The Forgotten Mother: A spine chilling crime thriller with a heart stopping twist (Detective Arla Baker Series Book 3)

by M. L Rose

  Arla glanced at the place. She felt strangely detached looking at the brain. Like it didn't belong to the body. For the first time, she understood how pathologists worked. To them it was just a collection of organs, not a human being.

  “See this black stuff inside the brain?” Banerji lifted up a small slick on his finger. “That’s blood.”

  “So,” he said, “The blow caused a subdural haematoma. That alone might have killed him in a day or two. But the massive stroke he had from the bleed killed him much sooner.”

  There was silence for a while. Eventually Arla said, “Are you saying he was virtually dead, but then the killer hung up him like that…” her voice trailed off.

  “Just to make a point. Sick bastard,” Harry muttered behind her.

  “Yes,” Banerji said, his voice now low. “I looked all over the body. There are no foreign hair fragments or skin cells. I think the killer wore a mask, and his hair must have been covered.”

  “This can’t be the first time he’s done this,” Arla muttered.

  Banerji said, “The entire body was washed with Betadine as well, as you know. Hence the slight brownish tinge to the skin.”

  Arla asked, “Are you confident of the time of death?”

  “Yes, very. Between 19:30 and 21:00. If you ask me, the killer made one mistake. The heating was turned off, and he didn't switch it back on before he left. Heat would have decomposed the body further and played havoc with determining time of death.”

  “So the cause of death is…”

  “Blunt trauma to the head, causing haemorrhagic stroke. Secondary cause, strangulation.”

  “Good work, Doc,” Harry said.

  Banerji beamed. Then he paused and snapped his fingers. “Ah, I almost forgot.”

  CHAPTER 17

  “What?” Arla asked.

  “Those parts of the carpet you asked Parmentier to look at. Remember?”

  Arla’s face brightened. “Where I thought the body had been dragged. Yes, of course.”

  “Nothing to do with me, but he called me to ask for a match of the DNA he found in the carpet.”

  “And?”

  “We found the victim’s, sure. But there was another set of skin cells this time. The DNA didn't belong to the victim.”

  Arla felt a surge of excitement. “Parmentier must have run it through the database. Any hits?”

  “Sadly none.”

  Arla glanced at Harry. He nodded, taking out his phone and walking out of the chamber. It was high time SOCO offered some feedback. Harry would get on the case.

  Arla thought. She should have taken a DNA swab from Cherie when she was at the station. Unless of course, Parmentier’s team had done it already last night. Cherie’s DNA would be all over the carpet. If this DNA was hers, they were back to square one. But at least, they had some DNA now. Any future suspect would be checked against it.

  “Anything from the rest of the body?” Arla asked.

  Banerji moved down to the chest. “Some bruise marks in the throat and upper chest where he was gripped when attacked, but nothing else.”

  He lifted a hand and held one finger up. “Nicotine stains on the nails of the right hand. He was a smoker.”

  He looked at Arla and shrugged. “That’s it, really. Toxicology tests aren’t back yet, they take time, as you know.”

  Arla tapped her fingers against her leg. “Have you checked the nails of both hands for DNA? I’m wondering if we can find the same DNA in his nails as on the carpet upstairs.”

  “Good point.”

  “The prosecution will like it to prove that the victim was attacked by the same person.”

  Banerji raised his eyebrows. “Jumping a few steps, aren’t we? You have to find this psycho first.”

  “When we do, we can’t let clever lawyers wriggle him out free. Best to have the case ready, doc.”

  The buzzer sounded and Chen left to open the doors. Harry came back. “SOCO will broaden their search. But it’s a needle in a haystack. I told them we have a warrant and they’ll meet us at the property.”

  “Good,” Arla said. She turned back to Banerji. “This is a violent MO, right? Likely to be a man?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m thinking about the weapon. A flat, hard object like a hammer. One good blow can kill. But it must also be light, or he wouldn't be carrying it around with him.”

  Harry said, “A knife would make more sense. But maybe his mind is more attached to a hammer. Killers like him have fixed behaviour patterns.”

