‘Later this morning, when her surgery’s finished.’ Sophie looked across at Sylvia’s body. ‘You’ll tidy them up, won’t you Benny? She might be a doctor, but seeing them in this state would send her over the edge.’
‘Of course. My staff are pretty skilled at camouflage.’
‘What will you do if she asks to see their full bodies, like this, rather than just the normal head view?’
‘Is that likely, even if she is a doctor? What would be the point?’
‘Better to be prepared. I think I might stay, if that’s okay. I’d like to be here to see her reaction. By the way, are there any clues as to how the sedatives were introduced? Pills? Or by spiked drinks? Maybe even an injection?’
‘It’s impossible to say. The skin tissue has started decomposing so we wouldn’t be able to spot the tell-tale signs of any recent injections. As to the other methods, it’s unrealistic after this amount of time.’
Sophie frowned. ‘Okay. Sedatives would be easy for a doctor to get hold of, and administer as well. The parents would trust her, wouldn’t they?’
‘Possibly. So you think this might put her in the frame?’
‘All options open, Benny. Let’s have a coffee and wait. I’ve bought a pack of new stuff for you. Martin says it’s the best instant coffee he’s tasted recently. Worth a try? I’ve promised to tie him up and tickle his toes if he’s wrong.’
Goodall looked aghast. ‘And that’s a punishment? What would you do for a reward?’ He covered his ears and closed his eyes. ‘No, don’t tell me. I couldn’t handle it.’
* * *
Sharon Giroux arrived an hour later with her husband. She was pale and seemed slightly unsteady on her feet. Sophie left the mortuary assistant to take charge and guide the small group into the viewing room. She stood back against the wall in order to watch the couple as they approached the two bodies. Sharon turned and nodded as each head was momentarily uncovered. Sophie then left the room in order to leave the bereaved couple alone with the dead parents. She stood outside, waiting for when they came out.
Sophie laid a hand on Sharon’s arm. ‘Is there anything I can do, Sharon? You must be feeling devastated by all this.’
The reply came as a whisper. ‘I feel lost. They were always there, always in the background. They were the reason I am what I am. And now? I just feel adrift.’
‘You need to know that we’re treating the deaths as suspicious.’
‘What?’ Sharon stumbled and grabbed hold of her husband’s arm.
‘The pathologist picked up several irregularities. Nothing is certain yet because he hasn’t got the results of all the tests, but it’s looking increasingly likely. I don’t want to waste any time, so I’ve already launched a murder investigation, although that fact won’t be released to the press until tomorrow when the final blood test results are back with us.’
Pierre looked puzzled. ‘Why blood tests?’
‘We’re fairly sure they were sedated.’
Sharon almost exploded. ‘I knew it! I knew there was something wrong. I tried for days to convince those two clowns, Blackman and McCluskie, but they didn’t believe me.’
‘They followed standard procedure, Sharon. I checked when I took over. All police forces have a policy in place. Missing children are treated very differently, but with adults who are not deemed to be at risk there’s always leeway given at first, simply because so many are just away for a day or two with good reason. I can understand why you feel angry and frustrated but remember what I told you. Your parents had already been dead for well over a week when you reported them missing.’ Sophie was hiding her own feelings about the mishandled early stages. One thing was for sure, Blackman and McCluskie hadn’t heard the end of the matter.
‘I’ll need to visit your brother, Sharon. Is he likely to be in later this morning?’
‘It’s probable. He tends not to get out of bed until nearly noon, so I’d say that the chances are good.’
‘Who inherits, Sharon? Have you had a chance to find out if they left a will?’
‘Not yet. I know they did leave one, and it will be with their solicitors, but I don’t know the details. I think Rod and I inherit, along with something for Uncle Pete. They really appreciated his help in trying to keep Rod on the straight and narrow, so they always told us that he’d get something.’
* * *
‘I’ve told all this stuff to those other two plods. They were here a couple of days ago.’
