by Emily Selby
Katie clasped her hands together. 'Okay, not to worry Let's go in and clean it, shall we?'
'Alright, alright,' Mrs Weatherspoon said and finally made a step towards the door behind her. 'You see, he's very clean and neat, Mr Blackburn,' she continued, fiddling with the key. 'I would have normally waited until his return, but the smell has got worse over the last week, and I don't want to leave it like that for Christmas. In case, you know, it's... well, I don’t know what it could be.'
'Really, Mrs Weatherspoon, it isn’t a problem,' Katie replied automatically.
The elderly lady unlocked the door and pushed it open. Katie stepped closer and took a deep breathe through her nose. Indeed, there was a distinct waft of something more than just the stale air in the room.
Mrs Weatherspoon waved her hand in front of her face. 'Oh dear!' she said.
Katie squeezed past her client. 'Let's have a look. It's like rotting potatoes,' she said, searching the darkened room.
This was the first time Katie had seen the inside of the lodger’s bedroom. Tiny dust particles danced in the morning light filtering through the window. It was quite a good size and modestly furnished. A sofa-bed, a table with four chairs, a wall unit with a TV, two shelves filled with books, a wardrobe, and a chest of drawers.
Everything neat and tidy, with the only items disrupting the order being: an open notebook on the table, a number of hand sanitiser bottles standing on various surfaces, a brown paper bag on the floor by the wall unit, and a brass cupboard knob lying beside it.
A dark spot marred the side of the bag.
'I think I've found the culprit, Mrs Weatherspoon.' Katie glanced the bag. Thank goodness, it wasn't another corpse! Something she read or heard about the toxicity of the gas emitted by rotting potatoes flashed in her mind. 'I think we'd better let some fresh air in,' she said and rushed to the window. She pulled it open, knocking a bottle of hand sanitiser to the floor. She picked it up, together with a plastic pump, which must have come from another bottle - probably the one that stood cut open on the chest of drawers in the corner.
'Oh, dear,' Mrs Weatherspoon moaned. 'I didn't realise it was this bad.'
Katie brought a bucket from the hallway and placed the paper bag with the offensive vegetables carefully inside.
'How long has your boarder been away?' Katie asked, moving the bucket outside the main door. She'd dump it in the rubbish bin on her way out.
'Since his birthday party. That must have been toward the end of November, a week after George's funeral.'
'He had a birthday party? Here? The room doesn't look like it at all.'
Mrs Weatherspoon sighed. 'He would have never left dirty cups or crumbs lying around. Whatever little party he had, he cleaned afterwards, as he usually does. He also washed the dishes,' she added quietly.
Katie leant against the doorframe, taking in another sweeping view of Mr Blackburn's room.
'Is there anything else you would want me to do here? I think you may need to leave the window open for a while. I'd also turn the heaters off if you're planning to be away. With the heating on, the potatoes went off much quicker.'
Mrs Weatherspoon fiddled with the hemline of her apron.
'I'm not sure, Katie. He doesn't normally leave food behind. Maybe we should have a look if there is anything else...'
'That’s a good idea,' Katie pushed herself away from the frame keen to jump into action. Any action brought her closer to finishing whatever Mrs Weatherspoon had in mind for her on this strange Monday morning. Katie bent to pick the brass knob from the floor. She inspected the carpet where the paper bag had been.
'I think we need to wash this little spot. I'll get onto it right away. Where would you like me to put the knob?' She held up the said item.
'On the shelf by the TV, dear. I’m sure he'll fix it when he gets back.'
'I'll get a bowl with some soap,' Katie said and trotted out to the kitchen. By the time she returned, Mrs Weatherspoon was standing near the TV shelf, turning the knob in her hand and shaking her head.
