Shattered Bones, page 12
Stevenson bent forward, his hands on top of this thighs as he tried to get his breath back. He winced, first at the excruciating pain in his calf and secondly at the smell emanating from the lower half of his trousers, where he’d waded through the piles of rotting rubbish. He felt Malone pat him avuncularly on the back.
‘Don’t worry, pal. I’ll let Redford and Jack know what’s happened.’
Stevenson straightened up and eyed Malone gratefully. ‘Would you? Do you not mind?’
‘No problem. But you can let Lisa Cohen know that that maniac is still out there. Rather you than me.’
37
Something had woken Rose. She didn’t know what it was, but she was grateful, as it had roused her from a particularly disturbing dream. She felt shaken and confused. She strained to listen, wondering what had woken her. It felt like there had been lots of strange noises lately. Or had there? She struggled to remember what was real and what she had dreamt.
She squinted at her watch and made out that it was just before nine. She was still none the wiser whether it was morning or evening as the sultry darkness outside her bedroom window meant nothing at this time of year.
She shuffled herself further up the bed so she could sit up. The movement caused her head to swim. It didn’t help that the glaucoma meant she struggled to focus, making her feel even more disorientated and as if she were looking through a lens that had been smeared with Vaseline.
A flush of shame spread across her chest and face as she caught a waft of her own body odour. She’d always been meticulous about her personal hygiene, but it was getting so much harder to bathe herself without help these days. Trevor and Bernadette were so busy, she didn’t like to ask them for the help she so desperately needed.
Suddenly, her stomach rumbled, and she tried to remember the last time she had eaten. Not only could she not remember, but she also couldn’t recall what she’d had. She was so confused. She reached for her false teeth and popped them in, glad to at least have a little dignity back.
Steeling herself, she swung her legs over the bed. She was disconcerted to feel the wetness from her incontinence pad and tried to ignore the smell that emanated from her crotch. Taking a deep breath, she slid her feet into her sheepskin slippers and prepared to stand. A movement at the door caught her eye. Relief and love rushed her like a wave.
‘Trevor?’
‘I thought I could hear you moving about.’
‘Oh, Trevor. Where have you been?’
‘Getting your breakfast.’
‘But… that was days ago.’
Trevor laughed kindly. ‘It wasn’t, Mum, it’s only been an hour. You’re confused because of the water infection. You know they always make you go a bit daft.’
Rose squinted at Trevor, shaking her head. She didn’t understand. Trevor kept coming and going. The police had been to look for him and everything.
‘You went away…’ She tried so hard to concentrate, but her mind was like a book that had been left open in the breeze. Just when she thought she knew where she was up to, the pages flicked to another chapter.
‘I did go away, but I’m back now. Come on, let’s go and get you fed before your scrambled eggs go cold.’
He supported her arm while she stood up and steadied her balance. He stayed close, supporting her as she shuffled to the landing. Laurel suddenly emerged from Trevor’s bedroom and gave her a beaming smile when she saw her.
‘What are you doing up here? Why were you in the bedroom?’
‘I live here, Mum.’
‘Laurel?’
The woman laughed and shook her head. ‘Don’t be daft, Mum, it’s me, Bernadette.’
Rose squinted hard again; her vision swam as she tried to focus. Rainbow lights peppered her vision and her eyes hurt. She shut them for a moment, resting her hand on the banister to steady herself. When she opened them again, she could see Bernadette, not Laurel. How had she got the two of them so mixed up?
‘Isn’t it lovely to have Trevor home?’ she asked her.
Bernadette laughed gayly. ‘Oh, you silly old thing. He’s been back for days now. Come and get your breakfast, then you can take your antibiotics.’
Rose’s stomach growled again with hunger. Antibiotics? She wondered why she was taking them. Then she nodded to herself. Trevor had said she had a water infection. That’s why she felt funny. That’s why she was seeing things. She’d feel better once she had some food inside her and a nice cup of tea. Then she’d get herself cleaned up.
‘Can I have a bath?’ she asked Bernadette pleadingly.
