Shattered Bones, page 16
Maya thought about it, but before she had a chance to answer, Kym came bustling in carrying a large golf umbrella and her messenger bag, which as ever was bursting at the seams. She paused in the doorway, her nose twitching.
‘It stinks in here.’
‘Chippy,’ said Chris succinctly.
Her eyes narrowed. ‘I know what it is, I’m saying I don’t like it. This is a place of work, not a bloody builder’s café. Can you go and see if there’s any air freshener in the cleaning cupboard, please?’
‘What’s up with her?’ Chris mouthed to Maya as Kym stalked towards her office.
‘I dunno. Shall I go and check?’
‘Make her a brew first. And take her a biscuit for Christ’s sake. In fact, take her the bloody packet, it might help ward off her evil scorn.’
Armed with custard creams and a cup of tea, Maya hovered uncertainly at Kym’s door.
‘Oh, you’re a star, Maya. Thank you.’ Kym removed her reading glasses and gave Maya a listless smile as she placed the cup down.
‘Everything okay?’
Kym sighed and gestured towards the chair for Maya to sit down. ‘I’m just bloody frustrated. I’ve been up to top office for a strategy meeting with DI Redford about Rose Dawlish’s death.’
‘And?’
‘I’ve recommended a number of swabs from the body and scene be submitted but the Case Management Unit are holding them back for the time being. I’m particularly keen for the swabs from the fingermarks on the top of her arm to go off as a matter of urgency.’
‘Why?’ asked Maya incredulously.
‘Because it looks like they were a fresh injury and could well have been made by the offender.’
‘No,’ Maya said through a laugh, ‘I meant why are they being held back?’
Kym finished her biscuit before answering. ‘The latest shootings by the Organised Crime Group that Cedar Lane have been dealing with are apparently taking priority. For now.’
‘I understand that’s serious, but that’s shit on shit. We’re talking about the murder of an old woman.’
‘That’s the thing,’ said Kym. ‘Other than the death appearing staged, the investigation is taking us nowhere. There’s no motive, no signs of forced entry, no suspects. On paper, it looks like an accidental death.’
‘But we know it’s not.’
‘Agreed. But gut instinct isn’t enough, not when it comes to spending money. Rose’s death is currently in the neither-here-nor-there category of unexplained. It’s not helped by the fact that the family are so bloody solitary and we have absolutely no motive or suspects.’
Kym let out a sigh as she shrugged. ‘We might well have to accept that this is one of those jobs we just never get to the bottom of. We do get them now and then. You never know, Maya, thirty years from now a cold-case team might crack it for us.’
‘True, but I’d much rather it was us that got to the bottom of it for her sake,’ Maya said as she recalled Rose’s broken body lying at the bottom of the stairs. She understood what Kym had said, but every inch of her being told her that the old woman had been murdered. Someone had pushed her down those stairs and then done an incredibly piss-poor job of staging it to look like an accident. Even Jack Dwyer believed it, and in her opinion, he was as competent as a paper condom.
Despondent, Maya left Kym to it. She explained to Chris what had happened to put Kym in such a foul mood and the two of them sat in a subdued silence, both occupied by their own thoughts. Their lunch and the warmth of the office compared to the blistering cold of the garage made them both feel listless. Maya was trying to summon up enough energy to start tackling her paperwork when a squeal came from Kym’s office.
‘Y’ all right, boss? You’ve not switched your love eggs on by accident again, have you?’ Chris shouted.
Kym appeared at the doorway flushed, as she gave him the middle finger. ‘I’ve had an email through. It’s the results of the facial reconstruction from Operation Mermaid.’
‘Have you looked at it yet?’ Maya was instantly revived; a fist of excitement squeezed her stomach.
‘No. We should all look at it together, it was your job after all,’ she said with a grin. ‘You better give Jack a shout,’ she said as an afterthought.
Maya raced down the corridor, irritated by the sight of Jack’s empty office. She made her way down to CID and was relieved to see him leaning against a filing cabinet, brew in hand as he chatted to Sean, Malone and Adila.
