by M A Comley
“Is there someone who can help you with that? What about your parents? Or Gemma’s, come to that. I’ll need to inform them of Gemma’s death.”
“They’re divorced. She doesn’t really see her dad much after he ran off to live with that tart.”
The venomous words surprised Sally. “If you give me your mother’s phone number, perhaps I could call her for you, ask her to come over and sit with you.”
“No, I’ll do it. Mum would never forgive me if she heard this news from a stranger.”
“I understand. Can you make the call now? Are you up to that?”
He sucked in a large breath and released it slowly through his quivering lips. Then he walked across the room to the side table in the corner and picked up the phone. “Mum, it’s me. Something dreadful has happened. Can you come over? No, I can’t tell you more than that over the phone. Okay… see you soon.”
He hung up and returned to the easy chair. “Mum will be devastated when I tell her. She loved Gemma like a daughter, the daughter she never had. The whole family loved Gemma, in fact.”
“What about you? Did you love her, Mark?”
He looked Sally in the eye and shook his head. “How could you even ask such a thing? I’ve always loved my wife.”
“Good, glad to hear it. I had to ask; I’m sorry. We hear about so many cases where husbands and wives have fallen out of love with each other and instead of agreeing to an amicable divorce, one of the spouses does something stupid like ending the other’s life.”
“Really? What a bloody sad world we live in.”
“Indeed. Are you up to answering some questions?”
“Go on. Not sure I’m compos mentis enough to answer them fully, so you’ll have to forgive me.”
“I will. Let’s see how we go. Right, I take it your wife went out last night. Can you tell me where?”
“Out with a few of her friends. I don’t keep my wife on a chain, tied to the house, Inspector.”
His comment caused her to frown. What a strange thing to say! She smiled, not letting on that she thought his comment was somewhat out of place.
“Maybe you can let me know the names and addresses of those friends? We’ll need to chat to them ASAP, to see how the evening panned out.”
He went over to the table in the corner again and withdrew an address book. Sally took her notebook and pen from her jacket pocket. “Fire away.”
He reeled off four names accompanied by addresses: Audrey Jones, Tara Metcalfe, Nadine Thornley, and Milly Choudary.
“That’s excellent.”
Just then, the front door slammed, and a dishevelled woman in her early sixties burst into the room. Mark went to the woman and flung his arms around her. She cuddled him back with a puzzled expression covering her makeup-free face. “Whatever is the matter, child?”
With his face buried in her neck, Mark said, “She’s dead, Mum. Gemma is dead.”
The woman shot Sally a glance then pushed her son upright. “You’re not making sense, son. What do you mean, Gemma is dead?”
Sally stood, tucked her notebook into her pocket, and introduced herself to the woman. “I’m DI Sally Parker from the Norfolk Constabulary. We were called out to a scene not far from here, where your daughter-in-law was found, murdered.”
The woman’s legs wobbled beneath her, and Mark, momentarily forgetting about his own grief, supported his mother and placed her on the couch.
“Murdered? How? Why?” the woman stammered.
“That, I can’t tell you at this moment in time. We think her car was struck from behind and forced into a hedge. Looks like she might have confronted the driver of the vehicle, who possibly attacked her for speaking out, perhaps we’re looking at a severe case of road rage. That’s my initial assessment anyway.”
“Oh my. I’m not sure what to say. Where did it happen?”
“Just up the lane. I take it you got diverted at the top of the road. Sorry, I missed your name,” Sally said.
“It’s Yvette Whiting. Yes, I was diverted at the top. I had no idea why.”
“Why don’t we all take a seat? I know it’s a difficult time for you both, but I have a few questions I need to ask. The sooner I get the answers, the quicker our investigation can begin. Are you up to answering those questions today?”
Mother and son sat on the couch together, hands clasped around each other’s. Mrs. Whiting acted as the spokesperson. “If that’s the way it has to be, Inspector, then I suppose we better get on with it. Of course we want the person who did this found as soon as possible. My God, poor, poor Gemma.”
Sally dropped into the easy chair, and with her notebook at the ready once again, she asked, “What time did your wife leave the house, Mark?”
He inhaled a large breath and scratched his temple. “I think it was around seven thirty. Yes, it was. She popped her head in Samantha’s room while I was reading her a bedtime story.”
“Excellent. And you say she was meeting up with the friends you mentioned. Can you tell me where?”
“The Red Lion at Cringleford. I think they were scheduled to meet up around eightish,” Mark replied.
“That’s great. Obviously, you won’t be able to tell me what happened during the evening. I’m hoping her friends will be able to fill in the blanks there. Can you tell me if your wife has spoken about any problems lately? Such as, if she felt someone was following her, that sort of thing?”
The pair exchanged puzzled glances, then Mark shook his head. “No, can’t say I remember her mentioning anything along those lines. What about you, Mum?”
Yvette’s mouth turned down at the sides as she thought, her gaze searing a spot in the rug in front of the fireplace. After a few seconds’ delay, she looked Sally in the eye and said, “No. I can’t say I remember her discussing such a thing with me. Is that what you think, Inspector? That Gemma was stalked by a crazed man who ended her life in a country lane?”