‘Of course you can. I’ll run it for you as soon as you’ve finished your breakfast. I’ll put some of the bubbles in that I use, the flowery scented ones, you like them, don’t you? A rose for Rose?’ Bernadette smiled kindly at her.
She was so lucky to have the two of them. They were so good to her. She shuffled towards the stairlift, feeling happier already. Then she paused at the top. The stairlift was at the bottom. It should have been at the top from when she’d last used it. That was strange. Or was it?
Her vision started to swim again as the stairway blurred in a rainbow halo. Was this another hallucination? She turned to ask them, but before she could even open her mouth, she felt a hand between her shoulder blades. Quick and solid.
She heard an ear-piercing scream but couldn’t tell if it was from her or them. She lurched forward, arms windmilling, feet useless as she pitched forward. Her head ping-ponged between the banister and the wall. The track of the stairlift and the metal banister tore through her paper-like skin as she bounced down the stairs. Her neck snapped back quicker than the spring on a mousetrap.
She was dead by the time her brittle body reached the bottom of the stairs.
38
Maya was on the late shift and had spent her morning researching burglar alarm companies for Dominique and emailing her through details of the more reputable companies that she had found. Since Marcus’s release, she had taken to phoning her mother morning and evening to check she was okay. Whilst she knew Dominique appreciated her concern, she could tell she found it wearying and was hoping this meant she would be more persuaded to finally get an alarm just to appease her.
When she arrived at work, she made a beeline for CID rather than her own office so she could speak to Sean. She was in luck as she caught him in the corridor.
Sean looked despondent. ‘Lisa told you then?’
‘Yes, she did. I wanted to check you were okay and reassure you that Lisa honestly doesn’t blame you.’
‘Shame Redford and Jack don’t feel the same. And for the record, nobody blames me more than myself. We nearly bloody had him.’
‘And you’ll get him next time. He can’t hide forever.’
‘Really? Well, if he’s gone to the same school of hiding as Trevor Dawlish, I won’t hold my breath.’
Maya frowned, concerned. ‘Come on, Sean. This isn’t like you to be so negative. I understand your frustration but beating yourself up isn’t going to help.’
Sean gave her a weak smile. ‘I appreciate your support, thanks. It’s just been a few shit weeks, hasn’t it? We seem to be getting nowhere with any of our cases. John Doe is still unidentified, and I can’t help thinking that you may be right about Laing having some involvement in his death. The fact we haven’t got him locked up to ask is just so bloody frustrating.’
Maya squeezed his arm reassuringly. ‘Keep the faith, eh? We’ll get him, Sean.’
She smiled at him and headed to the SOCO office. It was rowdier than usual as everyone was discussing their options for the Christmas do.
‘It’s too last minute to book anywhere now. We should have done it weeks ago if we were going to eat somewhere.’ Nicola tutted.
‘I’m not bothered about food; I’d rather just go for drinks somewhere.’ Elaine shrugged. ‘As long as I can have a sing-song and a dance.’
‘Whose turn was it to organise it anyway?’ Maya asked.
Connor, Elaine and Nicola turned to look at Chris who had the decency to blush.
‘In fairness,’ said Amanda, as she rapped the desk to get attention, ‘the same thing happens year after year. We all meet at The Lamb & Flag for drinks first and despite the fact we have a table booked somewhere, we end up meeting up with CID and forget about food and go for drinks elsewhere. For the last three years, I’ve taken a multipack of crisps out with me. My Christmas-do handbag is bigger than your fingerprint kits.’
‘I’m surprised you’ve not prioritised booking a restaurant, Chris. All you ever seem to think about is food, and you’re never not eating,’ said Tara with a snort. Everyone ignored her.
‘Well, I agree with Nicola,’ said Kym. ‘It’s far too last minute to book a meal now. Drinks are fine with me.’
DI Redford appeared at the office door and Kym smiled at him warmly. ‘Ah, Phil. We’ve just been discussing our Christmas do. It sounds like the usual arrangements for us.’
