‘It’s under Mum,’ she somehow managed to say, handing over her mobile to Tom.
He took the phone from her. ‘Thank you. I’ll go and call her now, if that’s okay?’
Once again she just nodded, and Tom headed towards the kitchen in order to make the call.
It was a while before he returned, during which nothing was said by anyone. At last he knocked on the open door and came back into the room. ‘I have spoken with your mum. She should be here in about thirty minutes.’
By this time Mrs Burton, her composure sufficiently restored, was able to speak without the previous intermittent sobs. ‘Where was he found?’ she asked.
‘The body was found by a group of divers in an old quarry, alongside the M3, that had filled with water. It looks as though his car had driven over the edge into the water.’
Mrs Burton suddenly looked up. ‘What? Do you mean deliberately?’
‘That we don’t know. We’ll have to wait for the results of the post-mortem. Then we will have a better idea.’
‘Post-mortem?’ she repeated. ‘Why?’
‘It’s standard practice in these types of circumstances,’ answered Tom, as vaguely as possible.
‘And where is his body now?’ she asked.
‘It’s at the mortuary.’
The mention of the word mortuary immediately prompted a further outburst of grief. This time, though, it was bordering on hysteria and Tom decided that, at the moment, there was little he could do to help Mrs Burton other than waiting for the grief to eventually subside. When he felt that had occurred he said, ‘You told us last time that you have two children. Are they currently at school?’
‘Yes. They are both now back at boarding school,’ she answered, quietly, before the mention of her children caused her, once again, to cry.
‘Whilst we are waiting for your mum to arrive, why don’t you get dressed? My officer can help if you want,’ Tom said, looking in the direction of the female officer.
‘I can manage to dress myself,’ Mrs Burton answered, quite sharply. She stood and walked towards the stairs, and then up to her bedroom.
Tom also stood and went towards a cabinet at the side of the room, on which were two photographs, both sitting in identical and expensive frames.One showed a teenage boy and the other one a slightly younger girl, whom he assumed to be Mrs Burton’s children. After a while he moved towards the window, which overlooked the river, and stayed there for a while, just staring down at the water, before the silence was broken by the sound of the doorbell ringing.
‘I’ll get it,’ said Milner.
A short while later Milner reappeared, followed by a woman, whom Tom estimated to be in her early sixties. Despite this, the resemblance made it obvious that this was Mrs Burton’s mum.
‘Where’s Jane?’ she asked, dispensing with any formalities.
‘She’s upstairs, getting dressed,’ answered Tom.
The woman, without saying anything else, immediately left the room and headed upstairs.
‘Should I go with her?’ asked Milner.
‘No. Let them have some time to themselves first,’ Tom answered.
Despite it being such a large house, Mrs Burton could clearly be heard crying. After a while her crying began to lessen, and then, a little later, she and her mum reappeared in the lounge.
‘Does Jane really have to do this?’ asked her mum in a very distinct London accent. Her tone was quite aggressive.
Tom replied. ‘No, she doesn’t. I totally understand that this is not easy for Mrs Burton. If there is anyone else who could do it – someone who knew Mr Burton very well – then that would be fine.’ He turned to face Mrs Burton. ‘We really don’t want to make you do something which you don’t want to do.’ Looking back at her mum, he added, ‘Perhaps you could do it?’
Tom’s suggestion suddenly prompted Mrs Burton into a burst of anger. ‘He’s my husband. I will do it. I have to.’
Tom faced her mum, who simply shrugged her shoulders before saying, ‘I want to come with her, though.’
‘Of course. That’s not a problem.’
Chapter 17
Later that same day, and having returned to the station, Tom, Milner and DC Bennett were once again all together in Tom’s office.
Not surprisingly, the process of identifying the body had been highly emotional. Despite the fact they had tried to prepare Mrs Burton by suggesting that they strongly believed the body to be that of her husband, nonetheless it still proved to be a traumatic experience for her when she confirmed that to be the case. It was almost as though she had still been desperately clinging on to some faint hope that it might be some other person, but the confirmation had then finally shattered that hope.
