by Joy Kluver
Bernie’s hand instinctively moved to her left side and the scar that was beginning to itch. She felt a gentle nudge from behind.
‘Could you move over please? There’s a lady with a double buggy who wants to get past.’
Bernie snapped back to her surroundings.
‘Oh, sorry.’ She realised the queue had moved up into the shop. Her hands were clammy. She walked forward, wiping her hands on her trousers as she stood in the doorway. The owner spotted her and waved her in.
‘Detective Inspector, nice to see you. I’ll serve you next.’ The woman looked flushed and little beads of sweat glistened on her forehead. She finished serving her customer and then called Bernie over.
Bernie pointed at the others in front of her. ‘These people are ahead of me.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that. None of you mind me serving the detective inspector first, do you?’
Bernie felt embarrassed as she stepped out of the line and went up to the counter. She heard a few mutterings but decided to ignore them. She gave her order.
As the woman made the sandwiches, she said, ‘I suppose you’re investigating that woman who was on the news last night.’
Bernie smiled as sweetly as she could. ‘You know I can’t tell you that.’
‘Oh, I don’t want any details, if that’s what you think. I’m very squeamish. No, I just thought you might want us to do breakfast for you again.’
Bernie gave a genuine smile this time as she remembered all the goodies the bakery had sent during a missing child case earlier in the year.
‘That’s very kind of you but you don’t need to. You were so generous back in May and we don’t want you losing out on money.’
The woman packaged up the last sandwich. ‘Well, if you change your mind, just let me know. Now, what cakes would you like?’
Bernie sat back in her swivel chair and sank her teeth into a chocolate éclair. It was delightfully squidgy and she remembered one of the nuns at school who had taught her cooking. ‘Today, ladies, we’re going to make eclairs. The Chambers Dictionary describes them as “long in shape but short in duration”.’ Bernie smiled at the memory of the very patient Irish nun who had made it her mission to get her making edible meals. ‘Bernadette Noel, I swear you will be skinny all your life if you don’t learn how to cook. And you won’t get a husband either.’
Thankfully, Alex was a good cook and Bernie had noticed her clothes were starting to get a bit snug. She finished the éclair, licked her fingers and downed the rest of her coffee. Matt and Mick were tucking into their lunch as they continued to watch CCTV footage. Kerry hadn’t touched hers yet as she appeared to be having an in-depth conversation with someone on the phone.
‘OK. Get back to me ASAP when you know more. Thanks,’ said Kerry. She put the phone down.
Bernie wandered over to her. ‘Sounded interesting.’
‘It was. Can I?’ Kerry pointed to the cheese and tomato roll in front of her.
‘Sure, go ahead. You can tell me in a minute.’
‘Thanks. We’ve run out of milk at home so only had a banana for breakfast.’
Bernie knew Kerry’s partner, Debs, worked as a nurse, and their long shifts often left little time for grocery shopping.
‘God, that’s better. I was so hungry,’ said Kerry once she’d had a few mouthfuls of her roll, wiping tomato juice from her chin. ‘Right. I’ve been on the phone to the forensic lab. Do you want the good news?’ She took a swig of water from an insulated bottle. ‘Remember the rings? They’ve found two sets of DNA on them. One of them has a diamond and apparently diamonds are very good at harbouring skin cells. They’re working on the sequencing now. But better than that, the ring with the diamond is engraved. “To H love R”.’
Bernie felt a flutter in her chest. ‘And?’
‘And I’m about to put the details into the system and see if we get a hit. I think my hunch may be right. I think the rings are stolen.’
‘Here we go,’ said Kerry.
Bernie turned in her chair. ‘You got something?’
Kerry looked up from her computer and smiled. ‘A report filed three weeks ago of stolen rings from one Mrs Harriet Fox.’
Bernie got up and walked over to read the report on Kerry’s computer. ‘Hmm, interesting. She’s in Salisbury.’
‘It does look a likely match – “To H love R” engraved on the band of the diamond ring is written in the theft report. Do you want to go now?’
