by M A Comley
“Are you married, Michael?”
“I used to be until the bitch divorced me.”
Sara stared at him. “Have you always had a drink problem?”
He glared at her, anger forcing his eyes wide open. “No. That’s not why she left me.”
“Did you start drinking after your wife left you, sir?” Sara asked.
“Yes. I did nothing wrong. I’m ill. That’s why I had to take early retirement. I’ve just been diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, sir. Do you think drinking yourself into such a state is going to help?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care. What do I have to live for anyway? My parents are dead, and my wife has left me.”
“Do you have any children, sir?”
“Yes, my daughter Paula drops by occasionally. She has her own family to attend to. The last thing she wants to do is tend to her old man after working at the care home all day.”
“Which care home, sir?”
“The one in Withington. No idea what the name of it is.”
Carla jotted down the information he supplied. “Are you up to answering some questions about your parents, Michael?”
“Depends what you want to know. Their death has hit me hard, harder than I imagined it would. Do you know who did it? Who killed them? If you do, I’d like ten minutes alone with the bastard. Why? Why kill them? Was it a burglary? My parents don’t have much.”
He bombarded them with questions, and Sara wondered if he would be up for answering any questions she wanted to put to him or whether he was too self-absorbed, turning his own questions over and over in his mind.
“We don’t believe it was a burglary, sir. There was no evidence at the scene to make us think that. We don’t know who carried out the crime yet, but we intend to find out. We’re questioning your relatives in the hope that someone might be able to give us a name.”
“What name?”
“Someone you believe might have made contact with your parents in the last few months, perhaps with the sole intention of deliberately befriending them.”
“Befriending them? My head’s muzzy. Are you saying you think someone gained my parents’ trust then killed them?”
“It’s all up in the air at present, sir. Maybe that’s what happened. Another reason why we’re questioning your relatives. Can you recall anyone who could likely fit the bill?”
He took another swig of whisky, rolled it around his mouth and then swallowed. “I don’t know is the honest answer. Our family is really tight. We don’t tend to let in many outsiders, at least I don’t think we do. I’m not sure now.” He ran a hand across his stubble as if confused.
Sara sighed. She had a feeling they weren’t going to obtain anything useful from this man, either because of his illness or more likely because of the alcohol he had consumed. “Can we ring anyone to come and be with you, sir, at this sad time?”
“No. I need to wallow in self-pity for the people I have lost over the past few years. I’m sorry I can’t supply you with the information you need. Please, please do your best to find this person. Mum and Dad didn’t deserve to go out of this stinking world like that.”
“We will. I’m concerned about you, Michael. Are you sure you’re going to be okay when we leave?”
“I’m sure. I’m used to being by myself. Mum and Dad used to drop by periodically, and although my brothers and I are close, I don’t like to bother them with my tales of woe.”
“Okay. You take care. I’ll leave you one of my cards if you should think of anything, umm…when you’re thinking straight.”
He tried to stand but flopped back in his chair. “You mean when I’m sober?”
Sara smiled. “Take care.”
“Thank you. Do your best. Any idea when we’ll be able to put them to rest?” He flapped a hand in front of him. “Tell one of my other brothers, they’ll pass the message on when the time is right. Not sure I can take it all in now.”
“We’ll do that. Stay there, we’ll see ourselves out.” Sara left a card on the table close to him. Again, he flinched as she got close.
Sara and Carla left the house. “Bloody hell, it’s barely twelve-forty-five and he’s already pissed,” Carla said over the roof of the car.
“Let’s not dwell on that for now. We haven’t got a clue how much of his drinking is down to the loss of his parents. I’d feel bad judging him on this visit.”
“Maybe it’s guilt. Perhaps he killed his parents and is finding it impossible to live with the consequences.”
Sara raised her eyes to the sky when a large drop of rain landed on her nose. “Get in before we get soaked.” Once they were in the car, she replied to Carla’s suggestion. “I think you’re wrong, by the way. I don’t think he’d have it in him to kill them.”
Carla shrugged. “You’re probably right.”
“Now, where’s this café you spoke about? I’m in dire need of sustenance. You’ll have to give me directions.”
“No worries. It’s only ten minutes from here. They do fabulous cream teas as well, if you fancy one?”
Sara smiled and slotted the car into gear. She flipped the switch, and the wiper blades cleared the windscreen as the heavens opened. “We might get a little wet at the other end.”
“It’ll be worth it, I promise.”
They parked in the car park. Carla shot out of the car to buy the parking ticket. She returned and stuck the ticket on the inside of the windscreen and then bolted back to the café. Sara placed her jacket over her head and raced across the car park to join her. “Bloody hell. I know July has been arid and we’re in desperate need of rain, but this is ridiculous.”
There was a small queue ahead of them. They both chose a cheese and ham panini and a small latte. “We better have one of your delicious scones and cream, too,” Sara told the young woman behind the counter.
“Do you want a scone between you? They’re quite big.”
“I think we’d better, thanks.” Sara paid for lunch and carried the coffees over to one of the benched tables at the rear.
“Thanks for this, boss. My treat next time. Where are we going after lunch?”