Sally wanted to chuckle at the expression crazed man. However, she kept her face serious when she responded. “It’s definitely an avenue we’ll be pursuing. Did your wife work, outside the home I mean, Mr. Whiting?” she asked with a sensitive smile.
“No. She wanted to be at home with Samantha for as long as possible.”
“And you were agreeable to that?” Sally asked, looking down at her notebook. Her head shot up when Mrs. Whiting answered her question.
“Yes, he agreed to it, in spite of me offering to care for the child while they both went out to work.”
“Mum! Stop it. Now is not the time to start having a go about that.”
Sally’s eyes narrowed. She sensed there was an ongoing conflict between the pair about childcare issues. “Are you retired, Mrs. Whiting? Only you seem too young for that, if you don’t mind me saying.”
Yvette smiled, and her cheeks flushed the colour of a ripe cherry. “My husband is of a different generation, Inspector. He has always expected me to be at home, rearing our children. Once my children were grown up, it was nigh impossible for me to obtain a job with no experience other than child-rearing. I was hoping I’d raised my sons to think differently to their father.”
Mark withdrew his hands from the safety of his mother’s and reclined in the sofa.
Sally decided not to press the issue further for fear that it would cause a wedge between mother and son at a time when they most needed each other’s comfort. “Going back to Gemma’s night out, did she ring you perhaps during the course of the evening, Mark?”
Mrs. Whiting reclined in the sofa too and folded her arms across her chest.
Sally had a hard time figuring out if she’d upset the woman by changing the subject. The woman eyed her son carefully whilst waiting for him to reply.
“No. There was no need for her to ring me, Inspector. I told her to go out and enjoy herself. This was the first time she’d ventured out with the girls in over a year. Why? Why would anyone take my precious wife from me?”
“We’ll find out the answ
er soon enough, Mark. I’m sorry for asking such dumb questions at this time. It’s necessary to build a picture of Gemma from the outset. Would you say she was an outgoing person?”
He frowned. “Are you asking if she flirted with people?”
Sally was taken aback by his sharp retort. “That’s not exactly what I meant. I was just asking if she was the type to attract attention, in a group or was she an introvert, happy to tag along with the crowd. That sort of thing.”
“Maybe it would be best if you directed that question at her friends and not her husband, Inspector. People show different traits when they are out of view of their loved ones,” Yvette said abruptly.
“That’s a fair assumption, Mrs. Whiting. I’ll be asking her friends the same questions; don’t worry.”
A knock on the door interrupted Sally’s flow. “Come in.” Jack poked his head into the room, looking very sheepish. In the distance, Sally could hear the little girl crying. Shit! What’s happened? The couple she was questioning shot off the sofa and pushed past her partner. “What’s going on, Jack?”
“I left the table for a second to get the girl a glass of water. When I turned back, she had toppled out of the chair onto the floor.”
“What? Bloody hell, I ask you to do one simple thing…”
He shrugged. “I don’t know how it happened, boss. I’m sorry.”
“Come on. Let’s see if the kid is all right.”
They rushed into the kitchen to find Mrs. Whiting holding the crying child, smoothing her hand over the girl’s face, wiping away the youngster’s tears, and kissing the tip of her nose. Mark appeared out of his depth, standing with his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his jeans, looking relieved that his mother had taken charge of the situation. Sally wondered if grief was playing a major role in his inability to pacify his daughter himself. She was amazed that a mother’s instinct to protect always kicked in at times such as this.
Sally wondered if she might have had that same motherly instinct. In her eyes, being in a loving relationship was necessary before she embarked on having a child—and she didn’t envisage being in that situation in the near future, if ever, after ending her abusive marriage to Darryl. She shook his smarmy image from her mind and stroked Samantha’s arm. “Are you all right now, sweetie? Did you have a nasty fall?”
Sniffling, the girl clung to her grandmother’s neck and nodded. “I think so. Can Grandma stay with me?” Samantha shot Jack a distrusting glance.
Sally smiled and rubbed the little girl’s arm again. “Of course, sweetie, if that’s all right with your grandma.”
“It is. Why don’t we make some cookies? You like making Daddy his favourite cookies, don’t you, precious?”
The girl wriggled out of her grandma’s arms and, without answering her grandmother’s question, rushed over to the larder unit to pick out the ingredients she needed for the recipe.
Sally smiled at Mrs. Whiting. “We’ll continue in the lounge, if that’s all right with you?”
“Of course. Take him with you,” Yvette said, jabbing a pointed finger in Jack’s direction.
“Hey, it wasn’t my fault,” Jack bit back.
Sally pulled his sleeve and led the way back into the lounge, expecting Mark and Jack to follow her. Once the three of them were seated, she asked Jack to take notes and handed him her notebook and pen.
“Your mother is very good with Samantha, Mark.”
Mark nodded. “She idolises her. Samantha is her only grandchild.”
“That’s code for ‘the child is spoilt’, yes?” Sally asked with a chuckle.
He smiled wearily. “It is. We’d… I mean, I’d be lost without her.”