‘Did I hear you use the word plods, Mr Armitage?’ Sophie looked coldly at the dishevelled man standing in his doorway. He was attempting to tuck a grubby shirt into even grubbier jeans while holding onto a mug of tea. Barry Marsh stood to one side. ‘Do you think it’s a wise choice of words to use? I’m the SIO for this case. I can make life easier or more difficult for you, largely depending on the mood I find myself in. Words like that don’t make me feel especially well-disposed. Maybe you’d like to rephrase?’
‘Sorry,’ Rod muttered. ‘Those two other detectives. And the uniformed ones who called on Friday. That’s all it seems to be. Questions and then more questions. And now you arrive. That’ll mean more questions, won’t it?’
Sophie nodded. ‘Yes it will. But that’s the only way we’ll make any progress. Can we come in?’
She didn’t wait for an answer but pushed past Rod into his small living room, Barry Marsh following close behind. The place was still moderately tidy following the search of a couple of days earlier. Sophie turned to Rod.
‘I heard about how my two fellow detectives did an unpaid cleaning job for you. They’ll be glad to hear that you’ve kept it more or less tidy since then.’
Rod merely shrugged and dropped into a nearby armchair. Sophie chose to sit on a hard-backed chair set to one side, with Marsh sitting beside her, notebook in hand. The sofa looked too stained to risk her clothes.
‘So, Rod, you’ve had plenty of time to reflect on what you’ve already told my fellow officers and think about its accuracy. What day was it you saw your parents for that evening meal?’
‘The Tuesday, nearly three weeks ago. I’m sure of it now.’
‘And you said that you all had Spaghetti Bolognese to eat, is that right?’
He nodded.
‘What clothes were your parents wearing, Rod? Start with your mum.’
Rod looked blank. ‘How d’you expect me to remember something like that?’
‘What about your dad? You told the others that he came in from the garden just before you ate. Was he in old clothes?’
‘I think so.’
‘The local weather records show it was raining lightly in Blandford for the first part of that evening. Was he in a jacket when he came in?’
Rod shut his eyes and grimaced, as if it was asking a lot of him to make him concentrate in this way. ‘Yeah. He had an old jacket on, a sort of greeny colour. He hung it on the back of the kitchen door, I think.’
‘And underneath?’
Rod shook his head. ‘I can’t remember.’
‘How did you sit at the table? Who was where?’
A pause. ‘I sat opposite Mum. Dad was at the top. He might have had a blue jumper on.’
‘What about your mum? Can you remember anything now?’
‘She might have been in blue as well. She was talking about her new jeans, I think.’
‘How does she make her Bolognese? Was it ready prepared or does she make her own? You told my two colleagues that it wasn’t one of your favourites but that your dad liked it. Is that right?’
Rod nodded. ‘Mum makes her own, though she uses a jar of sauce. Dad gets on to her about making it properly with purée and other stuff, but she stands her ground.’
‘What did you talk about? Other than the money that you borrowed, I mean.’
‘Nothing much. Dad’s a man of few words, and most of them are complaints.’
‘TV programmes, maybe? Their plans for the summer?’
‘If you must know, they s
pent most of the time talking about Sharon and how she might be enjoying her bloody holiday in Cornwall. That’s all it ever is, all the fucking time. Sharon, Sharon, Sharon. How wonderful she is, how wonderful her kids are. What a lovely house she has. How important her job is. What a great husband she’s got. It drives me fucking mental.’
Sophie watched silently as he sank back into his chair and closed his eyes. There had been real venom in Rod’s voice. Interesting, and worth following up. Was it just envy of a higher-achieving sibling, or did it go deeper?
‘How much money did you borrow from your mother, Rod?’
‘I’ve already told your lot that. Fifty pounds.’
Sophie nodded. ‘It’s just that we noticed she’d taken five hundred pounds out of her savings account earlier that day. And you paid an overdue rent bill for that amount at about the same time.’
‘Okay. It was five hundred, ’cause I needed it, otherwise I’d have lost this place.’
