To Die For (DI Sam Cobbs Book 1)

by M A Comley

  Staring down at the victim, Sam shook her head, dismayed and disgusted that some fucker had deliberately chosen to take the old man’s life. “Am I right in thinking that you’re discounting suicide on this one?”

  “Yes, that goes without saying.”

  “What’s your take on how this went down, Des, or is it too difficult for you to give us that?”

  A breathless Bob appeared in the doorway and let out a whistle. Sam turned to see him surveying the poor dog’s remains. “Jesus, never seen that before. Poor pup. Umm… poor victim too, but why bloody kill the dog at the same time?”

  “Stop digging yourself into a hole,” Sam reprimanded her partner.

  Bob came to stand beside her and muttered an apology. The room suddenly felt as though it was ten times smaller than its actual size, now that there were six of them packed into it. Three techs busied themselves with equipment on the other side of the room by the window. One of them had a camera in his hand, ready to get started once Des gave him the go-ahead. Sam continued to scan the room. She noticed most of the drawers and the wardrobe doors were open. “Looks like the murderer was possibly searching for something.”

  “Could it have been a burglary gone wrong?” Bob replied, his gaze following hers.

  “That would be my first assumption,” Des offered. He then pointed at the gun lying on the victim’s bloody chest. “We’re going to need to do the necessary on the weapon, see who it belonged to. My guess would be it’s the old man’s. He probably had it either beside his bed or under it and pulled it out, intending to use it on the intruder. Of course, they should be locked away at all times, but many people don’t.”

  “But the intruder snatched it out of his hand before he got a chance to aim it, is that what you’re telling us?” Sam asked, glancing at the dog and then back at the victim.

  “Possibly,” Des said. “Maybe the intruder shot the dog before it attacked him, then when the old man wouldn’t hand over what he was looking for, he finished off the victim with a couple of blasts. Either way, it was overkill to me, what harm could an old man do?”

  “Plenty with a shotgun in his hand,” Bob chipped in.

  “Granted. He would have needed to have reloaded the weapon too.” Des admitted.

  Sam had remained quiet and was busy assessing the scene herself. “Not a burglary, as such. What if it was someone he knew and they came here intentionally looking for something? Who was a dab hand with a shotgun.”

  “Again, another possibility we shouldn’t rule out,” Des replied. He stood and shook his legs out. “All right, Ken, do your thing. Cover every angle and yes, that includes the dog as well.”

  The tech holding the camera took a few paces towards them. Sam dug her partner in the ribs and eased around the room, out of the tech’s way.

  “Thanks,” Ken smiled and raised the camera. He fired off several shots before he changed position again and took another ten more shots.

  Doing her best to avoid touching either of the bodies, Sam squeezed past Des and one of the technicians and peered into the wardrobe. The musty smell hit her, reminding her of the place she used to hide in when she was knee-high to a gnat at her grandparents’ house and her grandfather suggested playing hide and seek with her and her siblings. The wardrobe was always her choice and the first place her granddad checked. Game over, but it hadn’t mattered because then she was able to join in the fun, searching for her siblings, Mike and Crystal.

  It was funny how certain smells transported you back to your past. Admittedly, it didn’t happen that often, but when it did…

  “Are you all right? Something wrong?” Bob whispered, his brow knitted with concern.

  “No, I’m fine. Just reliving old memories of when I was a kid, that’s all.”

  “I’m surprised you can remember that far back.”

  She slapped his forearm. “Do you mind, I’m thirty-one, not bloody sixty-one, arsehole.”

  “Now, now children, this isn’t a playground,” Des shouted playfully from the other side of the room.

  “Duly noted, thanks for the reminder,” Sam replied, glaring at Bob, warning him to behave.

  He placed a flattened hand to his chest. “What did I do?”

  “You breathed. That was enough to tick me off.”

  His mouth opened and closed. She sensed he was grasping for some kind of witty retort. In the end, he settled for one word, “Charming!”

