by DH Smith
‘Her mother had to go into hospital for an operation,’ Jack intervened, unsure about the operation but deciding exaggeration was his best ploy.
‘I still don’t think…’ said Cathy.
‘We’ll allow it this time, Mr Bell,’ said Vicky.
‘He did bring Daddy back yesterday,’ said Ellie.
‘Fat lot of good that did him,’ said Cathy.
Jack thought, let’s get out of here, now that I have told them. He felt like a child, getting a telling off, as if he was somehow responsible for Mr DeNeuve’s death. Ellie had told him her sister was a cow, which he now thought unfair on cattle. And her mother thought she was the Queen.
‘I’ve phoned the police,’ said Jack.
‘Should you have done?’ queried Cathy. ‘Isn’t that our prerogative?’
He stiffened, wanting to tell where to go, but quelled the desire. He still had a job here and might as well keep it.
‘I found a dead man in the lake, Miss DeNeuve. And that’s the law. I am very sorry it’s your husband, Mrs DeNeuve. But the police have to be called. And the sooner the better.’
‘That’s common sense, Mummy,’ said Ellie.
‘He should inform his employer first,’ said Cathy to her mother. ‘That is the correct way of doing things. There are proper ways.’ She stared at Jack. ‘This is our school, Mr Bell. And you must come through us. You work here with our permission. Is that clear?’
He held her look, not about to be cowed. This was a tiddly job. Two to three days at most. It had already caused him enough trouble. The worst they could do was sack him.
‘It’s clear,’ he said. ‘And I’ll do the work as laid down. If it requires changes I’ll ask you first. But this wasn’t about work. It’s about a body in the lake.’ He shook his head. ‘And as we are not going to agree, I suggest we ask the police whether I did the right thing or not.’
‘Has ownership no rights, Mr Bell?’ said Cathy.
‘Ask the police, Miss DeNeuve.’ He turned to Vicky. ‘Please accept my sympathy, Mrs DeNeuve. I am sorry to be the bearer of such sad news. I only did what I thought was the best in the circumstances.’
‘Thank you, Mr Bell,’ said Vicky. ‘I appreciate your condolences. And I am sorry your daughter had to be the one to find my husband.’
‘She shouldn’t have been there in the first place,’ exclaimed Cathy.
‘Thank you, Mr Bell,’ said Ellie, ignoring her sister. ‘We appreciate you taking the trouble.’
The doorbell rang.
Ellie ran out.
‘Unless there’s anything else, I’ll be off, ladies,’ said Jack. He all but had to stop himself from bowing and backing out. He turned to Cathy. ‘And I’ll be taking my daughter away once the police have come.’
He turned to leave as Ellie returned.
‘The police are here,’ said Ellie. ‘And they want to see Mr Bell.’
Part Three:
Working It All Out
Chapter 28
Jack was standing where he’d been ordered, while the two plain clothes police officers looked at the body. They had driven down from the gatehouse with Jack on board. At the lake, once Jack had pointed out the body they’d put on plastic overshoes and gloves, and told Jack to stay back. The officers went to the lakeside and gingerly stepped into the water to examine the body, touching it as little as possible.
He was perhaps ten metres away watching them, looking at the footprints in the mud by the side of the lake. The only ones he could make out were his and Mia’s, though with some prints overstepping others it was confusing in places.
The police officers left the corpse and came back to him. The senior was Detective Inspector Sarah Jones, a severe woman in her mid 40s, wearing a navy blue skirt and jacket, with a white shirt open at the collar, blonde hair tied back. Her colleague was a black man, perhaps ten years younger in a bluish grey suit.
She said to her colleague, ‘We’d best make this a crime scene, Zak. Can you contact SOCO?’
Jack was surprised. ‘You think this was a crime?’
She turned to him. ‘I don’t know, sir. But I’ve learnt it pays to keep an open mind. Don’t assume one way or another at the outset.’
‘He was very drunk yesterday,’ said Jack.
‘So you were saying in the car,’ said the Inspector. ‘You ferried him back home in a wheelbarrow?’
Her colleague had wandered off and was on the phone.
