by M A Comley
“Can we nick some suits from your car, Lorraine?”
A groan was quickly followed by a brief yes.
Sara and Carla returned to the parked cars and located the pathologist’s right away. They extracted two white paper suits, pulled them on, and then slipped a pair of blue paper shoes over their feet. Prepared for what lay ahead, they retraced their steps and entered the house. They found Lorraine standing in the lounge, also dressed for the occasion, having a discussion with her team. She turned to face Sara and Carla and motioned for them to join her.
Lorraine seemed despondent. “It’s a mess.”
“Where are the bodies?” Sara asked, her gaze latching on to two big pools of blood on the carpet close to where Lorraine was standing. A familiar feeling of wanting to shut out the world and curl up in a ball swept over her, but she quickly brushed it aside.
Lorraine pointed behind Sara. “Down the hallway, in the bedroom.”
“The killer moved the bodies?”
“Seems to be the case. No idea why just yet. Also, we haven’t spotted any sign of forced entry,” Lorraine concurred.
“Interesting. A savage attack all the same. Who found them?”
Lorraine pointed out the window. “The woman sitting in the black Vectra. She’s the couple’s daughter.”
“Damn! That must have been tough for her. I’ll have a word with her in a minute. Do you want to walk me through the scene?”
Lorraine nodded. “Not been here that long myself, therefore I haven’t managed to figure out the whys and wherefores just yet. All I can tell you at this point is that the murders took place here, and the assailant, or assailants, moved the bodies to the rear of the property.”
Sara surveyed the room and pointed at the large bay window. “Maybe the killer thought the bodies would be on view if anyone peered in.”
“That was my first thought. The net curtain doesn’t reach the windowsill—maybe they assumed someone would peer underneath.”
“I think you’re right. Giving them time to abscond without the fear of getting caught.”
“Maybe. Heartless nevertheless. Do we know how old the victims were?”
Lorraine sighed. “Rough guesstimate, I would put them in their late seventies to early eighties.”
Sara flung her arms out to the sides in frustration. “Why? Who would do such a thing to people of that age? It’s sickening.” Her heart skipped several beats when her own grandparents’ faces filtered into her mind. They had both been frail at that age, hardly able to put up a fight to save their lives.
“I don’t think anyone in this room is going to disagree with you on that point. Shall we go through to the bedroom? Avoid stepping in the trail of blood en route, if you will?” Lorraine walked ahead of Sara and Carla. She entered the room and steered around the two dead bodies lying on the floor close to the bed.
The three of them remained silent for a few moments, observing the scene.
Finally, Sara shook her head and groaned. “Sick beyond words. Such a vicious attack, and yet the place doesn’t appear to have been ransacked. Why? Why kill them?”
“Your guess is as good as mine and non-existent at this point, Inspector,” Lorraine confirmed.
“Do you think the murderer knew them?” Carla asked, still transfixed by the bodies.
“Who knows?” Lorraine replied.
Sara leaned over to study the couple closer and asked, “Why is the man’s body twisted like that?”
Lorraine shrugged. “Maybe the killer was searching for something, a wallet or driving licence perhaps.”
Sara sighed and stood up again. “You might be right. His back pocket is on view. I know my father keeps his wallet in his at all times.”
“Agreed. I’m looking at how many stab wounds there are,” Carla said. “It would seem to be a frenzied attack, as if the assailant knew them personally. Or am I reading too much into it?”
Lorraine and Sara glanced at each other and nodded their agreement. “Possibly. That’s usually the way these things turn out,” Lorraine agreed.
“Should make it easier to solve in that case,” Carla suggested.
Sara wasn’t so sure. In her experience, murderers never actually fit into set categories just because of the way they slaughtered their victims. “Let’s keep that thought on the back burner for now.”
“Not always,” Lorraine said. “Early days yet, but so far it seems the killer was careful not to leave any DNA. However, in the hallway I spotted a trainer print in the blood.”
“That’s excellent news, isn’t it?” Sara asked, perplexed by the concerned expression on the pathologist’s face.
“It would be if the print was irregular in some way. Sadly, it isn’t.”
Sara tutted. “That’s a shame. You’ll still examine it and report back, right?”
“Of course. There’s really nothing else I can tell you at this moment in time. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to organise the team properly.”
“Sorry. If we have any more questions, I’ll come and grab you.” Sara smiled at the pathologist.
After Lorraine had left the room, Sara surveyed the scene, avoiding looking at the victims for now. “Okay, I’m going to suggest what happened here. Speak up if you think I’m wrong. The woman was in bed, probably reading her book. There’s a cup on the bedside table and biscuit crumbs in the bed, plus she’s in her nightdress. Maybe she heard the doorbell ring and put her dressing gown on to investigate who the caller was.”
“You got all that just from a few clues?” Carla asked, showing her inexperience in dealing with a murder case.
“You need to take in the bigger picture, partner. Don’t stop at the obvious clues that are presented to you. Go beyond that. Did you notice the broken vase in the lounge?”
Carla shook her head. “No. Not that we were in the room long enough.”
