by Clare Revell
I need to see the fire investigation report from Gran’s place. Would it be possible?
Ask nicely. But it'll only say what we already know.
Things don't add up. Too many questions that I can't answer. I want to go over there, see for myself, talk to the fire officer.
There was a long pause before she got a reply.
OK, but after the funeral, not before and I come with you.
Isabel turned off her phone and dropped it into her bag in its customary place. She unplugged everything that didn’t need to be left on overnight, before heading to the bedroom. She wrote a list of what she needed to check in the morning. Towels, fire, lingerie, foot washing notes. She shoved it into her jacket pocket. That way she wouldn’t forget.
6
Zander stood in the doorway of the squad room. It was no longer taped off, but his partner’s desk was.
“Great,” Isabel muttered under her breath from beside him. “Not like I wanted my desk today anyway.”
“You can share mine,” Zander said. “We’re out most of the day for one reason or another in any event.”
“I need my notes.” She crossed the room. Her desk was clear. Completely clear, not even her desk landline phone remained. “Guv, what happened to all my files and notes?”
“They were covered in blood and removed as evidence,” DI Holmes said from his office door. “You can get replacement files…”
She groaned. “That’s no good. This was stuff I was working on and hadn’t backed up. Some of it was handwritten. Can I at least access my computer?”
DI Holmes gave her one of his infamous stares. “Once SOCO say so and not before. You’ll have to use Zander’s for now.”
Isabel drew in a deep breath to argue, but stopped. She bit her lip and turned away. “Some battles aren’t worth fighting,” she whispered.
“Have at it. It’s all yours.” Zander pointed to his desk. He’d have to be blind not to see how on edge his partner was today, and he wouldn’t make things any harder for her than need be.
“Thanks,” she whispered. She flopped into his chair.
“What do you need?”
“A massive print out of that spreadsheet again. All twenty-seven pages of it. Plus, I need to access the whole Keswick file, print that off, and work on that one. Then cross reference the two. Redo all that foot washing stuff that was lying on my desk which I’d researched yesterday when I got back from the postmortem.” She pulled out the sheet of paper from her jacket pocket. “I also need to check out those towels, lingerie, contact the fire investigation team—”
Zander elbowed her. “Hey, slow down and take a breath.”
DI Holmes appeared by their desks. “Actually, Isabel, what are you doing here? It’s the funeral this morning. Go home.”
“I need to be here. I have too much work to do. At this rate, I might not make the cemetery, never mind the church.” She tugged the small card from her bag and picked up the phone on the desk.
“That’s my phone,” Zander complained.
“The Guv said to use your desk.”
“Yeah, he said my desk. He didn’t say anything about using my phone. He also told you to go home.”
“I don’t have a phone or a desk. So I assume he meant I could use your phone as well.” Isabel pulled a face at him, punching digits with the tip of one of Zander’s pens.
Zander eyeballed the Guv in despair. “Give the girl an inch and she takes a mile.”
DI Holmes smirked.
Isabel shook her head at them. “Yes, could I speak to David James, please. It’s DC York, Thames Valley Police. I can hold.”
“Sure you’ll hold. It’s not your phone.” Zander sat on the edge of the desk. “My chair, my desk, my phone…”
She deliberately scattered the pens across the desk. “Hello, it’s DC York from Thames Valley Police. I have a couple of questions about the house fire in which Mrs. Kowalski died last week.”
Zander rolled his eyes. “Before you ask, Guv, I have no idea what she’s doing. I’ll keep an eye on her, make sure she’s all right.”
“Yes,” Isabel said. “The report said an overloaded extension lead. Are you sure?” She tapped the pen on the desk. “I realise that, but I know for a fact Mrs. Kowalski unplugged everything that wasn’t in use. Even the toaster and kettle. Yes, I’m positive. Would it be possible to see the place for myself?”
“Isabel, no,” Zander objected. She’d passed out during an autopsy. What would seeing where her gran actually died do to her?
Isabel glared at him and put a finger over her lips. “This afternoon would be great. Yes, see you at four. Thank you very much.” She hung up.
“You’re kidding, right?” He straightened, ready to argue the toss.
“No. She unplugged everything she wasn’t using, Zander. Trust me on that one.” She scribbled on his desk notepad.
Zander flipped it around so he could read it. “What’s CS3?”
“Chief Super at three.” She pushed to her feet and picked up her bag. “OK, let’s check out the towel shop, as I can’t get to my desk.”
“What happened to using mine?”
“All the information I need is on my computer.”
“Which you emailed to me, remember? I can print it off again. Just chill.” He tilted his head and eyed his partner. “Maybe the Guv is right, and we do this tomorrow.”
“Whatever. I’ll get the bus and do it myself. I can show you the notes tomorrow.” She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, letting the door slam behind her.
Zander stood there. “What just happened?” he wondered aloud.
“Go after her, Zander,” DI Holmes said. “She shouldn’t be alone, not today. We’ll see you at the internment and the church, and then I’d like you to take her home afterwards. You can brief the Chief Super another day.”
“Yes, sir.” Zander ran out of the room and caught Isabel up halfway down the stairs. He grabbed her arm. “Wait up, Is.”
