by David Evans
The sounds of the phone being picked up crackled through the handset before a female voice came on the line. Hello, Belinda,” she said. “I’m afraid Anthony’s not here. Simon say’s he hasn’t seen him for a couple of days. Were you expecting him to be here?”
Panic. “No, no, it’s my mistake. Sorry Chris, I’ve had such a lot on recently, I didn’t read the note on the wall chart,” Belinda lied. “Sorry to have bothered you.”
She rushed to his room and opened the door and switched the light on. Everything normal, but no Anthony.
The doorbell rang and she went to answer it.
* * *
Returning to St John’s Square, Strong pulled into the same spot by the kerb where he’d parked before. Looking up to the house, there was a light in the hallway and then he saw a room light come on.
“Should have more luck this time,” Stainmore commented, following her boss to the front door. The ring was answered quickly.
“Belinda, can we have a word?” DI Strong said.
She looked flustered. “Well … yes, come in.”
They followed her into the lounge. “You remember DS Stainmore?”
“Yes. Yes, of course. I’m sorry; I’ve only just got in.” She shrugged off her coat and made for the kitchen.
“Late shift?”
“Yes,” she said from the other room. “Can I get you a drink? Tea or a coffee? I’m making one for myself.”
“No, not for me thanks.” Strong exchanged glances with Stainmore.
“I’m fine too.”
“I’ve just put the kettle on anyway, if you change your minds,” she said, coming back into the lounge. “So how can I help?”
Strong took a breath then began. “When we spoke to you about the roll of film you took to be developed, you told me you discovered it in a house your husband owns.”
Belinda furrowed her brows. “That’s right, I did.”
“Can you give me the address?”
A look of concern swept over her face. “Of course,” she said and related a number on Leeds Road, Outwood.
Again Strong and Stainmore exchanged glances. “Do you know where your husband is now, Belinda?” Strong asked.
“I’ve really no idea. He’s not been staying here for a while. Not since … well, you understand. In fact, he sent me a letter this morning through his solicitor …”
Strong nodded. “I think I get the picture.” He took a step towards the woman. “I think you’d better take a seat,” he said, gently leading her to the sofa.
“Why,” she said, slowly sitting down. “What’s happened?”
“I’m afraid there’s been a fire at that address.”
She covered her mouth with her hand for a second. “What are you telling me, Inspector?”
“We’ve found a body.”
Both hands to her face now. “No! Not Charlie?”
“We don’t know,” Strong responded. “At the moment our investigations are still at an early stage. But we may need your help later.”
“Identification, you mean?”
Strong nodded again and Belinda crumpled into a sea of sobs. He turned to Stainmore and indicated the kitchen. She walked through and began to make the tea that Belinda had intended for herself.
Just then, sounds of the front door opening and closing were heard.
Belinda looked up at Strong through tear stained eyes, a shocked expression on her face. That quickly morphed to one of relief as Anthony walked in.
“What’s happened now?” the boy asked. “Has he thumped you again?” He looked at Strong.
“Anthony, I think you need to look after your mother now.”
He rushed to his mother’s side on the sofa.
“Have you seen or heard from your father recently?” Strong asked.
“Not since last week. Why?”
Strong repeated what he’d told Belinda as Stainmore reappeared with a mug of tea for her. “At the moment, we don’t know who was in the house. We just have to look at all scenarios,” he went on.
Anthony had his arm around his mother. “Don’t worry, Mum,” he said. “With any luck, it won’t be him.”
“In the meantime Mrs Chamberlain … Anthony, if you do hear from Mr Chamberlain, I’d like you to call me, anytime.” Strong handed a card to each. “We’ll be in touch as soon as we know any more.”
Belinda wiped her eyes and looked up at Strong. “Thanks, Inspector.”
“We’ll see ourselves out,” he said, leading the way.
They walked back to the car and got in. Strong put the key in the ignition but paused to look up at the house and puff out his cheeks. “Sometimes this job is shit, Kelly,” he said. “That lad’s world will be turned upside down shortly, if I’m right.”
Once the police had gone, Anthony stood and made his way into the kitchen. “I’m starving,” he said. “Have we got anything interesting in?”
Belinda followed him, hands around her mug of tea and stood in the doorway, watching him open and close cupboards then the fridge in a search for food. “Anthony, you don’t seem too concerned that Dad might have been … involved in that fire.”
“He’ll be all right,” he said over his shoulder. “He always is. Can I have this pizza?” he pulled a cardboard package from the freezer.
“Of course you can.” She watched him for a few moments as he set the oven and unwrapped the deep pan margarita. His attitude puzzled her. “Where have you been tonight?” she eventually asked.
“Simon’s. I told you, celebrate our results.”
“I thought you said you were staying over.”
“I said I might but I changed my mind.”
She knew he was lying but decided now was not the right time to confront that. She had too many other thoughts buzzing around her brain.
37
Friday 17th August 2001
Dr William Gardner, the Home Office pathologist, looked up when he noticed Strong and Stainmore enter the viewing gallery. “Colin,” he greeted. “And DS Stainmore too, I believe. Looks like an interesting one you’ve brought me.”