‘You lot, quick!’ she called, beckoning them with her hand. ‘Kym’s got an email, the facial reconstruction for Operation Mermaid has come back.’
The four of them were hot on her heels as they followed her back to the SOCO office. Kym had anticipated the sudden influx of people into her small office would make it too crammed, so was in the main office, logging on to another computer so everyone could see. Maya was practically hopping from foot to foot. She could have screamed as she watched the log on screen announcing it was ‘configuring user profile’. The force’s IT was renowned for being incredibly slow and unreliable.
After a long and painful wait, the computer’s circle of death allowed Kym to log in to her email account and bring up the message. She double-clicked on the attachment. The image opened in landscape, causing them all to tip their heads to the side in unison, like cats following a beam of torchlight.
There was a heavy silence, broken eventually by Sean.
‘Is this some kind of piss-take?’ he asked flatly.
Kym turned to look at him, confused as he leaned past Maya, knocking her out of the way as he jabbed a finger at the computer monitor.
‘That,’ he said decisively, ‘is Trevor Dawlish.’
Then
Trevor
Trevor had his own office in the town hall. Office sounded grander than the reality. It was just the janitor’s room. It had a desk and chair, which were artfully arranged. The room was bursting with spare cleaning equipment, gardening stuff, tools, lost property, and an array of other paraphernalia, but it wasn’t a mess. Quite the opposite; each item had its own place and was kept tidy and organised.
When Bernadette first came to see him in here, not long after they first started dating, she had coined it his office and the name had stuck. Just like the spare room at home had become his study. There was even a little plaque on his door. A ceramic white tile with the wording ‘Trevor’s Office’ in blue letters. She’d spotted it in a shop at the seaside, the first weekend they spent away together.
He smiled at the memory. She’d looked so sweet dressed in a brown spotted tea dress and cream cardigan, with a floral clip in her hair. Trevor stretched noisily and peered through the small slice of window. He was situated in the basement, which meant he could only ever see feet coming and going along the pathway that encircled the building. He could see that the pavement was still dry. Warm air etched with a pinch of a breeze, the final sigh of an Indian summer, breathed its way through the open window.
It was a funny time of year. He had needed his winter coat when he’d left for work at 7am, but he certainly wasn’t going to need it now. His wallet was too bulky to carry. He had no pockets in his lightweight hoodie, so he fished out his debit card and slipped it into his jeans pocket. He only needed it to pay for some anniversary flowers and chocolates.
He looked up as he heard someone at his office door. His face turned into a smile, which froze quickly. Trevor had been about to utter a greeting but the sight of the earnest expression on his visitor’s face silenced him.
‘We need to talk,’ the visitor said intensely and apologetically. ‘Now. And somewhere private. Not here.’
Moments later, Trevor’s trainers accompanied the clicking of his visitor’s shoes, as they trod the path past his office window.
47
The facial reconstruction image remained on the screen and all eyes were on it. Kym had managed to turn it to a portrait display, so their necks were no longer aching.
‘That’s Trevor Dawlish,’ Sean repeated.
‘Not judging, mate, but have you been on the ale?’ asked Chris as he made a drinking motion with his hand, causing Adila to cackle with laughter.
Malone was looking at Sean as if he’d just defecated on the desk. ‘Trevor Dawlish, who’s returned home how many times since he’s been reported missing? I think you need a day off, pal.’
Jack nodded. ‘When he was first reported missing, uniform seized Trevor’s toothbrush, remember? His profile was loaded to the vulnerable DNA database and checked against John Doe. Malone’s right, it can’t be him.’ Jack glanced at Maya and Kym suspiciously as if this was all part of some trick being played on him.
Sean’s face was becoming flushed as he looked at Chris and Malone. ‘Think what you want but I’m telling you that’s Trevor. Or it certainly looks like him…’ He faltered; his brow furrowed as he turned to stare despondently at the screen. The banter had made him question himself, but he had been so sure.
