by Helen Phifer
‘Have you got a whammer?’
Ben’s voice brought Morgan back to earth. She shook her head.
‘Dan might, I’ll go ask. Why?’
‘There were no house keys in Olivia’s pockets. I want to make sure everything is in order inside the house and see if we can find details of other family members. We need to find a next of kin for Olivia.’
She walked over to where Dan was sitting in the van with Harrison.
‘Any luck getting hold of Bronte?’
He shook his head. ‘She must be really pissed with me; her phone is going straight to voicemail now.’
‘Is that usual, does she normally not answer?’
He shrugged. ‘Yeah, well she ignores me when she’s angry. She doesn’t usually turn her phone off though, she’s too addicted to Instagram. I’m getting a bit worried about her.’
Morgan didn’t like it. Something was niggling away at her. Most people couldn’t live without their phones, especially not teenagers. Why would Bronte not answer or turn her phone off? Perhaps it had run out of battery.
‘Dan have you got a whammer in your van?’
Dan nodded. ‘I’ll go get it.’
Harrison stared after him and asked. ‘What’s a whammer?’
‘A metal battering ram; we use it to put the door in when we need to gain entry to a property. Do you know if anyone might have a key? Have you got one?’
He shook his head. ‘No, but Bronte sometimes left hers under a garden gnome for me so I could let myself in. Should I go and look?’
‘Yes please, that would be great.’
She didn’t ask him why he hadn’t told them this earlier, putting it down to shock. Dan came over carrying the heavy metal bar.
‘We might have a key.’
He rolled his eyes and let it drop onto the gravel drive with a loud thud.
Harrison came back holding a silver key in his fingers. He gave it to Morgan.
‘Should I come inside with you?’
‘No, you wait here. As soon as we’ve checked the house, I’ll drive you home.’
‘It’s okay, I’m in my car.’
‘You’ve had a shock, it might be better for one of us to drive you.’
‘I need my car for work. I can’t get to Kendal if I leave it here and I can’t afford not to go in tomorrow. My supervisor is a right arsehole and I’m on my final warning.’
‘I’ll ask the boss and let you know.’ Morgan pointed to the DS, who was chatting to Wendy, the CSI. She took the key over to Ben.
‘Sarge, we have a key.’
‘Great, you and Dan go and do a quick search. I doubt anyone’s home; I’m pretty sure they’d have noticed us lot out here before now. But try and find anything with details for a family member we can contact. Undertakers should be here any minute to transport the body to Royal Lancaster Infirmary mortuary. Do you want to go with it and get it booked in?’
Morgan nodded, feeling sad that the woman who had been a living, breathing soul a couple of hours ago had now been reduced to an ‘it’. She knew Ben wasn’t being rude or impersonal; it was just the way it was. To him this was just another suicide, another body. He’d been doing it long enough that it didn’t affect him; she hoped that the job would never become so matter-of-fact for her.
‘Oh, I said someone might drive Harrison home.’
She turned and walked towards the house, Dan following behind.
Opening the door, she stepped inside, calling, ‘Hello, this is the police. Is anyone home?’
They were greeted by silence. Inside the open-plan living area, she pulled out her torch and turned it on, shining it around. Nothing looked out of place and it smelt of fresh linen: no nasty, lingering smells to arouse their suspicion. Dan found the light switch and flicked it on, lighting up the whole downstairs.
‘Wow, nice digs,’ he said out loud.
She nodded. ‘Nice indeed.’ It was all very modern. No clutter. The entire lounge, kitchen, and diner was painted white, with different tones of grey picked out on feature walls. A set of keys dangled from a small hook behind the front door and Morgan wondered if they were Olivia’s.
Dan headed for the kitchen. ‘I’ll do down here.’
Morgan made her way to the stairs tucked away at the back of the room. She turned on the light and went up the steps, calling out again, ‘Hello, is anyone home? It’s the police.’
There was no reply. She reached the first floor and admired the clean lines and clutter-free landing. Five doors came off it and she checked each room in turn. The master bedroom was as spotless and tidy as the rest of the house, with an en suite that sparkled. Morgan wondered if Olivia kept the house this clean or whether the family had a cleaner. She was almost afraid to touch anything for fear of leaving a mark. The next two rooms seemed to be spares. They were empty and decorated in the same style as the rest of the house. Morgan pushed open the fourth door and breathed a sigh of relief; this room looked as if it had been ransacked. The duvet was strewn across one side of the bed and there were piles of clothes on the floor. Make-up littered every available surface. She was glad the girls got to be typical messy teenagers in this immaculate show home. Walking towards the heart-shaped picture above the bed, she smiled to see a myriad of family photos in the frame. There were several of a dark-haired girl with her arm around Harrison; this must be Bronte. Other photos were of Olivia, a man she assumed was Saul and two girls in different locations. Morgan recognised New York, the Grand Canyon, Paris and Rome. They looked like the perfect, happy family and she felt her heart tear in two. Their lovely life was about to be torn to shreds. She felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach for the girls who were about to find out their mum had taken her own life and left them alone.