Redford nodded. ‘I’m a creature of habit so it suits me and my lot.’
‘Why don’t we try a couple of different pubs for a change?’ said Chris. ‘What about The Eagle? Maya, do you think Spence will give us mates’ rates.’
She shrugged nonchalantly as her face flushed. ‘Do you need us, boss?’ she said to Redford, determined to change the subject.
‘Yes please. We’ve just had a sudden death come in. Elderly lady found at the bottom of the stairs. Paramedics are concerned about the length of time she’s allegedly been there. There’s a suggestion that she’s fallen in the night, but apparently there’s no signs of rigor mortis, so they’re questioning that. They’re not ruling out neglect either. Can you oblige, please?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Maya said as she scribbled down the details. Her eyes widened when she heard the deceased’s name.
‘Rose Dawlish?’
Redford nodded.
‘It’s not a common name – is this a relation to Trevor?’
Redford nodded again. ‘Yes, it’s his mother. His wife found her, and the neighbour rang it in. Bernadette’s currently staying with her sister as she’s understandably distressed. Let’s just say that my Spidey senses are telling me that something’s not quite right.’
‘An unbiased approach based on fact not supposition…’ Kym began, causing Redford to grin.
‘I know, I know.’ He copied Kym’s habitual double clap, which caused Maya to snort with a laugh that quickly died in her throat when Redford added, ‘Jack’s on the late shift too, so he’ll meet you down there.’
* * *
At first glance, Rose Dawlish looked like a bag of rags abandoned at the foot of the stairs. A closer inspection revealed the shattered body of an elderly lady so frail, she reminded Maya of a baby bird. Her face was streaked with blood. Her neck hung at an oddly hinged angle, suggesting it had been broken by the fall. Her body was covered in a myriad of coloured bruises that blended with lividity.
Not for the first time, Maya was struck by how strange and invasive it felt to be standing in a stranger’s home, surrounded by their things. The ominous silence made it feel like the house was holding its breath. It was as if Rose’s sudden, unexpected death had ripped a void through the fixtures and fittings.
Maya knew that later on, as she moved through the house looking for any potential evidence, she would be struck by the poignancy of familiar, intimate items that would never be used again. Framed photographs, jewellery, Rose’s favourite dress – objects that had once been coveted would hang in limbo until such time as the family decided whether to keep them or send them for bric-a-brac, for someone else to carelessly maul and disregard.
The old lady smelt strongly of urine and unwashed skin. Her woolly hair was matted, suggesting it had been some time since it had last been brushed, least of all washed. She was wearing a nightie, which was stained and dirty. She had one slipper on, the bare foot was twisted and splayed by arthritis and gnarled, yellow toenails looked like they were overdue a chiropodist’s attention.
After taking an initial series of photographs to record the scene, Maya stooped down and carefully turned Rose over so she could survey her face and hands more clearly.
‘Bless you, sweetheart,’ she murmured softly to the old lady.
She was easy to manoeuvre. The fact that her skin was so cold to touch suggested she was definitely dead, despite the malleability of her limbs. Maya noticed a cluster of bruises on her upper arm that could potentially be fingermarks. That said, the elderly tended to bruise easily, so anything could have caused it, and Maya was mindful not to let it mar her judgement.
Her cheeks were hollow, and arms so thin Maya could easily encircle her thumb and forefinger around the bony limbs. Her false teeth looked too big for the flaccid mouth. Maya squatted back on her heels as she considered her frail frame.
‘What are you thinking?’ asked Jack from a discreet distance. His voice was muffled underneath the face mask.
‘I can see why paramedics were concerned about the lack of rigor mortis considering how long she’s been here,’ said Maya. ‘But she’s incredibly frail and appears malnourished. Lack of muscle mass can lead to a lack of rigidity in death. It’s not unusual for the elderly, or the very young for that matter, to not succumb to rigor at all after death.’
Maya stood up and surveyed the stairs. The chairlift was at the top and she could see the missing sheepskin slipper wedged underneath the footrest. She frowned as she took a series of photographs, before making her way up the stairs and examining the position of the slipper.
