thoughts flitted to Mary. She thought of the little arguments, the family tensions and the night someone was lurking around the side of Mary’s house watching Gina leave. She shivered. When she got home, she would be double-checking her own locks. It was easy to dismiss that Mary was hiding anything more. She shook her head. She trusted her mother implicitly; she had to stop trusting Mary so readily. She picked up her phone and called O’Connor. ‘Still here, I’m afraid. I’m going to be a while. We have a lot of potential evidence to search through, filing cabinets full of paperwork and more paperwork. I know you love a bit of paperwork sifting. You’re going to need a lot of Mrs O’s cookies tomorrow.’
‘You’re for real, aren’t you?’
‘Afraid so. Also, can you call Ryan Wheeler, Susan’s husband? I want him at the station for interview in the morning, as soon as he’s taken his children to school. There’s something I need to ask him.’
Thirty-Six
Phoebe sat under the large canopy, outside the block of apartments where her dad now lived, staring into the darkness of the wintery afternoon. In six months their whole family had broken down. She checked her phone again, hoping for a text from her mum, just one text. She wanted to be back in her bedroom where she would have it mostly to herself.
Rain drizzled, just missing the tips of her feet. Water cascaded from the damaged piece of guttering to her left. Every other flat on the road had closed curtains. It was just her, alone in the rain, waiting for her mum to call or text.
She flinched as she saw a figure walking under a streetlamp in the distance, approaching with trepidation. She shivered as the orange glow lit up his outline. Catching a glint of the whites of his eyes, an icy shiver travelled across the nape of her neck as his gaze fixed on hers. The edges of his mouth lifted as a grin spread across his face. The
man in the rain mac stopped and as he checked behind him, he bumped into a woman before pulling his hood across his face and scurrying off.
‘Hiya, love,’ Aunty Clare called as she bumbled down the path with rain dripping from the end of her nose.
Phoebe waved. Aunty Clare had never visited Dad before. ‘Aunty Clare.’ Clare walked up to her and gave her a sopping wet hug. Phoebe loved Aunty Clare’s big bear hugs. She had a warmth about her that her father and mother never seemed to have. She was more loving and expressive, more patient and easygoing. Phoebe supposed she had to be more patient because of the way Harrison was. She loved them both, despite Harrison’s big outbursts.
‘Is your dad around?’
She nodded. Her dad peered out of the patio doors that led to the communal gardens and he pushed the door open. ‘Phoebe, get inside now. Your dinner’s done.’
‘But, Dad. Aunty Clare has just got here—’
‘Phoebe. I need to talk to Aunty Clare so do as you’re told, now.’ The way her dad looked at Aunty Clare told her something bad was going to follow. Aunty Clare’s smile had dropped and she began grinding her teeth.
Phoebe nodded and followed his orders. As Aunty Clare hurried from the porch to the doors, her dad blocked her from entering the apartment.
‘We can talk over there.’ Her dad pointed to the canopy. Phoebe was sure she could see tears mingled with the rain on Aunty Clare’s face. There was something about her lost expression, constant snivelling and her red-rimmed eyes that gave her away.
‘Close the door.’
Her dad’s orders were simple enough. She closed the door and felt the warmth of the lounge-come-kitchen. Jasmine was lying on the living room floor, bobbing her head up and down with her earphones on. Phoebe darted to their bedroom, leaving the light off. She nudged the window slightly and stood on a wooden toy box. She needed to know what Aunty Clare had come to tell her dad.
‘But the truth needs to come out!’ Aunty Clare yelled as she snivelled.
‘You dare say a word. It will be the end of you, do you hear?’
Phoebe had heard her dad go off at her mum before. He could get scary when he was angry. He hated her mother going anywhere on her own and he’d always made her feel guilty. It was confusing for them all, especially when he came home with presents the next day.
‘But, I can’t do this any more.’ Aunty Clare’s sobs echoed under the canopy. A ray of light shone in Phoebe’s direction as one of them moved under it. She almost hyperventilated as she allowed the curtain to drop, hoping that her dad hadn’t seen that she was eavesdropping.
‘You can and you will. Now go away, live your life just the way you have been and don’t come here again.’ He paused and light moved away from the window once again. She heard Aunty Clare scurrying away, crying as she splashed across the sodden road. She didn’t hear her father’s footsteps following her.
‘I won’t just go away. You’ll see.’ Aunty Clare’s voice seemed distant. She had to get the last sentence in. That would enrage her dad.
The light flickered. He was still in the porch. She peered through the gap in the curtain, one eye closed as she squinted for a better view. Her father was puffing on something – it was a vape.
Another thing he and her mother had argued about, his smoking. He’d packed up when Rory was born. Phoebe hadn’t been aware that he’d started vaping. The smell crept through the slight gap in the window. Something sweet, dessert-like. He cleared his throat and began stomping back. Phoebe ran from the bedroom straight into the bathroom across the hall and flushed the chain as she wondered what truth her dad and Aunty Clare were hiding.
She shivered as she ran the tap to wash her hands. The man who’d stared at her just before Aunty Clare turned up. Could he have been the person watching her at the park? She struggled to swallow. She knew one thing, she wasn’t going to sleep well tonight. She checked her phone. Still nothing back from her mother.
‘Phoebe. Phoebe!’ her dad called.