‘Yes. Get the address and we’ll go. I’ll just tell DCI Worth what we’re doing.’ Bernie was halfway to the door when she stopped. ‘Actually, Kerry, I’ll get the address. You tell the DCI. This is your work, you should get the credit.’
‘Thanks.’
Bernie went back to her seat as Kerry left. Mick Parris stared at her from his desk. ‘You all right, Mick?’
‘Yes. I’m just not used to seeing a DI pass the glory on. My normal one claims everything I find out.’
Bernie beamed at him. ‘We work as a team here. Anything you find gets credited to you. If you spot anything while I’m out then text me but tell the boss as well. He’ll only get all uppity if you don’t.’
Bernie wrote down the address and telephone number for Harriet Fox before grabbing her bag. It wasn’t long before Kerry was back. Her cheeks were pinched pink.
‘What’s up?’ asked Bernie.
‘Bloody Worthless! Apparently he thinks it would be better if he goes with you, rather than me.’
Bernie gave Kerry a sympathetic look. ‘Oh, Kerry, I’m sorry.’
‘Huh,’ said Mick. ‘You won’t take the glory but it’s OK for him to do it.’
Kerry shrugged. ‘I’ll get back to chasing up Forensics. If I’m really lucky, the report on the maggots will be ready.’
13
Bernie watched the countryside whizz past. She’d offered to drive but Worth had a ‘man’ for that. She thought it was a complete waste of the young PC’s time to be ferrying the DCI around. No one spoke. She thought about how different it would have been with Kerry – having a good natter and gossiping. She might even have told Kerry about Anderson and her differing emotions. A part of her still felt tempted by him but she knew she was better off with Alex. She remembered Kerry had started to say something to her about Anderson at the pub but had been interrupted by the drinks arriving. She would have to check back with her.
Worth cleared his throat. ‘Now, Bernie.’
She turned her head away from the window. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘I’m sure you’ve realised we have to tread carefully with Mr and Mrs Fox. Currently, they think we’ve only come about the rings.’
‘Won’t they think it a bit odd that a detective chief inspector and a detective inspector have turned up to deal with a theft?’
‘Possibly not, initially. Do you have the photographs?’
Bernie pulled out her phone and found the email Kerry had sent. She’d had the good sense to just send the photos taken at the lab of the rings. She wouldn’t have blamed Kerry, though, if she had snuck in a scene photo of the rings on a lifeless hand. ‘I have them, sir.’
‘Good. And when the time is right, I want you to be the one to tell them the girl found wearing them is dead.’
Bernie looked at Worth in surprise. ‘She may have nothing to do with the theft. They may have been given to her by the real thief.’
‘I’m not so sure. The report said the bathroom window was left open. She was petite so maybe she did break in. Let’s see what this couple can tell us first.’
Bernie sat in a very upright chintz armchair, the kind of chair that an embittered maiden great-aunt might have. She was tempted to pull out the cushion from behind her back as it was pushing her forward. Mr Fox was on a more modern sofa. Bernie was relieved he didn’t actually resemble a fox. In his forties, with short, premature salt and pepper hair and a round face, there was a jolly feel to Rupert Fox, though right now he seemed strangely twitchy. Harriet Fox, sitting next to
him, was more mouse-like, with light brown hair and beady eyes. Neither seemed terribly relaxed to have two police officers in their lounge, particularly as for them it was meant to be an update on stolen jewellery.
Bernie glanced at Worth who gave her a nod. She was to kick off the questioning, apparently.
‘So, Mr and Mrs Fox, we gather you made a report about some stolen rings.’
Harriet Fox gave a nervous nod. ‘Yes. They went missing about three weeks ago.’
‘In the report, you mentioned you had left the bathroom window open.’
‘Yes,’ said Rupert Fox. ‘We think that’s how someone got in.’
Bernie thought his reply sounded a bit rehearsed. Insurance fraud?
‘I see. At the time, the CSIs didn’t find any physical evidence to link this crime with a particular person. We have now found some rings that may be yours.’ Bernie pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened the photos from Kerry. ‘If you could have a look at these, please, and tell me what you think.’ She passed the phone over to Harriet.
