Filigrees, Fortunes and Foul Play

by Emily Selby

  'Is there anything else? Or can I go now? I've got a hungry child to pick up.'

  'That'll be it for now. But can I take your details? I may need to ask you some more questions later on.'

  Katie gave him her full name and address, and her mobile number. She thought about reminding him, he could always talk to her tomorrow morning at the station, but she just wanted to get out of here, collect Julia and, yes, a long, hot bath might be in order.

  3

  'Mum, did you buy any Ziploc bags?'

  Katie opened the fridge and looked intently inside. The bottle of milk was definitely half-empty today, but fortunately, there was still some cheese left from last night's macaroni-cheese-bolognese-impromptu dinner. Enough to make Julia a sandwich.

  'Mum, did you honestly put Ziploc bags in the fridge?' Julia's voice pulled Katie from her musings.

  'Why, on earth would I put any bags in the fridge?'

  'Dunno. Because you acted weird last night?'

  Julia put her schoolbag on the table and started braiding her long, strawberry blond hair while holding the comb and a hair tie in her mouth.

  Katie paused, her head still in the fridge. However much she wanted to, she couldn't really argue with this point. She might indeed have acted weirdly the previous night. After all, it wasn’t every day she discovered a corpse. Katie shivered.

  'Cold,' she muttered.

  'Ish becaushe you're shtandin in front of dje fridge.'

  Katie slammed the fridge door. Ten-year-old girls could be such know-it-alls.

  'Don't speak while holding things in your mouth. You might accidently swallow it. Why do you need Ziploc bags?'

  'For my hunch.'

  'Hunch?'

  'Shandwich'

  'Your sandwich? What happened with the bag I gave you yesterday?'

  Julia shrugged. She swiftly pulled her hair into a ponytail and dropped the comb into the side pocket of her school bag.

  'I don't know. I must have lost it. Can I have another bag, please?'

  Katie sighed. Why did her daughter lose things? Why couldn't she just be more careful. Certainly, other children...

  ‘I didn’t buy any Ziploc bags last night, darling. You need to use something else.' Katie picked up the bread and removed it from its paper wrapping. 'Here we go. A lunch bag for you.'

  Julia threw out an enormous sigh, one of those yawns comic books marked with a big "whatever" in a thought bubble and snatched the bag from Katie's hand.

  'Will you pick me up from school today, please?'

  'Wednesday? Yes. I finish at the station at 12.30 pm. I don't have any cleaning this afternoon.'

  'Great. I want to be home quick. I need to practice for the audition of the Halloween play.'

  Julia grabbed the sandwich from the cutting board and slid it into the bag.

  'I'm ready for departure.'

  Katie gulped the remaining coffee and grabbed her handbag.

  'Let's go!'

  On the drive from school to the police station, Katie reviewed the previous afternoon’s events. What a day! Even the long, hot bath hadn’t been enough to shift the dread and nausea brought on by discovering her former employer, lying dead on the floor. Who could have done it? And why? Certainly, Mrs Dunbar wasn't the most beloved resident of Sunnyvale, but it was hard to imagine she might have had mortal enemies.

  When Katie walked into the staff room, she felt all the eyes on her. Well, there were only two other people, and both were aware of the events she’d witnessed. So maybe she was exaggerating.

  'Morning,' Katie greeted Chris Fox and his female colleague keeping as chirpy as she could. Her heart was beating fast. Had Chris and his new colleague, what was her name?, already told everybody else Katie was a prime suspect? Or was she being oversensitive?

  'Hi, Katie, y'alright, lass?' Chris gave her a look a good five seconds longer than usual. 'Slept well?'

  A heavy stone fell into the pit of Katie's stomach. Chris had never asked about the quality of her sleep before.

  'Yes, why?' She said crisply, avoiding eye contact to hide the dark circles under her eyes.

  'Just asking. 'Cause of what happened yesterday.'

  'I couldn't get the picture out of my head.'

  The young female officer approached Katie. A smell of freshly brewed coffee hit her nose and a wave of tiredness spread over her.

  The woman must have noticed something. 'Would you like a coffee?' she asked.

  'I wouldn't mind, thanks.'

