Dead Weight

by Frank Smith

  Lorrimer shook his head. ‘And how would that look?’ he said. ‘I don’t like it any more than you do, but why not let them look all they want? They will anyway, and it will only make them think we have something to hide if we try to block them.’

  ‘But the very fact that they are here means that they think she could have been killed here, and that makes us all suspects in their eyes,’ Julia insisted.

  ‘Not necessarily. As I told Paget, the most likely explanation for Justine returning – if she did return – was to pick up something she’d forgotten, and she probably left again shortly after. He said they’d considered that, but they still need to begin here in order to eliminate the house as the place where Justine was killed. So let him get on with it, because the less interference he has from us, the sooner he and these SOCO people will be out of here.’

  Julia made a face. ‘So what have you done with the boy?’ she demanded. ‘I thought you were supposed to be keeping him with you? Fine time you picked to bring him back here, I must say.’

  Stephen Lorrimer sighed. ‘Do you really begrudge me the little time I have to spend with our son, Julia? It will only be for a couple of weeks, then he’ll have to go back to the farm, unless, of course, the agency can find someone who—’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Stephen, grow up and face reality!’ Julia cut in angrily. ‘There isn’t going to be another Justine, and even if there were, there is no place for her or Michael in this house, and the sooner you face up to that, the better! Justine is gone and we simply cannot go on like this. It’s not Michael’s fault that he’s the way he is, and it’s not yours or mine, but the fact is I can’t deal with him; you’re not here most of the time, and getting another nanny isn’t the answer. Now, I know taking him out to the farm was supposed to be a temporary solution – a distraction to give him time to get over losing Justine – but perhaps that’s what’s best for him. Did Richard speak to you about that when you picked up Michael?’

  The muscles around Lorrimer’s mouth tightened. ‘He did,’ he said tonelessly, ‘and it’s out of the question. I told him to forget it. I know he thinks he’s being helpful, but there is no way I’m going to have Michael live out there on the farm where he’ll be—’

  ‘Happy?’ Julia exclaimed. ‘Did you really listen to what Richard had to say? Did you talk to Eloise or the girls? Do you know what Eloise told me? She said that Michael and the girls get along wonderfully well, and they don’t know how, exactly, but both Chelsea and Loren seem to make sense of those awful noises he makes when he tries to speak. He loves the animals, and he is fascinated by the work Eloise is doing in the animal shelter.’ Julia put her hand on her husband’s arm. ‘As for his schooling, Eloise was a teacher before she met Richard and became a vet herself, so the girls are being taught at home. Eloise can’t do it all, of course, because of her work, so they have a tutor who comes in twice a week, and he’s said he’s willing to work with Michael as well. Eloise thinks the life there would be good for Michael, and they would love to have him stay. In fact, considering what’s going on in this house at the moment, it might be best to take him back out there now.’

  Stony-faced, Lorrimer stared blankly at Julia, but in his mind’s eye he was seeing the expression on Michael’s face when he had told him he was taking him home. To say that the boy’s reaction was lukewarm would be an understatement. Lorrimer had tried to convince himself that things would be different once they were back in familiar surroundings, but even he could see the difference in Michael’s behaviour now that they were home, compared with the way he’d been at the farm.’

  ‘This is his home,’ he said stubbornly. ‘He stays, and that’s final!’

  A contemptuous smile touched Julia’s lips. ‘And in two weeks’ time, when you return to London?’ she asked softly. ‘What then, Stephen? Are you planning to take him with you? Give up your job? Take an extended leave of absence? Funny, but I can’t quite see that happening when you are so close to achieving your dream of becoming a cabinet minister. Can you?’

  Lorrimer shook his head slowly from side to side. ‘Oh, Julia,’ he said, more in sorrow than in anger, ‘you can be such a hard and spiteful bitch!’

  Julia reached out and put her hand under his chin and tilted his head until they were looking into each other’s eyes. ‘That may well be so,’ she said softly, ‘but I’m your hard and spiteful bitch, Stephen. You need me, and you’d do well to remember that. Anyway,’ she continued briskly, ‘whether you like to admit it or not, we both know there is really only one practical solution as far as the boy is concerned, so I suggest we stop wasting time talking about it and get back to the matter at hand. Did Paget say how long this search will take?’