After the identification a police officer had driven Mrs Burton, and her mum, back home. It had been agreed that Mrs Burton’s mother would be staying with her for the foreseeable future.
Tom was now standing, marker pen in hand, in front of a flip chart, in the centre of which was the name Glyn Burton. Immediately below were the names of various other people, all of whom had been identified as having a close connection to the victim. This was a technique which Tom had often used successfully in the past and, whilst there were more technologically up-to-date alternatives available, it was something which seemed to suit his eye and his brain. He had always preferred to write things down. This form of visualisation helped him to organise all his thoughts and find possible, not necessarily obvious connections associated with an ongoing investigation.
He stood back so that he could get a good view of his work. ‘So, let’s see who we have got. First of all, there’s his wife, Jane.What few words could we add under her name? I think strained relationship would be a fair summary of their relationship,’ he added, without giving the other two the opportunity to answer, as he wrote those two words under Jane Burton. ‘Then we have Craig Blackwell.’
It was DC Bennett who immediately made a suggestion. ‘How about slimy?’
This prompted Milner to shoot him a quizzical look.
‘I think, for the time being, we’ll make do with business partner,’ said Tom.
‘But he was more than a business partner, sir,’ said DC Bennett. ‘Due to Mr Burton’s affair with Mrs Mercer, I would say that he was a very worried business partner.’
‘Okay,’ answered Tom. ‘Let’s add very worried, then.’
As neither Milner nor DC Bennett responded, Tom carried on, pointing his marker towards the name of Roger White. ‘There’s no connection, other than that they seemed to be close golfing friends.’
‘But Mr White was, at one time, a major shareholder at the golf club,’ said Milner, ‘and he did, fairly recently, sell most of his shares to Mr Burton. I think that is quite a strong connection.’
‘Very true,’ answered Tom, before writing sold shares to Mr Burton under the name. ‘Which then brings us on to Mike Preston. He, out of all of them, had the most obvious motive. I’m sure that when one of your golfing buddies has an affair with your wife it can make you do very strange things. With the way you described him, Milner, it was almost as though he was hoping something bad had happened to Mr Burton. Not the behaviour of someone who might be trying to cover their tracks. However, we should put him on the chart.’ He wrote revenge? under Mike Preston’s name.
‘Shouldn’t we add his wife Amy as well?’suggested Milner.
Before Tom could respond, however, DC Bennett said, ‘And, on that basis, I think we should add possible revenge alongside Mrs Burton. She is the one who seems to have suffered most by her husband’s behaviour.’
‘Okay,’ said Tom, although his tone suggested that he wasn’t entirely convinced. Nonetheless he added both suggestions to the chart. ‘Then, finally, there is Mr and Mrs Mercer, Jonathan and Caroline.It’s difficult to form a view yet, as we have still to speak to them. But they should both go on the chart, for the very same reasons that Mike and Amy Preston are on it. So I think we should pay the Mercers a visit
next, although let’s see them separately as we don’t know if Mr Mercer knows what’s been going on.’ He turned to face DC Bennett. ‘Let me know when you’ve done that. I suggest we start with Mrs Mercer.’
‘Aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves, sir?’ asked Milner. ‘We still haven’t had the full PM report. You always tell us how it’s best not to make important decisions until you have all of the information. Isn’t there a danger we are trying to fit the available evidence to our theory rather than the other way around?’
Tom suddenly smiled. ‘At last, you have finally listened to what I’ve taught you.’ He looked to DC Bennett again. ‘But set up the meetings anyway.’
Chapter 18
According to DC Bennett, Mrs Mercer didn’t seem to be too surprised to be contacted by the police and readily agreed to meet with him and DCI Stone. It was as if she had been expecting the call. Unsurprisingly, however, she was reluctant to hold the meeting at her own home, making it clear that she would prefer to come to the station, so the meeting had been arranged for early the following morning.