“You’re welcome.” She flipped open her notebook and ran her finger down the list of names. “Stuart Flowers. His address is in Risbury. I have to admit, I haven’t heard of that village. Do you know where it is?”
“Not far up the road. About five or ten minutes, I suppose. We’re not having much luck so far, are we?”
“It’s early days yet. Their minds are with their parents. Once they’ve had the chance to grieve properly, I’m sure we’ll get a few calls. At least I hope that’s the case.”
The waitress arrived with their paninis.
Sara smiled at the woman and pushed her cup and saucer to one side. “Wow! That was quick.”
“We aim to please. Do you want me to bring your scone out now or in a few minutes?”
“Whichever suits you. Thanks, this looks delicious.”
The waitress nodded and rushed back through the swing door, emerging a few seconds later with two plates, a fruit scone, jam and a pot of clotted cream. Sara felt her waistband tighten at the feast in front of her. “Thanks.” When the waitress left the table, Sara blew out a breath and leaned forward to say, “Blooming heck, I think I’ve gained ten pounds just looking at this lot. I’m never going to manage to eat it all, no matter how scrumptious it all is.”
“Get on with you. Think of it as your main meal. You could always have a tin of soup for tea when you get home tonight.”
Sara puffed out her cheeks at the thought of having to eat yet another meal that day—she didn’t have the healthiest of appetites as it was. “Is that the voice of experience talking? How do you manage to eat so much and stay so slim?”
“I have a healthy sex life, what more can I say?”
Sara had taken a mouthful of her panini and almost spat it out. She glanced around at the other tables to see
if any of the other diners had heard what Carla had announced loudly. “Bloody hell! Do you want to tell the whole world that?”
Carla burst into laughter. “Wow! I would never have taken you for being a prude.”
Sara’s mouth gaped open for a moment before she replied, “I am not! I just don’t think it’s appropriate to shout about something like that during the course of lunch in a packed café when there are children present.”
Carla searched around her and then shook her head. “I hardly class an eighteen-month-old child focussing on its food corruptible. Like I said, you’re a prude.”
Sara didn’t have the heart to challenge her partner any further. Instead, she took another nibble out of her panini.
“Umm…while we’re on the subject of sex, if you don’t think it’s too personal a question, do you have a boyfriend or husband?” Carla asked.
Sara kept her gaze on her plate. She knew her partner would utter those words one day. She counted herself lucky that she appeared to have got away with it for eighteen months. She remained silent, considering how she should answer. Her reluctance to reveal the truth weighed heavily on her shoulders. “Can we talk about that another time? I don’t feel as though this is the right time to share my personal life with you just yet.”
Carla seemed offended, hurt even.
Sara instantly regretted uttering the words. “Sorry, Carla. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll tell you when I’m ready, I promise. At the moment, it’s still too hard for me to deal with.”
“I apologise for putting you on the spot. I misread the signs that we were finally getting on with each other, dare I say becoming friends even. Sorry to have misconstrued that notion.”
Sara’s heart sank. She pushed her half-eaten panini away from her and took a sip of coffee. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that to sound so harsh. I’m a private person. Please don’t take that personally. What I will tell you is that up to this point in my thirty-two years on this earth, I’ve known great sadness that most individuals would find abhorrent.”
“No, it’s me who should be apologising, not you. Forget I said anything. I will say one thing, though…”
Sara tilted her head and asked, “What’s that?”
“Feel free to share in the future. I’m a damn good listener and I like you, DI Sara Ramsey. Your distance at work sometimes is very noticeable. Anyway, if I can share about my sex life with you in a café, feel free to share what dark secrets lie in your past whenever you feel the need.”
Sara chuckled. “I promise I will one day. Feel free to keep your own sex life and what it entails private in the future.”
“Deal.” Carla sniggered and bit a large chunk of her panini then pushed the rest of it away from her and pulled the plate with the scone and cream towards her. “Want me to divide it up?”
“If you insist. A smaller half for me, if you don’t mind.” Sara was relieved to see that Carla wasn’t the type to hold a grudge, but she felt a little hurt that her colleague found her distant. Was it just Carla who felt that way or did the rest of her team think the same? Either way, she had no intention of breaking down in front of them and spilling the heartache she had suffered in recent years.
Carla was right about one thing. The cream tea was to die for and totally worth the extra inch or so on her waistband.
Chapter 4
They left the café half an hour later. The strained atmosphere that had descended upon them now appeared to be in the past. Once they were seated in the car, Sara looked up the address for the next brother they were due to see and swivelled in her seat. “I will tell you one day. All I ask is that you don’t hold it against me.”
Carla nodded. “It’s a deal with an added proviso.”
“Which is?”
“That if you need to unburden yourself at any time, you have my permission to bend my ear or dampen my shoulder with your tears.”
Sara held out her hand. Carla shook it. “That’s a deal.” Selecting first gear, she crawled out of the car park, noting the five-mile-an-hour speed limit. “Let’s get the rest of the interviews out of the way and head back to base.”
They arrived at Stuart Flowers’ detached home ten minutes later. There was a silver BMW sitting in the drive. A smart woman in her fifties opened the door.