“Well, it was there. My guess is that the woman went to investigate who the caller was and found the person, or persons, attacking her husband. She probably bashed them with the vase trying to save her husband. Most women would scream for help and try to run out of the house. I don’t think that happened in this case. She loved the bones of this man. They had probably spent their whole life together. More than likely she would think she’d be better off dead than live the rest of her life in misery without her husband, therefore she put up a decent fight. Look at the stab wounds she received, dozens of them.”
“Shocking. Can’t believe someone would possess that much hatred to take out an elderly couple in such a horrendous way,” Carla said, her gaze dropping back to the couple.
“We need to get past our personal feelings on this, Carla, and quickly. Experience tells me that if the assailant or assailants got what they were after, they’ll get a thirst to kill and brutalise more people.”
“No. I hope you’re wrong on that count. Things like this just don’t occur around here.”
Sara tilted her head and pointed at the victims. “Evidently they do.” She moved over to the window. “This place isn’t overlooked as such.”
“It’s still worth checking with the neighbours to see if they saw or heard anything though, right?”
Sara faced her partner. “No doubt about that. Do you want to start the enquiries while I speak to the daughter? I think we’ve left her alone long enough, don’t you?”
“Agreed. I’ll do the rounds and report back if anything grabs my attention.”
Sara and Carla rejoined Lorraine in the lounge. On the way, Sara noted all the family photos lining the wall. The couple always had a smile on their faces. Heartbreaking! Mindless, selfish behaviour on the killer’s part, no doubt. “We’ll be back once we’ve spoken to the daughter and the neighbours; we’re not running off just yet.”
“Very well. We’ll continue to process the scene.”
They left the house and split up at the garden gate. Carla went left to the neighbour’s property while Sara walked over to the Vectra parked on the opposite
side of the road. The driver had her head resting on the steering wheel. Sara was concerned that if she tapped on the window she’d scare the woman. She approached the driver’s side and opened the door.
The woman immediately sat back in her seat and turned to look at Sara. Her face was blotchy, and trails of mascara stained her cheeks.
“Hello. I’m DI Sara Ramsey. I’m so sorry for your loss. Would it be all right if I jump in and have a chat with you?”
“I’m Olivia Morgan.” She reached for a handy pack of tissues in the console and extracted one. After wiping her eyes and blowing her nose, she nodded. “Please, yes, get in.”
Sara walked around the front of the car and slotted into the passenger seat. She swivelled to face the woman. “Are you up to telling me how you discovered your parents?”
“I came by as planned this morning. Mum had a hospital appointment in Hereford, a glaucoma check-up. I promised I would go with her.”
“I see. Can I ask when you last spoke to either your father or your mother?”
“Saturday evening, around eight o’clock.” Olivia sniffled and slammed her hand onto the steering wheel. “They celebrated their sixtieth anniversary last year. Forty years they’ve lived in this property. How could anyone do this to them? Why would anyone want to hurt my parents, let alone kill them?”
Sara swallowed down the feeling of helplessness she usually felt at times like this. The inability to answer distraught families during such emotional times was the one side of her job that truly let her down. “I’m sorry, I just can’t answer your questions right now. Not until the investigation has begun properly.”
“You must have some indication who could do this? Didn’t they leave any clues behind? DNA for instance?”
“The pathologist and her team are in there now. If there is any evidence to be found, they’ll find it, I assure you.”
“Didn’t the neighbours hear anything? Surely someone must have heard a scream or shout. I doubt Mum would have gone quietly,” Olivia said, fresh tears falling onto her cheeks.
“My partner is doing the rounds with the neighbours now. Hopefully she’ll have some good news for us soon.”
“My next question would be, if someone did hear a scream, then why didn’t they call the police?”
“That would be my first question, too. Let’s wait and see what develops first. Do you know the neighbours well?”
She sniffled and wiped her nose. “Most of them have lived alongside my parents for years. I’m sure they would have assisted them if they’d known they were in trouble. Oh, I don’t know. Who knows how people will react if confronted with something as terrible as this? You hear of so many violent crimes being committed on our streets in the big cities such as London and Birmingham, but not out in the sticks, for Christ’s sake. I’m appalled this should happen. My parents were churchgoers, never spoke badly of anyone. Why? Why would someone go out of their way to kill them?”
Sara’s throat clogged up when Olivia broke down again. She reached over and patted the woman’s hand. “Please try not to upset yourself further. I promise you we’ll get to the bottom of this. Find the person responsible. However, we’ll need your help to do that. I know that’s not what you want to hear at this stage, but we need to find out what this person’s motives were. There are signs that this person, or persons, were known to your parents.”
Olivia turned to face her, her eyes wide with surprise. “What? How do you know that?”
“I’m surmising that’s the case. The pathologist informed me that there is no sign of a forced entry. Taking that into consideration, I would suggest that whoever opened the door to the killer, knew them and invited them into the house.”
Olivia narrowed her eyes as she contemplated the scenario. “Actually, you’re probably right. My parents were pretty hot on security. All right, they didn’t possess any CCTV cameras, never felt the need to have them living in a rural idyll such as this, but how does someone prepare for every eventuality? Even something as brutal as this?”
