by Lisa Cutts
‘Your dad must have been busy at work some of the time,’ said Hazel, trying both to say something favourable about Milton, whose body they were about to view, and to deflect away from Harry.
‘I suppose he was, but so was Harry. If you see him, would you let him know that I was asking after him?’
‘I probably won’t be talking to him for some time now,’ said Hazel, about to turn the engine over, ‘but if I do, I’ll pass your message on. You ready?’
‘As ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s get this over with.’
Chapter 48
Evening of Wednesday 7 June
Completely worn out by the day’s events, Hazel went home, kicked her shoes off at the door and went straight upstairs to run herself a bath. She stood watching the water pour from the taps, added bubble bath and watched the foam rise up.
Despite the warmth of the day, she needed to soak in water as hot as she could stand it. It was less about rinsing the day off, more a case of needing to be still and do nothing for as long as she could make herself.
Submerged in the bath a few minutes later, Hazel thought back over the day and how Travis had held it together viewing his dad’s body. At one point, she even got an uneasy feeling that he wasn’t as distressed as he should have been, which forced her to consider once more the possibility that he was in some way responsible for his father’s death. She immediately dismissed such a notion: Milton’s death had either been an accident or suicide. No one else was in the car at the time and the witness, Luke Morgan, said he heard the car and saw it drive straight at the concrete flowerbed. Travis couldn’t have had anything to do with that.
The bath water was now turning chilly, so Hazel guessed that she had suitably relaxed. Her mind was still on Travis though and as she towelled herself dry she reminded herself to ask him about the third affair he’d been aware of his dad having. She knew to pick her moment carefully for that one but she wasn’t going to concentrate on it now.
She had made the mistake of going down that route before, and overthinking and worrying about something didn’t usually resolve it, merely made her mental health suffer. She had learned the hard way and liked to think that she was now adept at making whatever remained of the day her own.
She tied her dressing gown cord around her waist, and was making her way downstairs, thoughts of hot chocolate with marshmallows and whipped cream forming in her mind, when her mobile phone rang.
In her haste to get upstairs and take a bath, she had left her phone in her bag at the bottom of the stairs, next to her discarded shoes. Fumbling through her bag, she found her mobile and her heart leaped when she saw Harry’s name on the screen. Then she hesitated.
She had already told him as much as she could when they’d spoken some hours ago. If she spoke to him now, it would overlap with work and she wanted this time to herself. Also it would mean that she would have to face up to what Travis had told her about his mother being particularly fond of Harry. It was a conversation the two of them should have face to face, and not over the phone, she sitting at the bottom of the stairs in her dressing gown, wet hair dripping onto her shoulders.
By the time she had thought all of this, the call had, of course, gone to voicemail.
Hazel took the phone to the kitchen and made herself wait until the kettle boiled and her drink was made before she allowed herself to play back his message.
‘Hi, Haze. You OK? Call me back, can you? I fucking hate leaving messages.’
There had been a pause at the end as though he was going to say something more, then she heard him clear his throat and end the call.
She took her time calling him back. She still didn’t know what to say.
‘Hi, Harry,’ she said. ‘How are things?’
‘It could be worse, I suppose. I’ve decided to take a couple of weeks off, give myself some time to sort things out.’
‘That’s good. Are you going away?’
She heard him take a drink of something, and from the glug guessed it was beer straight from the bottle.
‘Are you trying to get rid of me?’ he asked.
‘Not at all. It seems a shame to use up so much holiday and spend it at home.’
‘No, I’ve always been partial to a week or two at windowsill bay. And besides, I was thinking of growing a moustache.’
‘You need a fortnight off work for that? That’s impressive facial furniture.’
‘You’ve gotta have a hobby. Er, I was wondering if you’d be able to get a day or two off. We could have a trip somewhere. Day trip, I mean day trip, not like a weekend or anything.’
Hazel paused, torn between not wanting to interrupt her role as FLO and not wanting Harry to think she was having second thoughts. The problem wasn’t so much second thoughts, more concern that Harry was getting into a relationship for all the wrong reasons.
‘Can I let you know in a day or two? We’ve already got plans to meet one evening over the weekend, plus my elderly neighbour’s left me a note with a polite reminder that I’ve promised to take her to her son’s in the next few days. It’s been really hectic and today was another of those days with Travis. He may need me around.’
‘Oh, yeah, certainly. I know it’s busy. I’m sorry if I’m making this awkward at all. I’m not trying to do that.’
There was a hesitation in Harry’s voice.
‘We all need someone around from time to time. Tell Travis I’m thinking of him.’
‘Harry,’ she said. ‘There is one other thing you could help me with.’
‘Oh yeah? Anything at all. What do you need?’
‘Remember I mentioned how I foster dogs for a charity? It’s for women fleeing from domestic violence who have nowhere else to go.’
‘Yeah . . .’
‘I’ve had a call and I’ve provisionally agreed. I probably shouldn’t, only I hate to turn them down. It’s a woman with three kids and a Dalmatian. The dog’s currently in kennels but they’re desperate. Is there any chance that you’d pop in and walk the dog if I take it?’
