Make You Sorry

by Christine Rae-Jones

  ‘She wasn’t looking very bubbly and pretty when I saw her,’ said Morgan. Fletcher’s lips pursed.

  Morgan gave a small nod to Spence who stepped forward, inviting himself into the conversation. ‘I met with Ms Slater’s flatmate yesterday,’ he said. ‘She told me that you had extended Abi’s workplace probation period, not once, but twice or more. Why was that, Mr Fletcher? Oh, and why would you not think that we would find that relevant to our investigation?’

  For the first time since their arrival, Graham Fletcher looked uncomfortable. He turned his attention back to Morgan.

  ‘I try not to speak ill of the dead, Nick, and...’

  ‘Force yourself,’ Spence interrupted.

  Fletcher’s eyes flicked between the two men again before he continued. ‘As I was saying, I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but, if you feel it may be relevant, I can tell you that there were some issues with Abigail. The partners were uncomfortable with her social life and some of the people she was seen with.’

  ‘We’ll need more than that,’ said Morgan. ‘We’ll need names.’

  ‘The substance of the rumour was that Abi sometimes liked the bad boys. She met up with clients outside of the court environment.’

  ‘Her own clients?’ Spence asked.

  ‘Hers, mine, others who used the practice and I heard also, friends of clients. I don’t have details as such.’

  ‘I see,’ said Morgan ‘but this stopped when she met her fiancé?’

  Fletcher’s developing smile was without warmth. ‘Again, this is only rumour you understand, but I’m told she had a boyfriend who she was still seeing and by seeing, I mean fucking, even as the wedding banns were being read. The gossip was that it was Steven Cooper, Sammy’s brother. Am I right in thinking he has disappeared?’

  Neither officer reacted to Fletcher’s revelation immediately. When Morgan glanced at Spence, he was flicking through his notebook. ‘I’m certain that Ms Slater’s flatmate wasn’t able to provide any names. I would have remembered that one.’

  ‘I’m surprised you didn’t know,’ said Fletcher. ‘Gullhaven is such a small town, both in size and mentality. I was sure someone would have already mentioned it. Dorothy was against it and I think she and Steven fell out over it. When I told her that Abi had paired up with a futures dealer and they were getting married, she was ecstatic. Now, if we’ve finished here... He looked at his Hublot watch. I’m due in court later.’

  Morgan rose from the chair and followed Spence to the door. As Spence opened it, Fletcher called out. ‘Oh Nick, do tell Sammy that I’m looking forward to catching up with her on Sunday.’

  ‘Sunday?’ asked Morgan.

  ‘Yes, at the youth football sponsors’ charity dinner. Now that Steven has done a runner I’m told Sammy’s going to be representing the company. Hasn’t she told you? Oh dear, I’m sorry if I’ve put my foot in it.’ The smug smile was still on his face as Morgan shut the door behind them.

  The officers walked to the car in an uncomfortable silence which Spence broke. ‘I’ll check with DC Smart, sir, but I’m certain that the flatmate never mentioned your brother-in-law. I remember she said that Abi had met boyfriends through work and we pushed her on that, but she didn’t have any names.’

  Morgan’s reply was almost inaudible over the noise of the passing traffic. ‘Perhaps after they extended her probationary period, she decided to keep her relationships secret. It seems there are a lot of secrets in this place.’

  Chapter 30

  Thursday 13th February

  The paperboy who delivered to Doreen and Ronald Bradley’s bungalow in Gullhaven Cove each morning, was always careful to close the gate behind him. When they left him a Christmas card at the newsagent, they’d enclosed a twenty pound note and Mrs Bradley had asked him to be sure to secure the gate as they were planning on buying a dog after being recently burgled.

  When he reached their home at ten past seven on Thursday morning, he leant his bike against the wooden fence and paused at the wide open gate. He saw a light in the bathroom and walked up the path with their paper and Doreen’s monthly craft magazine. Their letterbox was small so he slid the glass porch door open and left them on a shelf inside. When he turned to retrace his steps, he noticed a shadow across their lawn. It looked like something was propped up against the tree in the middle of the garden, but he couldn’t make out what it was. He was unsure whether to investigate. If he ignored it, he could complete his round and get home in time to go through some last minute formulae for this morning’s maths test. Remembering the twenty pound note, he walked across the grass.

