CHAPTER 17
It was 4:30 A.M. when Anna drew up outside Julia Brandons house. The surveillance team, parked some distance away, said that there had been no movement.The two heavies were inside the house. Anna gave instructions for two officers to move around to the back of the house, and two to stay beside her. Armed with search warrants, she waited for radio contact to confirm that the men were in posidon outside the back door. Security lights had come on: the gardens and garage were almost floodlit. Also waiting was a team of three forensic officers, parked directly outside the house. As soon as Anna gained entry, they would follow her inside. Anna pressed the doorbell, then lifted the knocker and let it bang hard five times. Lights came on in the house; the door was opened by one of Julia's bodyguards. When shown the warrant, he backed into the hallway. Julia, in a satin nightgown, appeared on the landing, looking terrified. The children's au pair started screaming; from the nursery, Emily and Kathy started howling for their mother. Anna asked that everyone remain calm. She showed the warrant to Julia, and told her to bring the children downstairs with the au pair. They were all to stay in the lounge together with the two bodyguards.Julia screamed at Anna over and over: "Why are you doing this to me? Why are you doing this to me? Why, why? What have I done?" She was like a needle stuck on an old 78 record; it was as if she could not stop repeating herself. Anna insisted that Julia remain with the children.The officers were to search every drawer and cupboard, taking back to base anything that appeared to connect to the case, including possible bloodstains, fingerprints, unusual fibers. Anna was to supervise the search, on occasions agreeing whether or not to remove items. It was a very large house; the garage was to be searched too, as well as thegarden and small garden shed. It would be a long, painstaking process. Anna was like an army officer watching the progress but, after an hour, she could see nothing that aided their inquiry.She herself worked her way through drawer after drawer of documents in the kitchen: kitchen appliance insurances; household bills, telephone, gas, and electricity; gardener's invoices; invoices for electrical work and carpet laying; a thick wad of invoices from furniture stores; delivery arrangements ... She had to check ever)' single one of them. She was sitting at the kitchen table when Julia barged in, demanding to speak to her."My lawyer is coming. I want to know what right you have to do this. Emily and Kathy woken up and taken out of their beds, it's outrageous! I still don't know why you are here."Anna didn't look at her, but kept on going through papers. "Well, Mrs. Brandon, we don't think you have been totally truthful with us. As a result we need to make sure that—""I have told you everything I know! I just don't understand. I mean, my kids are crying in there.""Feel free to heat up some milk or cereal, whatever you need."Julia banged open the fridge, took out some milk, and filled a jug; she banged open another cupboard to take down cereal packets. Anna had to check them; she got one packet of cornflakes hurled at her head, the contents spilling over the kitchen floor.In total contrast, Julia's sister. Honour, was sitting in the kitchen with toast and jam; she had brewed up coffee, proffering cups to the officers. She had merely been taken aback when they herded into the farmhouse at four-thirty that morning. Due to the size of the farm, there were double the officers handling the search, with cooperation from the local force. Damien Nolan had appeared more irritated than afraid. He had checked over the search warrants carefully and then, seemingly satisfied, returned them to Phil.Fingerprints were being taken from obvious areas and the place was being turned over. Phil orchestrated a room-by-room inventory as they sifted through desk drawers, but found only mounds of old receipts.bank statements, income tax returns, and used checkbooks, all bound casually with rubber bands.Damien eventually joined his wife to eat breakfast. He asked how long the officers intended to be at the farm, as he was to leave later that morning to give a lecture. He was arrogant and dismissive; laughing when he saw them dismantle an old Hoover, saying it had never worked. He was only tetchy when they removed his computer, saying that he needed it for his work and that he wanted to know exactly why it was being taken. Honour tried to be equally dismissive, but didn't like the way they were searching through all her homemade jams in the pantry.Phil was in the bedroom, checking over the duvet and the bedclothes, beneath the bed, and behind the headboard under the mattress. He was not finding anything other than the dust that was making his eyes water. They checked every garment in the wardrobe, pocket flaps and trouser turnups. Honours clothes were not fashionable, but hippyish in style: long skirts, embroidered blouses and brightly colored waistcoats. Her husband's suits were equally worn: tweedy, many with leather patches where they were threadbare. Riding jodhpurs, boots; nothing Phil looked at gave any hint that either was involved with their Mr. Big.The officers searching outside were faring no better. The barns were filthy and falling down; in one, they discovered a small kiln with broken bits of pottery on an old bookshelf. The kiln didn't appear to be in use. In the stable, the horse seemed about the only thing that wasn't crumbling with age. The roof and the stable walls were in need of repair, as were the barns and outhouses. The henhouse had fifteen hens in dire need of a new building; the hut was about to collapse. There was a small ladder leading up to it and a lock to keep out the foxes, just as Honour had described to Anna. The loft of the farm was filled to capacity with junk: old iron bedsteads and chairs, paintings, broken umbrellas, buckets, old kitchen equipment, and, stacked against the walls, broken kitchen cabinets. They had to sift through every item, and they were all filthy.Phil was very aware of the couple sitting in comfort at their big pine kitchen table. They chatted to each other, buttering their toast and pouring cup after cup of wonderful-smelling fresh coffee. He couldn't understand why they would want to live in this dump; apart from the kitchen, the whole house smelled of mildew. Damien had lit a fire, and he kept it blazing by throwing on logs. To Phil, the views and the stunning countryside surrounding the farm may have been picturesque, but the lane to the farm was a virtual bog; he reckoned that, in winter, they would be very isolated, and this isolation was abhorrent to him. The longer he searched, the more certain he became they were on the wrong track.
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