Dead to Me

by Pamela Murray

  ‘Just to get a feel of the place,’ Burton lied. If he’d told her the real reason why he and a few of the CSI team wanted to visit, he felt that she’d beat them to it and dispose of any evidence, assuming, that is, she was guilty of anything. He’d produce the warrant when he was standing at the door, preferably with one foot well and truly wedged in.

  ‘Well then, how about three o’clock?’

  ‘Three o’clock it is then.’

  ‘Right,’ he said after the call ended, ‘let’s arrange for the warrant and also get onto CSI to meet us at the Northern Quarter address.’

  ‘Sorry, I appear to have again taken over,’ he apologised to Fielding, as Summers set off to take care of the documentation needed.

  ‘Like I said to you last time, it’s okay. But, please, don’t do it again!’ she said with a wink.

  ‘I’ll try not to!’

  ‘I’m sure you can do better than try,’ she laughed.

  ‘All right, all right!’ Burton held both arms up in the air in defeat. ‘I’ll definitely not do it again, okay?’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Despite Burton’s attempts not to get involved, Fielding enjoyed the fact that he was. He was temporarily free from shadowing the DCI for a couple of days, so she welcomed him joining her and Summers.

  When they pulled up close to the business premises of Madame Ortiz, the CSI team was already waiting by the door in an unmarked van. There was also a police van, which Burton knew to contain the sniffer dog. As the teams alighted from their vehicles, so did the CSI technicians, two men and one woman. Fielding recognised the woman as Holly, and gave her a little wave of acknowledgement. She waved back. When they were all together outside, including the dog and its handler, Fielding produced the warrant and gave them instructions as to what they needed them to do. She could see Burton was straining a bit to say something, but he managed to bite his lip and let her get on with it. She knew it must have been hard for him to do so as, after all, he had spent the last eight years taking the lead and giving her the instructions. Things were now different, and would be changing dramatically going forward. She wondered just how often he’d be tempted to join the team and tag along on a case. Only time would tell presumably. But if he did, she’d be more than happy for him to do so.

  ‘We’re looking for water carafes,’ she said to the forensic techs, ‘and any traces of digitalis in them. We know that they’ve very likely been washed out by now, but if anything at all could be found we’d greatly appreciate it.’

  ‘We’ll also check the place thoroughly for any other traces of it,’ the lead member of the team said.

  At which point Burton pressed the intercom button on the door and waited for an answer.

  ‘It’s Detective Inspector Joe Burton,’ he said into the speaker when it was answered.

  ‘Just come on up, detective,’ Marilyn Parkinson buzzed him in, completely unaware that it would not just be him entering the building.

  As they were going up the stairs, Marilyn appeared on the landing smiling. Her smile left her face when she saw what was beneath her. Instead of just Burton, she was greeted by a whole host of people making their way towards her. Fielding edged to one side of Burton and held up the warrant for her to see. To say she looked annoyed would be something of an understatement.

  ‘You tricked me,’ Marilyn said in a scathing tone, staring hard at Burton.

  ‘No, not really. I said that I wanted to speak to you at your business premises and that is still the case.’

  For once, the astrologer was lost for words. Still facing him, she backed along the corridor towards the reception area.

  ‘And what is this?’ she demanded of Fielding, pointing at the warrant when they reached the room.

  ‘We need to check the premises for any signs of poison, Ms Parkinson,’ the detective said matter-of-factly.

  ‘For what? What do you mean you need to check for poison?’

  ‘Exactly that,’ Fielding continued. ‘We believe that there may be toxic substances here and we have acquired a legal right to search for them.’

  ‘You have to be kidding?’ Marilyn looked at Burton, but he remained resolute, unflinching from the task in hand. No low-cut dresses or shirts would ever distract him from his work, no matter how hard she may try. And yes, he had noticed that she was again displaying ‘a little too much cleavage’ for his benefit, as Fielding had not too delicately put it.