  He knew that Mrs Bradley had a difficult life coping with Ronald’s arthritis and more recently, his Alzheimer’s. The burglary had shaken her because it had happened when they were at home and asleep. Precious photos had been taken for their silver frames as well as Mrs Bradley’s handbag containing money, bank cards and house keys. When he knocked on their door on Christmas Eve to give them a card and to thank them for their gift, she told him that the police had caught the burglar but that he had pleaded not guilty at the Magistrates’ Court. There was a trial scheduled for March. None of their stolen items had been traced.

  He approached the bundle with care and circled round it. He saw legs with trainers on the feet. If it had been November, he might have thought that someone had dumped their bonfire night Guy, especially as it seemed to have a cardboard sign around its neck. It was still too dark to make out any writing on it. He returned to the Bradley’s front door and rang the bell.

  As the newest member of the Major Crimes Unit, DI Nick Morgan had the smallest caseload and was first choice for a call out. He had been at his desk for an hour when the Control Room Inspector rung through and told him that he was needed to attend a scene at Gullhaven Cove. Uniformed officers had found a slumped body under a tree in the front garden of a bungalow which had been burgled a few months before.

  ‘Down and out?’ he asked.

  ‘Unlikely in Gullhaven, sir, and we usually refer to them as rough sleepers.’

  Morgan rolled his eyes and took down the address. Having driven past the end of it, he knew it was a cul-de-sac off one of the main roads which ran down to the cliffs.

  ‘Who reported it?’

  There was a tapping of keys at the other end of the line. ‘Apparently the paperboy found him and got the householder to come and have a look. She rang 999 but when the responders got there, life was extinct. We’ve got a medic on the way to do the necessary.’

  Morgan took a last sip of his coffee then reached for the black leather jacket he had slung over his chair. It was colder here than London and he was pleased he had it with him. He was looking forward to getting more of his clothes out of storage because somewhere, he had a thick wool coat that he would have welcomed on a morning like this. He phoned Spence as he walked to his car and they agreed to meet at the scene.

  Samantha Morgan dried her hands and answered her mobile.

  ‘Samantha,’ it was her mother, ‘I’ve got the keys and I need you to collect me and take me to Cliffside so I can see the damage for myself. I’ll be ready at ten thirty.’

  It was ten o’clock and Samantha had planned to do some washing and then take the twins shopping for the remaining items needed for school.

  ‘It’s not all that convenient, Mum. We’ve bought a few more bits and pieces of clothes, but I’m having to do some washing every day until we get moved in and have all our own stuff. Could it wait ‘til tomorrow?’

  ‘The sooner we can see what needs to be done before you move in, the sooner you can move in. Of course, if you’re too busy then I’m sorry to have disturbed you.’ Samantha waited for click which would end the call and put her on the wrong side of the argument, but it didn’t come. It seemed her mother was determined to visit Cliffside and may be open to negotiation.

  ‘I’ll need to find someone to look after the twins because I don’t want them seeing anything that might distress them. Could we m
ake it two o’clock?’

  Dorothy sighed dramatically and waited in the hope that Samantha would defer. Her daughter knew the tactic well. She sometimes used it with Nick, albeit with mixed success. Whoever held out the longest before speaking would win and with all the jobs she had to complete today, she was determined it would be her.

  Dorothy sighed again, louder this time. ‘Very well, I’ll see you at two. Before you go, any news from Steven?’

  ‘No, Mum. I’m sure he’ll contact you first. He’ll need to apologise, won’t he?’

  ‘What do you mean “apologise?” Why would he have to apologise?’ She sounded agitated.

  ‘I know you two must have had a row, even if you won’t admit it. He’ll come back when he’s had time to think about it.’

  Dorothy tutted. ‘It’s very inconvenient. He knows that winter is our busiest time. You need to be helping us out in the office at the very least.’