Before she had arrived, however, Milner appeared with a copy of the full post-mortem relating to Mr Burton’s death.
‘Mr Burton was dead before he went into the water. So it does look as though he was definitely murdered, sir,’ he said. ‘The cause of death was three blows to the head, one of which was just below the right temple, and it was this which was most likely to have been the fatal blow. There was also bruising near the top of the head. The report suggests that this was almost certainly the result of him hitting the ground. Then there was the bruising on his shoulders suggesting a close struggle, possibly before the fatal blows were made.’
‘He was hit repeatedly on the head, then,’ said Tom, ‘with one of the blows of sufficient force to kill him. He then fell and hit his head on the ground. Just before that the killer appears to have been holding him, quite tightly, by the shoulders.’
‘Or trying to push him away,’ added Milner.
‘That’s always possible,’ replied Tom. ‘Does the report say what it was that was used to hit him?’
‘Nothing very precise, I’m afraid, other than that it was probably something fairly small. The bruising would have been much more significant, and the wounds much bigger, if it had been a large weapon. There was a small laceration, under his temple, which suggested something relatively sharp.’
‘Any DNA, other than his, on the body?’ Tom asked hopefully.
‘None, sir,’ answered Milner, clearly disappointed. ‘Anyway, as the pathologist keeps telling me, any DNA evidence would almost certainly be compromised by the presence of water.’
‘And what about the car and all the things inside it? Anything which might give us a clue there?’
‘The car, and its contents, are still being examined. I’ve asked for the report as soon as that’s finished. Hopefully, it should be within the next day or two. We should be receiving an inventory of everything that was found in the car later today.’
‘Good work,’ replied Tom. ‘It looks like you’ve got everything in hand.’
Milner waited for the usual put-down. When none came, he spoke again. ‘Do you want me in on the meeting with Mrs Mercer?’
‘I know you are starting to become a good judge of character, and it’s always best to have more than one perspective – even I don’t have a monopoly on that – but I think DC Bennett and I can handle it. And, anyway, I’m sure you have lots of other things you could be doing.’
As Milner was still trying to take in the fact that he had just received two compliments from DCI Stone within the space of a minute, his thoughts were interrupted by DC Bennett’s arrival.
‘What do we know about her?’ asked Tom.
DC Bennett held up a single sheet of A4 paper and began to read from it. ‘Mrs Caroline Mercer. Thirty-six years old. Married to Jonathan Mercer. No children, although Mr Mercer has three grown-up children from his first marriage. He’s quite a bit older then her – he’s fifty-eight – and they married about seven years ago after his first wife died. Apparently, she had been his secretary.’
‘Well, if she and Mr Burton had been having an affair then it looks like the curse of the seven-year itch has struck again.’
‘That’s definitely a possibility, sir,’ DC Bennett said. ‘It’s possible, of course, that their age difference might have been another reason.’ He looked back at the paper. ‘Looks like they are quite wealthy. They live in one of those very expensive areas in North London. Mr Mercer is the owner of an import– export company which specialises in fine art, jewellery, gold, diamonds. That type of thing.’
‘That would explain, then, why he was Mr Burton’s biggest client. I suppose you have to do something with all of that money,’ Tom replied. ‘And what about Mrs Mercer? Does she still work at her husband’s company?’
‘Not as far as I can see,’ answered DC Bennett. ‘She’s certainly not on the list of company directors. They seem to be Mr Mercer’s own children.’
Just then another officer stuck his head around the door to say that Mrs Mercer had just arrived.
DC Bennett went to get her whilst Tom walked the short distance to the room they had chosen to conduct the interview. A couple of minutes later, DC Bennett returned along with Mrs Mercer.
‘This is Detective Chief Inspector Stone,’ DC Bennett said. ‘Please take a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?’
‘Nothing for me, thank you,’ she answered, before sitting down.