  Chris walked up to them, holding a steaming mug as well.

  'Do you have any idea who could have killed her?' he asked.

  Katie inspected his round, freckled face for signs of suspicious intent. Chris was known for being a friendly and straightforward, a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of guy. Her quick inspection indicated a genuine question, rather than surreptitious interrogation.

  'Are you asking me, Chris? How would I know?'

  Chris shrugged his broad shoulders. 'Because you knew the deceased?'

  'Did you know her?' the female officer asked, handing Katie a steaming cup.

  'Thanks, er- Sorry, I forgot your name. I'm Katie.'

  'I know.' The young officer smiled. 'Everyone knows Katie from the back office. I'm Celia. Celia Baxter. Did you know the victim?

  So, Phyllis Dunbar was a victim... Katie sipped her coffee. Strong and fresh, it hit the spot and gave her an instant shot of energy. 'Yes, I did know her a little. But I wasn't quite in her circles.'

  Celia smiled. Either she was trying to be nice to get Katie to open up, or she was simply a friendly person. Katie wasn't sure which was more likely. She would prefer the second option, of course.

  She sipped a little more coffee, trying not to burn her palate. They were her colleagues after all. They couldn't really be all that bad, could they? Maybe the best attitude was simply to ask?

  'Chris, am I a suspect?'

  He exhaled slowly and then wrinkled his nose. 'Er...'

  The office door opened to DI Heaton.

  'Well,' Chris said, clearly relieved, 'you may need to ask the lead inspector.'

  'Morning everyone,' DI Heaton said in the same warm tone that surprised Katie yesterday. He nodded at her. 'Ah, just the person I wanted to talk to, Ms...'

  Katie's heart sank. More interviewing to come?

  'Katie will do,' she said through the clenched teeth. 'How can I help, Inspector?'

  'I've got a few more questions about yesterday. Can we talk now?'

  'The interview room is free,' Chris cut in, not as helpfully as Katie would have hoped.

  DI Heaton hesitated. 'We could use the boss's office. It’s more comfortable. What time does he start?'

  'He's rarely in before 9 am,' Katie said. 'That is, if you're allowed to use his office.'

  'Yes, I'm authorised. Would you like to see the formal email?' he asked, arching his eyebrow. A hint of humour warmed his voice.

  Thank goodness, he had a sense of humour.

  'No, I guess, I need to trust you.' Katie said and almost choked when pronouncing the last words. Lying to the police was a punishable offence.

  The DI took his dark jacket and, after a failed attempt to locate a coat hanger, hung it on the office chair. He placed his tired-looking briefcase carefully beside the desk. A crisp white collared shirt with a dark blue tie, and a pair of black slacks completed the look of a smart city man. Katie thought back to the early days of the few officers who joined the Sunnyvale's police force during her time here. They had started off dressing smartly, but the town's dislike of anything city and too-serious-looking got the better of them quickly. Even Andy Lumley, the boss, had toned down. Katie wondered how long it would take DI Jack Heaton to bow to a more relaxed, local style.

  'Since you already have a coffee, I won't offer you one. Unless, of course, you prefer a fresh brew.' The DI showed her to a chair opposite the boss' desk.

  'No, I'm fine. But go ahead, get one for yourself.'

  'I've
already had one, thank you.'

  Katie lifted an eyebrow. Getting a morning coffee together with various members of the team was an important bonding ritual in the Sunnyvale police station. This boy was going to have problems making friends...

  'I wanted to ask you a few more questions regarding the events yesterday.'

  Katie's heart accelerated. 'Am I a suspect?'

  DI Heaton rubbed his freshly shaven chin.

  'Not at this stage. We've checked your alibi with your neighbour who confirmed some of the timing. I just have a few more questions.'

  'Was she murdered?'

  DI Heaton took a deep breath. Katie wondered whether he would finally break and admit it. For goodness sake, if you find someone lying in a puddle of blood in their own house, it’s unlikely to be from natural causes.

  'We still need a formal report from the autopsy, but there is a suspicion that it was, indeed, murder.'

  I knew it!

  DI drummed his fingers on the desk. Katie watched him attentively, trying to interpret his body language.