She shook herself free. “I don’t have time to wait. There’s too much to do.”
He braced his hands on his knees, over exaggerating how out of breath he was. “Just stop for one second.”
“Fine. I’ve stopped.”
He glanced up at her, worried. Her red-rimmed eyes showed how little control she had left. And he liked his head on his shoulders. “Which towel shop did you want to go to again?”
“The department store on Headley Road.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I know it. They’ve been going years and sell everything you could possibly want.”
“Well, the towels the Slayer’s using to make the robes have their labels in them. Normally they’re cut out.” She waved the evidence bag at him. “He left this one in. My theory is he got the lingerie from the same shop, but I need to check that out as well.”
“Then let’s go after nine when they open.”
“They will be by the time we get over there.” She started moving down the stairs again.
“OK, sure,” he said. “We’ll go now. Unless you want me to print off that file you emailed me before we leave?”
She sighed in obvious frustration. “Which part of ‘I want out of the office now’ don’t you get? Besides, I need the Keswick one narrowed down to compare it with and that is still on my computer.” She sucked in a deep breath. “Maybe before seeing the Chief Super later.”
He shook his head. “Guv said to take you home after the lunch at church.”
Her lips thinned. “Whatever.”
Irritation flared. “That’s the second time you’ve “whatevered” me in five minutes.”
“Really? Whatever.” She flounced down the rest of the stairs.
Zander sighed and headed after her. Oh, God, grant me patience to deal with her today. But hurry. Or send bail money. Either will do.
The door below thudded against the wall as Isabel stomped through it and into the bright sunshine.
Zander followed her outside. The scent
of roses from the bushes wafted up to greet him and he inhaled deeply.
Isabel glanced at him. “Sorry. I’m a right moody cow today. I don’t know why.”
“It’s all right,” he said gently, keeping his distance. “You’ve a lot going on.”
She nodded. “I feel like a violin bow that’s being tightened and tightened until it’s at the breaking point. The strands are snapping one by one. I can hear myself being horrible, but can’t stop it.”
“It’s OK, really. I grew up in a house full of women. My sister, Laura, can be unbearable some days. Moody and bad tempered, or she’d just sit and cry for hours for no reason whatsoever.”
Isabel raised an eyebrow. “You think this is just hormonal? Isn’t that a bit sexist? But then why should you be any different from the rest of the idiots I work with?”
Zander held up his hands. “Hey, don’t shoot. I merely mentioned one of my sisters is very sensitive about everything. She cries during those soppy Christmas card ads on TV and during the medal ceremonies when we actually win gold. So I didn’t say that you were hormonal, and wasn’t implying it in the slightest, but it’s probably not helping any. My point is, you are burying your gran today. The only person who really cared about you—besides me, that is. Just take today to mourn properly. Work can wait.”
Isabel’s brows lifted, as if she wanted to mutter ‘whatever’ again, and storm off in a huff, but then she shook her head. “Thanks, but no, this can’t wait. What if he strikes again whilst I’m not looking? What if some other girl falls foul of him because I’ve missed the link? You said yourself that TV cops solve the case in an hour.”
“And a cartoon dog can do it in twenty-five minutes.” Zander shoved a hand through his hair. How on earth did he get through to the woman? “This is real life, Is. Stuff happens. We’ll get him. I promise. Now, have you had breakfast?”
“No. Not hungry.”
“Thought as much. You’re suffering from bacon withdrawal. There’s only one cure. Bacon and hot chocolate. Then the department store.” He grinned. “Comfort food.”
She frowned. “Which part of ‘not hungry’ don’t you get?”
He grabbed her arm and guided her across to his service vehicle. “Humour me, I’m a cop. Besides, I’m addicted and will be totally hangry if I don’t get bacon in the next ten minutes. Come on, before the Guv makes us stay for the briefing.”
~*~
Isabel had to admit that Zander was right about one thing. She just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry until she couldn’t cry anymore.
Zander sat down and pushed a cup into her hands. “The food is just coming. If you really don’t want yours, then I’ll eat it.”
“Thanks.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a box. He slid it across the table. “Here, take two.”
“What is it?”
“Pain reliever. You look as if you need it.”
“How did you…?” she didn’t bother to finish the sentence.
“Four sisters, remember.” He picked up the cup and inhaled deeply. “I recognise a sleepless night headache coming on when I see it.”
“Thank you.” She gave him the box back, and then swallowed the pills with a gulp of hot chocolate.
“How can you do that with a hot drink?” he asked, amazement tinging his voice. “I choke if I try that.”
“I always have been able to.” She sipped the hot drink.
“So, from here to the department store, and then on to the cemetery?” he asked.
“I…” Isabel faltered. “I really don’t think I can go. Maybe we just…”
Zander’s warm hand covered her cold one. He held her gaze, softening his expression. “No one likes funerals, Is. I tend to sob all the way through them, doesn’t matter whose it is, either. And I’m talking ugly crying here. But you’re not doing this alone. You can cry as much as you like, no one will mind or judge you. Because I guarantee you won’t be the only one in tears.”
“OK,” she whispered.