“It’s good to know that she’ll be there to support you over the coming days. You’ll be relying on her strength and help in caring for Samantha, no doubt.”
His eyes widened. “God, I never thought of that. I suppose I’ll have to give up my job to care for Samantha.”
Sally smiled. “Not that I profess to know the ins and outs of caring for a child of Samantha’s age, but isn’t she at primary school by now?”
“Yes, but she’s used to my wife being here when she gets home from school mid-afternoon. I won’t be able to do that working the job I have now.”
Sally was slightly put out by the fact that a grieving widower was already debating what to do next in regard to sorting out his work and caring for his daughter so soon after being told about his wife’s unfortunate death. Nevertheless, she pushed aside her feelings and continued. “Okay, if we can go back to where we left off, your mother answered the question before you got a chance to last time, and so I’ll repeat what I said: what sort of person was Gemma? Let me put it another way, perhaps you can tell me how you met and what attracted you to your wife in the first instance?”
Mark reclined in the sofa again and crossed his arms. “Let me see…” A smile pulled at his lips as he contemplated his response. “Well, I suppose she used to be outgoing. The type of woman who stood out on the dance floor, not in a showing-off kind of way. That’s where we met, actually. She was with a group of her friends on a hen night, and I was with a group of my mates, out on the pull.”
Sally nodded. “So you decided to take a chance with Gemma that night?”
“Yes. I asked her to join me in the last dance of the evening. She made a huge impact on my life that night, so much so that we moved in together within a month of our first date.”
“A month? Really? How did that go down with your mother? I imagine she must have been quite protective towards you throughout your childhood.”
“She was. I suppose she was shocked to begin with, but then she and Gemma became good friends. Mum always said that Gemma was like the daughter she had never conceived. Mum even helped—actually, she was instrumental—in organising our big day. Gemma and I were both grateful for Mum’s input as we were working extra hours to pay for the wedding ourselves.”
“Why was that? Isn’t that down to the bride’s parents to pay for the wedding?”
“It should be, but Gemma’s dad went off when she was only three. Her mum struggled to bring Gemma up by herself. Gemma’s mum used to work two jobs just to cover the household bills every month.”
“I see. What about her father? Surely he paid maintenance?”
“No. He left them high and dry, even went to live in Spain with his new floozy. That’s the reason Gemma wanted to stay at home with Samantha. She felt as though she’d missed out growing up. She knew her mother loved her, did everything she could to make up for not having her father around, but Gemma still felt that she missed out a great deal in life. It made her more determined than ever to ensure that Samantha didn’t miss out on knowing who her mother was.”
“Things were that bad during Gemma’s childhood?”
“No, don’t get me wrong. Her childhood was a very happy one. She just longed to see, and be with, her mother more, rather than be farmed out to neighbours after school. She loved her mother dearly for the personal sacrifices she made in order for Gemma to live in a loving home, to have decent food on the table, and clothes on her back.”
“I see. Is her father still alive? Did she have any contact with him?”
Mark’s eyes narrowed and started to twitch. “He swans into her life now and again. Mainly when he wants to brag about something. Everything is fine between them for a few months until Ray starts chipping away at her self-esteem.”
“Really? In what way?” Sally asked, not quite believing that a father could do that to his own daughter. Maybe she was just lucky in that respect, coming from a loving home, bestowed with an abundance of affection from both of her parents. She had a hard job deciding whom she was closest to. Each of her parents had different qualities, but both of them had always put her needs above their own when she was growing up. Perhaps Sally being an only child had something to do with the way her parents had treated her.
“He’s all over her when he first crawls back into her l
ife, pleads with her to forgive him for the way he’s treated her over the years, then when he’s worked his way into her affections again—bam.” Mark clicked his fingers. “That’s when his true colours come to the fore, and he just starts criticising everything she does. The last time he visited, they had an almighty row because he slapped Samantha on the legs for being naughty. I came home from work to find Gemma pinning her father to the wall in the kitchen with her hand around his throat. I literally had to drag her off him.”
“Sounds like a real charmer. We’ll need his address, too.”
He opened the address book again, flipped to a specific page, then read out Raymond Lord’s home address for Jack to note down.
“What happened to their relationship after that incident?”
“I ended up kicking him out of the house. Gemma was beside herself, not for her sake, but because he’d struck Samantha. She was inconsolable for days. I told her to forget about him. Samantha doesn’t need a bully like that in her life.”
“Was Gemma abused by her father during her childhood?”
He winced and tutted. “We never really discussed it. Her childhood was always reflected upon as being happier once her father had left the marital home. I have no idea what occurred when he lived with Gemma and her mum, Heather, full time.”
“I’ll see if I can obtain a better insight into the father-child relationship from her mother when we visit her later.”
“Yeah, Heather will be better than me at filling in the gaps in Gemma’s past. I’m sorry; my mind is all over the place right now.”
“There’s no need to apologise. I think we have enough to be going on with for the time being. We’ll leave you to care for your daughter. If anything comes to mind that you think we should know about in the next few days, will you contact me?” Sally handed him one of her cards as they all rose from their seats and moved towards the lounge door.