  'Well, since it's now in the open, do you have any idea who might have wanted the old lady dead?'

  Finally, a question she’d been waiting for. She opened her mouth to share her thoughts, then realised that, despite having spent half the night trying to come up with ideas, she didn’t have a clue.

  'Sadly, no idea. I'm baffled by the whole thing.'

  'Why are you baffled?'

  'It just doesn't make any sense. Fair enough, she wasn't very popular. She was respected, but...' Katie paused, chewing on her lower lip. She didn't want to give a false impression, but then, the DI was bound to find out anyway. Maybe she would just skip this part completely for now.

  'But?' DI's blue eyes were intently locked on her face. Katie felt her cheeks flushing.

  'But murder? No, not here. Sunnyvale's a quiet, friendly little place. I've worked at the police station for nearly thirteen years and we don't get murders here.'

  'I see,' he nodded and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 'I wouldn't exactly call Sunnyvale small, though. After all, there are nearly fifteen thousand residents.'

  It was Katie's turn to nod. 'It does feel much smaller. I suppose it’s because we all know one another quite well.'

  'Well, if this is indeed the case, solving this crime should be a piece of cake.'

  Katie watched the Inspector's deadpan face, unsure how to respond. Torn between giving him the benefit of the doubt of being genuinely hopeful about the ease of solving this case, and her need to test his "human qualities", she decided to take the risk.

  'One would think so, wouldn't one?' She paused with her eyebrows raised, waiting for his response.

  'It seems only logical, doesn't it?' A flicker of humour danced in his blue eyes.

  Katie dived in deeper in her risky attempt to create a bond.

  'It does, indeed. One may even say: "Elementary, my dear Watson."'

  DI Heaton made a tip-my-own-hat gesture and smiled.

  Katie smiled back, relieved the serious crime outreach inspector wasn't a complete jerk.

  With the thought in mind, Katie returned to her own situation. She was still unsure how to proceed.

  'What do you want me to say? I honestly have no idea who could have killed Mrs Dunbar. One thing I'm certain of, it wasn't me. I assume you've interviewed the nephew?'

  'Yes, we have interview Roy Dunbar. He was apparently in the shed repotting geraniums and doing other bits and pieces outside the house. He was the one singing. He says he didn't enter the house until after we arrived.'

  'What about the person, the secret visitor or whoever she was going to talk to after she rang me. Have you found out whom and what it was about?'

  'I can't comment on this,' he said, his face blank.

  She hunched. Of course, he wouldn't' share it with her. This was a stupid question. She'd have to find it out herself, through her own channels.

  'Did you know she had a will?' he asked her.

  The look on his face sent a chill down Katie's spine.

  'Yes, I suppose so. Phyllis liked to hint at her wealth and talked about heirlooms and heritage.'

  The DI raised his eyebrows. 'Heritage?'

  'You need to talk to her solicitor about it, and maybe closer friends and family. The late Mr Dunbar was a carpenter and something of an artist. As far as I know he painted and sculpted in wood. He gifted a number of his artworks to the local church. I think this is what Phyllis meant by heritage. But from what I've seen in her house, she was hardly a wealthy woman.'

  Heaton looked away, drumming his fingers on the desk again.

  'Are you aware of the contents of her will?'

  'Of course not. Why would I be? I was just a cleaning lady and an acquaintance from the hobby club.'

  'Yes, indeed. Just a cleaning lady and an acquaintance...' Heaton seemed to admire the office decor for a while. The silence made Katie uncomfortable. Desperate to shift the feeling, she tried a lighter tone. 'Maybe her death was about money? Are there any suspicious beneficiaries in the will? Anyone beyond the usual family, friends and charities?

  'Yes, there is one beneficiary who comes as something of a surprise.' The DI's drumming became a tone louder.

  'Who is it?'

  'You.'

  Katie's heart flipped. Her head spun. She grabbed the edge of the desk.

  'Need some water?'

  Without waiting for her reply, Heaton jumped up and hurried to the water cooler in the corner of the office. He poured a glass and put it in front of her.

  Katie licked her lips, her head still spinning, and her heart beating fast.

