Prima Facie

by Netta Newbound

  Leaning through the open window, he kissed his wife on the lips. “See you in the morning.”

  He watched her drive off before going back inside. The thought that someone had been through their stuff made him feel violated, but the fact their intruder was probably a crazed killer terrified him. What if the next time he decided to pay them a visit Amanda was home alone, or worse still home with the kids?

  In the kitchen, he saw nothing out of place. In fact, the entire place was extra tidy.

  He had been the first in the car that morning, but he didn’t think Amanda would’ve had time to clean the breakfast dishes, never mind the whole kitchen.

  He picked up the dishcloth which had been folded neatly over the tap. Amanda always hung it on a bar in the cupboard under the sink. The same with the tea towel that now lay folded in two on the edge of the sink, instead of over the oven door handle.

  He opened the cupboard and gasped. The shelves had been reorganised. Someone was seriously messing with his mind.

  Every single cupboard and drawer was the same. Nothing like the disorganised chaos he would usually find.

  On first inspection, the lounge didn’t look any different, but being a kid-free zone the room generally stayed tidy. Then he noticed the DVD’s on the bookcase had been reorganised in alphabetical order rather than the haphazard way they were normally filed.

  He needed to call this in and get the place dusted for fingerprints. As he pulled his phone from his pocket, someone hammered on the window causing him to stiffen.

  He whirled around, relaxed, and let out a long sigh.

  Frances pointed at the front door, and he nodded.

  “So what’s he done?” she said, as soon as she stepped inside.

  He exhaled and shook his head. “More than I first thought. But it sounds bloody stupid, to be honest.”

  “What does?” She followed him into the kitchen.

  “Look around. What do you see?”

  She began scanning the room looking at every single item, a frown on her face. “Nothing.”

  “Look in the cupboard.” He indicated the main food cupboard. “Use this.” He opened the cupboard under the sink and handed her a rubber glove.

  She pulled the glove on and opened the door, shaking her head. “What am I missing?”

  “What if I told you that when we left home this morning this place looked as though a bomb had gone off?”

  “Eh! So you mean...”

  He nodded as the penny dropped, and, putting on the matching glove, he opened several more drawers and cupboards. “Someone has given the whole house a spring clean.”

  “And you’re complaining! Maybe you should send them around to mine.”

  “I think it was Muldoon.”

  She snorted. “No way. Someone cleaned your house and you automatically think a serial killer is to blame. Maybe Sandra came over.”

  He shook his head. “See, I told you it sounded stupid, but I know he did it. He came here the other night and smeared a shitty message on the windscreen of our new car.

  “Really? What did the message say?”

  “It said NICE CAR. Amanda had only picked it up that day. And that’s not all. Come and look at this.” He led her upstairs and into the bathroom. He gestured towards the toilet as though presenting a prize. “Ta-da.”

  She lifted the seat before letting it slam closed again. “Oh, the dirty...” She pressed her hand to her mouth and spun from the room.

  “Sorry, but there was no explaining that lot. You had to see for yourself. Most people would say maybe one of the kids went to the loo before we left home this morning. But looking at that lot, what would you say now?”

  “I’d say, thanks for thinking I was capable of that fucking lot!”

  Suddenly laughing, he bent double and allowed it to burst from him. Tears flowed down his cheeks as he struggled to breathe.

  Frances was also laughing, the silent kind of laughter causing her to exhale only, and her whole body to shake uncontrollably. She gripped the banister, bending her body over the top of it, her legs crossed as though she needed to pee.

  It took ages before he was able to talk. Standing upright, he wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his jersey. “I didn’t think you’d done it.” He set off laughing again, sounding like an old chain-smoker.

  “Yes, you did!” Frances pulled herself together first. She was breathing heavily as though she’d just run a marathon. “We’d best call the station. This is serious.”

  “I know.” Adam forced himself to get a grip.

  “Shall I call them?”