‘So why didn’t you tell us that to start with?’
Rod sighed. ’cause I didn’t want Sharon finding out. She’d never let me forget it.’
‘Did you speak to your parents at any later time? Even by phone?’
‘No.’
‘Did you try? Did you phone and maybe fail to get an answer?’
‘Yeah, later in the week.’
‘Go on.’
‘Mum was still worried that I might be kicked out of here ’cause the landlord had threatened me with it before. So I tried to call her and let her know I was okay. But the phone just rang.’
‘There’s an answer machine at their house. Why didn’t you leave a message for her?’
‘I don’t know. I hate the bloody things so maybe that’s the reason. I s’pose Dad might have picked up on it, or even Sharon.’
‘It would be helpful if you could remember the day, Rod. We’d have a clearer idea of the sequence of events. So?’
Rod ran his fingers through his untidy hair. ‘Christ. You’re stressing me out. Maybe the Friday or Saturday. I don’t know.’
‘It’s important that you produce a list of your whereabouts each day that week. It shouldn’t be too hard. You were working for your uncle, weren’t you? Add who you were with, if you can remember.’
Sophie stood up. ‘I’ll leave DS Marsh here to give you a hand. We’re trying to build up a timeline of the events that week. It will help us to home in on the probable date for their deaths. So it’s important for you to be as accurate as possible.’
* * *
Rae Gregson, the unit’s junior member, had spent the morning preparing an incident room at Blandford’s police station, directing technical staff on the placement of computers, printers and scanners sent across from county headquarters. The systems were now being networked together as she finished off the details on the incident board, organised in her usual meticulous way. She was inspecting her work, hands thrust into her skirt pockets, when her boss arrived in the incident room.
‘That looks good, Rae.’ Sophie looked at the material that Rae had fixed to the board. ‘Some of Rod Armitage’s recollections match what we’ve discovered, by the way. There’s an old green jacket hanging on the back door of their house with gardening gloves stuffed in the pockets. He remembered his father taking it off and hanging it there.’
‘Doesn’t prove anything, though, does it, ma’am?’
‘Of course not, you cynic. We’ve taught you too well.’
‘I traced that car you asked about. It’s a company vehicle, registered in Bournemouth. Woodruff Holdings. I haven’t taken it any further.’
‘No, that’s fine. I’ll maybe get Barry to give Bob Thompson a bell to see if he recognises the name. Normally I’d just call Kevin McGreedie, but he’s on leave at the moment. If anything interesting crops up I’ll switch you back onto it. Can you continue digging into the family background? We need to find out if there are any skeletons in the closet. Okay?’
CHAPTER 10: Going Doolally
Monday Afternoon, Week 2
Rae Gregson had already made some headway with her research into the background of the immediate family members, and her discoveries fitted in with what they already knew. Edward Armitage had been retired for ten years. He’d been the manager of the local bus station, having risen through the ranks from his first job as a bus driver. He’d been a stickler for detail, judging from the comments Rae had gleaned from the bus company, clearly judging that cleanliness and punctuality were what the travelling public most desired from their local bus services. Quite right, Rae thought. And maybe a similar approach to his family life had been the cause of the friction with his son. Although she hadn’t yet had the pleasure of meeting the rather wayward Rod, Rae had collated all the information about him that had come in from the two previous detectives and the uniformed squad. Even at this stage of the investigation, it was looking increasingly likely that father and son had been at loggerheads for many years.
