by P. F. Ford
He took a look around the kitchen.
"It looks like you two have this covered," he said, addressing Becks and Murphy. "There's not much we can do here that you haven't already done, so we'll leave you to it and go talk to this neighbour."
"Yeah, thanks guys," agreed Slater.
Night was on its way, and the light was beginning to fade as they made their way back out of the house and across to the tent where they handed their suits in for disposal before checking which house was home to their witness.
"Laura Pettit," said the PC on duty, reading from his notes. "She lives in the house to the left over there."
He waved his hand in the general direction just in case they were in any doubt.
"In my experience," observed Norman, as they made their way towards the neighbour's house. "That nice neat murder scene, with no obvious clues, tends to suggest this murder was planned, and not some random attack."
"Yeah," sighed Slater. "That's what I was thinking. And it looks like she probably let the killer in, led them through to the kitchen, and was comfortable enough to turn her back on them to fill the kettle."
"Or the killer could have had a key and let himself in," suggested Norman.
"But if she was at the sink wouldn't she have heard the key in the lock?" asked Slater.
"Not necessarily," argued Norman. "Maybe she had the radio on and didn't hear anything."
"Either way she probably knew her killer," said Slater.
"Looks that way," agreed Norman.
They were outside the house now and Slater rang the doorbell.
The door slowly opened to reveal the smiling face of PC Jane Jolly.
"Why if it isn't Jolly Jane, Tinton's favourite PC," beamed Norman.
Jolly was probably the most well-liked officer at Tinton, and everyone who met her tended to fall under her spell. There was nothing glamorous about the hard working mother of three, but she had an inherent goodness about her, and a winning smile that was readily shared with everyone she came into contact with. And if that wasn't enough, she was also a very efficient, and highly valued, member of the team. Norman had a particularly large soft spot for her.
She stepped outside and pulled the door behind her.
"Mrs Pettit's still a bit upset," she explained. "She had a nasty shock, finding her friend like that."
"Can we speak to her?" asked Slater. "Is she up to it?"
"You can try," said Jolly. "But it would probably be better if you could wait until the morning."
"This is murder, Jane," said Norman. "We can't afford to sit back and do nothing. Even if we get just five minutes, it's better than nothing."
Jolly nodded her head. She knew they were right.
"Yes, of course," she said. "Come on in."
They followed her into the house and through to a huge country-style kitchen, large enough to accommodate a large pine table which dominated one end of the room. The forlorn figure of Laura Pettit sat on a chair at the table, head bowed in grief at the death of her friend. She didn't even look up when they came in.
Jolly had obviously been sitting with Laura, her empty chair now pushed back from the table.
"I'll make a fresh cup of tea," she said, crossing to the table and collecting the two cups from the table.
"Laura," she said, gently. "This is DS Slater, and DS Norman. I know you've had a nasty shock, but do you think you might be able to answer some questions?"
She looked up at the mention of her name, her face tear-stained and snotty from crying.
"Yes," she nodded. "I'll try."
Jolly carried the cups over to the other side of the kitchen and made herself busy while Slater and Norman made their way over to the table and sat down, painfully aware how difficult this must be for their witness.
"I'm really sorry for the loss of your friend, Laura," began Slater, quietly. "I'm not going to insult you by pretending I know how you feel. It must be very difficult for you, but we need your help. Do you think you can tell us what happened?"
"She was such a lovely person," said Laura. "Beautiful and bubbly, she really had it all, you know? How could anyone do something like that to her?"
"I'm afraid there's no real answer to that," said Norman. "I guess you could say some people are just plain evil."
"We like to go out together, when we get the chance," said Laura. "My husband's taken our two girls to a concert tonight, so we thought we'd have a girls night out. Eat out early and go on to the cinema. It was my turn to drive. I was ready to go at six as we had arranged, but by ten past there was no sign of Diana so I went to see where she was. I knew she was in because her car was there, but when I rang the doorbell there was no answer. I could hear the radio was on, so I went round the back, but the back door was locked, so I looked through the window, and that's when I saw her."
This prompted a burst of tears and Jolly was quick to step in and comfort her. Norman made space for her and went off to finish making the teas. It took a couple of minutes before Laura managed to compose herself again.
"So this would have been about ten past six?" asked Norman, as he placed the tray of teas on the table.
"Certainly no later than six fifteen," agreed Laura. "And then I ran back here and called the police."
"You didn't see or hear anything?" asked Slater. "Say from about five onwards?"
"I'm sorry. I was wallowing in the bath with some music on," replied Laura. "When you have two young teenage daughters you have to make the most of your chances to relax. I didn't get out of the bath until it was time to get ready to go out."
"Can you think of anyone who might want to do this to Diana?" asked Norman.
"Everyone thought she was wonderful," said Laura. "Well, everyone except that husband of hers."
"Husband?" asked Norman. "We need to notify him."
"His name's Ian Woods," said Laura. "People call him Woody. He doesn't live here anymore. He left her a few months ago. It turns out he was quite a nasty piece of work in private. Diana told me how he used to beat her up and pick on her all the time. You wouldn't have known it though. He liked to pretend he adored her and he would do anything for her. I suppose it just goes to show we don't always see the real person if that person doesn't want us to."