Mrs Fox flicked through the photos. ‘Yes, it looks like them. The solitaire diamond ring is my engagement ring from Rupert. It has an engraving inside, “To H love R”. Since having the children it doesn’t fit me so I keep it in a box along with my mother’s wedding band. Both went missing.’
Harriet handed back the phone.
‘It does sound like they could be your rings. If you have any photos of you wearing them then that would be useful but equally, we can do a DNA test to prove they’re yours.’
‘A DNA test? Really?’ asked Rupert Fox. ‘Why go to such trouble?’
Bernie inwardly cursed herself, and Worth too. She wasn’t ready yet to tell them but it couldn’t be avoided now. ‘I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but they were found on the body of a young woman discovered in woodland yesterday morning.’
Harriet’s eyes widened. ‘Oh God, no.’ She looked at her husband and then back at Bernie. ‘No. She can’t be.’
Bernie noticed Rupert Fox squeeze his wife’s knee but it was too late. Harriet Fox had already said too much. ‘Who, Mrs Fox?’
Harriet covered her face with her hands. ‘No, no, no.’
‘Mr Fox? Do you know who this young woman might be?’
He nodded slowly, his eyes staring at the floor. ‘It might be our former au pair – Rosa Conti, from Italy. She’s nineteen and has long dark brown hair. Quite petite. In fact, she doesn’t look her age, she looks younger. Which is unusual these days – girls normally look older, don’t they? Lottie and Tamsin adored her but…’
‘But what?’ asked Bernie.
‘Harriet let her go.’
Mrs Fox looked up at the sound of her name. ‘I had to. I caught her… entertaining a man in her bedroom when she should have been looking after the girls. They were downstairs watching TV and she was upstairs…’ Harriet shook her head. ‘I sacked her on the spot. You can understand my reaction, can’t you? She was very upset, begged me to let her stay and I almost gave in because she was so good with the girls, but at the time I was sure I was right.’ Harriet Fox grabbed her husband’s arm. He didn’t express the same shock as his wife.
‘Mr Fox, are you OK? You don’t seem surprised.’
‘I’m not. I heard DCI Worth on the news on the radio last night talking about the body and when you said your names, I knew it wasn’t just about the rings. We suspected she might have taken them but didn’t know for sure. That’s why we didn’t mention it in the report. Poor, poor girl.’
‘We haven’t actually identified her yet but from the description you gave, Mr Fox, and the fact she was wearing your rings, it seems quite likely.’
‘I suppose you need one of us to identify her, don’t you? I’m not sure I can but maybe Rupert?’ Harriet turned to her husband, her eyes moist. ‘What do you think, Rupe?’
Rupert nodded his head. ‘If I have to.’
Bernie swallowed. There was no way anyone could facially identify the body.
‘That won’t be necessary, Mr Fox, but thank you for the offer. Our preferred method of identification, in this particular case, is DNA, or dental records if she had registered with a dentist here. Did Rosa leave anything behind at all? Any clothes, toothbrush or hairbrush?’
Harriet shook her head. ‘No. She took those things. Any junk that was left I threw away. And she hadn’t yet gone to the dentist.’
Bernie thought for a moment. ‘But you haven’t thrown out the mattress, have you? The one on her bed?’ she asked.
‘The mattress? No.’
‘Good.’ Bernie turned to Worth who had been strangely silent. Maybe her giving the bad news had been a test, a rite of passage he expected her to go through. ‘Sir, I suggest we get Forensics down here ASAP and scan the mattress and the rest of the room.’
Worth nodded. ‘I agree.’
‘What? Why?’ asked Harriet.
‘Because there may be some bodily fluids still present on the mattress that will provide us with DNA,’ Bernie said.
Harriet looked appalled. ‘But this is silly. Rupert can identify her. There’s no need to have a Forensics team in my house. What would the neighbours think?’
‘Mrs Fox, I hate to say this to you,’ said Bernie, ‘but the young woman has been dead for a while and it’s no longer possible to facially identify her. We have to use DNA. And taking any samples from the mattress is our best bet. Who knows? The man she was entertaining may be the killer and he may have left his DNA behind.’
Rupert Fox paled before her. In a small voice he said, ‘I’ll show you her room.’