  ‘No, he didn’t!’ Lorrimer snapped. He was angry, not just because Julia had dismissed the future of Michael so lightly, but because he knew she was right. ‘And I didn’t ask,’ he said, ‘because, to tell the truth, I don’t remember much of anything after he told me they’d found Justine’s body at the bottom of the river.’ He took a deep breath and blew out his cheeks. ‘God knows what we’re going to tell her grandfather.’

  ‘We are not going to tell her grandfather anything!’ Julia said firmly. ‘The police will take care of that, so I suggest that you stop worrying about things like that and concentrate on what’s happening here and now. And watch what you say to any of them. I think the police are grasping at straws. I don’t think they really believe Justine came back into the house. I think that was just an excuse, so they’ll be looking for anything to bolster their case.’

  While two other members of the team began with the classroom, Grace Lovett and Geoff Kirkpatrick, a senior colleague, made straight for Justine’s room, pausing at the door to take pictures before moving inside. They had a copy of the notes and pictures taken by Tregalles and Forsythe when the two detectives had made their initial search of the room, but there had been no suggestion of foul play back then. Now it was a murder investigation, and a forensic search was a very different matter. Everything would be examined in minute detail.

  First impressions on entering the room: bright, neat, clean, tidy, sparsely furnished, but some thought had gone into the placement of furniture, pictures and a couple of colourful travel posters of islands of the Philippines taken from the air. Grace wrinkled her nose, trying to identify an elusive, slightly musty smell that seemed at odds with the fresh appearance of the room. But the simple act of opening the door had been enough to stir the air, and before she could identify it, the smell had all but disappeared.

  Returning to his office, Stephen Lorrimer found Jim Bradley slumped in one of the armchairs in front of the desk, while Michael sat curled up in one of the other chairs, earbuds in place, facing away from Jim.

  Jim pushed himself out of the chair and stood up. Six feet tall and broad-shouldered, one’s first impression of Bradley was of solid dependability. His wiry black hair was flecked with grey, but dark, wide-set eyes, crinkled at the corners, and a generous mouth made him look younger than he was. Now, just short of fifty, his once finely chiselled features were becoming slightly less distinct, but Jim Bradley was still a fine-looking man. He had the sort of face that people trust, and that alone was worth more than gold to Stephen Lorrimer when it came to raising funds.

  ‘I think he’s a bit out of sorts,’ said Bradley quietly to Lorrimer, with a nod towards the boy. ‘I can usually get him to talk to me through that electronic gadget of his, but not today. Is there a problem?’

  Lorrimer glanced over to make sure that Michael’s earbuds were in place before he answered. ‘He’s still upset about Justine,’ he said, ‘and he’s going to be even more unhappy when he finds out she’s dead. God knows how I’m ever going to tell him.’

  ‘Dead?’ Bradley stepped back to stare hard at Lorrimer. ‘When? How?’ Lorrimer took him by the arm and steered him through the open doorway into the corridor and closed the door behind him. ‘Remember the body the police found when a car went into the rive
r last week and three kids were drowned?’ he said, almost whispering. ‘Well, they’re saying it’s Justine, and now we’ve got police crawling all over the house. They arrived here this morning with a search warrant. No warning – nothing.’

  Bradley whistled softly. ‘So those are police vans I saw down there when I came in,’ he said. ‘And those chaps in white overalls – I was going to ask you about them.’ He frowned. ‘But why here? What are they looking for?’

  Lorrimer shrugged. ‘It seems they’ve got it into their heads that Justine came back into the house after she left for church that morning, so they’ve got a forensic team in to search the place for clues.’ Bradley looked puzzled. ‘They say they think she went along behind the hedge and came up the outside steps,’ Lorrimer explained, ‘but I get the feeling there’s more to it than that.’ He sounded worried.

  Bradley rested both hands on Lorrimer’s shoulders and bent slightly to peer into his friend’s face. ‘I know this is unsettling,’ he said, ‘but you’re not really worried about this, are you, Stephen? I mean, there’s nothing you’re not telling me, is there?’