‘He’s right,’ Maya said eventually. ‘Do you remember the wedding photo on the mantelpiece?’ she asked Kym and Chris. They both nodded.
‘The hair’s different…’ Sean said tentatively.
‘That’s to be expected. Facial reconstruction has its limitations with regards to things like that,’ Kym said.
‘Here.’ Sean pulled out his phone and began scrolling through some emails of his own. ‘You tasked me with pulling together a recent photograph of Trevor for the missing person’s press release,’ he said to Jack. ‘This is what I sent to the press office for their approval, prior to circulation.’
They all hunched around Sean’s phone and looked at the more recent image. Even though it was a cropped headshot, the sky-blue trim of the Masons’ collar was evident. Sean was right, the hair in the reconstruction was longer and wavier, but the forehead, nose and jawline, was unmistakably Trevor.
‘Bloody hell,’ muttered Adila, as she brushed her fringe out of her eyes. ‘You’re right, guys.’
‘Well, that puts a different spin on what we were talking about earlier, Maya,’ Kym said as she turned to survey all her colleagues.
‘In brief, I was explaining to Maya that the samples collected following Rose’s death weren’t going to be treated with any kind of priority because we had no concrete evidence that a crime had actually taken place. Obviously, we were concerned with how coincidental Trevor’s disappearance was with Rose’s sudden death, leaving him as the number one suspect, but obviously there has been nothing concrete to go on.’
The others nodded acknowledgement. ‘Even MIT had fired it back to us. There were no lines of enquiry for them to follow. We’ve never been able to definitively prove Rose’s death was a murder as opposed to an accident. It’s all too circumstantial. Primarily because one of the main potential suspects was on the missing list,’ Jack said.
Maya pointed at the image on the screen. ‘But we now know Trevor has been murdered. It adds credence to the fact his mother’s death must be suspicious, surely? You’re the detective, Jack, and I wouldn’t want to patronise you for a single minute,’ Maya said disingenuously, letting out a breath before she continued.
‘My guess would be, whoever killed Trevor, also killed his mother.’ The others, including Jack, were vocal in their agreement.
48
DCI Donna Chambers from the Major Incident Team was holding court in the conference room. It was the same corporate blue as the rest of Beech Field and housed a large quantity of chairs with lift-up writing tables attached to the arm. A laptop and screen filled one wall and was currently displaying Trevor’s face at three stages: the post mortem image, a recent photograph and the facial reconstruction result. Just seeing the post mortem image again reminded Maya of the shocking stench of Trevor’s decomposed body and the way it had gurgled menacingly as they’d placed it carefully in the body bag, as they’d desperately hoped it wouldn’t pop.
Chambers was a tall lady with brunette hair tied efficiently in a French plait that hung down her back. Her smart trouser suit and overall demeanour demanded respect. Several detectives had joined her from her syndicate and were taking notes as the DCI brought everyone up to speed with Operation Mermaid, details of Trevor’s missing persons enquiry and Rose’s sudden and as yet, unexplained death.
Maya, Chris and Kym had been joined by Elaine who’d arrived for the late shift. Redford was also present, as was Jack and his team.
Chambers studied her notes. ‘Who’s going to deliver the death message to the wife?’ she asked.
Jack indicated his head towards Turner. ‘DS Mark Turner interviewed Bernadette after the death of Rose. They have a rapport, so I think it would be appropriate for him to do it.’
‘I agree,’ said Chambers. ‘Our team can supply a family liaison officer.’
‘No need, ma’am.’ Adila raised her hand. ‘I’m a trained FLO. I can attend with Mark and stay with Bernadette for as long as she needs me.’
‘Thank you. That pretty much covers everything, doesn’t it?’ Chambers asked as she glanced around the room to a succession of nods.
‘Good, we’ll continue to work under the moniker of Operation Mermaid but incorporated in this investigation will also be the unexplained death of Rose Dawlish. I’m grateful to Jack and his team for their efforts so far in relation to Mermaid. Please don’t think we’re here to take over or step on anyone’s toes. Think of us as additional support here to advise, as I’m conscious of the fact we’re picking up a job half-cock so to speak.’
