Buried Secrets

by Lisa Cutts

  ‘Evening,’ said Doug. Heads turned to look at him, a few said hello, a few were on the phone, the exhibits officer was rustling bags behind a mound of seized items.

  ‘From DCI Venice, the briefing is cancelled this evening but full attendance tomorrow at eight o’clock in the conference room. If we need to, we’ll move it to a bigger room. For the time being, check with the DSs as there are bound to be outstanding urgent enquiries that need doing before you go off. We’re having a management meeting in a bit to sort out a few issues.’

  Doug scanned the room for Tom Delayhoyde as he said the word ‘issues’. His old friend’s son was nowhere to be found, as he was no doubt off speaking to his sergeant about how this was going to be handled, recorded and eventually formed into some sort of evidence, be it good or bad. Right now, it looked very bad.

  He left the officers and civilian investigators to it. With the exception of Tom, they’d all worked on dozens of major incidents, including numerous murders, although never one that had involved a police officer. The methods of investigation, however, didn’t differ. The emotions did.

  He spent the next ten minutes calling and texting those who needed to come to the meeting room for ten o’clock that evening, then as he was about to go in search of Tom, his mobile rang, showing a call from Harry Powell.

  ‘Harry,’ said Doug. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m OK. Listen, I’ve just heard on the news that the man injured in the RTC this morning died.’ Harry’s voice caught.

  Doug bit his lip and looked to the ceiling.

  ‘I’m so sorry that you had to hear it on the telly. We’ve been—’

  ‘No, no, Doug. I don’t give a shit that you didn’t tell me. I wanted to know if it was Milton. You’ve confirmed it.’

  Doug listened to the sound of a bottle top being unscrewed and a large measure of liquid being poured into a glass.

  ‘Who have you sent as FLO for Travis?’ asked Harry, gulping down his brandy.

  ‘Hazel Hamilton.’

  ‘Good. Good choice. I like her. You picked a winner.’

  ‘Glad you approve. Was there anything else? Are you doing OK? I can drop by later if you like.’

  ‘No, it’s OK, but thanks. And, Doug, I know that I shouldn’t ask but is there anyone coming to immediate attention for Linda’s death or can anyone say if it’s likely to have been Milton?’

  Sooner or later, Doug knew that he was going to be having this conversation with a number of people outside the investigation, and he’d guessed correctly that Harry would be the first to ask him. He’d weighed up what he should and shouldn’t say, and whether telling Harry about the earlier revelation from Tom Delayhoyde would make any difference to the inquiry.

  ‘The reason I’m asking is because I need to make sure that you’re aware of something. I know it’s frantic there and I’m not sure how much you’ve had a chance to catch up with,’ said Harry. ‘Linda was sure that Milton was having an affair.’

  ‘Mmm,’ said Doug.

  ‘Did you know this anyway?’

  ‘I’ve not long heard it from another source and I was aware that you already knew about it. I’ve read your statement.’

  ‘I’m not sure if it’s common knowledge,’ said Harry, ‘although I have it on good authority that it was with Sasha Jones.’

  ‘Is there anyone else in this force who doesn’t know this information? We’re trying to keep it contained.’

  ‘I’ve only told you and Hazel, because I had to put it in my statement. I know it’s important. The young girl is going to be vilified for this, when at the end of the day Milton was the one who was cheating. She was a single girl.’

  ‘She may be now,’ said Doug, free hand stroking his temple, ‘but she wasn’t when she started seeing Milton. She was in a relationship with George Atkins.’

  ‘Fucking hell,’ shouted Harry. ‘That headbutting lunatic. What you’ve got there, Doug, is a fucking Fred Karno’s.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. And I’ve been told that there’s worse yet to come.’

  Chapter 15

  While the management meeting took place to discuss the next course of action for a murder-suicide of a detective inspector and his wife, Hazel sat with Travis Bowman.