  There were only three rooms on the first floor – the reception area, the consulting room, and a small kitchen. There was also a small toilet room.

  ‘We need the carafes,’ Fielding said to the forensic technicians, ‘and a thorough search for anything suspicious looking.’

  At this point, Marilyn Parkinson seemed resolved to the situation and took a seat in the reception room.

  Everyone was very thorough. Now and again they thought that the dog had discovered something interesting as it lingered at certain points for a little longer, but then moved on again.

  CSI found three carafes in total, all in the kitchen. All had been cleaned. Although Burton had expected them to be, he was still upset that they were. Nevertheless, they began testing them in situ for any particle traces. He always remembered the words spoken by a forensic scientist in one of the compulsory training lectures in his early days on the force – trust science, because no matter how much an item has been cleaned, there’s always something a forensic team can pick up.

  As Fielding was monitoring everything, Burton kept a close eye on Ms Parkinson to make sure she didn’t attempt to leave. He needn’t have worried as she just sat quietly on the chair and occasionally looked up as people came and went in the room. She didn’t speak, and she didn’t move. Burton couldn’t tell if it was out of fear or complacence or neither as she was very hard to read, but it seemed she wasn’t too bothered by them looking through her stuff.

  Being only a three-room property, the examination of it took less time than expected. Despite the words of Burton’s former lecturer, CSI didn’t find anything either on or in the carafes, nor did the sniffer dog make a spectacular discovery. So, in Fielding’s mind, that only meant one thing: there was nothing to be found and perhaps never had been. That being the case, if Maria Turnbull hadn’t been poisoned during her evening out, how long before had she been given the poison? Too bad Dr Adamson had specifically said that the time of ingestion couldn’t be determined. It made things more complicated.

  When Fielding returned to the waiting room she called out to Burton, and he moved away from Marilyn Parkinson to hear what she had to say. ‘There’s nothing we can charge her with I’m afraid,’ she said.

  ‘So, what now?’ she asked.

  ‘Back to the station I fear.’

  ‘I thought that you’d say that, and I agree. I also think that we’ll have to review what we know so far.’

  Marilyn Parkinson still didn’t look happy as she showed them out and took the opportunity to tell them so. ‘You know you could have just asked to come and take a look around without having to go through all this,’ she said, acerbically as she watched them leave.

  ‘Just following protocol,’ Burton said without looking back, continuing down the stairs as he spoke.

  ‘I think we’ve just made ourselves an enemy,’ Fielding said when they were back in the car.

  Burton just shrugged. ‘I’m sure we’ve made plenty in our time, so one more isn’t going to hurt.’

  It was then that Fielding received another setback, this time from the young forensic technician, Holly. She informed the detective that the hair sample had been fast-tracked, but no DNA information was on record.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  ‘We need to look at this from a different angle,’ Fielding said to the team back at the station. Burton would now be with them for a few days on a full-time basis as DCI Ambleton was away taking leave owed to her. Although he’d told Fielding that she was still in charge an
d to only consider him as another team member, it was something she knew she’d have difficulty with. She’d still look upon him as her go-to person, even when he was formally promoted, and she’d still be seeking his advice as and when she needed to. Did this mean that she was not ready to fulfil her new role then? Burton would say that it was just the uncertainty surrounding the period of transition. He knew that she was ready, as did DCI Ambleton. Fielding hoped for all their sakes that they were right.

  ‘I know that we haven’t got anything on Maria’s friends or Madame Ortiz, and can’t prove anything one way or another, but I still don’t trust any of them,’ Jack Summers said emphatically when they reassessed the situation.

  ‘I agree,’ Fielding replied, ‘but we’ll still have to consider them as suspects though.’

  ‘Of course, there is one person we haven’t properly questioned yet.’ Fielding knew Burton so well, and knew that it wouldn’t be long before he could resist a comment. ‘Maria Turnbull’s husband,’ he continued.