‘Should have been interested in Rose’s death sooner,’ Maya muttered under her breath to Kym, who nodded subtly in agreement.
Jack smiled at Chambers. ‘Thank you, ma’am. My team are collating the information we have so far and we’re combining a list of our TIE subjects.’
He continued to update the DCI and the rest of the team of their progress so far. Maya scribbled a note, what’s a TIE? and slipped it across to Chris. He replied with, trace, interview and eliminate and passed the note back.
‘Maya can provide copies of all scene photographs and notes so far,’ Kym told the DCI once Jack had finished. ‘And we’ll make sure we have resources available for any further scenes that may arise. I’ve already written up forensic strategies for any suspects and their properties. Likewise, if we identify any vehicles that may have been involved, we can have them forensically recovered and arrange an examination ASAP.’
Chambers smiled her thanks before nodding her head towards a tall, attractive, black man sat to her right. ‘For those of you who don’t know, this is DS Alex Adebayo. He is a tier five interviewer advisor. I believe a nominal known as Jason Laing is a person of interest and we are currently working on a press release to ask the public to help us trace his whereabouts. Who’s going to be arresting our other suspect?’
Sean raised his hand. ‘Me, ma’am. DC Stevenson,’ he said, nodding acknowledgement to DS Adebayo.
‘Good, well if you two want to get your heads together sooner rather than later and draw up your interview strategy. How soon are you looking to make an arrest, Jack?’
He checked his notes and looked at Redford, who nodded confirmation. ‘As soon as we can, ma’am.’
‘Good. You have your actions, ladies and gentlemen, so let’s go.’
There was a bustle of activity as everyone gathered their belongings. Elaine followed Maya out of the conference room, cupping her elbow on the way out. ‘I’m a bit out of the loop with this job. I know Laing was in the frame but as he’s still outstanding, who are they locking up?’
‘The neighbour, Laurel Miller.’
49
Laurel was sat in the dark. Only the flickering light from the muted television screen illuminated the lounge. The room was in stark contrast to its usual pristine condition. A takeaway carton had been dumped on the coffee table. Sweet-and-sour sauce had been spilt and left to puddle onto the plush Axminster carpet.
Laurel poured the last dregs of red wine into her glass, tossing the empty bottle away from her onto the couch.
‘Fuck it,’ she slurred.
She staggered to her feet and into the kitchen. Cupboard drawers and doors hung open with various contents strewn across the marbled worktop. The room looked like it had been burgled. Laurel lifted another bottle of Malbec from the wine rack and banged it onto the counter. Swaying, she peeled back the foil top and reached for the corkscrew. She attempted to dig it into the cork, but the bottle rocked precariously before sliding across the counter. She tried to grab it but was too slow and it smashed to the floor.
‘Fuck you!’ she snarled as she kicked at the shattered remains, cutting her foot in the process. She was too drunk to notice. She reached for a bottle of brandy instead and pulled herself up the stairs, slamming against the banister as she climbed. A creature of habit, she wandered into the spare room. The Christmas tree and box of decorations remained unopened in there. As always, her eyes drifted across to the Dawlishes house. It stood ominous and empty in the darkness. She assumed Bernadette was still at her sister’s. The stupid cow had stopped taking her calls.
She rested her head against the windowpane, breathing in the smell of winter air that whispered through a gap in the double glazing. She imagined all the times she’d stood here, waiting for Trevor to look up and see her. She closed her eyes as she pictured his face. Every intricate detail was ingrained in her mind and heart. His hazel eyes, which crinkled at the edges when he smiled. The chickenpox scar on his cheek. The small patch of stubble under his left nostril that he always missed when he shaved. It hurt too much to think of him. Laurel choked back a sob. She ran out of the room as if she had the Devil at her heels, slamming the door behind her.