'It's strange. He would normally fix it straight away. You see, he's a little ... peculiar when it comes to keeping things in order. This knob has fallen off the cupboard door before. He has his own little fridge inside. I wonder if he'd meant to put the potatoes in the fridge, but the knob fell off,' Mrs Weatherspoon said quietly, still shaking her head as if in disbelief. 'This would make sense, if he was in a hurry. But he hates being in a hurry.' She fiddled with the knob some more and then looked up at Katie. A deep line furrowed her forehead. 'He gets stressed when you hurry him. That's why I went away for that weekend when he was planning his birthday party. Sixtieth. I wanted to leave him alone, so he could get on with whatever he needed to do. You see,' she paused again and pursed her lips. 'He has to do things his way, and if ever he’s interrupted, he gets confused and has to start all over. It's painful to watch.'
Katie knelt by the stain and scrubbed it clean with a hard-backed sponge soaked in disinfectant.
'I don't know him at all, I must say. I've never seen him around when cleaning your house. Is he any relation to Erin Blackburn?' Katie asked. 'She comes to Paper Crafts Club meetings sometimes.'
'Ah, Erin. Yes,' Mrs Weatherspoon said, clearly distracted. 'She’s his daughter. They're not close. He's not close to any of his family.'
Katie lifted her head.
'Who came to his birthday party?'
'Two people, not more. He talked about inviting Erin, but ... I’m not sure she came. I think he was keen to reconnect with her after being estranged for so long. He also mentioned an old friend coming over and alluded he had a job for him. And then he sent me a postcard that he was staying with that friend for a while.'
Katie pricked her ears. Something didn't quite add up in this story. 'Has he ever done that before?'
'No, you see... this was strange. He's not a sociable person. Keeps himself to himself. It takes him hours to get ready if he goes out, even for a walk.' Mrs Weatherspoon sighed again. 'That's why this bag of potatoes is bothering me. And the knob. He must have been rushed to leave it like that.' She drew her eyebrows together.
A thought crossed Katie's mind.
'Are you saying it was out of character for him to leave the room in this state?'
'Absolutely, my dear.'
Katie climbed to her feet, wiping her hands on her jeans.
'I wonder if there is something in his diary,' she said and strode to the table, before Mrs Weatherspoon, or in fact, her own conscious could protest. The diary was opened to the 27 - 28 November, with only one note on the left-hand page.
'1, St Dr, by 3 pm.' She read out. 'Looks like he had an appointment or something.'
'Maybe it was the job he mentioned,' Mrs Weatherspoon mused.
Katie moved away from the table before curiosity made her to turn the page. She forced herself to return to her task of cleaning the stain.
'He was rushed to the appointment. The knob fell off, he didn't have the time to fix it, so he left the bag of potatoes on the floor, intending to put it into the fridge later. But he hadn't. Instead, he left to stay with his friend.'
'That's right. He wrote it on the card I received, I think.'
Katie nodded. A heavy doubt settled in the pit of her stomach. Strange, how her stomach had become the main indication of hunches. As if, indeed, gut feelings actually did come from the gut.
'What about the rent?'
'Oh, he's paying it, no problems. He has a direct debit from his bank account.'
'Have you tried contacting him?'
'Yes. I rang him a couple of times after I received his card, but his phone just kept ringing. And then, last night when I arrived home and caught that awful stench. But his phone is turned off.'
A phone turned off...
'Have you checked with his family?'
'I phoned his daughter last night, but she was under the impression her dad was away at a friend's place. She hasn't seen him since his birthday.'
'On Sunday, I think. I returned on Tuesday, but he wasn't in. I received the card a couple of days later, maybe on the Wednesday.'
Katie chewed on her cheek. Fair enough, she might have become a bit biased, but this was looking increasingly unusual.
'Have you told anyone about him having gone missing?'
'No, no... Not really. I mean, I might have mentioned it to someone. Wait a minute, this lady from the church, who works in the garden centre, what's her name? Ah, Dorothy! She asked me a couple of weeks ago. She sees him often on his bike trips. He cycles past the centre and, once a week, pops inside the centre, as he says, to commune with nature without getting dirty. So, Dorothy asked me where he was because she hadn't seen him for a while. I might have mentioned he was away.'
That explained a strange comment Dorothy made to Katie last week when she shared the news about finding Keith Starr's body.