"Why did they split up?" asked Norman.
"Because he was an idiot," she said. "She was the perfect wife, not only good looking and good fun, but she was a fabulous cook, too!"
"Did she ever report his violence to the police?" asked Slater.
"She was much too proud to do that," said Laura, her lip trembling. "She just put up with it without complaining, which so many women do, don't they? Anyway, I should think he's the one who stabbed her."
She dissolved into tears once again.
Slater and Norman shared a look. They could see weren't going to get much more from Laura tonight. They could always come back tomorrow.
"Thank you for talking to us," said Slater. "You've been very helpful. But we will need to talk to you again tomorrow."
"We'll let ourselves out, Jane," said Norman. "You stay here with Laura."
"We need to find this husband," said Slater, once they were outside.
"Yeah. He sounds a bit of a charmer, doesn't he?" agreed Norman. "Maybe we can find an address in the house somewhere. What about the rest of the neighbours?"
"It's getting on for ten o'clock," said Slater. "Let's check the one on the other side of Diana's house, and then we'll go back to her house and see if we can find an address for this guy."
The neighbour they wanted to speak to wasn't at home, so they decided to try the next nearest house which was on the other side of the lane, but further down towards the common. The lady's name was Amanda Hollis, and she backed up Laura's view that Diana Woods had been the perfect wife and an all round good egg. Just like Laura, Amanda claimed to have always had her doubts about Woody because he kept himself to himself. She felt you couldn't trust a man who was too quiet.
"Do I see some
sort of pattern emerging here?" Norman asked Slater when they were walking back to Diana Woods' house.
"It seems our Woody's not the most popular guy, is he?" agreed Slater.
"But if he's such a nasty bastard why would she let him in the house and then turn her back on him?" asked Norman.
"If he only left a few months ago, he'd have his own key," replied Slater. "And Laura said the radio was on."
"I dunno," said Norman. "If this guy had been abusing her for years, surely someone would have seen something, like a bruise, maybe."
"Yeah, but you know how women put up with that sort of thing," argued Slater.
"But they're not usually confident, outgoing, bubbly personalities, are they?" observed Norman.
"Not usually, no," agreed Slater. "Anyhow, let's not start jumping to conclusions. We don't even know where he lives yet."
"Right," agreed Norman. "Let's see if we can find an address, or a phone number, so we can talk to the guy before we condemn him."
"I can't believe a woman like this wouldn't have a mobile phone," said Norman half an hour later.
They were working their way through the house from top to bottom, looking for anything that might prove useful.
"There must be one somewhere," said Slater. "Maybe the killer took it."
"But there doesn't seem to be anything else missing," said Norman. "So if her phone was taken it must have been for a very specific reason."
"Perhaps there's a message on it that incriminates our killer," suggested Slater.
"That would be a good enough reason," agreed Norman. "But the fact nothing else seems to be missing makes me think this wasn't some robbery that went wrong. It was definitely personal. Whoever it was came here to commit murder, plain and simple."
"But why would someone want to murder this woman who, according to her neighbours, is some sort of angel?" asked Slater.
"When we figure that out, we'll be halfway to solving this case," said Norman.
Slater turned back to his task and slid a drawer open.
"Aha!" he smiled, lifting a diary out. "Maybe this will tell us something."
He thumbed through the pages, but to his great disappointment most of them were blank.
"Oh Diana," he sighed. "What's the point of having a diary if you're not going to write all your secrets down for me to find?"
"Nothing in there?" asked Norman.
"Just an occasional hair appointment," said Slater. "It doesn't look like there's anything significant in here."
He continued to thumb through the pages.
"But, at least we have some phone numbers," he announced, finally.
"Anything for Woody?" asked Norman.
"Yeah," said Slater. "There is. A mobile number."
"Let's try it," said Norman. "They're still married, at least on paper, and his wife's dead. Someone should tell him."
"There's one here for her parents, too," said Slater.
"They've already been told," said Norman. "Better not call them again at this time of night. But let's try this Woody guy. I'll speak to him."
Slater carried on with his search while Norman dialled Woody's number. He listened for a couple of minutes and then hung up.
"It's gone straight to voicemail," he sighed. "Do you think I should leave a message?"
"Try again," said Slater. "If he still doesn't answer, leave a message."
Norman dialled the number again.
"This is DS Norman from Tinton police," he said to the voicemail. "I need you to contact me as soon as you can. You can reach me on..."
Slater had found something interesting and he tuned Norman out as he read what was written on the sheet of paper in front of him. The writer had obviously had second thoughts and scored through the words, but they were still legible.
'Dear Woody,' it read. 'I can't tell you how much I miss you. Please, please, come and see me so we can talk about this situation and sort things out. I don't want it to end like this.'
"Here," Slater said to Norman when he'd finished his call. "What do you make of this?"
Norman took the sheet of paper and read the words.
"You'd think she'd be glad to see the back of him if the guy was such a shit," said Norman. "But this seems to say the exact opposite."