She slapped on the light switch of her bedroom. Light flooded her boudoir revealing an unmade bed, and a pile of dirty clothes discarded on the floor. She gulped at the brandy, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth and wincing as the liquid scoured the back of her throat.
‘It stinks in here.’
‘Chippy,’ said Chris succinctly.
Her eyes narrowed. ‘I know what it is, I’m saying I don’t like it. This is a place of work, not a bloody builder’s café. Can you go and see if there’s any air freshener in the cleaning cupboard, please?’
‘What’s up with her?’ Chris mouthed to Maya as Kym stalked towards her office.
‘I dunno. Shall I go and check?’
‘Make her a brew first. And take her a biscuit for Christ’s sake. In fact, take her the bloody packet, it might help ward off her evil scorn.’
Armed with custard creams and a cup of tea, Maya hovered uncertainly at Kym’s door.
‘Oh, you’re a star, Maya. Thank you.’ Kym removed her reading glasses and gave Maya a listless smile as she placed the cup down.
‘Everything okay?’
Kym sighed and gestured towards the chair for Maya to sit down. ‘I’m just bloody frustrated. I’ve been up to top office for a strategy meeting with DI Redford about Rose Dawlish’s death.’
‘And?’
‘I’ve recommended a number of swabs from the body and scene be submitted but the Case Management Unit are holding them back for the time being. I’m particularly keen for the swabs from the fingermarks on the top of her arm to go off as a matter of urgency.’
‘Why?’ asked Maya incredulously.
‘Because it looks like they were a fresh injury and could well have been made by the offender.’
‘No,’ Maya said through a laugh, ‘I meant why are they being held back?’
Kym finished her biscuit before answering. ‘The latest shootings by the Organised Crime Group that Cedar Lane have been dealing with are apparently taking priority. For now.’
‘I understand that’s serious, but that’s shit on shit. We’re talking about the murder of an old woman.’
‘That’s the thing,’ said Kym. ‘Other than the death appearing staged, the investigation is taking us nowhere. There’s no motive, no signs of forced entry, no suspects. On paper, it looks like an accidental death.’
‘But we know it’s not.’
‘Agreed. But gut instinct isn’t enough, not when it comes to spending money. Rose’s death is currently in the neither-here-nor-there category of unexplained. It’s not helped by the fact that the family are so bloody solitary and we have absolutely no motive or suspects.’
Kym let out a sigh as she shrugged. ‘We might well have to accept that this is one of those jobs we just never get to the bottom of. We do get them now and then. You never know, Maya, thirty years from now a cold-case team might crack it for us.’
‘True, but I’d much rather it was us that got to the bottom of it for her sake,’ Maya said as she recalled Rose’s broken body lying at the bottom of the stairs. She understood what Kym had said, but every inch of her being told her that the old woman had been murdered. Someone had pushed her down those stairs and then done an incredibly piss-poor job of staging it to look like an accident. Even Jack Dwyer believed it, and in her opinion, he was as competent as a paper condom.
Despondent, Maya left Kym to it. She explained to Chris what had happened to put Kym in such a foul mood and the two of them sat in a subdued silence, both occupied by their own thoughts. Their lunch and the warmth of the office compared to the blistering cold of the garage made them both feel listless. Maya was trying to summon up enough energy to start tackling her paperwork when a squeal came from Kym’s office.
‘Y’ all right, boss? You’ve not switched your love eggs on by accident again, have you?’ Chris shouted.
Kym appeared at the doorway flushed, as she gave him the middle finger. ‘I’ve had an email through. It’s the results of the facial reconstruction from Operation Mermaid.’
‘Have you looked at it yet?’ Maya was instantly revived; a fist of excitement squeezed her stomach.
‘No. We should all look at it together, it was your job after all,’ she said with a grin. ‘You better give Jack a shout,’ she said as an afterthought.
Maya raced down the corridor, irritated by the sight of Jack’s empty office. She made her way down to CID and was relieved to see him leaning against a filing cabinet, brew in hand as he chatted to Sean, Malone and Adila.