“Try to please,” Strong responded with a grim smile.
“Let’s just remove this hood first and untape the mouth,” Dr Gardner addressed his gowned assistant. Another figure dressed in identical green scrubs began taking photographs of the body whilst one of Doug Norris’s SOC team hovered around.
The detectives watched the scientists’ actions in close-up on the monitor. With the hood removed, the white face, in stark contrast to the rest of the smoke-blackened body, eliminated any doubts as to identity. They were looking at the body of Charles Chamberlain. Strong and Stainmore looked at one another. “I’ll call it in,” she said and left the gallery.
“Ha … this is interesting,” Dr Gardner commented, removing the tape. “There’s something in here …” He carefully pulled an object from the mouth then held it up for Strong to see, the photographer recording every move.
“Is that what I think it is, William?” Strong asked.
“It’s made of sponge and it’s in the shape of a phallus, if that’s what you thought it was,” Gardner chuckled, placing it in a plastic evidence bag held open by the SOCO.
* * *
DCI Hemingford called for attention as he strutted into the CID Room. Conversations quickly died away as he looked around the room. “Okay, everyone,” he said. “Last night’s fire in Leeds Road, Outwood. First call to the emergency services from a passer-by timed at 20:12. Fire fighters on the scene at 20:23. Discovered in an upstairs bedroom, the body of a male, naked apart from a hood over the head with holes cut for the nostrils and his mouth taped. Any news on identity?”
“DI Strong and DS Stainmore are at the mortuary now, sir,” DC Ormerod reported. “They have a strong suspicion as to who the victim might be which is why they chose to attend.”
“What news from Forensics?” Hemingford went on.
“Still at the scene first thing this morning,” DC Darby repli
ed. “The fire investigators confirmed the seat of the fire as being in the sitting room immediately below the bedroom where the body was found. Apparently an iron was left to heat on top of a pile of clothes.”
“A slow burning fuse,” Hemingford added, thoughtfully.
Ormerod mobile began to vibrate in his pocket. He removed it and answered the call from Stainmore. “Yes Kelly,” he said then listened for a few seconds. “Okay, I’ll tell him.” He ended the call and looked to Hemingford. “DS Stainmore, sir. She and DI Strong are convinced our victim is Charles Chamberlain, principal of Chamberlain Associates, the legal firm in town.”
“Right. But we still need an official identification. Kelly and Colin can handle that with Mrs Chamberlain as soon as the mortuary is ready. In the meantime, what have we got on door-to-door?”
* * *
Stainmore reappeared as Dr Gardner was carefully washing the victim. “From what I can see, there are no unusual wounds to the body, apart from these marks here.” He pointed to the victim’s wrist. “and here.” Now the ankles. “This looks like he was restrained in some way.”
“He was shackled to a frame, William,” Strong informed him. “The SOC team should have spoken to you about how he was found and taken photographs in-situ before they released the body.”
“Saw those.” The pathologist nodded then prepared to measure and weigh the body. By the time he was ready to make the standard Y shaped incision, Stainmore was saying she was going for a hot drink.
“But you missed the best bit, Kelly,” Strong whispered.
“You mean this isn’t it?” She screwed up her face, indicating the current procedure.
“Remember in Denise Whitaker’s bathroom, I came across sponge phalluses to go with your balls?”
“None taken.” She kept a straight face. “Yes, what about it?”
“Guess what was stuffed into his mouth and taped up?”
“You’re kidding?”
* * *
DC Sam Kirkland was just concluding a summary of the door-to-door reports so far. “Uniforms are still making enquiries, sir and we should have most of that complete by lunch-time.”
“Okay, thanks Sam,” Hemingford said. “I’m going back down to the crime scene. DS Ryan, can you set up here as an incident room and organise information on the boards, all the usual procedures. DC Kirkland, keep the pressure on uniform. DC Darby, chase up forensics. I need something to work with here. DC Ormerod, background checks on our victim. Right, let’s go to it.”
Hemingford made to leave but was accosted at the door by Detective Superintendent Flynn. “Rupert. Something to get your teeth into, eh?”
“Yes, sir.”
Flynn turned and led Hemingford out into the corridor. In a low voice he asked, “Is it true who our victim is?”
“He still has to be formally identified but DI Strong and DS Stainmore are at the PM now. They seem in no doubt.”
“Hmm. With his … friendship with ACC Wadsworth, this will turn out to be high-profile. So, don’t forget, any resources you think you might need, come and see me.”
* * *
The stomach contents had been removed and weighed. Stainmore was glad to have missed most of that, returning with two coffees.
“I think we’re lucky here, Colin,” Dr Gardner announced. “The fire was contained to the ground floor, yes?”
“That’s right.”
“So little contamination of the scene with water? And the body here has suffered no burns.” The pathologist was now examining the lungs. “I can tell you the cause of death was asphyxiation due to inhalation of smoke and other contaminants. So he was alive when the fire started.”
“Thanks for that William. Official report this afternoon?”
“Initial report by then, possibly. We’ll run some toxicology tests which won’t give results for a few days. You know the score, Colin.”
Strong smiled. “I’m assuming I can bring in his wife for formal identification at say …” He looked at his watch. “…two o’clock?”
