Consequences (16 page)

Jen listened. She knew it had been a painful day. Getting up from her haunches and onto her knees, she kissed him, picked a plastic cup from the side and filled it with cold water from the tap.

‘What the …’ Dylan stuttered as she threw it at him.

‘Leg of lamb waiting downstairs in ten and you, will enjoy it, even if it’s nearly midnight. I haven’t been slaving over a hot stove all evening for nothing,’ she said as she ran downstairs.

Dylan smiled; it was the first time he had that day Jen was his ‘normal’ and he knew how lucky he was.

‘Sir, I hate to disturb you. I know you’re up to your neck in Charlie Sharpe’s murder, but...’ John whispered tentatively the next morning, as he stuck his head around the SIO’s office door.

‘No, no, come on in, John. Just let me grab a cup of coffee and I’m all yours,’ sighed Dylan. He looked at his watch: it was 7. 30 a.m.

Dylan sat quietly for John’s update on the murder in St Peter’s Park, as he sipped from the steaming mug.

‘Like I said yesterday,’ John went on eagerly, ‘forensics’ have been able to get the chassis and engine number from the burnt out car, from which we’ve managed to get a registration number; personalised number plate LR 3. It’s registered to a Liz Reynolds, The Grange, Harrowfield.’

Dylan lifted his eyebrows, ‘God, that’s a quick result. We need to speak to Mrs Reynolds’ mother, Mrs Platt now as a matter of urgency, to update her on the development. She’s the one that reported her daughter missing.’

‘I can also tell you from our systems that Liz’s husband is doing a five year stretch for receiving, and before you ask,’ John said, holding up his hand as Dylan opened his mouth to speak, ‘I’ve already checked to see; he’s safely locked up in a secure prison and not been out on day release.’

‘So what’s next?’ Dylan asked his deputy.

‘Whatever you tell me, boss,’ John said.

‘Well, we’ve an opportunity to identify our burnt body, to confirm for sure that it’s Liz Reynolds. We need access to her house, and house-to-house enquiries need to be made with her neighbours. She might’ve only been a missing person before, but now she may be our murder victim. Let’s get into her house with a search team. Firstly a visual check around inside; we need to make sure there’s no one else inside lying injured, and we need to check if there are any signs of a struggle-taking place. Find out who her friends are. Were there any previous incidents at the address?’

‘I’ll get straight onto it, boss,’ said John, as he jumped up and left Dylan once again alone with his thoughts.

‘I’ll see you at the house in an hour. Give me a shout when you’re about to go in. I just want to go to the briefing on Charlie’s murder first.’

‘Okay Boss,’ John shouted.

Dylan went into automatic mode; writing his list for the immediate lines of enquiry for the Liz Reynolds murder:

• Family Liaison Officers required
  
• Up to date photograph required from family
  
• DNA from Liz’s home
  
• Prison visit to husband
  
• Forensics to the house – along with the search team
  
• Details of bank accounts, cash cards, mobile, house, telephone etc
  

The list seemed endless.

Dylan needed anything that might tell him her movements prior to her death. It may also help him identify a motive for her murder. The intelligence gathering was ongoing and he knew he would just have to be patient.

The smell of bacon wafted into his office. He looked up to see Jen with a plate in her hand.

‘Hello love. How nice to see you. Wow, what a delight.’ Dylan’s face broke out into a smile as Jen put a bacon bap on top of the paper he was writing upon.

‘I thought if I didn’t bring you something to eat you might forget today. Just bumped into John in the...’

‘Canteen? He was supposed to be taking a team to go search a possible murder scene.’

‘He has to eat too, Jack. What is it you’re always saying, slowly, slowly?’ Jen said, patting his hand. ‘For goodness sake will you slow down and stop blaming yourself for everyone else’s predicament. Life can be cruel, you know that,’ she said soothingly. ’Oh, I nearly forgot. I’ve just had a call from traffic and they have located the car that hit me.’

‘That’s great.’ Dylan’s eyes lit up as he relished the taste of the bacon.

‘Mmm...’ the smile that crossed his face was as big as a Cheshire cat’s.

‘Yeah but wait for it, it’s a hire car that’s been stolen from the company it was loaned out to.’

‘Oh, no. Nothing’s ever straightforward is it? Thanks for this love,’ Dylan said, waving the remainder of the bap in front of him before savouring the last morsel. ‘Heaven,’ he sighed as he smiled with contentment. ‘I might not say it often enough but I do love you. Miss Jones.’