‘You lot, quick!’ she called, beckoning them with her hand. ‘Kym’s got an email, the facial reconstruction for Operation Mermaid has come back.’
The four of them were hot on her heels as they followed her back to the SOCO office. Kym had anticipated the sudden influx of people into her small office would make it too crammed, so was in the main office, logging on to another computer so everyone could see. Maya was practically hopping from foot to foot. She could have screamed as she watched the log on screen announcing it was ‘configuring user profile’. The force’s IT was renowned for being incredibly slow and unreliable.
After a long and painful wait, the computer’s circle of death allowed Kym to log in to her email account and bring up the message. She double-clicked on the attachment. The image opened in landscape, causing them all to tip their heads to the side in unison, like cats following a beam of torchlight.
There was a heavy silence, broken eventually by Sean.
‘Is this some kind of piss-take?’ he asked flatly.
Kym turned to look at him, confused as he leaned past Maya, knocking her out of the way as he jabbed a finger at the computer monitor.
‘That,’ he said decisively, ‘is Trevor Dawlish.’
Then
Trevor
Trevor had his own office in the town hall. Office sounded grander than the reality. It was just the janitor’s room. It had a desk and chair, which were artfully arranged. The room was bursting with spare cleaning equipment, gardening stuff, tools, lost property, and an array of other paraphernalia, but it wasn’t a mess. Quite the opposite; each item had its own place and was kept tidy and organised.
When Bernadette first came to see him in here, not long after they first started dating, she had coined it his office and the name had stuck. Just like the spare room at home had become his study. There was even a little plaque on his door. A ceramic white tile with the wording ‘Trevor’s Office’ in blue letters. She’d spotted it in a shop at the seaside, the first weekend they spent away together.
He smiled at the memory. She’d looked so sweet dressed in a brown spotted tea dress and cream cardigan, with a floral clip in her hair. Trevor stretched noisily and peered through the small slice of window. He was situated in the basement, which meant he could only ever see feet coming and going along the pathway that encircled the building. He could see that the pavement was still dry. Warm air etched with a pinch of a breeze, the final sigh of an Indian summer, breathed its way through the open window.
It was a funny time of year. He had needed his winter coat when he’d left for work at 7am, but he certainly wasn’t going to need it now. His wallet was too bulky to carry. He had no pockets in his lightweight hoodie, so he fished out his debit card and slipped it into his jeans pocket. He only needed it to pay for some anniversary flowers and chocolates.
He looked up as he heard someone at his office door. His face turned into a smile, which froze quickly. Trevor had been about to utter a greeting but the sight of the earnest expression on his visitor’s face silenced him.
‘We need to talk,’ the visitor said intensely and apologetically. ‘Now. And somewhere private. Not here.’
Moments later, Trevor’s trainers accompanied the clicking of his visitor’s shoes, as they trod the path past his office window.
47
The facial reconstruction image remained on the screen and all eyes were on it. Kym had managed to turn it to a portrait display, so their necks were no longer aching.
‘That’s Trevor Dawlish,’ Sean repeated.
‘Not judging, mate, but have you been on the ale?’ asked Chris as he made a drinking motion with his hand, causing Adila to cackle with laughter.
Malone was looking at Sean as if he’d just defecated on the desk. ‘Trevor Dawlish, who’s returned home how many times since he’s been reported missing? I think you need a day off, pal.’
Jack nodded. ‘When he was first reported missing, uniform seized Trevor’s toothbrush, remember? His profile was loaded to the vulnerable DNA database and checked against John Doe. Malone’s right, it can’t be him.’ Jack glanced at Maya and Kym suspiciously as if this was all part of some trick being played on him.
Sean’s face was becoming flushed as he looked at Chris and Malone. ‘Think what you want but I’m telling you that’s Trevor. Or it certainly looks like him…’ He faltered; his brow furrowed as he turned to stare despondently at the screen. The banter had made him question himself, but he had been so sure.
‘He’s right,’ Maya said eventually. ‘Do you remember the wedding photo on the mantelpiece?’ she asked Kym and Chris. They both nodded.