Bernie stood on the landing and looked into the empty bedroom. It was large with a double bed. Painted white, there were little blue marks on the walls, indicating that posters had been put up at some point. Had Rosa done that? Tried to personalise her blank room, make it her own? Bernie had to stop Rupert Fox from going in.
‘Best if you stay out of here until after Forensics have been, Mr Fox. We’ll have to take DNA samples from you and your wife for elimination purposes and also to confirm your wife’s rings. Did your two daughters go in here as well?’
He shook his head. A film of sweat glistened above his top lip. Bernie looked at him carefully, a suspicion growing in her mind.
‘Mr Fox, as it’s just you and me up here, is there anything you want to tell me?’
Rupert Fox wiped the sweat away with a trembling hand.
‘Mr Fox?’
Rupert kept his eyes on the floor. ‘Umm, my wife goes to yoga classes on Wednesday evenings and then she goes for a drink afterwards. She’s out for a few hours.’
‘I see. And your daughters?’
‘They’re in bed, their rooms are in the loft. They’re six and four. Quite small still. We had them a little later in life.’
‘OK. And Rosa?’
Rupert coughed. ‘Rosa… and… I… well…’
‘Mr Fox, are you trying to tell me that we’re going to find your DNA on the mattress in Rosa’s room?’
Rupert nodded, his eyes still glued to the floor. He whispered, ‘Yes.’
Bernie inwardly sighed. ‘Where were you last Thursday and Friday?’
Rupert finally raised his eyes. ‘During the day I was at work. I’m a chartered surveyor. And in the evenings and overnight I was here, at home.’
‘And can anyone corroborate that?’
‘Yes, there are five colleagues I work with and Harriet was here.’
Bernie was buzzing with other questions she wanted to ask but thought it would be better to do so at the station.
‘Once the Forensic teams arrive, I’d like you to come back to the station with me to answer some more questions and make a formal statement.’
More sweat was forming on Rupert Fox’s face. ‘Yes, OK.’
‘I take it your wife doesn’t know.’
He shook his head.
‘My job is to find a killer, not play marriage guidance counsellor. However, I suggest that aft
er you have made your statement, you have a conversation with your wife because I can’t promise to keep this quiet. Is that clear?’
Rupert Fox sniffed and wiped away more sweat. He nodded.
Bernie turned away from the man who had slept with a woman young enough to be his daughter. Was it a mid-life crisis? In which case, was there a sports car in the garage? Or a motorbike?
14
Bernie pressed the buttons on the recorder.
‘This is Detective Inspector Bernadette Noel with Detective Sergeant Kerry Allen, interviewing Rupert Fox in connection with the murder of a young woman. Mr Fox is here as a witness currently and so does not have any representation. However, if at any point in the interview that situation changes, then Mr Fox is entitled to a legal representative. Is that clear, Mr Fox?’
Rupert Fox nodded, his arms crossed tight over his body.
‘For the recording please?’
‘Yes, I understand.’
Bernie smiled. ‘Right, Mr Fox, I’d like to start with when Rosa Conti first arrived. When was that?’
‘Hmm, she came at the beginning of the summer holidays, so around the end of July. Harriet, my wife, went back to work in the spring and she couldn’t get time off for the whole summer so we decided to get an au pair. We went through an agency that a friend had used.’
‘What’s the name of that agency?’
‘Wiltshire Au Pairs, I think. Harriet will know. She arranged it all.’
Kerry, sitting next to Bernie, jotted everything down in a large notebook.
Bernie leaned forward. ‘So, initially, you were Rosa’s employer. Did that relationship change?’
Fox looked up at the ceiling. ‘Yes.’ His voice cracked.
‘What did it change to?’
‘We became lovers.’
‘When did this change happen?’
Fox covered his mouth with his hands. He was trembling.
‘Mr Fox? When did you first have sex with Rosa?’
He mumbled something.
‘For the purposes of the recording, we need to hear what you’re saying. Can you please take your hands away from your mouth?’ Bernie kept her voice as calm and as neutral as possible, even though she wanted to yell at this man she suspected had abused his position as an employer.