‘Yes, well just pace yourself then, for me, eh?’ Jen smiled.

‘One day, lovely lady, we’ll leave it all behind us. I promise.’

‘And pigs might fly. I won’t miss it, that’s for sure, and remember you, there is always another day.’ Jen walked to the door. Dylan got up and followed her. Turning her round to face him he cuddled her tight.

‘You’re gorgeous,’ Dylan sighed into her hair.

Jen giggled. ‘Behave yourself, or you won’t have enough energy to last the day,’ she said, prodding him playfully in the chest.

‘Keep in touch eh? Let me know that you’re okay.’

‘I haven’t much option, have I?’ Dylan groaned.

‘Promise?’

‘Promise.’ He smiled.

Dylan arrived at ‘The Grange’ and from where he stood in the front garden he could do nothing but admire the splendour of the property before him. Uniformed officers guarded the doors. Standing quietly, soaking up the ambiance of his surroundings, he listened to the people moving about him. There was little talk. Like worker bees, his colleagues went about their duties, utilising their equipment and preparing their attire for the next stage of the enquiry. Before anything was disturbed, the house had to be videoed.

‘John.’ Dylan shouted, as he saw the figure of his deputy hurrying from behind the SOCO van in his protective clothing. John walked quickly, towards Dylan now instead of his intended destination, the gravel crunched beneath his feet.

‘Sir.’

‘You and I need to stroll round the house together to get a feel of the place. I want you to write up the policy book on this one.’ Dylan slapped John on the back in a fatherly fashion, as they walked towards the front door.

‘I’ve never done that before.’

‘Policy books are something that you will need to become proficient in, so the more you do the quicker the format will become second nature.’

John’s face fell.

‘Don’t look so worried, I’ll monitor it. You’ll have to cover everything that goes on. Why we make a decision, why we don’t; so I’ll read it daily, with interest.’ Dylan smiled as he spun around.’ This whole circus is to help us build a fact file on Mrs Elizabeth Reynolds, and also,’ he lowered his voice, ‘to identify her visitors whilst hubby’s been away.’

As they entered the hallway, Dylan stopped to look at a picture of Liz and Malcolm with their daughter Gemma, on the wall. ’Is Liz the burnt corpse John?’ he asked, nodding towards the photograph.

‘Who else could it be?’ John looked puzzled.

‘Now, that’s a question and a half. Rule of thumb, never presume. It could be someone who stole Liz’s car, perhaps?’ Dylan said, as they walked on. ‘Or someone might have wanted us to think it was her, perhaps even Liz herself. Blinkers John, don’t wear blinkers.’ Dylan tutted as he walked ahead, up the stairs.

There was no sign of a struggle. The sheets on the bed in the main bedroom had been left in disarray, as were the ones in the back room. Wet bath sheets lay on the floor of the en-suite. Gemma’s pink Disney princess bedroom, with a castle canopy over the bed, was neat and tidy. The sun shone brightly through the pink curtains of the child’s bedroom, creating a rosy glow. It felt warm and cosy.

‘Get the rooms fingerprinted and the sheets from both unmade beds seized, John.’ Dylan went downstairs and John followed, making notes as he walked.

‘Dishwasher’s got unwashed glasses and plates inside,’ Dylan noted, as he opened it with his gloved hands. He pointed to the overflowing dustbin. ‘We might get DNA and fingerprints from the empty cans, and if we’re lucky enough we might even get a saliva sample, if someone drank from them. Seize the wine bottles. Once we’ve collected everything that might have some relevance or yield any evidence, then we’ll meet up with the Scenes of Crime Officer, Exhibits and Forensics, to prioritise the exhibits, prior to their submission to the lab. Remember, there’s a cost implication to the enquiry, even though it’s murder.’

John nodded.

‘Do you think she was entertaining someone the night before her murder?’

‘Yeah, I do, and if she was, then closer examination of the bedding and the crockery will hopefully tell us who.’ Dylan walked into the lounge. ’Telephone and address book needs seizing.’ Dylan pointed to the book on the table. ’Anything that tells us her mobile number needs looking at, and keep your eyes peeled for a laptop. There is no obvious sign of a computer, but the murderer could be someone she’s met on the net.’

‘You remind me of an insurance assessor, looking at everything, ignoring nothing and evaluating what value it may have or reveal to the investigation.’