  She was in the unenviable position of having to explain to the teenager that he would eventually be able to see the bodies of both his parents, although they were currently at two different locations and the pathologist could only perform one post-mortem at a time.

  Jenny had made herself scarce to put the kettle on for what was probably the twentieth time that day, and she had taken her son from the room with her.

  Hazel had so much to tell Travis but was aware that she could easily overload him with information at the worst time of anyone’s life. She had felt the personal weight of bereavement as a teenager although nothing as terrible as both of her parents at once at such a young age.

  ‘DCI Barbara Venice will be along to see you as soon as she can, Travis,’ she said. She wanted to be sure that he was taking it in, despite her time with him being limited today. It was important to make contact, outline what she was there for and could do for him, and then let him be with family and friends.

  The biggest flaw in that plan was that his family were, by and large, dead.

  The door opened to reveal Jenny with a tray of refreshments as Hazel’s phone began to ring. To give the others a moment to themselves, she gestured to her mobile and pointed to the hallway, and found herself alone by the front door.

  ‘Hello, Hazel,’ breathed a voice into Hazel’s ear. How are things there?’

  ‘As well as can be expected, ma’am,’ she said to DCI Venice, glancing in the direction of the kitchen. She wasn’t sure where Aiden had disappeared to, and no one had so far told her that the rest of the house was empty. The two uniform officers had gone to the kitchen although she couldn’t hear their radios in the vast house. ‘Sorry I couldn’t speak to you earlier. Things have been frantic. I’ve told him that his dad died. I’ve told him that we can arrange for him to see both of his parents, with your guidance on when that’s likely.’

  ‘We’ve only just come out of a meeting here,’ said the DCI. ‘As far as both Milton and Linda’s current whereabouts are concerned, nothing’s changed since we briefed you earlier. How do you think Travis would respond to a visit from me this evening?’

  ‘It’s getting late, ma’am,’ said Hazel. She didn’t want to put the distraught young man through any more than was really necessary, especially not so that a DCI could claim to do her bit. This was about Travis. ‘I’m not sure how much longer they’ll want me here. Hang on, I’ll ask and call you back.’

  She moved down the hallway and into the lounge. Travis was sitting where she’d left him. Jenny had returned to his chair, this time stroking the young man’s arm, watching his expression. He had his eyes shut, tears falling down his face.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt,’ Hazel said. ‘That was the DCI. She’d like to speak to you tonight. You come first, so only if that’s not going to be too late for you. I can easily tell her no.’

  Her question was met with a shrug and when he opened his eyes Travis said, ‘May as well. I’m not gonna get any sleep anyway.’

  Only once had Hazel stayed for more than an hour on a first visit to a family, and it wasn’t something she was keen to repeat. She began to explain to Travis what her role was and who was going to be able to help him. Although he made eye contact with her and nodded at several things she said, she wasn’t remotely convinced that he was taking everything in. She hoped that the DCI wouldn’t be long. It was clear to her when she should leave the family alone, and that time was coming.

  Well aware that they could ask her to go, Hazel wanted to give them some space long before that happened. She needed to be there for them, just not to the point of intrusion at such an early stage in Travis’s grief.

  ‘When can I see my mum and dad?’

  ‘I’ll find out for you,�
� she answered, unsure how long that was going to take.

  She took a deep breath and waited for Travis’s reaction to what she had to tell him next.

  ‘Your mum was at home for some time.’

  Stunned look.

  ‘It was a while before we were able to move her. The CSIs are still in the house. You’ll be able to see your dad first, but not until the post-mortem’s been carried out.’

  ‘But I don’t understand. He had a car accident.’

  Travis sat bolt upright, a movement that startled Jenny on the arm of the chair, put Hazel on full alert.

  ‘Fucking shit. You think he killed her? You think he then killed himself?’

  ‘No, no. We’re not sure what’s happened at the moment. We have to look at every possibility. We’d have a post-mortem for any sudden, suspicious or unexplained death. We need to get this right, so that we can find out what’s happened to both of your parents.’