‘The hair’s different…’ Sean said tentatively.
‘That’s to be expected. Facial reconstruction has its limitations with regards to things like that,’ Kym said.
‘Here.’ Sean pulled out his phone and began scrolling through some emails of his own. ‘You tasked me with pulling together a recent photograph of Trevor for the missing person’s press release,’ he said to Jack. ‘This is what I sent to the press office for their approval, prior to circulation.’
They all hunched around Sean’s phone and looked at the more recent image. Even though it was a cropped headshot, the sky-blue trim of the Masons’ collar was evident. Sean was right, the hair in the reconstruction was longer and wavier, but the forehead, nose and jawline, was unmistakably Trevor.
‘Bloody hell,’ muttered Adila, as she brushed her fringe out of her eyes. ‘You’re right, guys.’
‘Well, that puts a different spin on what we were talking about earlier, Maya,’ Kym said as she turned to survey all her colleagues.
‘In brief, I was explaining to Maya that the samples collected following Rose’s death weren’t going to be treated with any kind of priority because we had no concrete evidence that a crime had actually taken place. Obviously, we were concerned with how coincidental Trevor’s disappearance was with Rose’s sudden death, leaving him as the number one suspect, but obviously there has been nothing concrete to go on.’
The others nodded acknowledgement. ‘Even MIT had fired it back to us. There were no lines of enquiry for them to follow. We’ve never been able to definitively prove Rose’s death was a murder as opposed to an accident. It’s all too circumstantial. Primarily because one of the main potential suspects was on the missing list,’ Jack said.
Maya pointed at the image on the screen. ‘But we now know Trevor has been murdered. It adds credence to the fact his mother’s death must be suspicious, surely? You’re the detective, Jack, and I wouldn’t want to patronise you for a single minute,’ Maya said disingenuously, letting out a breath before she continued.
‘My guess would be, whoever killed Trevor, also killed his mother.’ The others, including Jack, were vocal in their agreement.
48
DCI Donna Chambers from the Major Incident Team was holding court in the conference room. It was the same corporate blue as the rest of Beech Field and housed a large quantity of chairs with lift-up writing tables attached to the arm. A laptop and screen filled one wall and was currently displaying Trevor’s face at three stages: the post mortem image, a recent photograph and the facial reconstruction result. Just seeing the post mortem image again reminded Maya of the shocking stench of Trevor’s decomposed body and the way it had gurgled menacingly as they’d placed it carefully in the body bag, as they’d desperately hoped it wouldn’t pop.
Chambers was a tall lady with brunette hair tied efficiently in a French plait that hung down her back. Her smart trouser suit and overall demeanour demanded respect. Several detectives had joined her from her syndicate and were taking notes as the DCI brought everyone up to speed with Operation Mermaid, details of Trevor’s missing persons enquiry and Rose’s sudden and as yet, unexplained death.
Maya, Chris and Kym had been joined by Elaine who’d arrived for the late shift. Redford was also present, as was Jack and his team.
Chambers studied her notes. ‘Who’s going to deliver the death message to the wife?’ she asked.
Jack indicated his head towards Turner. ‘DS Mark Turner interviewed Bernadette after the death of Rose. They have a rapport, so I think it would be appropriate for him to do it.’
‘I agree,’ said Chambers. ‘Our team can supply a family liaison officer.’
‘No need, ma’am.’ Adila raised her hand. ‘I’m a trained FLO. I can attend with Mark and stay with Bernadette for as long as she needs me.’
‘Thank you. That pretty much covers everything, doesn’t it?’ Chambers asked as she glanced around the room to a succession of nods.
‘Good, we’ll continue to work under the moniker of Operation Mermaid but incorporated in this investigation will also be the unexplained death of Rose Dawlish. I’m grateful to Jack and his team for their efforts so far in relation to Mermaid. Please don’t think we’re here to take over or step on anyone’s toes. Think of us as additional support here to advise, as I’m conscious of the fact we’re picking up a job half-cock so to speak.’