  ‘It’s half term, Mum, and a funeral home is not the most child friendly place.’

  There was a chorus from the dining table where Alexander and Victoria were clearing away their breakfast plates and mugs. ‘We’re not children.’

  Samantha shushed them. ‘The staff were doing okay when I was there a couple of days ago. It’s not too busy at the moment.’

  ‘We’ll discuss it when you come this afternoon,’ said Dorothy and this time she did end the call.

  ‘Looking forward to it, mother,’ said Samantha, although she wasn’t.

  Chapter 31

  Thursday 13th February

  Like many of the roads in Gullhaven Cove, Baxter Close was narrow and ended in a tight turning circle. The properties were all bungalows, set back from the road to accommodate large front gardens, many with mature trees and borders. Spring was still some weeks away but Morgan noticed a few brave snowdrops in flower and a scattering of early crocuses. The boundary, marked by police tape, enclosed the garden of number eighteen and the pavement outside. Across the road, a few neighbours were standing together taking a keen interest in this unprecedented activity.

  Morgan recognised some of the CSI team members from Abi Slater’s deposition site and a few of them returned his nods of recognition as they went about the task of photographing the body from every angle. Others were on hands and knees combing through damp blades of grass in their search for evidence. He saw an elderly man, wrapped in a thick dressing gown, and with a duvet over his legs, sitting in Spence’s car.

  ‘That’s Mr Bradley, sir.’ It was a woman’s voice from behind his left shoulder. Morgan turned to see DC Smart and grimaced by way of greeting. ‘He’s got Alzheimer’s and Dave... that’s DS Spence, sir, thought he’d be safest and least confused by all the comings and goings if he sat in the car. He’s got the heater on and a cup of tea.’

  ‘Lucky him,’ said Morgan wrapping his jacket tighter around him against the biting west wind. ‘What do we know... if anything?’

  Smart opened her notebook. ‘Probably not a lot more that you’ve already heard. It was called in at half seven this morning after the paperboy found the body. DS Spence has let him go to school because he has a maths test this morning, but we’ve sent a uniformed officer with him and she’ll bring him to the station as soon as he’s finished it.’ Morgan nodded but wasn’t pleased. Witnesses gave their best information when everything was freshest in their minds. God knows what detail would be overwritten by Pythagoras or Venn diagrams.

  Dr Mackenzie straightened painfully from his crouching position and walked to Morgan and Smart who were standing on the pavement.

  ‘I’m glad you came here, sonny,’ he said to Morgan. ‘If you keep this up, my memoirs are going to stretch to three volumes. All money in the bank, you know.’

  ‘Good morning to you, Dr Mackenzie. Glad to be of service.’

  Mackenzie chuckled. Morgan had been told that most officers avoided engaging in banter with the pathologist who had a reputation for ferocity. Morgan wasn’t scared.

  ‘Time and cause of death, doctor please and...’ he looked over the top of the pathologist’s right shoulder, ‘What’s he got in his lap?’

  ‘Round his neck rather than in his lap,’ said Mackenzie.

  ‘Okay,’ Morgan held his hands up. ‘So now I need when, how and what.’

  ‘I’m a man of few words myself, DI Morgan,’ said Mackenzie, his soft Scottish accent broader now. ‘And as a special offer, I’ll add a provisional where.’ Smart held her notebook ready in anticipation, but he shook his head. ‘Be patient DC Smart, it’ll be in the report and that’ll come after the postmortem.’ Morgan decided that he liked this man even more for staying with the traditional English term rather than the American preference for “autopsy.”

  ‘There’s bruising round the neck, possibly from smooth cord or a thin belt. Life extinct between twenty four and thirty six hours ago. He wasn’t killed here, the body was moved. And there’s a piece of cardboard hanging round his neck on string. The technicians will bag it and submit it into evidence but you may wish to know that there’s a message on it. It says “Now I’m sorry,” and there’s what I used to call a smiley face except the mouth is upside down.’

  ‘It’s an emoji,’ said Smart.

  ‘That’s the emoji for sad, not sorry,’ said Morgan and Smart’s face betrayed her amazement. ‘If I say twelve year old twins?’ he replied and she nodded, smiling.