“Okay, that reinforces what I thought. Can you think of anyone you know who would have a vendetta against your parents?”
Adamantly shaking her head, Olivia replied, “No, no one. They were both well loved in the community, and all their family adored them.”
Sara blew out a frustrated breath. “I have to ask in that case if your parents kept any valuables in the house. Whoever killed them were after something specific. By the looks of things, the house wasn’t turned over at all, and their car is still parked in the drive. Did they have anything else of value that someone could possibly be after?”
Inhaling a shuddering breath, Olivia nodded. “My father didn’t trust banks. He hated what they stood for and refused to deposit any money with them.”
Sara’s interest piqued. “Did your parents have a safe in the house?”
“No. Dad always kept the money under a floorboard in the bedroom, under the bed.”
Reflecting on the way Olivia’s father’s body was positioned, Sara asked, “Where did your father keep his wallet?”
“In his back pocket. He always kept five hundred pounds in it, for emergencies.”
“Okay. The pathologist presumed your father had been turned over to gain access to his back pocket, which is now empty.”
“That’s the motive then?” Olivia asked, her brow knitted.
“Possibly,” Sara admitted.
“Where do we go from here? I’ve been sitting here, too stunned to ring my family to tell them. They’re going to be devastated beyond belief that this could happen in this sleepy village. Why would anyone carry out such a heinous crime in the middle of nowhere?”
“That’s what I intend to find out, and believe me when I say this, Mrs Morgan. I will find out.”
Olivia sighed and reached for her mobile phone. “Thank you, that’s reassuring. I’m going to ring my brothers now.”
“I don’t envy you that task. I will need their addresses after you ring them. To interview them in case they can fill in any of the blanks we have at present, if you wouldn’t mind pre-warning them.”
“Of course. I hope they’ll be able to help you more than I have.”
Sara placed a hand on Olivia’s forearm. “You’ve done your best in the circumstances. I’ll leave you a card just in case anything comes to mind that you think we should be aware of in the next few days. Again, I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. I hope you can furnish us with the justice we seek, Inspector.”
“I hope so, too. I’ll leave you to make the calls and speak to you again before we leave.” Sara exited the car on shaky legs. Carla was coming out of one of the neighbours’ houses in front of her. “Anything of use?”
“Sort of. The lady, a Mavis Nicholl, told me that she thought she heard a scream around tennish on Saturday night. She immediately left her home and knocked on the Flowers’ door. But no one answered. She presumed she had imagined it and returned to her house and didn’t think any more of it.”
“She didn’t bother to check the following day in the daylight? Were the lights still on in the house on the Saturday night?”
“She said the place was in darkness and she didn’t call round there yesterday because her family came to pick her up at nine and she was out all day with them for some kind of family party.”
“Great. Okay, maybe she knocked on the door and disturbed the intruder. Perhaps Mrs Flowers screamed, and her assailant swiftly killed her then switched off the lights on the assumption that one of the neighbours might come knocking to investigate.” She scanned the other houses within spitting distance of where they stood. “Have you had a chance to speak to any of the others yet?”
“Not yet. Mrs Nicholl kept me talking a while. I think she’s scared, she lives alone.”
“That’s to be expected. We need to reassure anyone else we speak to that this type of thing is a rarity and that we’ll be keeping an eye on the area. I’ll organise a patrol
car to drive by a few times every day, just to give the neighbours some peace of mind.”
“Good idea. How was the daughter?”
“Surprisingly calm in the circumstances. Maybe she’d had a chance to get her head around what had happened while she waited for the pathologist to show up. I’ve left her ringing the other members of the family. I’ll check back on her in a while. Let’s split up and continue the door-to-door enquiries.”
Carla nodded and entered the next garden to her left while Sara walked across the road to a smart-looking bungalow with a garden brimming full of cottage plants, most of which were in full bloom. She rang the doorbell and waited, feeling a little perkier on the inside as she observed the beautiful plants surrounding her. She was always on the lookout for ideas of how to make her tiny patch of garden bright and cheerful. She didn’t have a clue what it would take to achieve something of this standard, but it didn’t stop her appreciating how wonderful the display was.
An elderly man opened the door, his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. His gaze drifted behind Sara, at the official vehicles beyond his gate.
“Hello, sir.” Sara held up her ID for him to see. “I’m DI Sara Ramsey. I wondered if you could spare me a moment to chat.”
He seemed dazed, unable to give her his full attention. “I’m sorry. I know nothing. I’m in shock right now.”
“I appreciate how traumatic this must be for the community. We’re desperately trying to find out how this happened. Is there anything you can tell us? No matter how incidental you believe it to be. Did you happen to see anyone approach the house?” Sara glanced over her shoulder. “I’m thinking your house would have the best view of the Flowers’ property.”
“It does. I’m sorry I can’t be of help, truly I am. They were very dear friends of mine. Ted and I used to go fishing together regularly at the lakes down at Stretton Sugwas. I’ll miss him dearly. Shocking it is. To think someone could break into their home and kill them like that. What on earth is this world coming to? Your lot should be back walking the streets. Put the bobbies back in the heart of the communities. It was surprising what we used to detect being able to walk amongst the residents.”