Mrs Mercer was of above-average height and wore a black knee-length coat and matching boots. These, together with her long blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes and almost perfect complexion and make-up, suggested someone who paid a lot of attention to appearance. If that was the case then she was very successful. Although Tom knew, from DC Bennett’s briefing notes, that she was thirty-six years old, she could quite easily pass for someone ten years younger from where he sat.
‘Thank you for coming in, Mrs Mercer. We do appreciate it.’ Without any further preamble or pleasantries, he got straight to the point. ‘As you know, a friend of yours, Mr Glyn Burton, disappeared some time ago. I’m afraid to say that his body has recently been found.’
Tom had suddenly realised he didn’t actually know if she was aware that his body had been found, but now it was too late. The sudden expression of shock on her face immediately provided the answer. Whatever little colour was in her face instantly disappeared.
‘Oh my God,’ she cried, tears suddenly mixing with her mascara to roll down her cheeks, leaving some black streaks on her face. ‘Are you saying Glyn is dead?’
‘I’m afraid so,’ he answered. ‘I’m really sorry to have to break the news to you like this.’
For a while, nothing more was said until Tom judged that he could continue.
‘As I said, I apologise that you had to hear it like that. I thought you might have known. Please take your time.’ He handed her a box of tissues.
‘Thank you,’ she said, taking one of the tissues from the box and wiping her eyes with it. ‘I knew he was missing, but I . . . I never expected this. How did he die?’
‘We are still trying to determine that,’ replied Tom, making the decision that it was probably best to limit how much they told her. ‘His body was found in his car in a lake.’
‘Was it an accident?’ she asked, between fresh sobs.
‘As I said, that’s something we are still trying to find out. Is there any reason why you might think that it might have been an accident?’
‘Well, it certainly wasn’t suicide. Glyn wasn’t that type of person. He was so full of life,’ she said, before starting to cry again. ‘Or are you saying that he was murdered?’ she asked, incredulity clear in the tone of her voice.
‘That’s what we are still trying to determine,’ he answered. ‘I’m afraid, at this stage, we are not ruling out anything.’ Once again, he waited patiently before continuing. ‘I understand you and Mr Burton were close f
riends. When was the last time you saw him and how did he seem to you?’
She wiped her eyes, looked directly at Tom. ‘We were more than just friends. We had been in a relationship for a few months. I loved him. I’m not ashamed of that,’ she said, before the shock of realising he was dead once again took hold of her emotions.
During the pause DC Bennett stood up, walked towards the water cooler, filled a plastic cup and then placed it in front of her.
‘Thank you,’ she said, before taking a small sip. This seemed to revive her as she was then able to continue. ‘The last time was on the Sunday he disappeared. He called me to say he wanted to meet up. It was a surprise, as I knew he played golf every Sunday morning, but apparently for some reason he had decided not to play that particular morning.’
‘Can you remember what time that was?’ asked DC Bennett.
‘He called me at about ten o’clock and we met about thirty minutes later.’
‘So, at about ten thirty,’ he said, whilst writing the time in his notebook. ‘Where was that?’
‘Probably a few minutes after that. Say, ten thirty-five. I arrived just before Glyn. We met in a coffee place just off the North Circular Road. We’d met there before. It’s about halfway between where he lived and my home. When I got there I ordered us a couple of coffees and by the time I’d got them he’d arrived.’
‘And what did you discuss?’
Mrs Mercer seemed to take a deep breath before answering. ‘Glyn had decided to leave his wife. Apparently, they’d had a big row the night before and that was what finally decided it for him. I knew he was unhappy, and it was then he told me how he just couldn’t go on like that. We were discussing when it would happen and, of course, what we would do.’
‘So you had also decided to leave your husband. Is that right?’ asked Tom.
‘I had, yes. I told you. I loved Glyn and he loved me.’
‘So, when was all this going to happen?’ asked DC Bennett, his tone suggesting he somehow doubted it would have happened at all.
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