But back to the here and now...
'I think you may need to inform the police.'
Blood drained from Mrs Weatherspoon’s already pale face. 'P-police?' she whispered. 'I don't think that's necessary. I'll ring his daughter again and let her deal with it. I have her number somewhere.'
She hurried from the room.
Katie wiped the suds from the carpet and cocked her head.
'Looks clean to me,' she murmured and climbed to her feet, collecting the bowl and the brush.
A quick glance at her watch told her she should hurry up if she didn't want to be later for work. It was taking her a while to adjust to her new later start and later finish working hours on Mondays and Thursdays.
Katie carried the bowl and cleaning stuff into the kitchen. Mrs Weatherspoon was standing by the window with a phone receiver in her hand.
'Do you really think I should contact the police? I'm not sure if it's a good idea to ring his daughter,' she said, a look of painful hesitation on her face. 'When I rang her yesterday, she seemed quite annoyed. As if she didn't want to have anything to do with her father.'
Katie rinsed the bowl and put it on the draining board.
'As I said, I think you should ring the police. He's been missing for three weeks. It’s out of character for him.'
'Alright, I'll do it,' Mrs Weatherspoon said, fiddling with the phone.
'Good idea,' Katie said, smiling with encouragement. 'If you're okay with this, I'd like to leave now.' Katie grabbed her jacket and her handbag from the hall on her way out. 'I'll throw the bag in the rubbish bin outside.'
Mrs Weatherspoon nodded absentmindedly, staring at the phone.
Katie walked out of the house and a minute later, she was back in her car, heading to work. If she was lucky, Jack would still be at the station. Her heart tripped at the thought.
3
And he was! The first person she saw upon entering the staffroom was DI Jack Heaton dressed in his steel blue trousers and sporting a dark blue jumper over his crisp white shirt!
So, it worked well! He's even put the jumper on.
'Morning, everyone,' Katie said, with a tiny bit of regret at having missed the surprise birthday celebration. On the other hand, she had spent a lovely Saturday evening with DI Heaton without anyone else to interfere. And she hoped to meet him for another dinner date soon.
'Sorry, we had to start without you,' Chris Fox replied, walking up to her and putting his hand on her shoulder. 'The boss had to leave at 9.30 and he really wanted to be part of it.'
'No problem,' Katie said, her throat a little too tight for comfort. 'How was it?' she asked, looking at Jack.
He beamed. 'A nice surprise! Did you knit this?' he tugged at the sleeve of his new jumper.
'No, but I made the card.'
'The card is lovely, too,' he added.
Did he wink at her or was it wishful thinking?
'Yeah, and I think he's got the message,' Chris said and chuckled. 'We'll see on Friday. Don’t forget it’s casual Friday, sir,' he added, looking at Jack.
'I remember,' Jack replied. He shut his laptop and put it into his briefcase. 'No offence, guys but I don't think I'll be coming back any time soon.'
Katie's heart fell into her shoes.
'Come on,' she said, keeping her voice from trembling. 'I'm sure you come back on a friendly visit.'
'Yes, on a friendly visit - always. I might even pop in this Friday to show off my new outfit,' Jack replied. 'But no more murders for me, please. And please don’t stage anything.'
Katie shrugged.
'I wasn't planning to. Actually, I didn't plan, stage or have anything to do with any of the murders I discovered,' she said.
'What about that new guy, this morning?' Chris cut in. He grabbed a piece of paper from the photocopier.
'I didn't recognise him. The body is quite decomposed. There are a few men in their sixties on the missing person's list who roughly match the description, but I can't see anyone local. We may need to go through dental records.'
Katie inhaled sharply.
'I don't think you need to. And I don't think you'll find his name on the missing person's list,' she said, surprised how clear and certain her voice sounded. That tugging in her stomach returned again. 'He's not been reported as missing yet.'
Jack's and Chris's heads turned to look at her.
'What do you mean by that?' Jack asked, his voice sounding less warm and much more official.