‘What?’
‘If you’re on holiday, you’d have a bit more time than me. I’d really appreciate it. That’s as long as you’re not scared of dogs.’
‘Scared? Of dogs? I’ve been bitten by dogs bigger than a Dalmatian.’
‘Thank you so much.’
‘Not a problem, Haze. I can’t wait.’
Then Harry hung up.
Chapter 49
‘Here we go again,’ said Milo as Parker brought the Range Rover to a stop in the town centre car park. ‘Sometimes, I simply don’t get enough variety in my working day.’
As he leaned through the gap between the front passenger’s seat and the driver’s seat, Diva said, ‘Perhaps you should mention it at your next staff appraisal.’
‘What’s the plan with this next loser?’ said Parker.
‘He’s living in the homeless hostel about fifty metres around that corner,’ said Diva. ‘We can’t go in there. They’ve got all sorts of cameras, number-plate readers and very astute staff who’ll ask questions. He’ll be wandering around this corner in the next half-hour. We take him for a little ride and then I’m going to break his fingers with a hammer.’
Parker spun around in his seat. ‘You’re going to use a hammer? Are you insane?’
‘What’s your problem?’
‘You’d better not get blood on my upholstery.’
‘I’m not going to do it in here,’ said Diva.
‘Stop arguing, you two,’ interrupted Milo. ‘Here’s Stevie now and he’s nice and early. Good lad.’
He jumped out of the car and made a move towards the slight young man, jeans and T-shirt hanging off his frame. The scowl on his face gave way to pure terror as he realized who had called his name.
Chapter 50
Thursday 8 June
Once again, DI Doug Philbert sat in DCI Barbara Venice’s office, discussing the names of those connected to the murder.
‘OK,’ she
said, ‘if we go through all the names we have, the first is Milton Bowman himself, even though we’ve ruled him out.’
‘Yep,’ he agreed, ‘and Sasha Jones along with him.’
‘At the moment, that leaves us with George Atkins, currently suspended for assaulting a prisoner, Travis Bowman, my least favourite, Aiden Bloomfield, Jenny Bloomfield, and always the worry is the passing and unconnected stranger.’
‘And now, of course,’ said Doug, ‘we’ve the McCall Witness Protection issue to deal with.’
They sat for a couple of seconds, each considering the options. Neither of them wanted to think that Travis could have done such a thing to his own mother. Besides, according to Jenny Bloomfield, he was in bed asleep some distance away. It hadn’t escaped them that up until recently that was what Aiden had also claimed.
Something had been bothering Doug and he needed to voice it, just say the words out loud, never mind anyone else hearing them.
‘Jenny Bloomfield has already lied to us,’ he said. ‘She is a bit of a strange character, and she’s got a son to protect.’
‘Being a mother doesn’t make you a killer either,’ said Barbara. ‘I do think there’s something odd about the whole thing, including their trying to sleep with each other’s mother.’
‘I’m really not sure what to make of her. At least her DNA has now gone to the lab so we’ll see if there’s any match to the hammer Jo brought in.’
‘What time did you ask Hazel to get here?’ asked the DCI, looking at her watch.
‘She’s due here any time. Before she arrives, I need to speak to you about something,’ said Doug, getting up and shutting the door. ‘In case anyone in the corridor overhears this.’
He sat back down and looked at his superior officer. ‘I think that Harry Powell is keen on Hazel. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, only they are both single.’
‘Apart from the issues further down the line of them working together, it’s not a problem as long as he’s not a suspect or likely to be. It would be better if they didn’t see each other at the moment, although we can’t stop them.’
‘I know, I know. Hazel knows better than to talk to him about the investigation but we should give her a bit of guidance, just in case.’
‘When you say guidance, Doug, I think what you mean is you want me to speak to her.’
Doug glanced up at Hazel’s face peering through the glass panel in the door and he broke into a smile.
‘Seeing as you offered, that would be a great idea.’
He was up and out of his seat before his DCI had a chance to react.
Opening the door, he almost pulled Hazel into the room and said, ‘Have a seat. I’ll go and get us some teas.’
He closed the door behind him and watched Barbara Venice’s face through the glass as she narrowed her eyes at him. He winked back and hurried off to the kitchen.
‘How have things been, Hazel?’ she asked the officer.
‘Not so bad, ma’am. Are we getting anywhere? I heard about the hammer that’s been found.’
Barbara paused and thought about how she should answer this question. She knew the importance of keeping Hazel updated: because of her role within the deceased’s family, she needed to be aware of what she was looking out for, and she also had to be aware of any danger she was in herself. At the moment, the only real danger the DCI knew of was one of the detective inspectors trying to sleep with her.
‘Things are hopefully moving on. Can I ask you about something a little delicate?’
She saw Hazel’s facial muscles freeze as she gave a measured nod.
‘Who you choose to spend time with out of work is nothing whatsoever to do with me, or anyone else in this job, not unless it conflicts with you being a police officer.’
Hazel opened her mouth to say something, shut it again and fiddled with her watch.