  Sam got back to the task of searching through the wardrobe, her blue-gloved hands lifting several items out from the bottom shelf. They consisted of a couple of pairs of best shoes, that had been polished to within an inch of their lives, and a spare shoe box that was lying at an angle, its lid removed and what appeared to be its contents strewn across the bottom of the wardrobe. Clearly, someone was looking for something specific, or were they?

  “What’s that?” Bob came up behind her and asked.

  “Just a box, maybe there was something significant inside.”

  “Perhaps, maybe we’ll never know. Not unless his family can tell us. Is it some kind of keepsake box?”

  “Seems to be.” Sam rummaged some more, but found nothing of interest. With the smell now making her want to sneeze, she stood and turned to begin her search of the chest of drawers. She motioned for Bob to help her take out the heavy drawers—an old trick she’d been taught in police training college was to check inside and out of all furniture when searching for clues. That included old chests of drawers which sometimes had hidey-holes created in maybe a side section or in the bottom of one of the drawers. Together, they removed each of the drawers and Sam searched underneath.

  “Bingo, this one has a false bottom.” She slid the outer piece of wood out of the way, and inside, she found a large envelope.

  Des came to join them, his six-foot frame towering over her five feet five inches, five-eight in heels. “Interesting. What made you look there?”

  She shrugged. “A mixture of training and instinct. I bet your guys would have got to it sooner or later.”

  Des glanced at the techs in the room, then leaned in and whispered, “Maybe, but I have my doubts.”

  Sam chuckled and opened the envelope. Inside was what she recognised as a Will, possibly the victim’s Last Will and Testament. “Interesting.”

  “Could be handy for finding the next of kin, perhaps,” Des suggested.

  “True enough. Let me have a quick look through it before I hand it over to you guys.”

  Bob took out his notebook and his mobile phone. “Want me to snap off a few pics?”

  “Excellent idea. Still note down the names I give you though, okay?”

  He flipped his notebook open and jotted down the names Sam read out. “Jean Jones, his daughter; David Chatley, his friend; Grandson Ian, and that’s about it. Oh no, bless him, he mentioned Daisy, the dog, in here as well. He wanted her to be cared for by his daughter after his death.” That fact saddened her so much that a large lump appeared in her throat. She coughed to clear it.

  “Are you okay?” Bob asked, sensing what was going on.

  “Me being silly. Take the photos, Bob. Thanks.” She placed the document on the top of the chest of drawers and left her partner to it while she checked the other drawers and the cavity of the piece of furniture. She found nothing else. So she placed a call to the station. Claire Owen answered the call. “Ah, just the person I was after. We’re at the crime scene. The victim is a Tom Douglas, we’ve found his Will, hidden beneath a drawer. What we need to do is locate his next of kin. I’ve got a daughter called Jean Jones and a grandson called Ian, can you try and find an address for me?”

  “Want to hang on the line or would you rather I ring you back?”

  Sam could hear Claire pounding on the keyboard as she spoke.

  “I’ll wait. I doubt it’s going to take you long anyway.”

  “You know me too well.”

  “I do.”

  Within seconds, Claire handed over the information she needed.
“You’re amazing, don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”

  “I’ll be sure to pass that on to Scott; I think he needs reminding of that fact, now and again.”

  “Most men do, love. Right, once we’ve finished up here, we’ll set off and break the news to the daughter. In the meantime, can you do some extra digging on the family and the usual, the vic’s finances et cetera?”

  “On it now.”

  “Thanks, Claire.” She ended the call and turned her attention to the victim once more. Des had finished his initial assessment and was standing back while the photographer finished off his task. “Is there anything else you can tell us? Time of death, for instance?”

  “Can’t give a specific time as yet, not until I get him back to the lab and carry out further tests.”

  “Roughly, a guesstimate will do.”

  Des sighed, folded his arms and placed his index finger against his right cheek. “Well, if you were to push me for an answer, I’d say somewhere between twelve and four a.m., but don’t quote me on that, you hear me?”

  “Gotcha, only the daughter is bound to ask. I’ve got her address, if you have nothing else for us, we’ll make a move then.”