  He nodded, exhausted all of a sudden. “Let me show you this first.” In his bedroom, he showed her the dirt on the bed and the sex toy on the bedside cabinet.

  “Ooh, whatever floats your boat, I s’pose!”

  Adam rolled his eyes. “Grow up.”

  She sniggered and walked around the bed to Adam’s side and peered at his pillow. “There are a few longish, dark hairs on there. Longer than yours, I mean.”

  He opened the wardrobe and was once again shocked by the orderliness, something that neither he nor Amanda possessed. “The bastard has been through everything. Had his mitts on every last item of our clothing.”

  “It must have taken hours. I hate this kind of job. Why would somebody choose to do it if they didn’t have to?”

  “To give me a brain-fuck. Why else?”

  “I’ll stay here with you until they’ve taken evidence, and then I insist you come home with me for the night.”

  “What would your mother-in-law say?”

  “She won’t say a thing. And besides, she could do with a laugh like you’ve just given me. I didn’t think I’d ever laugh again.”

  Adam felt his stomach twitch again and had to force himself to continue. “Go and call them then. I’ll get rid of the dildo. It’s not important to the case, and they’ll have a field day with it down at the station.”

  He picked up the sex toy, carried it downstairs and threw it into the bin. Frances’ voice carried through from the hallway. A few minutes later she joined him in the kitchen.

  “I’m sorry to have dragged you out,” he said.

  “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you did. Not that I wanted this to happen, of course.”

  “Yeah, but...”

  “And, before you say anything, I’m away from work, aren’t I? Helping a mate out isn’t classed as work.”

  “I appreciate it, either way.” He nodded at her phone. “How long will they be?”

  “They’re going to rush it through, hopefully not too long.”

  He opened the fridge. “Fancy a bottle of beer from my incredibly tidy fridge?”

  “I’d love one.”

  Chapter 32

  I smile as I imagine the detective and his perfect family arriving home. I wish I could see the expression on his face when the truth dawns. In my head, it plays out perfectly.

  They arrive home. Notice all the kitchen has been cleaned up and silently thank their friend. They have a cuppa—isn’t that the first thing anyone does after a day out? Then, once the kids are tired, they go upstairs to get them ready for bed and BOOM! Shitfest!

  I laugh aloud at the thought. DI Stanley must be going out of his tiny mind right now.

  I open the box beside me on the sofa and pull out all the newspaper clippings. The contents are clearly important to the loved-up couple, but why?

  As I read on, I realise Amanda Stanley AKA child #1 was the victim of her disgusting father’s paedophile ring.

  “Well, well, well.” I push the box to one side and reach for my laptop.

  Searching the internet for Dennis Kidd, the name of the paedophile in the articles, I’m surprised by the amount of recent entries, considering the newspaper clippings were from years ago.

  According to Google, Dennis Kidd was murdered along with another couple of his sicko mates by his son, Andrew Pitt. Detective Adam Stanley was the arresting officer.

  �
�Bingo!”

  I continue reading. In a later article, Andrew was also killed after escaping from prison where he was on remand for the murders.

  I have no doubt Amanda Stanley is Andrew’s sister and fellow victim, but for some reason, nothing is coming up when I search for Amanda Pitt or Amanda Kidd.

  Reading more of the articles, I see child #1 was in the throes of labour when the authorities discovered the abuse.

  I think back to their older daughter, Mary. Her name was on some of the artwork in her bedroom. She’s the right age to be Amanda’s oldest daughter and looks the image of her. But according to the internet, Andrew’s daughter was also called Mary, and she’d gone to live with her aunt after the murders. Does this mean DI Stanley is playing daddy to the product of child abuse and incest?

  And, if the girl is in fact the child Amanda had given up for adoption, how the hell did she end up living as Andrew’s daughter?

  A delicious thrill runs through my veins.

  In a last ditch effort to find something more about Amanda, I type their home address. Moments later, I punch the air above me as I read all about Amanda Flynn’s interior design business.