She took a deep breath. He was coming to tell her off. He’d seen or heard her listening at the window. She placed her hand on the door handle and almost wanted to cry. ‘Phoebe,’ he called again.
‘In the toilet.’ She opened the door, bracing herself for a scolding.
‘I need to do something. Watch your sister for a while. Lock the doors after me and don’t touch the cooker or open the door to anyone. Do you hear me?’
She nodded. He was leaving them alone, again, and she got to be in charge. He hadn’t spotted her at the window. She exhaled, her heart banging against her ribcage. ‘Yes. Where are you going?’
‘Not far.’ He grabbed the umbrella from by the door and he was gone. She pulled the chain across as she thought about the man in the mac, his grin, his stare locked on hers. Peering through the spyhole, she shivered. It wouldn’t be the first time her dad had hurried out, leaving her in charge. What if the man came back? Her phone beeped and a Snapchat message flashed up.
Phoebe – don’t tell Dad, don’t tell anyone and don’t reply. I need your help. I’ll explain everything when I see you. Keep your phone on and I’ll be in touch. I love you so much but I can’t talk now. Mum. Xxx
Her pulse quickened as she read the message over and over again and smiled. Her mother was okay.
Thirty-Seven
Mary hurried to the lounge, almost slipping on a colouring book. Her beautiful home once again in total disarray. She couldn’t live in such chaos for much longer. She wanted order back in her home. She wanted it to smell fresh and clean, not of the stale food she kept finding under the settee cushions. The constant cleaning was wearing her down, mentally and physically.
Harrison filled the lamp lit lounge with the sounds of his latest tantrum as he kicked the door several times. Being small didn’t mean he caused no damage; there were scuff marks everywhere. Rory was curled up in the chair, hugging a cushion as he sobbed. His sad red face almost identical in colour to Harrison’s angry red face. On the floor, Harrison grabbed his plastic cars, smashing them continuously as he screamed and yelled.
Her daughter’s damp raincoat had been flung across the bottom of the stairs. She hadn’t heard her come home. ‘Clare, Clare!’ Mary paced around, picking up the clutter, trying to ignore Harrison.
Howard poked his head around the corner. ‘I’m just putting the kettle on. Tea?’
She grabbed one of Rory’s teddies, a stuffed cat, and threw it at her husband. ‘If you offer me tea one more time, I’ll—’ She’ll what? Throw teddies. Her poor husband backed away and left her to it. She almost wanted to sob. She hadn’t meant to throw the stuffed cat at him, her frustration had got the better of her and the kids were driving her insane. She’d apologise when Harrison stopped yelling. She glanced at Rory as he cried and went to scoop him up, then she stopped. She could hear whimpering coming from behind the curtain.
Creeping forward she tugged at the sea-green tartan material and peered around. ‘Clare, what are you doing here?’
Her daughter’s chubby face was pressed against the glass, snot and tears smeared everywhere as she prised herself from it. ‘I can’t cope, Mum. I can’t do this.’
Mary grabbed her daughter and pulled her away from the window. They’d had a lot of words that day and both had said things that they didn’t mean. Clare had stormed out in a temper as she often did. Mary had brought the children home from nursery and they too had picked up on the tension and now all hell was breaking loose.
‘He’s just too much for me. I sometimes think I’m losing my mind. I don’t feel like me, I’m just like some cut-out, going through the motions. I’m so sorry, Mum, I need you. I can’t cope.’ Clare’s bottom lip quivered again as Mary pulled her daughter close and led her to the settee, stepping over Harrison who was now sprawled out like a starfish amongst his broken cars.
‘Howard?’
Her husband hurried back. ‘Are you alright, love? Not going to throw any more teddies at me?’
She took a dee
p breath. ‘Sorry, okay. I think we’re all at breaking point. I won’t allow what’s happening to split our family up. Please could you take the kids in the kitchen and make them a drink?’
‘Of course. Right, Harrison. What you doing on the floor, little man?’
‘Don’t want to go to bed.’
‘Okay, do you want a nice hot chocolate, then we read a story and then we go to bed.’
Harrison yawned and nodded. The tantrum had ended. Rory’s sobs calmed to nothing. ‘Gandad,’ as he called Howard, ‘I want chocolate too.’
‘Come on then. Let’s go and make it.’
The boys got up and followed Howard to the kitchen.
Mary closed the door on them. ‘Talk to me, darling,’ she said as she sat back down.
‘I know I’ve let you down. I’m not successful like Susan, in fact, I’m an outright failure. I have a child who hates me. You only have to look at him to know.’
‘First of all, he doesn’t hate you. He has behavioural problems, we know that, and you’re doing a brilliant job. You are a great mother and you love him. I know it’s not easy…’
Clare gripped her mother’s arm as tears streamed down her face. ‘I wish he was like Rory, like a normal kid. Sometimes I just want to close myself in a cupboard and never come out. Sometimes I wish I was dead. I know you hate my smoking but it’s the only thing that keeps me sane.’
Mary had gone on a lot about the smoking. She held her daughter closer, wondering if she was contributing to pushing Clare over the edge. Maybe she had been too full on with Susan with her overbearing nature. Since she and Ryan had separated, she’d gone around all the time, fussed over the kids too much, to Susan’s annoyance. Had she neglected Clare in the process? ‘Come on, let it all out.’