  Arla said, “Exactly. Doc, can we see if there are any metal fragments left in the skull? Or anything, really.”

  Banerji sighed in resignation. “Arla, I have other jobs as well…”

  “Please,” Arla said. “We have pressure on this. Mr Longworth had friends in high places.” She stepped forward and smiled at Banerji.

  The older man smiled tolerantly. Arla knew Banerji made concessions for her, and his attitude towards her was one of fatherly fondness. He had no children himself, but she knew he was married. She often wondered if she filled a small portion of his heart that must be empty.

  “How about I call you later tomorrow evening? Once I have done my other chores.”

  “You’re a star.”

  Arla and Harry left swiftly, and soon Harry was driving down the traffic congested streets of South London. Rain arrived, with the steel grey of threatening clouds banked on the horizon. Apart from the wipers swishing there was no other sound inside the car. The silence lay heavy between them.

  Arla stared at the rain slicked pavement rushing past, commuters with umbrellas walking fast, hunched against the rain.

  Harry was the first to speak. “Are you OK?”

  Arla had her face averted from him. She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them. It wasn’t Harry’s fault. He was only being himself. But she didn’t owe him an explanation. After all, she could also only be herself. Trapped in her own world.

  “Yes, I’m fine.” She turned and tried a smile. “I forgive you for your transgression.”

  From his raised eyebrows, she knew he liked the response. Harry liked nothing more than a verbal joust. Arla didn't let him get there. For now, she needed her mind on the job.

  “Any new questions for Cherie?”

  Harry pursed his lips together. He had full, sensitive lips and she liked looking at them.

  “Well, we need to dig deeper into her relationship with her son, definitely. Something’s not right there. Trust me, men dote on their mum’s. If something like this happened at my home, I’d probably be guarding my mum 24/7.”

  Arla thought about that. “Family dynamics are weird, no doubt. Which makes me wonder about her relationship with her husband. I mean, she said it was fine, but I don’t believe she was telling us everything.”

  “Me neither, guv.”

  In a while, they arrived at Bellevue Road. The white SOCO van had arrived already. Blue and white police tape cordoned off the entire row of houses. For the first time, Arla saw a woman arguing with one of the uniformed officers. Must be one of their neighbours, she thought. The woman was clearly raising her voice, and gesticulating with her hands.

  CHAPTER 18

  Arla ducked beneath the tape and walked towards the woman. Another uniformed officer had arrived, and the woman was haranguing both of them. Arla caught snippets of the conversation as the woman shouted.

  “I’ve had enough. I see the police take out a body bag, but no one tells us anything! You knock on our doors asking us questions if we saw anyone…”

  The woman broke off to look at Arla as she joined them. The woman was in her late forties, with scraggly chestnut hair that fell to her shoulders. It needed a comb. She was dressed in dark slacks and a brown jumper and wore jogging shoes. Arla held up her badge and warrant card.

  “DCI Baker. I’m in charge of the investigation here. Can I help?”

  “In charge, are you?” She pointed at the two parked squad cars at either end of
the row, and the SOCO van that was unloading equipment. “You call this being in charge? No one knows what’s going on-

  Arla disliked the woman’s sneering, superior tone immediately, but kept her thoughts to herself. “What do you think is going on, Miss-

  “Mrs Parker actually.”

  “OK Mrs Parker. We are in the middle of an investigation as a crime has taken place here.”

  The woman rolled her eyes. “Takes a genius to figure that out, right?”

  “Soon we will release an official statement. But you live here, so you must have an idea of what happened.” Arla lowered her voice. “As you know we don’t want to alert the media, hence we haven’t notified the public yet.”

  That mollified Mrs Parker somewhat. She sniffed and looked Arla up and down. “Like I said, a body bag came out, so someone must have died. I know it.”

  Typical snoopy neighbour, Arla thought. And for that reason, she could be useful. Arla took her elbow and moved to one side.