  A search for Amanda Flynn tells me how happily married she is to a man called Michael Flynn. Together, they have two children, Emma and Jacob. There is no mention of an older child.

  This new information confirms my suspicions. Amanda Stanley-Flynn-Kidd, or whatever she was called, was sexually abused as a child and had a baby born of incest, which she gave up for adoption as soon as it was born. Andrew Pitt-Kidd, Amanda’s brother, vanished aged fifteen and turned up years later with a child who looked the double of his sister, and she just so happened to be the exact age of Amanda’s adopted child.

  One final sweep of the internet for ‘adopted girl is kidnapped’, brings up an undeniable image of a young, three-year-old Mary.

  I wonder if the detective knows his wife is harbouring an abducted child.

  ***

  It was 4.00am before the forensics team finished their sweep of the place.

  Once a sample of the faeces had been taken, Adam had the disgusting task of fishing the rest of it out of the toilet bowl and dumping it into a plastic bucket which he sent off with the team for disposal.

  Afterwards, he and Frances cleaned the entire bathroom down, stripped the beds, and wiped the surfaces which were covered in fingerprint powder.

  “Amanda will probably want to wash the clothes again,” Frances said. “But she’ll sort it out herself. At least it looks better than it did.”

  “Yeah, it is. And thanks. I owe you big time.”

  She put her arm through his. “Come on. Let’s go to mine for a bit of shut-eye.”

  “I could stay here. It’s not as if he’ll come back.” A thought suddenly occurred to him. “The key!” He rushed out of the back door and lifted the patio pot. The key had gone.

  “That settles it. You’re coming back with me. You can arrange for the locks to be changed tomorrow.”

  He bolted the back door from the inside, set the alarm and followed Frances out to the street. Once in his Mondeo, he followed Frances home. They parked outside on the street.

  As they approached the house, the front door opened and Frances’ mother-in-law came outside in her fluffy blue dressing gown and slippers. She put her hand on her chest dramatically. “Holly! I’ve been beside myself. Why did you run out like that?”

  “That would be my fault, Mrs Frances.”

  “Oh, hello, Adam. Please call me Val. She just took off in the middle of the night and didn’t even take her phone.” She pulled Frances into her arms. “Are you alright, lovey?”

  “I’m fine. Adam needed me, and I thought you were asleep.”

  “Are you alright, Adam?”

  “I’m fine, thanks. I had an intruder in my house today, that’s all.”

  Val gasped. “Oh, no. Did they take anything?”

  “Not really. They left plenty.” He grinned.

  Val shook her head in confusion.

  “It’s not very nice. I’m sure Holly will explain later.” He smiled. “Amanda’s taken the kids to stay with her mother for the night and Fran—sorry, Holly said I could sleep on your sofa, if that’s alright?”

  “Of course it is, lovey. Come on in.”

  He was bone tired and followed Frances and Val through to the neat and tidy lounge.

  “Can I just say how terribly sorry I was to hear about your son?”

  “Thanks, lovey. Do you need anything? A glass of water? Tea?”

  “To be honest, I’d rather just get my head down. I’m shattered.”

  “I’ll find you a blanket,” Holly said, rushing from the room.

  Val pulled all the cushions off the sofa. “It pulls out into a bed. Can you help me?”

  “You don’t have to go to any trouble.” Adam jumped forwards and took over from her. “I would’ve just crashed on top.”

  “Nonsense.”

  Holly reappeared, her arms filled with blankets and pillows, and the two women made up the bed.

  “Now, if you need anything, help yourself,” Frances said as they left the room.

  He took off his trousers and crawled into bed. Although exhausted, he didn’t think he’d sleep with the way his thoughts were whirring around his head. But the next thing he knew, Frances shook him awake.

  “Wakey, wakey, lazy bones.”

  He sat up quickly and rubbed his eyes. “I’d swear you’d only left the room two minutes ago,” he said.