'I hope his landlady will call soon,' Katie explained.
'His landlady?' Chris and Jack said in unison.
'Do you know him? Who is he? What makes you think the body is the missing man?' Jack rattled off his questions. His eyes were piercing her.
'I think it's Archie Blackburn. And the answer to your last question is a bit silly,' Katie said, crossing her arms. 'Let me put it this way,' she added. 'I've just had a hunch.'
'Who's this Archie Blackburn and why would he be lying dead in an old, dilapidated house?' Jack asked.
'Archie Blackburn?' Chris asked, slowly running his hands through his strawberry blonde hair. 'The strange old guy who lodges with the elderly lady... what's her name?'
'Irene Weatherspoon. Yes, that's him. He's been missing since the end of November. I‘m guessing his last appointment was at Number 1, Stream Drive, a little before 3 pm on the 27th November.'
'How do you know?' Jack asked her, clearly stunned by the information.
'I took a peek into his diary, which was lying open, on the table. That was the only thing written for that date. You need to talk to Mrs Weatherspoon. She'll tell you all about it.'
Jack shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. 'I did say something about staging another murder, didn't I?'
'You don't think I did it, do you?' Katie asked, staring back at him. How on earth could she have done that?
'You've got talent, lass,' Chris said gravely. 'I'd better get onto it. I'll start with Mrs Weatherspoon.' Chris hurried across the room and grabbed the phone from his desk. 'Do you happen to know her number?'
Katie thought of Mrs Weatherspoon fussing over putting unnecessary pressure on the police forces. Maybe she should warn her?
'She’s a little nervous. Best I give her a ring first,' she offered and reached for her mobile. 'By the way, what did you find at the site?'
'The man has been dead for about three weeks. Maybe more,' Chris replied. 'It looks like an accident, something wrong with the construction of the house. The forensics team is still at the scene. It's difficult. There's a lot of dust and rubble in there.'
Katie shifted her gaze to Jack. He was still standing with his hands in his pocket rocking on his feet, looking into the distance.
'Is it a suspicious death?' she asked him.
'That's how we're treating it at the moment, but it was probably an accident. This house should have been demolished years ago. Is there any clarity on what is happening with it?'
'Not that we k
now of,' Katie replied. She probably needed to check the local grapevine for updates.
'Why would he be there?' Jack asked, looking at Katie intensely.
Katie shifted from foot to foot. 'I've no idea, but let me call Mrs Weatherspoon, she should be able to fill you in.'
The elderly lady answered almost immediately.
'Have you called the police yet?' Katie asked although she already knew the answer.
'I tried the daughter first, but she's not answering her phone,' Mrs Weatherspoon replied. 'Why are you asking, Katie?' Her voice broke into an anxious pitch.
Katie paused and looked at the two policemen in the room. Bother, she had forgotten to think up her lines once again.
'I think you should report to the police. Now,' she added and handed to the phone over to Chris.
Katie was just a clerk, not a police officer. Handling delicate matters were[was] not part of her job.
She leant on the door to her office watching Chris carefully and shifting her gaze from Chris to Jack. Chris' forehead glistened. He'd be fine as long as Mrs Weatherspoon didn't cry...
Jack walked up to her. 'Are you okay?' he asked quietly.
'Yes, why?'
'Finding another dead body. It's never pleasant.'
Katie winced at the thought. 'This one is probably the most unpleasant of them all. Let's not talk about it. That jumper looks nice on you.' She glanced at his broad shoulders.
'Thanks, I … yes. Was it your choice?'
A warm wave crept onto her face. 'No. I-I... It was Chris who came up with the idea, and I think Celia helped him shop for it. I wanted to be part of it, but unfortunately, got caught up in a murder investigation,' she said with a grin. Yeah, she should have. 'Sorry. But I've made the card.'
'You made me two cards,' he replied, watching her intently. 'And I had such a great time on Saturday.'
'So did I … we must do it again sometime.'
'When?' His blue eyes were now piercing her. Her knees softened, her pulse accelerated.