  ‘I know he was in no fit state previously but I do think we need to pay him another visit. If we can’t find anything to link the others to the murder then we’ll have to seriously consider him a suspect.’

  ‘Would you like me to ring him and make an appointment to go over?’ Summers volunteered. Fielding nodded affirmatively.

  ‘Listen Joe,’ she said, turning to face Burton, ‘what if Louise Simmons’s theory is correct?’

  ‘You mean the theory that only one person was the intended target of the killer, and the rest were just to throw us off the trail?’ Burton asked.

  ‘Yes. So, supposing Maria was the main target all along, we then have to ask ourselves who would want to kill her?’

  ‘Someone who has tried hard to pin the blame on the fortune teller by killing further victims.’

  ‘Who then, out of all of them, would have a good cause to do that?’ she speculated, ‘and, perhaps more importantly, why would they do it?’

  ‘There must be something we’re missing. I know nine times out of ten a victim’s killer is someone who is very close to them, so could it be the husband do you think?’

  ‘But why would he want to? We’ve learned nothing so far that would lead us to think that he did it.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know!’ Burton was stumped.

  ‘It’s like Louise said,’ she continued, ‘there are too many suspects and no motives.’

  ‘Well, we now know that the suspects and all the victims knew one another, so there has to be a reason for it . . . we just need to work out what that is.’

  Burton fell silent trying to take it all in, but then announced that there was to be another press conference that afternoon.

  ‘Oh no, I don’t think I could go through that again!’ Fielding didn’t relish the prospect of another wrangle with the press and media so soon after the last.

  ‘You don’t have to,’ Burton said to her, ‘I can handle it if you like? If John Turnbull says it’s okay to go over then you and Summers can go by yourselves.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course.

  ‘Rather you than me,’ she quipped, thinking that she’d agreed to that far too readily. His only response was a wry smile.

  ‘I could only get through to his mother,’ Summers said upon returning. ‘John is picking up his in-laws from the airport and taking them back to his own house apparently.’

  ‘I’m surprised he’s able to do that,’ Burton remarked. He wouldn’t have thought Turnbull would have been capable of going anywhere judging by how he’d been when he and Fielding had last seen him.

  ‘Maybe he just needs to get out of the house,’ Fielding offered. ‘Plus, he’s going to collect Maria’s parents. I suspect that will be a hard meeting.’

  ‘True. In that case, I’d still go to see the mother first.’

  Fielding raised an eyebrow, which didn’t escape Burton.

  ‘Just for some information on him and his marriage. How did he meet Maria, was their relationship okay, any worries, that sort of thing?’

  ‘Okay. It can’t do any harm, can it? You know, Joe, we’re really struggling with this case. It seems that we’re getting nowhere fast. If we could only pinpoint the time of Maria’s death, that would make things easier, and we’d be in a far better position than we are now.’

  ‘I know we would. That’s the one major problem we have. If you don’t mind, I think I might give Adamson a call and pop over to see him after the press conference and try to see if there’s a way around that.’

  ‘No, I don’t mind at all. In fact, I’d be very happy if you did.’

  ‘Right, that’s done then.’

  ***

  While Burton was bracing himself for his meeting with the press, Fielding and Summers headed off to John Turnbull’s mother. Hopefully, his father might also join in this time, but judging by how he was when they saw him last, Fielding didn’t hold out much hope. Unsurprisingly, the death of his daughter-in-law had hit him hard, and if retreating into himself helped him get through that she couldn’t really blame him. Different people react differently to death, and had their own way of coping with it. She’d seen it over and over again, and probably would do so for the foreseeable future.

  John Turnbull’s mother welcomed them into her house.

  ‘Come through, but I’m afraid John’s had to go to the airport,’ she said as she led them into her living room.

  ‘Yes, I know. I believe you told my sergeant here that when he rang you.’

  ‘Did I?’ she asked vaguely as she turned to Summers.

  Fielding could see that she was still unsettled.