  Travis’s face had closed down. She wasn’t going to get any further and it was clear for anyone to see that he wasn’t listening to her now. This wasn’t unusual: people could only take so much and the full impact had finally hit him.

  ‘I’m going to tell the DCI not to bother you tonight.’ She said this to Jenny who nodded as Hazel handed her a card with her contact details.

  ‘I’ll be back tomorrow, but please call if you’ve any questions. I’ll leave with the other officers.’

  She made her way out of the room and glanced back, expecting to tell them that she’d see herself out. Neither of them was looking at her or making any move to leave each other’s side.

  In the kitchen, work surfaces lined two sides of the room, a fridge-freezer complete with water dispenser took up most of the third wall, and the centre of the space housed a table and chairs. The two uniform officers sat on one side and Aiden sat across from them.

  ‘I’m about to go,’ she said, coming to stand at the head of the table. Three faces looked up at her. ‘I’ll leave this here,’ she said, placing a bereavement pack on the table. ‘Can you let Travis know it’s here? I’ve explained that I’ll be back tomorrow.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Aiden, giving her the briefest of smiles. It was an innocent enough expression.

  The four of them made their way to the front door saying their goodbyes, and then the three officers walked towards the marked police car.

  Hazel got in the back of the marked vehicle so they could talk in private and leaned forward.

  Keeping her voice low, she asked, ‘Everything OK in there?’

  The two men exchanged a look. The driver spoke first.

  ‘I’m not happy about Aiden. He asked us some odd questions.’

  ‘Like what?’ said Hazel.

  ‘He wanted to know about viewing the bodies. He was especially interested in Mrs Bowman.’

  ‘That’s a little unusual, except something lots of people want to know is where their loved ones are and when they can see them. Just because she’s not his family, doesn’t mean that he’s not upset.’

  The next thing the police officer said gave Hazel a queasy feeling.

  ‘Yes, but he asked if he could touch her. He wanted to know if he could kiss her goodbye.’

  Chapter 16

  Tuesday 6 June

  The following morning started with a packed conference room. More and more civilian employees and police officers, both plain-clothes and uniform, arrived one after the other, filling the room.

  Each of them felt an unusual tension in the air: tempers were often raised, behind-the-scenes intelligence taskings and manic officers demanding certain actions to be completed within record time were the norm. This, however, was different.

  One of their own had either died in a traffic accident or had committed suicide. In itself, that was bad enough, except he might turn out to be a murderer. No one knew.

  DCI Barbara Venice was only too aware that her staff were already having mixed feelings about the investigation. Her role was to lead and focus them; before that, she needed to get a grip of herself.

  She had started the day by tracking down one of the building’s caretakers to have the police flag on the top of the building flown at half-mast. When he told her that he needed someone from Headquarters to agree it she’d begun to walk towards the emergency stairs leading to the roof. ‘If you want something doing, do it yourself,’ she’d muttered, before he promised her he would see to it straight away.

  Worn out already, Barbara made her way to the conference room wondering just when the police had been overtaken by such a lot of bureaucratic cobblers, and steeled herself for the day ahead.

  At the point where the room was stretched to capacity, the office manager poked her head around the door and gestured a thumbs-up to DCI Barbara Venice who had only seconds before taken her seat.

  ‘Morning, everyone,’ she shouted over the din of people already dissecting what they thought had occurred. ‘There are more coming so we’re on the move to the lecture theatre. Not the ideal place, I know, but any rooms larger than this one are booked for training days.’

  She got up and left the room, flanked on one side by Doug Philbert and on the other by a senior CSI. Everyone else followed, notebooks in one hand and tea in the other.

  ‘Ready for this?’ said Barbara to Doug as they got into the corridor.

  ‘Probably not for what’s coming,’ he replied out of the corner of his mouth.

  Hazel made her way around a group of people scribbling down dates and addresses, checking facts as they made their way to the new venue.