  “Very well. I’ll be in touch once I’ve carried out the PM.”

  “When’s that likely to be?” she asked with a hopeful smile.

  “Not a lot on my plate at the moment, should fit it in this afternoon, unless something else crops up in the meantime.”

  “Good. Looking forward to hearing from you shortly, then.”

  He smiled and Sam left the room. By the time she’d slipped off her suit at the front door and deposited it in the black sack, Bob had joined her.

  “I took the pics, then handed the Will over to a tech guy to bag up as evidence.” He leaned against the wall and disrobed. Sam held the sack open for him and he dropped his suit and shoe covers inside.

  “Great. Let’s go break the awful news to his family.”

  “One question before we leave. Do we know who found him?”

  “Shit, what is wrong with me today? I think seeing the dog upset me more than I cared to let on.”

  “It’s okay. You get in the car, I’ll slip my suit back on and go back inside to ask Des.”

  “No, don’t do that, just ring Des instead.”

  Sam gave herself a good talking-to on the way back to her vehicle. Her partner joined her several minutes later. “Well?”

  “Yes, thanks. Not so bad, how are you?”

  “Get on with it, idiot. Who found him?”

  “The postman. He said he thought it was unusual the dog didn’t bark when he pulled into the drive. He knocked on the door, got no answer, so went around the back and found the door open. He called out, got no response, went upstairs and found them both. Des said he was shaken up when he and the team arrived. I’ve got his address, he’s offered to give a statement later. Want me to call the station, organise uniform to take a trip out to see him, or do you think we should have a word with him first?”

  “Leave it to uniform. We’ll make a note of his name and address in case we need it later to add to a suspect list.” She faced her partner when she saw him looking at her out of her peripheral vision. “Something wrong?”

  “You think he would be likely to be the murderer? If he is, it’ll be a first.”

  “Always a first time for everything. Who knows nowadays? Maybe he just started the round and… no, let’s leave it there for now before my wayward thoughts get the better of me.”

  “Yeah, we should.”

  2

  Sam drew up outside a smart-looking detached house in a large cul-de-sac on the outskirts of Workington. They left the car and walked up the curved path to the front door. She admired the front garden, which appeared to have been designed professionally. In the centre was a wooden wishing well which was surrounded by hard landscaping and curved flower beds. She rang the bell, avoiding the thorns of the rose climbing up the arch framing the front door. The smell was heavenly and Sam spotted some jasmine intertwined with the rose.

  A woman in her fifties opened the door. Her hair was a lilac colour and had obviously come out of a bottle. Sam and Bob flashed their warrant cards. “Hi, Jean Jones?”

  The woman frowned and pulled the door closed behind her. “That’s right. It’s no good showing me those, I can’t see a damn thing without my glasses.”

  “That’s okay, I’m Detective Inspector Sam Cobbs, and this is my partner, Bob Jones.”

  “No relation, at least I don’t think there’s one,” Bob said quickly.

  “Oh right. The police, what can I do for you?”

  “Would it be possible to come inside and speak with you, Mrs Jones?”

  “It’s Jean, don’t make me sound older than I feel, please. Inside? For what?”

  Sam offered a warm smile. “Please, Jean, it would be better inside.”

  Jean pushed the door open behind her and stepped back, allowing them into the hallway, and then she closed the door again. “You’d better come through to the lounge.”

  Sam and Bob followed her into the mainly square lounge, apart from the bay window which had a pretty seat beneath it. The furnishings were up to date and there was a mixture of blinds and curtains covering the two windows.

  “Take a seat, won’t you? Tell me what this is about.”

  The three of them sat in opposite sofas. Sam cleared her throat. “It’s with great regret, I have to tell you that your father passed away last night.”

  “Excuse me? No, you must be wrong. I only spoke to him last night and he seemed perfectly fine to me.”

  “I’m sorry, but we believe your father died in suspicious circumstances at home.”