“Hello, Mrs Flowers. I’m DI Sara Ramsey, and this is my partner, DS Carla Jameson.”
“Yes, we’ve been expecting you. You’re very welcome to come in; however, Stuart just rang to say he’s going to be a little late. Some emergency happened at the restaurant this morning that he needs to deal with. Can I get you a coffee while you wait?”
“No, thank you, Mrs Flowers, we’ve just had lunch. Is your husband going to be long? We have another one of his brothers to see. Maybe we should slot him in first and come back later.”
“Whatever suits you. I’m sure my husband won’t be more than ten minutes or so. Maybe I can fill in some details for you in his absence.”
“That’s fine with us.”
“Come through to the lounge.”
They followed her through the large hallway into a spacious lounge that would have been well at home sitting on the pages of a glossy interior magazine.
“You have a beautiful home, Mrs Flowers. Have you lived here long?”
“Gosh, I suppose the past twenty years or so. We’ve recently updated all the rooms. My mother-in-law, rest her soul, helped me pick out the fabrics for the curtains throughout. She had a wonderful eye for colours. I shall miss her terribly.”
“Mind if we take a seat?” Sara asked tentatively.
“I’m sorry. Of course.”
The three of them sank into the super comfy sofas.
“Perhaps you can tell us when you last saw your in-laws?”
Mrs Flowers thought the question over for a second or two and then bashed her fist against her temple. “I had lunch with them last Wednesday, although Stuart dropped by to see them both on Friday of last week. He always takes them a joint of meat or two to put in their freezer when he gets a delivery.”
“That’s nice of him. I’m sure they appreciated that.”
Mrs Flowers nodded, and her eyes misted up with tears. “All the family tried to do their bit to help out. The cost of living is so high nowadays. Not that Mum and Dad ever struggled to pay the bills, but it doesn’t hurt to give back to your relatives now and again, does it?”
“Quite right. Just by interviewing the rest of the family members we’ve gleaned how much they were loved by you all.”
“They were. What do you know about what happened to them, can you tell me?”
Before Sara could answer, the front door slammed, and a rotund man with thinning grey hair rushed into the lounge. “I’m so sorry I’m late. An emergency I had to attend to came up. I know this is an important meeting with a family emergency of our own to attend to, but needs must.”
“Hello, Mr Flowers. Don’t worry, we haven’t been here long ourselves. I’m DI Sara Ramsey, the SIO in your parents’ case, and this is my partner, DS Carla Jameson.”
He shook his head and raked a trembling hand through his hair. “Terrible blow to hear the news this morning. I thought Olivia was joking when she rang me. It was such a surreal conversation. The only way I can describe it is that I felt I was having an out-of-body experience. The moment she mentioned our parents had been murdered…” He paused to take a deep breath then continued, “I’ve been in shock ever since. Yes, I had an emergency to deal with at work, which briefly took my mind off the horrendous news, but driving home I was on autopilot. Don’t even remember getting in my car, let alone navigating the damn thing home.”
Sara was used to people talking fast in instances such as this and smiled at the man as he chuntered on. “That’s understandable. Before we give the investigation our full attention, I wanted to speak to the family first. We’ve visited two of your brothers so far and asked them if your parents had befriended anyone who had caused you to have any doubts at
all.”
“What have my brothers said? Because for the life of me I can’t think of anyone that fits the bill. My parents were loved by everyone in the surrounding villages, not just their own. They’ve never knowingly had a cross word with anyone. You know they attended church regularly, don’t you?”
“So we’ve been told. Honestly, we’ve heard nothing but good things about your parents from other family members, plus, more importantly, their neighbours also. At present, we’re unsure how or why they were targeted. Obviously, the more you can share with us, the more likely we are to solve the case quickly. I know the timing could be better, what with your emotions registering so high…”
“I completely get where you’re coming from, Inspector. My family and I will do everything we can to answer your questions, no matter how probing we think they are. All we want is for you to find the person who has robbed us of two wonderful people.”
“Thank you. We’re going to need your support on this one. Do you have any children?”
Stuart walked over and sat next to his wife. He clasped her tiny hand in his large one. “No. Sadly, we lost a child a few weeks after it was born. Our daughter had a heart defect. We made the heartbreaking decision not to try for another child. Couldn’t bring ourselves to go through the same thing again.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I don’t know how to put this without it sounding insensitive—have you ever had a reason to doubt any member of your family? Either your siblings or their children?”
Stuart shook his head and glanced at his wife. “Sylvia? Have you?”
“No, never. We all get on well. We appreciate that Michael has had a rough time of it lately, but we’ve all tried to support him as much as we can without it impacting our own lives.”
Sara smiled. “He does appear to be very troubled. Not wishing to speak out of turn, but you might want to drop by and see him later.”
“Don’t tell me he was hitting the bottle?” Stuart asked.
“Yes, unfortunately. I think your parents’ death has hit him hard.”
“It’s hit us all hard. We have to deal with it, though. Drowning his bloody sorrows in alcohol isn’t going to bring them back,” Stuart replied.