  ‘And your husband, where is he, Mrs Turnbull?’ she was concerned.

  ‘He’s having a bit of a lie down. Not feeling too well. I think he’s coming down with something or other.’

  Her speech was short and jerky, and Fielding knew that, despite her outward strength, the woman was in a mess on the inside. She obviously was trying to carry on as normal, probably for both her son and husband, but you could tell she was struggling with her own demons.

  ‘Have you been to see a doctor, Mrs Turnbull?’ Fielding asked gently.

  ‘Me . . . see a doctor . . . why on earth would I want to see a doctor?’

  ‘Well, you’ve had a bit of a shock, haven’t you? It can’t have been easy for any of you.’ The detective was trying to be delicate.

  ‘I’m fine, I’m fine,’ Mrs Turnbull repeated, somewhat edgily. It was more than enough for Fielding to think that she wasn’t fine at all. Despite the denial, the detective believed that underneath the increasingly agitated exterior was a volcano waiting to erupt.

  ‘Shall we sit down and have a little chat?’ Fielding sat down on the sofa without waiting to be asked, and Summers followed suit. She hoped that her action would not appear rude and that Mrs Turnbull would do the same – which she did. It was only then that she appeared to let go of the forced put-on for the world.

  ‘It’s been such a shock,’ she began, and Fielding could hear her voice beginning to break. ‘I know that we haven’t known Maria that long, but we’ve both, my husband and I, grown to love her. She is, well, she was part of the family. I can’t imagine what John’s going to do without her, I really can’t.’

  ‘Tell me how they met,’ Fielding coaxed.

  ‘Oh,’ Mrs Turnbull wiped a tear from her cheek, ‘they met through John’s work. I remember he told us that he’d worked on and off with one of her friends, something to do with the business side of things I believe, and Maria had come along to one of John’s staff parties with her.’

  ‘Can you recall the friend’s name?’

  ‘Carol, or Caroline I think, something like that.’

  Fielding and Summers exchanged quick glances.

  ‘They just hit it off from the start. I have to say I was slightly surprised when he announced they were going to be married – we’d only met her a couple of
times and there they were about to tie the knot. But I suppose that’s the way these days; the young ones don’t seem to want to wait for anything. Back in my day it was a long spell of courting and asking parents for permission, but I guess that’s all changed now.’

  ‘And they got on okay?’ Summers asked.

  Mrs Turnbull looked surprised. ‘Well, of course they did. That’s an odd thing to ask, detective.’

  ‘Just routine,’ he said to her.

  ‘What about Maria’s parents? Your son said that they’d retired early and gone to live abroad.’

  ‘That’s right. I’m not really sure what it was that they did, but it must have earned them a lot of money for them to be able to retire as early like that.’ She pulled a face at that last part, which Fielding picked up on.

  ‘I sense something there; something you’re unhappy about?’

  Mrs Turnbull shuffled uncomfortably. ‘Well, it’s just . . . we lost quite a bit of money about ten years ago. We used to be fairly well off, but then my husband was lured in by this investment company a friend of his told him about. I was a bit dubious at the time and told him to do more research, but he went ahead and invested in it anyway. Said it sounded almost too good to be true. As you can imagine, it was. We lost everything, absolutely everything, our house, our savings, the lot, and had to come and live here.’ She waved a hand around at her surroundings as if embarrassed by it.

  ‘We could never afford anything much after that. My husband felt so guilty about it, and we went through a very bad patch in our relationship, but when the money was gone it was gone, wasn’t it? In the end I resigned myself to the fact and tried to carry on and pick up the pieces as best as I could. We just don’t talk about it these days; it would only serve to bring back unwanted bad memories.’

  ‘Couldn’t you have taken the company to court?’ Summers asked.

  ‘Do you think we didn’t try? Oh, we tried to, of course we did, but the company went into receivership and was declared bankrupt. Our solicitor said there was nothing we could do after that.’