"She never sent it, though," said Slater. "And it's dated over two months ago."
"Maybe this was a draft copy," suggested Norman. "Or perhaps she changed her mind. Only Woody can tell us if she ever sent him anything like this. If he doesn't call back by about eight tomorrow morning, I think we need to find his address and pay him a call."
"It's nearly midnight," said Slater. "Let's call it a day for now, shall we?"
"That's the best idea you've had all day," said Norman. "Let's do it.”
“You'll be pleased to know I am the proud owner of a new mobile phone," announced Norman, five minutes later, as he struggled to lower his rather large backside onto the passenger seat without dropping into it.
"Mind my springs," urged Slater. "That seat has developed a serious sag since you became my partner."
"Don't nag," warned Norman. "We have this discussion every time we use your car, and I maintain it's the seat that's at fault. My driving seat doesn't sag one little bit, and neither do any of the other cars we use."
He finally succeeded in lowering himself into the seat, and sat back with a sigh.
"Have you fixed this seat belt yet?" he asked.
"It's not a short belt. It's your waistline that's the problem," said Slater patiently.
He put the car into gear and began to pull away.
"Anyway, what's with the new phone?" he asked. "I thought you liked living in the past."
"Yeah, I know," said Norman. "But sometimes even I have to move with the times. I can even get emails with this new phone."
"My, my," smiled Slater. "How cool are you?"
"I got a new number, too," added Norman.
"Oh, you didn't," sighed Slater. "You do realise how much hassle that's going to cause, don't you?"
"Actually, yes I do," said Norman. "But I have to stop all these damned spam calls I'm getting, somehow."
"You're a police officer," said Slater. "Why don't you just tell them you’re going to arrest them or something?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," muttered Norman. "I already tried that. It just didn't work. Now they just won't be able to find me."
"You hope," said Slater.
Chapter Two
As usual, it was a very small team that gathered in the small incident room next morning. To be exact, there were just the three of them. Slater, Norman, and PC Jane Jolly.
"Is this it?" a dismayed Slater asked Norman.
"Apparently we might get some more help if the bodies can be spared," said Norman. "But don't hold your breath."
"This is supposed to be a major incident," said Slater, in exasperation. "It's a bloody joke."
"It is what it is," said Norman, stoically. "There's no point in complaining about it."
"If they cut our budget any further," observed Slater. "We might as well pack it in and go home. But that's my negative head speaking, and a negative head never solves anything, right Norm?"
"Exactly," smiled Norman, indulgently. "So let's do what we can and try to be as effective as we can."
"Yeah, I know," sighed Slater.
"Right, then," he began, trying to sound a whole lot more positive than he felt. "Has Ian Woods called back yet?"
"Not so far," said Norman.
"First job for you then, Jane," said Slater. "Find out where the guy lives. You've got his mobile number. Find the service provider and tell them we need his address, or else. You know what to do."
"No problem," smiled Jolly. "I'll have it within the hour."
"You can have longer," said Norman. "We have a PM to attend at eight."
"And can you get hold of her phone records?" asked Slater. "We might not have found her mobile phone, but there's still the land line. We can start with
that."
"I'll get onto it as soon as I've found that address," she said.
It's a special (or perhaps, strange) sort of person who enjoys watching a post mortem. It could be argued that both Slater and Norman were special in their individual ways, but neither possessed the particular quality that would allow them to watch a pathologist at work without feeling somewhat queasy.
Dr Eamon Murphy was aware that both his guests would be much happier if they could be just about anywhere else that morning, but this was his first official forensic post mortem and he was determined to take his time and get it right. He had been working unofficially for Tinton police for some time, but in the past his work had always had to be overseen. Now, at last, he had been officially recognised and was deemed to be up to the required standard.
"I realise neither of you would choose to be here," he said to his audience. "So I'll try to be quick, but as it's my first, I also want to make sure I get it right."
"In that case, as it's your first, I'll try not to spoil things for you by throwing up," said Norman.
Murphy knew neither of them was likely to do such a thing, but he had prepared for it just in case.
"I've laid out two bowls over there," smiled Murphy, tongue firmly in cheek, as he pointed across the room. "But if you choose to use one, you have to empty it and clean up behind you."
"I think we'll be okay, Eamon. This certainly isn't the messiest corpse we've seen," said Slater.
"It's the slicing and dicing that always gets to me," confessed Norman. "I don't know how you can do that."
"It's the fascination of what a body can tell me," said Murphy. "That's what drives me. Without the dissection it would be a bit difficult. I'm sure there are parts of your job that make people feel the same way, but you do them because it's part of the process."
Norman couldn't think of a reply to that, and he was wary of offending Murphy, so he decided silence would be the best response.
"Right, then," said Murphy, once he was sure Norman had finished complaining. "Shall we begin?"
He removed the sheet covering Diana Woods and began his examination, dictating into a head microphone as he worked. An assistant hovered in the background ready to help whenever he was needed. After the initial examination Murphy undid her negligee. The assistant stepped forward to help him.