Zander kept hold of her hand as the food arrived. He said grace, and only then let go.
The smell of the bacon teased her nose and she took a small bite. One led to another and without realising, or being particularly hungry, she ate the whole thing.
Zander finished his and glanced at his watch. “9:00 AM. To the store to check out those towels?”
“Sure.”
In the store, Isabel quickly found the bathroom section and wandered up the towel aisle slowly. So many colours, a veritable rainbow of shades and sizes. She paused by the white towel display and pulled one off the shelf to compare the labels. “This is it.”
An assistant came across. “Can I help you?”
Isabel pulled out her ID. “DC York. This is my partner DC Ellery. We need to know if anyone bought a load of these in bulk recently.”
“I can find out for you.”
Isabel and Zander followed the assistant across to the computer.
The assistant worked the screen. “We sold ten in green.”
“White. Bath sheets.” Isabel held out the evidence bag. “Like these.”
“Oh, OK.” The assistant took the bag and copied in the details. She handed the bag back and Isabel slid it into her pocket. “Yes. At the beginning of March we sold thirty white bath sheets.”
“What date?” Isabel asked.
“Third.”
“Who bought them?” Zander asked.
“Ummm. Cash payment, so I can’t tell you, I’m afraid.”
“Cash?” Zander looked at Isabel. “How much?”
“Thirty towels at twenty-seven pounds each, totally eight hundred and ten pounds.”
Zander whistled. “Eight hundred and ten quid. In cash? Is that usual?”
“Not really, but there’s no limit on how much cash one customer can pay for goods. I’m sorry I can’t be of any more help.”
“I don’t suppose you have any CCTV cameras in here, do you?”
“You’d need to ask security about seeing the footage. Top floor.”
“Thank you, we’ll do that.” Zander turned and headed to the bank of lifts in the centre of the building. “Do we have time?”
Isabel glanced at her watch. “No. We’ll need to come back to check out the lingerie section.” She bit her lip. “Do I look all right? I didn’t know what to wear. Any colour seemed wrong, but black is…”
“You look fine, I promise.”
“OK.” Tears burned her eyes.
Zander gave her a quick hug. “Right by your side. All. Day.”
He drove her the short distance to the cemetery. A few people stood outside the building, presumably from church.
Zander introduced her, but Isabel wasn’t sure she took any of the names in, never mind being able to remember them.
Pastor Jack came over and said something, but a car pulling up distracted Isabel.
She turned. A black hearse filled her field of vision. Flowers adorned the side of the coffin. The wreath she’d ordered. “I can’t do this…” Her voice broke, tears fell. She turned, to find Zander’s arms around her, her face pressed against the roughness of his coat.
“Yes, you can. You’re not alone.” He prayed quietly, just loud enough for her to hear. Then, supporting her with a gentle arm around the waist, he led her into the grounds following the coffin.
~*~
Isabel didn’t remember anything of the two services. One minute they were at the cemetery, and seemingly the next Zander was leading her over to the kitchen in the church hall for a cup of strong, sweet tea. She clasped the cup tightly in her hands and looked at him. Her eyes were sore, so she must have been crying.
“You did good, Is,” Zander said gently. “Come and sit. I’ll get you something to eat.”
“Not really hungry,” she protested. “Need to get back to work and…”
He shook his head, gently putting a finger over her lips. “Not just yet.” He sat her down. “I’ll be back.”
&nbs
p; Isabel glanced around as the hall filled with church folk. She recognised a few but guessed they all knew Gran.
The lady from the florist sat in the chair next to her. “How are you doing?”
“I don’t…I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”
“Grace. This is my husband, Elliott.”
“The flowers are beautiful. Thank you.”
Zander appeared beside her, thrusting a plate of food into her hand. “Grace, Elliott. Thanks for coming.”
Elliott smiled. “We had to. She’ll be missed.” He paused. “Did I ever tell you about the time I repaired her back door? It was before Isabel came to Headley Cross.”
Zander shook her head. “What happened?”
“It was quite funny, although she didn’t think so at the time.”
Isabel listened as Elliott regaled them with the tale of Gran, a cat flap, the fire brigade, and a new door. Despite the grief filling her she had to smile at the thought of Gran trying to teach the cat to use the cat flap by example.
Zander glanced at her. “Don’t go getting any ideas. I don’t think Jared would appreciate having to rescue you as well.” He nodded to the plate. “Try to eat something, Is.”
“I’m not hungry.”
He shook his head. “And what would your gran say to that?”
Isabel looked at the plate. “She’d say, I don’t care if you’re hungry or not. If you don’t eat it, you’ll be up on…”
“The roof with the cats,” Elliott finished. “Think she used that line on almost everyone she met.”
Isabel looked down at the plate. Well, maybe one sandwich. It couldn’t make her feel any worse, could it?
7
Zander drove Isabel home after the wake finished. She’d given up complaining about going home. He hadn’t wanted to insist the Guv make it a direct order. The meeting with the Chief Super had been rearranged to the following day, by which point hopefully Isabel would have her desk and computer back. Not that he minded sharing, but it would be easier with all the papers they’d need to spread out to have two working areas.