‘Morgan?’
Dan’s voice echoed up the stairs.
‘Coming.’
She tore herself away from the pictures and checked the last room, not quite as messy as Bronte’s. Instead of bottles of expensive perfume and make-up this one was full of books. They covered every available surface and were stacked in piles by the side of the bed. She nodded in approval; Beatrix was a bookworm like her. At least she’d have the luxury of stealing herself away from the horror of her life into someone else’s when it all got too much for her.
‘Morgan.’
The voice was more demanding this time and irritated her.
‘I’m coming, Dan. I had to check each room.’
‘And?’
‘Well they’re all empty, obviously. What about down here? Did you find anything?’
He held up an address book and waved it in front of her.
‘Guess who’s getting the brownie points off Sergeant Moody?’
They went back outside where Ben was now sitting in the van talking to Harrison. Dan shut the door behind him, pushing it to make sure the door was secure. The body was being zipped into a black body bag and lifted onto the steel gurney. Morgan watched as the undertakers slammed the door of the private ambulance. The driver turned and waved.
‘See you at the hospital.’
She waved back.
They drove away, leaving the garden looking like nothing had happened. Well, it would once the police vans had left. The only thing out of place now was the stepladder. When Saul and his daughters returned home, there would be nothing to show it had been a scene of such heartbreak that their lives would never be the same again. Morgan felt drained. She walked over to the van where everyone was congregated around Harrison. Ben looked at her, his steely gaze softened, and she felt a little better.
‘Still want me to book her in at the mortuary?’
‘Yes, please. Dan is going to follow Harrison home to make sure he gets there safely. Another patrol is on the way to wait here and see if the family turn up, to break the news to them.’
He stood up and got out of the van, followed by Harrison. Dan was already on his way back to his own van. Climbing into the driver’s seat, Morgan turned on the engine,
then whacked the dial on the heater up to full blast. Her hands had turned into blocks of ice and she was shivering. She waited for Harrison to leave, with Dan in convoy, before setting off.
About to drive away, there was a knock on the window. Jumping, she looked to see Ben standing there.
‘I just wanted to say thank you, you did a good job.’
Before she could answer he turned and walked back to the white Ford Focus he’d arrived in. She smiled. Maybe he wasn’t the ogre everyone had told her he was.
Three
All the way to Royal Lancaster Infirmary, Morgan listened intently to her radio, waiting for someone to report that they’d located a relative for Olivia Potter. It was really starting to bother her that they hadn’t. Three hours had passed now since she’d first arrived on scene and not one family member had turned up or been successfully contacted by the police. It happened, but unless Saul worked shifts, he should have been home by now. There was no obvious reason for the girls to be missing either. There had been no indicators inside the house that they’d gone away for a few days. Whenever she went anywhere her flat always looked as if a tornado had gone through it while she decided what to pack. Maybe she should have checked the storage cupboards to see if there were any suitcases around. She pressed Dan’s four-digit collar number into her radio and waited for it to ring.
‘Yeah?’
She rolled her eyes; he was so rude.
‘Don’t you think it’s odd?’
‘What?’
‘That they haven’t located anyone for Olivia yet.’
‘Who?’
She paused. Was he serious? She was about to admonish him, when he answered.
‘Sorry, wasn’t thinking. I don’t know, not really. They could be at an afterschool club or dance class; they might even be at the cinema for all we know.’
‘Suppose so, but it’s nearly eight.’
‘Are you fretting, Morgan? Don’t let it worry you. They’ll turn up; they can’t be far, can they? Maybe they all had a big row and the dad took the kids away. Wouldn’t be the first time some couple have had a big argument then one of them goes and tops themselves. It happens all the time.’
She ended the call. He was so matter-of-fact about everything, so unfeeling. Then again, she was the opposite; she took everything to heart and spent hours worrying. The shrill sound of her handset blasting broke the silence.
‘Hello?’
‘Why did you hang up? Look, what I meant was don’t go seeing things that aren’t there before we know the facts, okay. We’re response officers; we’re the first port of call for an emergency. We get there, take control, and make everyone feel safe, blah, blah, blah. Anything too complicated, it gets passed to CID and it’s out of our hands. They get to be the ones to fret over it. If you get too involved, you’ll end up wasting your time. You’re not a detective; let them worry about the rest of it. You’ve done your part, time to move on to the next job. It’s harsh, but that’s the way it is, Morgan.’
‘I know that, I get it. I just can’t switch off like you can.’
‘Well, you’d better learn to, or you’ll end up batshit crazy.’
‘What if there’s something wrong though? What if something has happened to them?’
‘Like what? The house was immaculate, no signs of a disturbance and it was all secure. Remember we had to get a spare key to get inside? Don’t go overcomplicating things.’