Dylan smiled. ’And so will you by the time you’ve finished working with me.’

Standing once again on the driveway next to his car, Dylan pulled off his rubber gloves and shed his protective suit, placing them both in his personal brown paper exhibits bag, marked clearly with his name. They’d already been in the house for over an hour.

‘Liz’s parents; Mr and Mrs Platt?’

John nodded.

‘I think we should go and visit them now, don’t you? We must tread carefully though. We aren’t one hundred per cent sure that the skeletal remains are hers yet. We’ll leave the rest of the team here.’

The search team were given their instructions and the two men set off in Dylan’s car. Twenty minutes later, with John close behind him, Dylan took a deep breath and knocked on the door of the neat semi-detached town house owned by Ken and Connie Platt. He immediately recognised the lady who answered the door as Mrs Platt; the lady who had come to the front desk to report her daughter missing. Clinging around her waist was the little girl who’d been with her that day, Gemma.

‘Detective Inspector Dylan, Mrs Platt,’ Dylan said, showing her his warrant card. ‘We’ve met before at the station if you remember.’ She nodded. ‘And this is Detective Sergeant, John Benjamin.’

‘Hello, yes. Do come in.’ Connie said, ushering them into the kitchen. She offered them a seat around the kitchen table and excused herself whilst she settled the little girl in the lounge and on her return, promptly shouted to her husband Ken in the garden.

‘He loves sitting with a mug of tea, hands dirty, back aching, watching the fish in his pond.’ Connie sighed as she filled the kettle at the kitchen sink. ’Can I offer anyone a drink?’

‘Two coffees would be nice. Half a sugar for both of us, please.’ Dylan smiled.

Ken ambled to the door and leaned on the frame, placing an empty mug on the unit as he mopped his brow with an old hanky. His face was red and puffy with over exertion.

‘Bloody flies...as soon as the sun comes out,’ he growled, brushing them away with his arm.

‘It’s the police love,’ said Connie.

‘Oh, sorry,’ he said as he caught sight of the serious faces of the officers sat at his table. Shaking his head he stepped out of his gardening shoes and into the house. ‘Not Malcolm again. Hasn’t our Liz been through enough?’ he sighed.

‘No, we were wondering if either of you’d had any further ideas of where your daughter might’ve gone?’ said Dylan.

‘No. She just asked her mum if she’d have Gemma,’ he said, panting as he pulled a chair out from under the table. He sat down heavily, with a groan.

‘She told me she’d got an appointment but she didn’t say where or who with.’ Connie interrupted.

‘And she hasn’t contacted you since?’ said John.

‘No, it’s not unusual for her to ask us to babysit Gemma but when she’s away she always stays in touch,’ Connie spoke quietly. ‘Gemma rang her at home the other night.’

‘When was that?’

‘The same day I picked her up from school and the first night it was planned for her to stayed over, which was why I came to report her missing, when she didn’t return to pick Gemma up the day after or the day after that. She always rings to speak to Gem you see, and we can always get her on her mobile but this time I’ve tried...we’ve tried to get her. Her mobiles’ dead as a door nail.’

‘She probably didn’t take her charger with her; she’s done that before now.’ Ken said, gruffly.

‘She’s a one,’ said Connie, shaking her head.

‘What number have you got for her? Can I see please?’ said John.

‘Well course you can,’ said Connie reaching out for her mobile phone.

‘Come on, let’s stop beating about the bush, eh? What’s going on?’ said Ken. ’Has something happened? Do you know where she is?’

Dylan saw panic flash across Connie’s eyes, and he knew she hadn’t told her husband she’d given his officer a key to Liz’s house.

‘The other day the police were called to a burning car at St Peter’s Park,’ Dylan said.

‘Yes, I saw it on the news.’ Ken covered his mouth with his hand.

Connie screamed. ’Tell me it’s not...my baby.’

‘Not Liz, please.’ Ken said, reaching for Connie’s hand.

Gemma burst in aroused by the raised voices and stopped abruptly when she saw her grandparent’s tears.

‘Why are you crying? Nana...Gramps? Are you sad?’ she said grabbing the front of Connie’s pinafore and staring wide eyed up into her face.

‘Yes, darling, we’re sad...we’re very sad’ Connie said, pulling Gemma to her and cuddling her tight. Gemma pushed her away and Connie bent down to her level. Dylan watched Gemma put her tiny hands to each side of her Nana’s face before kissing her softly.