  ‘No, no, of course not,’ Lorrimer said testily. He ran his fingers through his hair, then dropped his hands to his sides. ‘It’s just that … Oh, I don’t know!’ he ended irritably.

  Jim Bradley sighed in sympathy. ‘I’m afraid you do look a bit … well, stressed out, if you don’t mind my saying so, Stephen, but the police aren’t going to find anything, are they? So there’s really nothing to worry about on that score.’

  Lorrimer sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right, Jim,’ he said, trying to sound as if he meant it. ‘I haven’t been sleeping well lately, and now with the police in the house, and trying to decide what to do about Michael before I have to go back to London in a couple of weeks … It’s all a bit much.’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course it is,’ Bradley said soothingly. ‘Speaking of which, I’m assuming that no one in the media is aware of this as yet? The police searching your house, I mean?’

  Lorrimer glanced at his watch and grimaced. ‘They’re going to announce the identity of the body at a press conference this afternoon,’ he said glumly, ‘so we can expect the media to be all over this place once they do.’

  Bradley glanced at his own watch. ‘That gives us a couple of hours to get something out before this breaks,’ he said. ‘You said they had a search warrant? Tell me, Stephen, how did you react when it was served?’

  ‘For Christ’s sake, Jim, how do you think I reacted?’ Lorrimer flared. ‘I was stunned!’

  ‘Yes, well, you would be, of course,’ Bradley said hastily, ‘but do you remember what was actually said? Did you put up any kind of a fight? Resist them in any way?’

  Lorrimer shook his head. ‘Actually, the chap who served the warrant was quite decent about it,’ he said, ‘so there wasn’t much I could do. He had a legal warrant, so I told him to go ahead and search if he thought it would help.’

  ‘Excellent!’ Bradley rubbed his hands together. ‘You did the right thing, Stephen, because now we can say that you were devastated when you were told of Justine’s death, and if there is anything you can do to help, the police will have your full cooperation. Other than that, say nothing to the media. Anyway, I’ll see what I can do to smooth the way; I won’t waste any more of your time, but I will keep in touch. Meanwhile, I suggest that you spruce yourself up a bit and get yourself prepared for the media. Now, I don’t know if you think it would be a good idea to have Michael by your side when they come to the door, or … well, no, I suppose not,’ he amended quickly when he saw the expression on Lorrimer’s face. ‘Sad but in control. You know the sort of thing.’

  Bradley patted Lorrimer on the shoulder. ‘It’s unfortunate that this had to happen right now, because the press is going to try to make a meal out of it, but you have a solid reputation, and I’m sure we can ride this out. Believe me, Stephen, everything will be fine.’

  With a final encouraging pat on the shoulder, Jim Bradley was turning to leave when Lorrimer stopped him. ‘I’m sorry, Jim,’ he said, ‘but with everything that’s going on, I forgot to ask: what did you want to talk to me about?’

  Bradley brushed it aside with a wave of the hand. ‘Nothing that can’t be left till later,’ he said. ‘This is much more important, so the sooner we get ahead of it, the better. But call me if anything significant happens. OK?’ He set off down the corridor, then paused, ‘How’s Julia taking all this?’ he asked. ‘I mean, it must be terribly upsetting, having these people tramping about the house.’

  ‘Oh, you know Julia,’ Lorrimer said with a toss of the head. ‘She wanted me to call John Blair and have him rescind the search warrant, but I told her—’

  ‘Jesus Christ! Don’t even think of doing that!’ Bradley burst out. ‘That would really make it look as if you had something to hide, and Blair wouldn’t do it anyway.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I told her,’ Lorrimer said, ‘and I think she realizes how it would look.’

  ‘I should hope so,’ Bradley said with feeling. ‘Anyway, I can’t stop. Rumours will be flying soon enough, so I’d better get going on damage control. And, as I said, call me if anything else happens. Oh, yes, and tell everyone in the office they’re to say nothing to the media. Tell them to refer anyone asking questions to me.’