  “I can tell you, but in strict confidence. This is a serious police matter. Do you understand?” Arla dropped her voice to whisper.

  Mrs Parker’s brow furrowed then her eyes widened. Her voice matched Arla’s. “Yes, of course.”

  “Did you know the Longworth’s?”

  “Only to say hi and hello. But we did see a lot of coming and going from the house.”

  “Really?” Arla did her best to look inquisitive.

  “Yes, they always had guests.”

  “Anyone in particular?”

  Mrs Parker pressed her lips together. “Yes, a man in a silver Bentley. I remember because the car was fancy. Saw him quite a few times.”

  “When was the last time?” Arla took her notebook out.

  Mrs Parker leaned forward and whispered. “About three times in the last two weeks, I’d say. Oh my god, do you think…”

  Arla looked up at her sharply. “It’s too soon to jump to any conclusions, Mrs Parker. I’m sure you appreciate that.”

  “Oh, of course.”

  “Did you see David Longworth out and about much?”

  The woman shrugged. “Every now and then. To be honest, he spent a lot of time indoors. I didn't see him much. His wife seemed more sociable.”

  “What did you think of Mrs Longworth?”

  “Cherie? Oh, we chatted every now and then. Like you do, you know.”

  Arla waited. Mrs Parker shrugged and said, “She’s quite bright, happy mostly. Just normal.”

  “So apart from this silver Bentley that came a few times in the last two weeks you haven’t seen anything else unusual?”

  “No, can’t say I have.”

  “I know this is a long shot, but you didn't note the registration number of the silver Bentley, did you? If it was a private plate they sometimes have a catchy number.”

  Mrs Parker crinkled her Botox smooth forehead. She clicked her tongue. “No, sorry.”

  Arla gave her a card. “If you think of anything please get in touch. My number’s on this. Anytime you want.” She smiled and turned to leave.

  Mrs Parker caught her arm. “Hey. You didn't tell me what happened in that house.”

  “No, I didn't, because I can’t. But I think you know, Mrs Parker, don’t you?”

  CHAPTER 19

  Arla left the woman staring at her and went over to the SOCO van. Harry was talking to Parmentier, who was zipping up his white boiler suit.

  Parmentier greeted Arla. “The study is now a no-go zone. The tent is in place. I don’t want more feet trampling around upstairs.”

  “We’ll concern ourselves with the living in that case.” Arla glanced at Harry. “Where’s Cherie?”

  “She’s inside.”

  The front door was open and see through plastic sheets had been rolled out on the floor. Arla and Harry walked on the duckboards till they came into the hallway next to the massive staircase. Ahead lay the entrance to the kitchen, which was closed. Arla knocked on it, and after a short while, Cherie opened the door. Her eyes were drawn inside their sockets, and her cheeks were sunken, colourless.

  “Sorry to disturb you,” Arla said. “But can we have a quick word?”

  Cherie opened the door without a reply and moved away. They went inside, and Harry shut the door. The open plan kitchen area was large. Light flooded in from the ceiling skylights. The kitchen bar and cooking area was to the left, the rest of the space was dominated by a long dining table capable of seating more than twenty. There was also a pool table with a TV area to the right. Straight ahead, concertina doors opened out to a green lawn with mature trees on either side.

  Arla stopped to enjoy the view for a few seconds, then walked over to where Cherie was making coffee.

  Cherie offered it to them and they both nodded.

  “Over here,” Cherie said, indicating one of the four sitting stools at the breakfast bar.

  “Nice coffee,” Arla said after taking a sip.

  Cherie’s face was blank. “What can I help you with?”

  Arla glanced at Harry, who cleared his throat. “Have you heard from your son?”

  “Yes. He called to say he wanted to meet.”

  “He doesn’t want to come here?”

  Cherie’s eyes flicked from Arla to Harry. “There are a couple of things you should know about my step son.”

  Cherie rubbed her face like she was tired. She probably was, Arla thought. Cherie frowned, her eyes staring past them into the distance. “I’m sorry. I should have told you this earlier. But Luke and his father don’t get along. They never have. He went to boarding school, and left home early.”