  She saw her opportunity to speak to the SIO as Doug Philbert was distracted by a young DC whom Hazel didn’t know, and the CSI’s phone rang.

  ‘Ma’am,’ she called as they piled outside to cross the car park to the training area.

  Barbara stopped by the disabled ramp as Hazel caught up with her.

  ‘Is everything OK?’ she asked the DC.

  ‘Firstly, sorry for cancelling on you last—’

  ‘No need to apologize. If it was a bad time, so be it. How Travis feels is more important than me introducing myself to him. How is he?’

  Hazel paused, unsure how blunt she should be.

  They carried on across the car park and, being of similar height, they found it easy to walk together with their heads close and voices lowered.

  ‘It’s why I wanted to have a quick word with you before the briefing. I’m not holding anything back from the inquiry team, only there’s something about Travis’s relationship with his friend’s mother that I find odd. I can’t be sure, but it looked as though he was checking her out as she walked away from him.’

  Barbara raised an eyebrow at this and looked across at the officer.

  ‘There was a lot of cuddling to the bosom going on too. Wasn’t sure what that was all about either.’

  Despite the seriousness of the situation, Barbara smiled at the word ‘bosom’. She’d heard how tactful Hazel could be.

  ‘OK,’ the DCI said, ‘raise it at the briefing only don’t go into details. Is there anything else because I know you can’t stay until the end.’

  ‘There is actually. The senior CSI you’ve got is Jo Styles, isn’t it?’

  Barbara nodded and pointed to Jo who had stopped to speak on her phone and was now kneeling in the car park, trying to write down something in her CSI notebook. Her position resembled an amateur Pilates pose, and looked very uncomfortable.

  ‘I need to speak to Jo,’ said Hazel. ‘It was something the uniform lads said last night after we left the house. They’d been talking to Aiden Bloomfield in the kitchen while I spoke to his mum and Travis.’

  By now Jo had finished both her call and causing damage to her knee joints, and was walking towards the two women.

  ‘Aiden asked if he could see Linda Bowman’s body and whether he could touch her.’

  Barbara’s eyebrows shot up at this nugget of information.

  ‘Even weirder than that, ma’am,’ said Hazel, ‘w
as that he wanted to know if he could kiss her goodbye.’

  ‘Hi, Hazel,’ said Jo as she stood in front of them, waving her mobile phone. ‘The lab just called me. I think you’re going to like this one.’

  DCI Venice and DC Hamilton stared at her, waiting for the forensic update that might have found them a murderer.

  The rest of the inquiry team plus other officers and staff drafted in to help streamed past them. Close to sixty people walked either side of them, the three of them forming an island, parting their team.

  ‘We’ve got saliva on Linda’s cheek,’ said Jo. ‘All we have to do is find a DNA match and the chances are, that’s our murderer.’

  Chapter 17

  The handling within a murder investigation of both a serving police officer and one currently on suspension for violence against a prisoner was a headache to all concerned. Once the briefing was finished, Doug Philbert decided that the best course of action was to go and speak to them both himself.

  So he could gather his thoughts, Doug decided to take himself to the canteen on the top floor for a coffee. It wasn’t something he did very frequently unless he needed to get away from his desk for fifteen minutes, take a seat in a quiet corner and look out towards the Channel. At least it was in the direction of the Channel: East Rise Police Station definitely couldn’t afford a sea view. He used his imagination to picture the ships and French coast located the other side of bingo halls and the shopping centre.

  He stepped out of the lift, head full of murder inquiry thoughts, and pushed open the double doors.

  Initially, everything seemed normal. The thirty-five metre by thirty-five metre space was taken up at one end by the serving counter, food ranging from passable to edible, draughty sash windows open, allowing a breeze to sweep through the canteen, and the hum of about forty plain-clothes officers, uniform officers and their civilian counterparts taking their allocated mid-shift breaks.

  As Doug went into the canteen, shoes squeaking on the lino floor, he noticed heads turn towards the television on the far wall.