  Jean’s right hand covered her face and she shook her head. “No. There must be some mistake, this can’t be true.”

  “Can I get you a drink?” Bob asked, ever the thoughtful one.

  “No. I don’t want a drink.” Her hand shot into her lap and she began to rock back and forth in her seat. “I want to know what you mean by suspicious. I don’t understand what you’re telling me.”

  “Sadly, your father was murdered last night.”

  “No! I don’t believe you. What the…? He can’t be dead. We’ve made arrangements for the weekend.”

  “I’m sorry. We’ve yet to formally identify him, but we believe there is no mistake.”

  “Oh, Christ! Murdered, you say? How?” Jean placed a hand on either side of her face.

  Sam inhaled a breath. “I’d rather not disclose that at this time.”

  “Why? Surely, I have a right to know how my father… died, don’t I?”

  “All I can tell you at this stage is that he died of gunshot wounds.”

  “What? Dad had a gun, you don’t think he could have killed himself?”

  “It could be a possibility, however, the pathologist seems to believe your father was murdered.”

  Jean tipped her head back and looked up at the ceiling. “What the…? Why? When did this happen?”

  “We’re not sure of the exact time, the pathologist believes the incident took place sometime between twelve and four this morning. Can you tell me at what time you spoke to him last night?”

  “Around ten, maybe five or ten past, I can’t recall the exact time. I usually ring, sorry, rang him around ten every night to ensure he’d locked the house up and was safe. He told me he’d taken Daisy for a quick walk at about quarter to ten, you know, to let her do her business before they went to bed.”

  “Did he seem concerned at all when you spoke to him?”

  “No. He was the same as usual. Oh, God, he’s dead!” She shook her head slowly and tears formed in her grey eyes. “Who the hell would kill him? Dad wouldn’t hurt a damn fly and that’s the bloody truth.”

  Sam sat on the edge of the sofa. “So he hadn’t fallen out with anyone lately?”

  “Not as far as I’m aware, no. He got along with everyone, well, most of the time. Bugger, I’m going
to miss him so much. Now they’re both gone. Mum died around five years ago of dementia. Dad has struggled up at the farm since her death.” She sighed heavily and swiped away at the tears as they fell. “Why now, now that he was on the move?”

  Sam snuck a look at her partner and then asked, “Can I ask what you mean by that, Jean?”

  “Oh, sorry, I should have said. I’m not thinking straight. He was packing up to leave the farm. He’s moving closer to us, or he was, so I could keep an eye on him, you know, as he was getting older. He’s really been struggling healthwise since Mum died and his angina was diagnosed.”

  “He was in ill-health, is that what you’re telling us?”

  “Yes, at the start of the year he was in hospital for around ten days. I pleaded with him back then to give up the farm, it’s not like it was making any money, anyway. But you know how stubborn men can be; if the decision had to be made, it would need to come from him. I’ve been working on him for months, without him realising it, and finally, he threw in the towel back in June, told me to get things organised. It has been hell for me ever since.” She raised a hand and clarified her point, “Not that I felt he wasn’t worth all the aggro, he was. It was just frustrating that it took him so long to comprehend that it was impossible to cope with the farm at his age, especially as he was ill.”

  “How many people knew he was about to move?” Sam asked.

  “Sorry?”

  “Was it common knowledge that he was leaving the farm?”

  “Oh, I see. Yes, every man and his dog. Oh, talking of which, I’d better go round there and pick up Daisy unless you’ve placed her in kennels for the night, that is?”

  Sam ran a hand over her face. “I have some other bad news I need to share with you.”

  “What can be worse than hearing my father has been killed?”

  “Daisy was also killed during the attack.”

  “What? Oh no. I bet she was trying to protect him, devoted to him she was, they were inseparable.”

  “Maybe, they were both found in the bedroom.”

  “Yes, she had the freedom of the house. She was a good girl. She didn’t deserve to go out like that, and no, I’d prefer not to know the ins and outs of how she died. The only saving grace is that they went out together. Maybe they’ll cross the rainbow bridge together as well.”