‘Should have been interested in Rose’s death sooner,’ Maya muttered under her breath to Kym, who nodded subtly in agreement.
Jack smiled at Chambers. ‘Thank you, ma’am. My team are collating the information we have so far and we’re combining a list of our TIE subjects.’
He continued to update the DCI and the rest of the team of their progress so far. Maya scribbled a note, what’s a TIE? and slipped it across to Chris. He replied with, trace, interview and eliminate and passed the note back.
‘Maya can provide copies of all scene photographs and notes so far,’ Kym told the DCI once Jack had finished. ‘And we’ll make sure we have resources available for any further scenes that may arise. I’ve already written up forensic strategies for any suspects and their properties. Likewise, if we identify any vehicles that may have been involved, we can have them forensically recovered and arrange an examination ASAP.’
Chambers smiled her thanks before nodding her head towards a tall, attractive, black man sat to her right. ‘For those of you who don’t know, this is DS Alex Adebayo. He is a tier five interviewer advisor. I believe a nominal known as Jason Laing is a person of interest and we are currently working on a press release to ask the public to help us trace his whereabouts. Who’s going to be arresting our other suspect?’
Sean raised his hand. ‘Me, ma’am. DC Stevenson,’ he said, nodding acknowledgement to DS Adebayo.
‘Good, well if you two want to get your heads together sooner rather than later and draw up your interview strategy. How soon are you looking to make an arrest, Jack?’
He checked his notes and looked at Redford, who nodded confirmation. ‘As soon as we can, ma’am.’
‘Good. You have your actions, ladies and gentlemen, so let’s go.’
There was a bustle of activity as everyone gathered their belongings. Elaine followed Maya out of the conference room, cupping her elbow on the way out. ‘I’m a bit out of the loop with this job. I know Laing was in the frame but as he’s still outstanding, who are they locking up?’
‘The neighbour, Laurel Miller.’
49
Laurel was sat in the dark. Only the flickering light from the muted television screen illuminated the lounge. The room was in stark contrast to its usual pristine condition. A takeaway carton had been dumped on the coffee table. Sweet-and-sour sauce had been spilt and left to puddle onto the plush Axminster carpet.
Laurel poured the last dregs of red wine into her glass, tossing the empty bottle away from her onto the couch.
‘Fuck it,’ she slurred.
She staggered to her feet and into the kitchen. Cupboard drawers and doors hung open with various contents strewn across the marbled worktop. The room looked like it had been burgled. Laurel lifted another bottle of Malbec from the wine rack and banged it onto the counter. Swaying, she peeled back the foil top and reached for the corkscrew. She attempted to dig it into the cork, but the bottle rocked precariously before sliding across the counter. She tried to grab it but was too slow and it smashed to the floor.
‘Fuck you!’ she snarled as she kicked at the shattered remains, cutting her foot in the process. She was too drunk to notice. She reached for a bottle of brandy instead and pulled herself up the stairs, slamming against the banister as she climbed. A creature of habit, she wandered into the spare room. The Christmas tree and box of decorations remained unopened in there. As always, her eyes drifted across to the Dawlishes house. It stood ominous and empty in the darkness. She assumed Bernadette was still at her sister’s. The stupid cow had stopped taking her calls.
She rested her head against the windowpane, breathing in the smell of winter air that whispered through a gap in the double glazing. She imagined all the times she’d stood here, waiting for Trevor to look up and see her. She closed her eyes as she pictured his face. Every intricate detail was ingrained in her mind and heart. His hazel eyes, which crinkled at the edges when he smiled. The chickenpox scar on his cheek. The small patch of stubble under his left nostril that he always missed when he shaved. It hurt too much to think of him. Laurel choked back a sob. She ran out of the room as if she had the Devil at her heels, slamming the door behind her.
She slapped on the light switch of her bedroom. Light flooded her boudoir revealing an unmade bed, and a pile of dirty clothes discarded on the floor. She gulped at the brandy, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth and wincing as the liquid scoured the back of her throat.