  “When you say don’t get on, what do you mean?”

  “He thinks his father was overbearing and treated him, well, I don’t really know the details you see. But David always thought his son was…”

  Cherie broke off and gripped her forehead. Arla and Harry glanced at each other. A few things were now taking shape in Arla’s mind. No wonder the son had been evasive.

  “Was what?” she pressed.

  Cherie looked weary, and again avoided their eyes. “David said Luke used to steal things. Hide things from him. A few times he caught Luke forging his signature on a chequebook. That’s when him and Laura decided to send Luke to boarding school.”

  Arla said, “Laura was David’s ex-wife?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened to her?”

  Cherie looked at them with a puzzled look in her eyes. “Sorry, I thought you knew.”

  Arla frowned. “Knew what?”

  “Laura died. Accidental overdose of sleeping tablets.”

  Arla cast an annoyed glance at Harry, who shrugged. A detail like this should have turned up in the searches they had done. But to be fair, Arla reasoned, it was only in the early hours of the morning that David’s body was found. It had only been a few hours, and the team was going to have its first meeting this afternoon when she went back. There would be no dearth of leads to follow.

  “Can you please give us Laura’s full name and date of birth, please?” Arla flipped her notebook out, and Harry did the same.

  “She was forty-eight, I believe. Laura Longworth, sorry I can’t remember her maiden name. Something with D, I think. It’ll come to me, I’m sure. I don’t know her DOB.”

  “When did she die?”

  “Three years ago.”

  Arla twisted the pen in her fingers. “And you got married last year, right? So, two years before you got married.”

  Cherie nodded. “Correct.”

  “Do you know how it happened? I mean did David call the police when he found out?”

  “Yes, exactly. He called an ambulance actually, and they took Laura to hospital. She was unarousable despite CPR and life support.”

  Arla wrote this down on her notebook. Her mind was buzzing, like a swarm of bees in a box. There was something here, but right now, she couldn’t cut through the noise.

  “Did David ever talk about it?”

  Cherie’
s eyes moistened. She bent her head and sniffed. Arla felt sorry immediately. This woman was going through hell right now. Digging up the past was making it worse. She steeled herself. It was one of the worst parts of her job as a police detective. Pressing grieving relatives for more information. As if losing the person they loved, forever, wasn’t bad enough. But nine times out of ten, it was the relatives who provided the breakthrough in a case.

  Arla gave her some time, then said, “I’m sorry. I know this is difficult for you. But anything you can tell us is extremely helpful, I assure you.”

  Cherie unfolded a tissue and dabbed her eyes. “No, it’s fine. To be honest, I didn't know David before Laura died. The David I knew was a quiet, reserved man. His friends say Laura’s death changed him. He used to be the life and soul of the party.”

  Something flickered in Cherie’s eyes as she stared at Arla. Deep grief was like a river of poison that flooded the soul, Arla knew. It changed a person’s mentality. It had happened to her. She wondered if the same would happen to this poor woman.

  “I understand,” Arla said quietly. She paused a beat. “Did Laura die in this house?”

  “No. They were on holiday in Dorset, by the sea.”

  Arla leaned forward. “Just the two of them?”

  Cherie blew her nose and shook her head. “No. It was a family thing. Luke went with them as well.”

  Arla and Harry looked at each other.

  CHAPTER 20

  The rain pattered incessantly against the windscreen. The sky was leaden grey, and Arla’s breath made fumes inside the car as they waited for the heating to kick in. She held her frozen fingers against the heating grill. Harry was navigating the busy mid-day traffic as they drove to the address in Wandsworth, where Luke Longworth lived. Two phone calls to his mobile had gone unanswered.

  Harry said, “For Laura Longworth, if it was an unexpected death, the coroner would have opened an inquest, right?”

  “Yes,” Arla spoke above the whirr of the heating on full blast. “We need to contact Bournemouth and Dorset Hospitals for that. Her GP would have records if she suffered with depression.”