Dr Gardner glanced at the clock on the wall. “Should be fine.”
38
“Come in,” Belinda greeted Strong and Stainmore at the door once again.
They followed her inside to the lounge.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” she asked them, perching herself on the arm of one of the armchairs. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. She didn’t look as if she’d had much sleep since they saw her the night before.
“We’d like you to come with us this afternoon, Mrs Chamberlain,” Stainmore answered.
Her head dropped and she began to shake.
“Anthony? Is he here?” Strong asked.
She seemed to recover, wiped her face with a tissue and shook her head. “He’s at work. He got himself a summer job in Waterstones bookshop in The Ridings. Seems to be enjoying it. I told him to go in, it’d take his mind off … well, you know.”
Strong nodded reassurance.
“But, I don’t know … Grace?” she looked up at Strong. “Our daughter Grace … she’s in Southampton. I’ll have to …”
“Would you like us to help?” Stainmore said.
“No. No, I’ll do that.”
“Would you like a drink, Mrs Chamberlain?”
Belinda gave a wan smile. “I’m awash,” she said. “But help yourself, if you want.”
“We’re fine,” Strong responded.
A serious look came over her face. “Was he … I mean, is he … in a mess?”
“No,” Strong said calmly.
She stood up. “Sorry, I need to get ready.”
“No rush, Belinda. We’ve arranged to go to the mortuary at two, if that’s okay with you.”
A quick smile soon disappeared from her face. “Fine.” She checked her watch. “Look, I’ll be fine. I’m sure you have better things to do than sit with me. I’d like to get myself tidied up. I’ll be ready for you just before two.”
“If you’re sure?” Strong asked rhetorically.
She got up and made towards the hall. Strong and Stainmore followed her. A reassuring smile and hand on her arm then they left.
* * *
“Why are you looking so pleased with yourself?” Souter asked Janey Clarke. She’d just rushed in to the news room with a big smile on her face.
Bag down on the floor and computer switched on. “Having a fireman as a boyfriend has its compensations,” she jibed.
“What you get up to in the privacy of your own home, I don’t want to know … all those fireman’s lifts … Can just imagine the contortions you get yourself into.” Souter shook his head, as if trying to clear it of unsavoury images. “In fact, no, that’s a horrible thought.”
“Very bloody funny, Mr Souter,” she called from the other side of the workstation screen. And then her head appeared over the top of it. “Nothing to do with what me and Tom get up to in private … it’s the inside info he can provide when a juicy story breaks.”
Souter looked away from his computer screen towards Janey. “Oh, yes. And what juicy story would that be?”
“It’s mine and I’m keeping it that way.” She disappeared once more to sit in front of her keyboard.
Souter stood and walked round to stand behind her chair as she typed. “Go on,” he said, “You’ve got my attention.”
Over the course of the next few minutes she banged out the basis of the story for that evening’s edition of the house fire in Leeds Road Outwood with the unknown male victim found in mysterious circumstances. “I’m not allowed to say how they found him,” she said, “but it is a good one.” She then went on to report that the cause of the fire was suspicious and believed to have been caused by an iron setting fire to some clothing.
“Can you reveal that at this stage?” Souter asked.
“Tom didn’t say I couldn’t, only not to mention how they’d found the victim.”
“I’d have thought if it’s suspicious, the police would want to keep a lot of information
to themselves at the moment, especially how it started.” Souter shrugged. “Anyway, sounds like a good story for you, Janey.” He knelt down by her chair. “So go on then … just between you and me … and Tom, how was he found?”
* * *
At just after two o’clock that afternoon, Strong and Stainmore stood either side of Belinda Chamberlain in the mortuary viewing room.
“Okay?” Strong asked quietly.
She merely nodded.
The curtain slowly opened and Charles Chamberlain’s body, covered in a white sheet from the neck down came into view.
She took a step forward, paused for a moment then gently touched the glass with a finger. She nodded slowly, then began to sob. “Oh, Charlie,” they heard her say, “What have you done?”
Strong joined her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. He felt her begin to crumple so moved his hand under her arm. Stainmore grabbed her from the other side and, together, they helped her into a chair. Meanwhile, the curtain had closed.
Her sobbing slowly subsided. Taking a breath, she wiped her face and eyes with a handkerchief.
Strong stood and faced her. “Belinda,” he said gently, “I have to ask…”
She gave a brief nod. “Yes,” she said, “That’s Charlie.”
He looked at Stainmore. She got up, pulled out her mobile phone and left the room.
“I understand this is going to be a difficult time for you, Belinda,” Strong said. “So if you want to call me, anytime, I’ll try and answer your questions. And if there’s anything you might need …”
She took his offered card. “How was he found?”
“We’re still investigating the circumstances. We’ll be able to let you know more when we can.”
Stainmore came back in.
“Do you want any more time here?” Strong asked.
Belinda shook her head. “I need to see Anthony. And I need to contact Grace.”
“Okay, we’ll take you home.”
* * *
The middle-aged receptionist who had been the gatekeeper last time they visited was talking on the phone when Strong and Stainmore walked into the offices of Chamberlain Associates.