Edward had been seventy-five years old at the time of his death. He’d obviously been hard-working, and Rae guessed he must have been proud of his rise to a managerial role, having come from a family of farm labourers. Certainly the clues tended to suggest that he looked down a little on family and friends who had not progressed quite so well in their careers. Rae wondered if his attitudes, along with his motives for pushing ahead with his own career, had been formed because of his marriage to Sylvia. She had been well educated and was working in a bank when she’d met the young Edward. Her own family background had been in farming, but not as labourers. Her parents had owned a sizable farm several miles to the west of Blandford, and she’d attended a private school as a girl. Her prize possessions had included several gymkhana cups won as a teenager, still kept polished in a display cabinet in the elderly couple’s bungalow. Sylvia had never returned to work after the birth of her two children. She’d received a windfall from a favourite uncle and this had helped with the purchase of the bungalow and the residual money had helped the family through some lean times as Ted was working his way through junior roles at his work. Sylvia had volunteered for support work with several local charities once the two youngsters had left home, and these duties seemed to have kept her busy. Rae did wonder about this. Sylvia had obviously been better educated and more intellectually able than her husband, yet seemed to have done little with her life in her middle and later years. Had she found fulfilment in her charity work? It was possible, but had it really been enough?
Sharon had inherited her mother’s brains, but amplified several times. She seemed to have been a ferociously dedicated pupil while at school, winning prizes every year, finally securing a place to study medicine at Birmingham University. Her parents must have been overawed by their daughter’s achievements, and probably used them as an emotional lever against the intransigence of Sharon’s younger brother, Rod, the exact opposite in so many ways. Rae was beginning to understand the result. A family that might have seemed happy enough on the surface, but which bubbled with internal pressures underneath. Was this the ultimate cause of the tragedy that had happened several weeks previously? There was no way to tell at the moment. There were many families with similar tensions and comparable pressures, but they didn’t dissolve into a whirlpool of brutal murder. And hadn’t the boss always said that extreme family tensions tended to erupt into unplanned violence, bloody and messy? Usually easy to solve? The murder of the elderly Armitage couple didn’t fit that description, for sure. So what extra forces had been at work? She decided to widen her background research and look into Rod’s friends and acquaintances, then examine Sharon’s own family situation. She had a short-list of people who had employed Rod during recent years. Maybe it was time to pay a few visits. And then a similar probe into the very different life of his sister. Was she just too good to be true?
* * *
‘Ted was my half-brother. He was a good fifteen years older than me. His mother died when he was about ten and Dad remarried. I’m the result. We were al
most different generations because of the age gap, but we got on well enough. He was a steady, reliable sort of bloke.’
Pete Armitage was in the small office from where he ran his decorating business. He employed a part time secretary, but she only worked mornings and had left an hour earlier. Rae was standing to one side of the desk as Pete sorted through the morning’s paperwork, signing invoices and documents the secretary had left for his attention.
‘What about Sylvia? How did the two of them get on?’ Rae tucked a few loose strands of dark hair behind her ears as she spoke.
‘She was lovely. Just the kind of woman most men would give their right arm for. She loved her home and her family, and she was so supportive of Ted. They doted on each other. It’s a bloody tragedy, what’s happened. I’m still in shock.’
‘Can you think of any reason why anyone would want to harm them?’
‘No. The idea’s ridiculous. Your lab people must have made a mistake. No one would want to harm them. I know there’s been friction with Rod, but he’s got no violence in him. Take it from me.’
‘But as you said, there has been friction,’ Rae suggested. ‘And stretching back some time.’
‘Rod’s always had a chip on his shoulder. It was there when he was still a small boy, it was there when he was growing up and it’s still there now. But I still don’t think he could harm anyone in his family.’ Armitage paused. ‘I suppose, from his point of view, Sharon seemed to have all the luck. The brains, the looks, the talent. What he always fails to see is that she’s worked hard to get where she is. Okay, he was never going to match her in educational stuff, but he gave up too easily on everything else as well. I know she’s naturally attractive, but he’d have been a lot better if he’d looked after himself and paid a bit more attention to his appearance.’
‘So he resented her even as a child?’ Rae suggested.
‘Yeah. He’d even try to get her into trouble. It never worked though. His lying was always totally transparent, so we all knew to double check on what he said. And Sharon could outwit him anyway. She could see one of his half-baked schemes coming a mile off. It was sad in a way. It seems a bit disloyal of me telling you this, but you need to realise that he’s useless at planning and scheming. He couldn’t plan his way out of a paper bag.’
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