  “So you slept, I take it.”

  Adam grunted.

  “There’s a cup of Rosy-Lee here for you.” She placed the cup on the carpet by the sofa. “Come through to the kitchen once you’re up to a grilling.”

  “A grilling?”

  “Yeah, and I don’t mean of the bacon kind.” She laughed at his puzzled expression. “Val wants to know everything.”

  He sniggered. “I’ll be through in a sec.”

  He got dressed, folded the bed away and strolled through to the kitchen. “Morning ladies,” he said, sounding brighter than he felt.

  “I’ve just finished telling Val about our local psycho killer.”

  “I’m horrified he’s been inside your house,” Val said.

  “He’s ballsy. I’ll give him that.” He pulled out a stool and perched on it beside the breakfast bar.

  “Can I make you some breakfast, lovey? Bacon and eggs, toast?”

  “No thanks, Val. I need to go home. Amanda will be bringing the kids back to get them ready for school.” He swigged at his tea.

  “I was thinking. I could come in today for a couple of hours?” Frances said.

  “No. No way.” He shook his head, his lips in a firm line. “You need this time at home. Work will still be there after Steve’s funeral. Tell her, Val.”

  “To be honest, Holly doesn’t know how to sit around moping. If she feels up to it, maybe a couple of hours at work will do her good.”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?” Frances put her arm around the older woman’s shoulders.

  “Of course I don’t mind. We’ve got an appointment with the funeral director this morning, and after that you may as well help to catch the nutter who seems fixated with your boss.”

  Adam got to his feet. “Well, if you’re sure. I won’t stand in your way. See you at the station later, then.”

  He drank the last of his tea and placed the cup in the sink.

  Chapter 33

  Amanda’s car was parked up outside the house when he arrived.

  “Where’ve you been, and what the heck’s gone on here?” she demanded, as soon as he opened the front door.

  “Long story. Where are the kids?”

  “Upstairs, getting ready. I’m glad to see you managed to unblock the toilet.”

  He blew out his cheeks and nodded. “And I’m glad you weren’t here to witness it, you’d still be chucking up now.”

  “I can imagine. But who cleaned the kitch
en? They’ve done an amazing job.”

  “The intruder. I found this when I came home last night.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “Nope. He’s even rearranged our wardrobes.”

  “What lunatic breaks into someone’s house to clean up?”

  “A deranged one. I stripped the beds. If you can’t manage to wash and dry the sheets, I’ll take them to the laundry later.”

  “No. I’ll do them. I feel strange now, though. Do you think he’ll come back?”

  He shrugged. “I hope not. But, he took the back door key, so I’ll arrange for someone to come out and change all the locks. To be on the safe side.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “I got a couple of hours’ shut-eye on Frances’ sofa. She insisted once she knew he had the key.”

  “Good.”

  “Oh, and you might find some fingerprint powder around the place. We cleaned afterwards, but there’s a chance we missed some.”

  “I want to throw out all the food in the fridge. Do you think he’s done something to it?” she said.

  He shrugged. “I didn’t think about that. Just use your own judgment.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m going for a shower. I need to get my skates on and head to the station.”

  *

  The team, minus Frances, were at the station when he arrived.

  “Right, we’ve had some further development.”

  They all stopped what they were doing and gathered round him.

  “Miles Muldoon entered my house yesterday.”

  “What the hell!” Cal said.

  “He went through every drawer and cupboard, rearranging each. He’s taunting me. He also left a pile of shit in my toilet.”

  “This guy is repulsive!” Julie said, disgusted.

  “He sure is. Anyway, I had the place swept for fingerprints, DNA etc. But I’m in no doubt this was our guy.”

  “How did he gain access?” Ginger Dave rubbed his head with his knuckles.

  “I left a key under the plant pot for Frances. She said she might go around if she needed some space. So I didn’t set the alarm or anything. How he found this out, I have no idea.”