She ended the call for a second time. She knew everything Dan had just said was true, but she also knew in her gut that something wasn’t right with the whole situation. But who could she tell, or more importantly, who was going to listen to her, a rookie, with little experience and fresh out of company? They’d probably laugh at her.
The entrance for the mortuary came into view and she turned in. The hearse was already parked at the loading doors waiting for her.
The mortuary was housed in a bland, beige brick building. She parked the van next to the hearse and got out. The doors to the mortuary were opened by a smiling woman, dressed in blue scrubs with a long-sleeved thermal vest under them. As Morgan walked inside the hallway she was hit by a subtle chemical smell and how cool it suddenly was. She understood the need for the vest.
She’d been here only once before, with Dan. The first time she’d walked through the double doors into the examination room she’d been terrified, expecting to see steel tables lined up with rows of dead bodies on them and lots of blood. She’d been pleasantly surprised to see a couple of steel tables, but no bodies. It smelt better than she’d imagined as well. Clean. The pathologist had been very kind and taken his time to explain to her how everything worked and the process of what happened before a post-mortem could even begin. Like everything else it was lots of paperwork first.
The undertakers wheeled in the trolley. Olivia Potter’s body didn’t look very big inside the large black bag.
‘Have you got some evidence bags?’
Morgan turned to look at the woman, who was still smiling at her. The ID card around her neck said ‘Susie Quirk’.
‘Right, shall we get her booked in then?’ said Susie brightly.
Morgan left the mortuary with the bags containing Olivia Potter’s jeans, linen shirt and her underwear and headed towards Rydal Falls. It was late enough that there wasn’t too much traffic on the approach to the busy town, and she needed to return to the station to book Olivia’s items into the property store. There had been no front door key in Olivia’s pockets; in fact there had been nothing in any of her pockets. Not even a mobile phone, which was odd. When they’d removed her clothes there had been a couple of ligature marks around her neck, as if she’d tried it once then changed her mind, then tried again. Morgan wasn’t an expert, she knew that the pathologist would be able to tell them more, but the alarm bells were ringing even louder in her head. There was something wrong with this case. She needed to speak to the DS and tell him, even if he did think she was interfering. There was no point even discussing it with Dan because he’d either tell her to back off or make fun of her like he usually did.
When she arrived back at the station it was like a ghost ship. The only person around was a PCSO going in for their break and the front counter clerk. Morgan went to see Brenda at the front office. She knew she’d help her book the evidence in.
‘Thanks, Brenda. I’ve done it before with Dan, but there’s so much to remember.’
She laughed. ‘You’ll get used to it. How are you getting on?’
‘It’s okay. Some days I wonder what on earth I was thinking, others I enjoy it.’
‘It’s not the easiest of jobs, but it can be very rewarding as well as stressful, but you already know that.’
Morgan turned to leave. ‘Where is everyone? This place is dead.’
‘All in The Black Dog no doubt, it’s Mitch’s leaving do.’
‘Oh, I forgot.’
Brenda stood up. ‘That’s where I’m heading off to, are you going?’
Morgan usually avoided social occasions but she knew that everyone would be talking about her if she didn’t at least turn up for one drink, and Mitch was a nice bloke considering he’d been a copper for twenty years and wasn’t worn down or jaded by the job. He’d always been patient with her whenever she asked him questions about cases she was dealing with.
‘As soon as I’ve updated the logs and submitted the Form 38, I am. See you there.’
Morgan went upstairs to see if the DS was still around. The large CID office was as deserted as the rest of the place. She was about to leave via the door to the smaller office at the back of the room when it opened and Ben walked out.
‘Sarge, have you got a minute? Can I have a word?’
‘Sure.’
She stepped inside, letting the door close behind her. ‘I’m a bit concerned about the circumstances surrounding Olivia Potter.’
He pointed to a chair and she sat down. ‘Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?’
‘Have he
r next of kin been located yet?’
He shook his head.
‘Don’t you think that’s odd? Surely by now someone must have gone home or tried to contact her and got no answer. She has two teenage girls; wouldn’t they want picking up, or to know what’s for tea?’
‘I appreciate your concern, but we’re doing everything to trace her family. I’ve got two detectives on their way to speak to her mother. Is that better? I’ve also spoken to a friend who is a teacher at their school. He said they didn’t come in this morning and no one rang up to report their absence. They were picked up by their mum yesterday.’
Once more she felt her cheeks begin to flush. ‘Yes, sorry. I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job.’
‘Good, I hope not because I’ve been doing this for quite some time.’
‘Sorry. I just think there’s something not right with the whole situation. When we undressed her at the mortuary there were two different ligature marks around her neck.’
He let out a small laugh. ‘Were you a pathologist as well as a paramedic before you joined the police?’
‘No, actually, I worked at the outdoor education centre at Lakeside.’ Morgan wanted the ground to swallow her whole, but she wasn’t going to stop asking questions because of a little teasing.