‘I’ve known Harry Powell a long time,’ said Barbara, ‘and a more decent man you’d be hard put to find. I’m not going to be as patronizing as to tell you to be careful what you say to him about Linda’s murder, but if he does start to ask you too many questions, would you do me a favour?’
She waited until Hazel looked up at her from examining her watch and said, ‘What’s that?’
‘Tell him if he wants to know anything, not to bother you. He should call me direct. I’ll tell him everything I’m allowed to.’
‘And what exactly will that be?’ asked Hazel.
‘Absolutely sod all. Leave me to deal with Harry.’
As if he’d been listening in the corridor until the awkward part was over, Doug appeared back at the door with three mugs of tea, managed to manoeuvre the door open and said, ‘So that’s all sorted then. Let’s talk about our suspects and the McCall family.’
Chapter 51
When Jenny Bloomfield thought that her day could not possibly get any worse, she was proved wrong. She had left the Grand the day before and made her way back to the Premier Inn, not knowing where else to go as the police were still searching her home. She hadn’t liked the fact that the young detective with the boy-band hair had dropped her off at the Premier Inn in the first place. She didn’t want the police to know where she was staying, in fact, she didn’t want anyone to know where she was staying. The whole thing was a huge embarrassment, not to mention Sean recoiling from her when he learned about Aiden’s arrest. Being stuck in the budget hotel wasn’t a pleasing prospect, yet she had little choice. Until her husband was back from Dubai, she was facing her son’s arrest for murder all on her own.
The room wasn’t making her feel any better with its soulless air.
She went to stand by the window and wondered yet again if she should call Sean, explain to him that she had needed him, that was why she’d come to his hotel room whilst her son was in a police cell. Up till now the time they’d spent together had always been sensational, yet her memory of those stolen couple of hours was simply that now – a memory. The thought that she had lost him for good panicked her. She longed to have him undress her, caress her, make her forget what was going on around her. That was another reason for longing for his company. Since the day they had met six months ago, Jenny on her way out of the Grand’s restaurant from her fortnightly lunch, Sean about to check in, he had never asked her a great deal about herself.
She told him a little bit about her family, her friends, why she always ate at the Grand twice a month, alone.
Unlike most men, Sean didn’t seem to want to talk about himself much and she didn’t even know what he did for a living, yet he seemed to fund his lifestyle somehow.
She had even mentioned Linda to him. Of course, she was sorry that Linda was dead, although when she thought about it, she had never liked her with her smugness and better-than-everyone-else way about her. All the while Linda had been showing a pious façade she’d been flirting with Aiden. Jenny had witnessed it on a number of occasions and hadn’t liked what she’d seen. Every mother would scrutinize their offspring’s choice of partner, but Linda Bowman was old, three years older than Jenny, and as far as Jenny was concerned, looked and acted much older. It would have been easier if Milton hadn’t made a pass at her one day when his wife’s back was turned. Jenny had laughed it off at the time, making light of the situation. Nevertheless, she had heard the stories about him trying it on with a number of women, some attempts more successful than others. She had heard Travis talk about his father’s attitude to his work colleagues and it sounded as though he was ruthless when it came to getting himself promoted as well.
Milton used anyone he could get his hands on. How was she to know that Linda wasn’t the same? Perhaps it was what had made their marriage work.
Many times Jenny had sat at home at her kitchen table, listening to Travis telling her how his dad worked longer and longer hours and Monday mornings were particularly tough as he had to leave so early. According to Travis, the Bowman family had started to eat their Sunday meal earlier and earlier as Milton needed to get up at 5 a.m
. to get ahead of the week. Jenny had listened to Travis talking about his home life and felt a genuine pity for him. She had always liked him and welcomed him to her home whenever he needed to get away from the rows at his own house. When he wasn’t at university, he stayed more and more often and she had got to know him almost as well as her own son.
Jenny looked out of the window through the grimy once-white net to the even grimier street below. She watched two women stop and greet each other and saw them exchange pleasantries, laugh and listen intently to one another for a minute or two. They seemed not to have a care in the world. If only she could feel that same way. At that moment, it felt as if her entire future was about to be snatched out of her hands. She hadn’t manipulated events as successfully as she’d thought.
If she was being honest with herself, she was amazed that the police had made an arrest, especially of her own son. Surely the entire unfortunate episode would be put down to a random attack, a passing opportunist villain trying his luck. Possibly they would even blame Milton.
When the police officers had tracked down Travis to her house and delivered their terrible news about Linda, ‘found in suspicious circumstances’, they had said, a death that ‘definitely wasn’t down to natural causes’, Jenny could not possibly have known that the police would never get an opportunity to question Milton about his involvement. The news that he was dead, in what was looking like a suicide, should have put an end to their investigation.
It would have been the best solution for everyone, particularly bearing in mind Linda’s past. Jenny wasn’t clear on most of the details, only enough to know that something about Linda wasn’t right. Her guarded answers about her family and childhood always seemed stilted and forced. More than once Jenny had seen her on her way to the train station and stopped to give her a lift, failing every time to elicit from her where she was going. There had been more to her than met the eye, that much she was positive of.