‘Totally unconscious,’ said Jack. ‘I found him in the school corridor…’
‘And the next time you saw him was here?’
‘Yes. My daughter found him. And she called me.’
‘Your daughter? What was she doing here, Mr Bell?’
‘Her mother has gone into hospital. I was stuck with what to do with her. She’s eleven. And Ellie DeNeuve said I could bring her in. She was in the library this morning, got bored and went for a wander…’
‘Can I see the bottom of your boots?’
Jack was surprised at the change of tack, but did as he was bid, and stood on one leg and turned a boot over.
‘Thank you,’ said Inspector Jones, looking closely at the sole and then at the footprints in the mud. ‘We’ll need to eliminate you and your daughter’s prints. We’ll photograph them. And see what others there may be here.’
‘Will that be long?’ said Jack. He wanted to take Mia away, guilty at his neglect of her, at the fact she’d left the school to explore, no doubt, because she couldn’t find him.
‘Soonish,’ she said, looking at her watch. ‘Did you know Mr DeNeuve?’
‘I’ve only been here since yesterday,’ he said. ‘They had a break-in, and I’m repairing a window and a couple of doors. I saw Mr DeNeuve about. Ferried him home drunk yesterday, but we never spoke. I get the feeling he’s a bit of a snob. Doesn’t talk to workmen.’
‘Well, I suppose it goes with this sort of place,’ she said. ‘Local comprehensive myself. We’ll need to have a quick word with your daughter. You can be present. Don’t worry, nothing heavy. And one more thing: did you move the body?’
‘I turned him over. He was face down in the water. I wasn’t totally sure he was dead, so I thought best make sure, to see if I could do anything.’
‘Perfectly understandable, Mr Bell. That’ll do for now… Where will you be?’
‘I’m going up to the gatehouse where my daughter is. The caretaker and his wife are keeping an eye on her. I want to leave as soon as possible… I’m not sure how she’s coping.’
‘I’ll get you and your daughter dealt with as soon as possible, Mr Bell. Please tell the caretaker and whoever lives with him not to come down here. It’s a crime scene now. And we don’t want it contaminated. Thank you, Mr Bell.’
Having dismissed Jack, she went off to talk to her colleague. Jack was relieved; she’d been polite enough but he was never comfortable talking to the police, not being sure they weren’t judging him for use later. And they might yet be heavy on him about Mia coming down to the lake on her own. He was sure Ellie would stay mum about their love making, and hoped Mia would leave out unnecessary details. Not that that he and Ellie had committed any crime, but it might give the cops a laugh at his expense.
Halfway to the gatehouse, well away from the police, he made a phone call. One he’d been avoiding for months. The phone rang and he waited nervously, half hoping it wouldn’t be answered.
‘Hello,’ came a familiar voice.
‘Hello, Mum.’
‘Is that you, Jack?’
‘It is, Mum. How are you?’
‘Fine mostly. A bit of rheumatism. I had a cataract operation last month. But mustn’t grumble. You OK?’
‘On the wagon,’ he said, ‘for eighteen months now. I’ve been meaning to phone, but keep putting it off. Taking that money, you know.’
‘It did leave me short,’ she said, ‘but that’s history. Forget it.’
‘Well, I am sorry. Believe me. You at home?’
; ‘I am. Retired now. Your dad’s left. More history for you. He ran off with a woman at work. I don’t know where he is. And I can’t say I care much. How’s Mia and Alison?’
‘I’m divorced,’ he said. ‘I was a wreck, as you know, and Alison decided enough was enough. Mia is with me today. I wondered if you’d like to see her?’
‘I’d love to.’
‘There’s a bit of a scene here at work. Can I bring her over?’
‘Of course you can, Jack. Lots to catch up on. And I do want to see my granddaughter… I bet she’ll be as tall as me now.’
‘Not sure exactly when I can get away. There’s a few things to sort out here. An hour or two. I’ll phone before I leave.’
‘That’ll give me time to do some shopping.’
They said their goodbyes and rang off.
Jack leaned against a tree. He’d done it. They hadn’t said much, but it was surprisingly exhausting. Mia would be his buffer when he got there.