  The two white-clad figures moved into the room and closed the door behind them. Grace Lovett set her case down on the wooden floor to one side of the door, while Geoff Kirkpatrick did the same on the other side. They moved slowly, mentally photographing everything before setting to work. Normally, they would be working in an area where it had been established that a crime had taken place, but their job today was to try to determine if a crime had taken place. They would be looking for signs of a struggle, blood, hair, fibres, and anything that looked out of place. The room would be dusted for prints from top to bottom as if it were an established crime scene, but Grace was all too conscious of the fact that they were on a fishing trip. She drew in a breath and let it out slowly, then mentally crossed her fingers as she set to work.

  A few minutes later, Grace paused beside the bed. There was that smell again, faint but persistent. She stood still and closed her eyes. Two smells, faint but fighting one another, one sweet and just a bit cloying, while the other …

  ‘Something wrong, Grace?’ asked Kirkpatrick.

  She opened her eyes. ‘I’m trying to place that smell,’ she said. ‘It’s—’ She stopped abruptly, put a finger to her lips and pointed to the door. The knob was turning. The door opened and a small boy carrying a folded white cane poked his head inside. He stood there, motionless for several seconds, head tilted to one side, listening. Grace and Kirkpatrick stayed silent, curious to see what the boy was up to. They watched as he started forward, only to catch his sandal against the edge of the rug and drop to one knee. Head down, the boy remained in that position, fingers spread as he swept his small hands back and forth, stroking the pile.

  Keeping her voice low as she moved forward to help the boy up, Grace said, ‘Hello. You must be Michael. My name is Grace. Are you looking for someone?’

  A strangled cry burst from the boy’s throat as he scrambled to his feet. The white cane flicked open and he thrust it in front of him like a rapier, jabbing wildly at the air as he backed through the doorway, then turned and literally ran down the corridor, cane swinging from side to side ahead of him.

  ‘It’s all right, Michael,’ Grace called out as she ran after him, but by the time she reached the top of the stairs, he had reached the bottom and was gone.

  Returning to the room, Grace bent to straighten the large rug where the boy had tripped on it. The edge was bound and curled just enough to catch the toe of a sandal. The colours, deep burgundy and beige, were faded now, and, like the boy, Grace ran her hands lightly across its surface, reminding herself that Michael Lorrimer’s world was defined by sound and smell and touch, and she wondered what it was that had caught his attention.


  She stood up and looked around the room. ‘I think it’s the smell,’ she said to Kirkpatrick. ‘Especially the bedspread; it doesn’t smell as if it’s been properly aired for some time. And there’s a bit of that same smell about this rug as well; it’s not as strong, but it’s there. And the bedspread doesn’t really go with the rest of the room, does it?’ she continued. ‘Justine Delgado had an eye for colour, and she’s gone to some trouble to make the room look cheerful, but that bedspread is a big blob of … well, nothing as far as colour goes. It’s dull; it doesn’t go with the rest of the room.’

  They walked side by side from Chief Superintendent Brock’s office to the lift in silence, but once they stepped into the lift and the doors closed, Amanda Pierce let loose. ‘Why?’ she demanded. ‘What the hell were you thinking? You made me look an absolute fool in there! I rarely agree with Chief Superintendent Brock, but he’s right in this case, and now we’re both on notice. God knows what you told Blair to get him to sign that search warrant. And telling Brock that you think that Mrs Lorrimer may have lied to you, without producing a shred of evidence, was hardly helpful. You went behind my back, Neil, and I want to know why.’

  Paget held up his hands in a gesture of appeasement. ‘I’ll admit I was wrong,’ he said, ‘and I know it doesn’t really help, but I apologize. But, after looking at this case from every angle, I’m convinced that Justine Delgado was killed in that house, and I allowed myself to be taken in by Mrs Lorrimer. I knew you would have to turn me down if I asked your permission to get a search warrant, which was why I didn’t ask. I didn’t see it as going behind your back; I looked upon it as giving you deniability, but obviously I was wrong, and I’m sorry.’

  Still fuming as they left the building, Amanda stopped at the top of the steps and turned to face him. ‘Not good enough, Chief Inspector!’ she declared tightly. ‘I really don’t know what you were thinking. But right now I want you to get over there to Simla House, and get SOCO out of there. And I want you to apologize sincerely to Mr and Mrs Lorrimer for the intrusion. As for—’