  'This must be a mistake? Why would she leave me anything?'

  'I hoped you could tell me.' DI dropped back into the chair. He looked a little deflated.

  Katie gulped the water.

  'I swear, I didn't kill her.'

  'We've checked your moves with your neighbours. Also, someone saw you driving along the street on the day. So, you're not a suspect at this stage. But to be fair, it looks strange. You had the opportunity, you knew the victim, you also had a motive. Potentially that is.'

  'But I didn't know she'd left me anything in the will... What did she leave me?'

  'You need to talk to her solicitor.'

  Katie shivered. She had seen people accused of crimes, but not this serious. She had seen people cry and swear their innocence. And, to be honest, since it usually turned out that they did steal the car or drive drunk - there was hard evidence in form of CCTV footage and breathalyser readings, Katie never trusted those declarations of innocence. Now, she found herself in a situation where she knew she did not commit a crime, she had an alibi, yet –she still felt guilty.

  She cleared her throat. There was only thing she could think of to shake off this feeling.

  'Is there anything I can do to help the investigation? I mean, to clear my name?'

  'Tell the truth,' said the Inspector, as if it was the key to end all evil.

  'I have.'

  'And let me know if you remember, see or hear anything else that may be useful.'

  Was he asking her to be an informant? Okay, as long as this could help... But she had to remember- no hunches. Concrete evidence only.

  'I will.'

  'Here is my number.' He handed her his business card. "I'll be a frequent visitor here for a while. So, you can always try to catch me here at the station.'

  'I will,' Katie said, her voice croaking. She probably should tell him her suspicions about Roy. Despite the music blaring, she’d seen no sign of him pottering around in the shed. But would he accept her hunch-based comment?

  The DI's phone rang as Katie opened her mouth. He picked up after the first ring. Katie sighed. It wasn't that easy to talk to this new DI.

  'DI Heaton... Ok, bring her in for an interview.'

  Katie waited until he ended the call.

  'Yes?' he asked with a hurried hint in his voice making her think her i
nterview was over.

  'Would you like to book the interview room?' Katie asked briskly. ‘I’m responsible for the schedule.’

  She'd tell the DI about the shed some other time. Preferably, once she had her thoughts better organised.

  It wasn't really necessary to book the interview room, since it was rarely used, but she was desperate to know whether there were any other suspects in this case.

  'Ah, yes, please. We'll need it at about 10.30.'

  Katie opened her mouth to ask who he wanted to interview but decided against it. She tightened her grip on the door handle and cleared her throat.

  'I'll make sure the interview room is free for you.'

  She walked out.

  4

  'So, how was he?' Chris asked before she closed the staffroom door behind her.

  'Civil, I hope,' the DI's voice cut in. Jack Heaton appeared in the still open door. 'Wasn't I?' He looked at Katie and smiled.

  So maybe he wasn't all that awful. Katie smiled back weakly.

  'It was all right, I suppose,' she mumbled and poured the remnants of her coffee—cold and completely unnecessary, given her racing heart rate and buzzing blood pressure—into the sink and hurried into the tiny, windowless room called her office.

  She spent most of the morning pushing aside crazy ideas about her future and the murder. She tried working to distract herself, but the youth crime prevention program she was organising, didn't progress much. After an hour’s work, the pile of to-be-filed reports was as tall as when she left it the day before.

  Mid-morning, Katie stepped out to grab a cup of tea from the staff room. It was 10.29 am, and it would not be entirely true to say the timing for her break was accidental.

  'Making some fresh brew. Anybody want a cuppa?' Katie asked, pouring water into the coffee maker.

  Celia, busy on the phone, waved and shook her head. Chris was in the reception area, explaining something to an older man.

  Katie stood by the exit to the reception, ready to ask Chris about a coffee, when the main door slid open and a visitor walked in.

  The victim-cum-suspect for her 10.30 interview?

  The woman's petite silhouette was wrapped in a silver and black poncho-shawl. The heels of her shoes clicked on the concrete floor. A subtle puff of scent, reminding Katie of an exotic beach on a warm evening, accompanied her. Chris and the other man lifted their heads.