He continued to the gatehouse.
Chapter 29
He joined Mia on the lawn in the gatehouse garden, having told Jenny and George he needed to have a word with her. She was making a daisy chain. He joined in but soon gave up. His heart wasn’t in it, and she’d catch him out for trying too hard. Even as a kid, daisy chains seemed a waste of flowers. In no time, they curled up and died.
‘You OK, love?’
‘I think so.’ She was concentrating on her daisy chain, threading a stalk of one into a hole she’d made in the last stalk in the chain.
‘You won’t have nightmares?’
Even as he said it, it sounded a silly question. Which only wanted one answer.
‘I don’t know,’ she said.
He put a hand on her arm.
‘I’m sorry you had to find him.’
She wouldn’t look at him, and took his hand away. He needed to find out exactly where they were at. Wanted to tell her – don’t tell your mother, but felt he wasn’t anywhere near the point where he could.
She said, ‘I went to find you in the classroom.’ Mia looked up from her daisy chain, her face stern. ‘And saw you kissing a lady. And then you went into a cupboard with her.’
Hell. She knew. Or maybe she didn’t. She was only eleven. He couldn’t imagine what she might think.
Out of the blue, he said, ‘She was going to show me something.’
‘What?’
‘Some pictures.’
‘What of?’
‘Horses.’
‘Why?’
‘There’s a boy in her class who’s a really good drawer…’
‘And not to do anything else?’ She stared at him, her face screwed up in examination. God, she reminded him of Alison. That accusatory face.
‘Just to look at pictures,’ he said. ‘He was really good, the boy.’
‘You can show them to me later,’ she said. She had a slight smile. Of disbelief, he thought. But at least he had other plans for her. And she might forget the pictures. But later was later, it was dealing with now that mattered.
‘I phoned my mother, your Nan,’ he said. ‘I said I’d take you over when the police have finished with us.’
‘I haven’t seen her for ages,’ she said. ‘She was always nice.’
To you, thought Jack. Occasional visits with treats. But anyway, he thought children should see their grannies. And sons shouldn’t take from their mother’s purse.
‘She really wants to see you,’ he said.
‘I’d like to see her,’ she said.
And was deep in her daisy chain once more, digging her nail into a stem and threading a fresh one through. It was good, he thought. It was calming. She seemed perfectly alright. But what a bundle of lies he’d told her! They might yet rebound on him. Too late. He had made up a tale on the hoof about their time in the cupboard. But how could he have told her the truth?
‘I want to have a word with Jenny and George,’ he said. ‘Do you mind?’
‘No.’
Head down, the daisy chain in her lap perhaps a metre long, she looked so small. A child. Yet she’d seen a dead body, but what could he say to her? That she hadn’t seen a body? That bodies didn’t matter? In the midst of life we are in death – or something. That bombs are falling every day, Kalashnikovs spitting bullets in war zones. That we all die one way or another?
What do you say to a child?
Alison would know. But she was in hospital. And was the last person he’d ask.
George and Jenny were at the ironwork table on the patio. They were waiting for him when he came to join them. He’d noted their impatience when he was talking to Mia, wanting to pump him. Jenny poured him a cup of tea. A prelude. He wasn’t sure he wanted to speak to them, but he didn’t want to sit silent and stupid with Mia.
‘What’s happening down there, Jack?’ said George.
‘It’s a crime scene,’ he said. ‘They don’t want anyone going there.’
‘A crime scene!’ declared Jenny. ‘How can that be?’
‘The Detective Inspector said she is keeping an open mind.’
‘But you told them you took him home drunk? Didn’t you?’ said George.
‘I did.’
‘Stupid plods,’ said Jenny vehemently. ‘The man drank like a fish. I always said he’d end up in the lake one day. Didn’t I, George?’
‘You did.’
‘Why do they want to make a murder out of an obvious accident?’ she exclaimed. ‘Why?’
‘Did they find anything, apart from the body?’ said George.
‘No,’ said Jack. ‘I don’t think so, anyway. They had a quick look at the body, asked me a few questions and decided they’d best declare it a crime scene. No one is to go down there.’