‘Jack, can you come up here, please, I don’t like the look of this.’ She watched as he gingerly stepped over Rose, doing his best to avoid looking at the body.
‘What is it?’ he asked, crouching to survey the chairlift.
‘The chairlift appears to have been stopped before it’s reached the top. Look at the track, it should be facing the landing, as a safety feature. It’d be tricky for someone elderly and infirm to climb off before they need to, that’s the whole point of having one. And her slipper is wedged under the footrest.’
Jack shrugged. ‘She’s lost her footing as she’s climbed off it, obviously. Probably happened because, like you say, the chair isn’t all the way to the top as it should be. Maybe that’s just how she used it?’
Maya shook her head. ‘I disagree. That slipper looks staged.’
Jack frowned. ‘If I said water was wet, you’d argue the toss with me.’
Maya grinned. ‘Technically, though, water isn’t wet per se, it causes other things to be wet.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘Don’t make this personal, Jack. I’m using my professional judgement, not having a go. If, like you say, she’s lost her footing getting off, the slipper would be on top of the footrest or on the landing. It’s really wedged in, but far too tight. Look at the size of the gap – she couldn’t have slipped her foot underneath that.’
Before she could stop him, Jack reached out to move it, but it didn’t shift. He had to pull harder to release it, causing him to stumble back.
‘Shit,’ he breathed as the reality dawned on him that Maya was correct.
‘Also,’ said Maya, ‘look at the arms of the chairlift. They’re both raised. It makes no sense if she was getting on it from up here…’
‘The left arm should be raised and the right lowered,’ Jack finished. ‘Particularly if she was in the habit of getting off before the top. She’d need to lean on the right to get her balance.’
Maya and Jack exchanged a look. ‘I think we should see if we can get Doctor Granger down here,’ he said.
Maya nodded. ‘I agree with you. I’ll phone Kym, too, and ask her to make her way.’
She glanced down the stairs at Mother Dawlish’s crumpled body and sighed as she wondered who would possibly want such a frail old lady dead. Surely, she was harmless and no threat to anyone. Then something about the slipper caught her attention. There was a smudge of something buttercup yellow on the heel.
She held it aloft to Jack. ‘What’s that?’
He squinted. ‘Paint?’
‘Strange. I’ll photograph that later. Shall we take a quick look round?’
They had a cursory look in both bedrooms and the bathroom. Something niggled at her as she looked in there, but it was the study that caught Maya’s attention. ‘That’ll explain the paint,’ she said to Jack as she nodded towards the wall. Three different shades of yellow had been painted in thick symmetrical stripes. On the desk, stood three opened tester pots of paint.
‘Plans to redecorate,’ Jack said.
‘It seems a bit strange.’
‘Why? You’re such a conspiracist. What’s strange about somebody wanting to redecorate a room?’
‘Because downstairs is like a shrine to the seventies. Surely that would be your priority if you were going to redecorate. And look at the colours they’ve sampled, quite a contrast to the masculine décor in here.’
Jack rolled his eyes. ‘They probably just fancied a change. Obviously, it’s been a while since they did any home improvements, so maybe this is a practice room.’
Maya wasn’t listening, her focus now was on the desk. In particular the cabinets below the desk. ‘It looks like there could be something missing out of here,’ she said. Jack joined her and looked. ‘Look at the two empty shelves. The rest of the cabinets are full.’
‘Okay, I’ll make a note that we ask Bernadette about that as part of our enquiries.’
‘And the paint?’
‘Oh, Maya, forget the bloody paint. We’ve got a woman lying dead at the bottom of the stairs in suspicious circumstances and you want my detectives wasting their time chatting about colour schemes like they’re in B&Q? I’m going back to the car to make a few phone calls. Give Kym a ring, will you, and tell her I want her to turn out as soon as possible.’
He stalked out of the room, leaving her seething at his dismissive arrogance. If he had turned around, he would have seen her wildly gesticulating with two fingers at his back as he carried his condescending ego out of the room.