  ‘Well, I’ll leave you to continue talking like twelve year old twins then,’ said Mackenzie. ‘It’ll be two o’clock at the mortuary. Don’t be late.’ He walked towards the open gate and then removed the protective booties and coveralls which he handed to the uniformed officer stationed at the scene boundary.

  ‘Do you want me to go to the PM?’ asked Smart.

  ‘Spence can go, but if you’re working towards your Girl Guides mortuary badge, you can go with him. Can you also organise a team for door to door please, before everyone goes off to work?’

  ‘There’s no hurry, sir. This is Gullhaven. Most of the residents in this street will be retired. They’ll be sitting up in bed with the day’s first cup of tea.’

  Morgan looked at the bungalows surrounding them. ‘I’ve already seen a few curtains twitch, and there’s an audience,’ he nodded at the small group of observers.

  ‘I still don’t think there’s any hurry, but I’ll get in touch with Ops.’ He nodded and they both turned their attention back to the body.

  ‘What are you thinking about the sign around the neck?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m thinking that I’ve never seen a piece of cardboard left with a body in all my years, and now I’ve seen two in four days. Do they all come with labels in this jurisdiction?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not that I’ve noticed.’

  ‘Have a word with whoever bags it and ask them to compare it with what was left of the card in Abi Slater’s lap.’ She made a note.

  ‘What about a comparison of the inks. Wasn’t there ink absorbed into the wedding dress?’

  ‘Yes, let’s ask for that too, but you’re definitely not going to make any friends at the labs. Now, do you know where Mrs Bradley is? I’ll have a word with her first and then let’s see if we can persuade them to pack a couple of bags and stay away from here for a while.’ He glanced again at Mr Bradley who had fallen asleep in Spence’s car. ‘Poor sod,’ he said.

  Chapter 32

  Thursday 13th February

  He hadn’t been back to the Magistrates’ Court since Abigail Slater’s body had been found and he’d missed his visits. His employer owed him four hours and insisted that he take it as time off rather than money, so he’d gone into town and taken his place at the back of Court One where the remand cases were being heard. With no possibility of seeing Abi, the building seemed dowdier today, the lighting less bright; the staff less friendly.

  When the bench retired, he went back to the waiting area to see what else was going on. There were more people milling about than usual, and it was noisy. The chairs
were arranged differently since his last visit; now, in rows which alternated between facing each other and back-to-back.

  He first noticed them when he came out of the toilets. Father and son, or maybe old lag and apprentice? They caught his attention because they looked furtive. Their heads were close together and they regularly stopped, looking around as if checking who was listening. Since childhood, he had always needed to know what people didn’t want him to know. Their behaviour singled them out. It was just a matter of how to get closer without scaring them off.

  An usher hurried out of Court Three, his gown billowing out behind him as the difference in air pressures between the court and the foyer caught it. ‘James Weaver to Court Three, please. James Weaver to Court Three.’

  Four men rose together and followed the usher. One was wearing a suit which didn’t fit and the others had made no effort to smarten up for their outing. They had vacated seats behind his targets and he made for them. Another couple came and took the two furthest away seats. He smiled at the woman and sat next to her. He took out his phone and concentrated hard on the screen whilst his ears scanned the surrounding voices, searching for the conversation behind him.

  ‘The containers are already in the car park and the tools will be delivered on the twenty second. It’s all sorts. Drills, saws, grinders, you name it. They’re stocking up for the Easter DIY binge in April and there isn’t enough room in the warehouse. It’ll be the easiest thing we’ve ever done.’ The older man was excited and breathing heavily; the breath of a man who’d smoked a lot of prison roll ups.

  ‘Has to be the Monday after, though, cos I’m at Crawley court the next day an’ if I’m goin’ down, you an’ your mum’s gonna need the readies.’

  There was a delay and he felt his chair move. The younger man behind him was looking round again. ‘I don’t know,’ he said at last, his voice high pitched. ‘Even if we get the stuff, who’s gonna take it off our hands?’