‘Before we know it, there’ll be the papers here,’ said Jenny, throwing her hands up. ‘Why can’t they see the obvious?’
Because they’ve got a job to do, thought Jack. And sometimes the obvious isn’t what happened. He didn’t say it, not wanting to enter into an argument. Everyone was on edge anyway.
‘They like to make everyone nervous,’ said George. ‘Show their power.’
‘A drunken man falls in the water. Open and shut case,’ said Jenny. ‘Don’t you think so, Jack?’
Put on the spot, he had to say something. ‘It’s possible,’ he began, ‘that someone might have taken advantage of the fact that he was drunk.’
‘Who?’ retorted Jenny.
‘I don’t know.’
‘You think them DeNeuves?’
‘I’m just saying,’ he said uncomfortably, ‘that’s it’s possible. Maybe that’s what the cops are thinking.’
‘You’ve got an evil mind, Jack.’
‘No, be fair, Jenny,’ said George. ‘He’s only saying what he thinks the cops are thinking.’
Jenny ignored her husband. ‘You saw him absolutely paralytic. Carted him off home in a wheelbarrow, for heaven’s sake. Out to the world. A drunken slob. It’s obvious what happens next. He begins to wake up, finds another bottle and goes staggering away drinking it…’
‘Where’s the bottle?’ said Jack.
‘What?’
‘You said he went staggering away drinking.’
‘I don’t know. I wasn’t there.’
‘And that’s why it’s a crime scene,’ he said. ‘Neither were they.’
They were all silent. Jack wished he hadn’t started on the subject. He distrusted this couple. They were hiding something. Mia though was patiently making her garland. The most sensible of us, he thought.
‘You’ve stopped packing,’ he said. Maybe unpacking, he thought.
George caught Jenny’s eye. ‘We don’t know what to do,’ he said. ‘He was the one gave us notice. Now he’s dead, his wife might decide different.’
‘But it’s not the right time to talk to her,’ said Jenny.
‘So we’re going to leave things a few hours,’ said George. ‘I’ll maybe go over this evening and talk to them.’
‘Yes. You’ve only got a few days,’ said Jack, trying to be sympathetic.
‘I’ve a feeling she’ll be on our side,’ said George. ‘It was him wanted us out.’
The Detective Sergeant came out into the garden with a man who, obvious from the large camera hanging from his neck, was the photographer.
‘Hello, everyone. I’m Detective Sergeant Wilson. As I’m sure you all know by now, there’s been a body found in the lake and we will need to question you all. If we might begin with your daughter, Mr Bell. You can accompany her.’
Chapter 30
Vicky was in her customary armchair. She had a handkerchief in the lap of a dark blue, long dress. Not yet ready for black. Although she knew he was dead, she wasn’t to be seen as knowing too soon. The knowledge had to be taken in precise steps. Jack had informed her only half an hour before. She must be numb, lifeless, disbelieving.
Detective Inspector Jones was seated on the sofa, a notebook and pen in her lap.
‘Your daughters have identified the body, Mrs DeNeuve. There is no doubt it’s your husband. Please accept my sympathy.’
Vicky dabbed her eyes. ‘Thank you, Inspector. I cannot believe this. I am overwhelmed. I was up this morning, preparing to do some work on my garden – and then out of nowhere… this!’ She shook her head. ‘We never know what’s in store. I cannot believe it.’
‘I know it’s very soon, Mrs DeNeuve, but can you manage a few questions?’
‘I think so.’
She mustn’t overdo it. Nor underdo it. She was the caring wife, trying to be strong for the family. This was so important, their initial judgement. She must be distraught. But trying in spite of it. And she must lead them to the place where she wanted them to be.
‘When did you last see your husband, Mrs DeNeuve?’
‘About ten o’clock last night, on that sofa, Inspector.’ She sniffed and wiped her eyes. ‘He’d passed out, drunk. All very shameful really. The builder, Mr Bell, brought him back on a wheelbarrow. I went to bed about ten. He was still unconscious laid out on the sofa where you are sitting.’
‘Weren’t you worried about him?’
‘I’ve seen him like that before,’ she said. ‘He’d wake up in his own time.’