“What, Annette?” Gareth asked her. “I’m family. There’s nothing you can’t do with me here.”
“There is, Gareth,” Annette replied. “I’m going to fucking celebrate, and I can’t do that until you’ve gone. So would you bugger off and leave me alone?”
11
Malcolm disconnected the call on his mobile with a sigh and turned to Kate in the driver’s seat.
“Nothing,” he said. “The dive team are back in and have found nothing.” They were heading for the Norfolk and Norwich hospital where they had an appointment with the Pathologist. Malcolm had spoken to the man—a perpetually miserable man called Christopher Walton—who had begrudgingly offered to take a quick look at the hand before he finished for the day.
“I don’t get that,” Kate replied. “I mean, scuba gear’s bloody heavy, isn’t it? Wouldn’t that have weighed him down?”
“Not necessarily,” Malcolm replied, although he was on slightly thin ice. “It could have come detached or something, I guess. Even with it on the body, the currents off the coast up there could have taken him anywhere.” He sighed as Kate pulled off the A11 and onto the small road leading to the hospital. “If anything, we’re lucky to have the hand. The number of people who disappear off the coast and are never seen again is pretty big. Those uniforms from earlier are getting some exercise searching the beaches, but I doubt they’ll find anything. It’ll be some poor sod walking their dog if he washes up, more likely.”
“What a way to go,” Kate said, shivering. “Being eaten by bloody crabs.”
“I think he was long dead by the time the crabs started eating him, Kate,” Malcolm said with a smile. “We pulled a lad out of the River Yare down by Riverside a few years ago. Got pissed, couldn’t swim, and fell in. He was technically dead for almost fifteen minutes before they resuscitated him.”
“Right,” Kate said. “Where are you going with this, boss?”
“I interviewed him in the hospital to make sure he’d not been helped into the water. He hadn’t, but I asked him what it was like. Drowning.”
“I bet he was chuffed to be asked that.”
“I was curious,” Malcolm replied, laughing. “Anyway, he told me it was really peaceful. Once he’d accepted what was happening, he just kind of slipped away.”
“Well, I want to go peacefully in my sleep like my dad,” Kate replied. Malcolm turned to look at her, surprised at the personal revelation. “Not screaming like the passengers in his car.”
“Very good, Kate,” Malcolm said, grinning. “Tell me, what do you make of Mrs McGuire?”
“I thought she took it pretty well, all things considered.” Kate flicked the indicator on and turned into the main entrance of the hospital. The large steel-framed glass building loomed up in front of them before she turned onto an access road leading to the rear of the complex. “But then again, she doesn’t know yet that we’ve not quite got all of her husband just yet.”
“I know,” Malcolm replied. “There’s no painless way to tell her that, but let’s wait until the search is complete. The dive team will search a couple of the local sand bars over the next few days, see if anything’s washed up on them. Then we’ll tell her.”
“There’s something about her, though,” Kate continued. “I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s something not quite right.”
Malcolm looked at Kate carefully. He thought about asking the young policewoman to elaborate, but assumed she probably wouldn’t be able to. She had picked up on something that he hadn’t though. Malcolm parked the thought at the back of his mind for the time being knowing that Kate would come back to it herself at some point.
After Kate had parked the car in the almost unused car park outside the mortuary, they had made their way into the bowels of the hospital. The department they were in didn’t get many visitors, which was one reason for tucking it away at the back of the hospital. That, and so that its business wasn’t advertised to the hospital’s other customers.
Doctor Walton was perhaps in his mid-sixties and, for a man who spent his life with the dead, appropriately dour. He was wearing a shirt and tie with a trademark white coat over them, just like a proper doctor, and his back was slightly hunched. Unsurprising, Malcolm thought, for a man who spent his life bending over autopsy tables like the one in front of him. On the stainless steel surface was the tub that the fisherman had used to transport the hand in, still full of sea water.
“You all set, Griffiths?” the pathologist asked. Malcolm, irritated at the use of his last name, just nodded his head. “Good. Well, this’ll be brief. The techs have done the x-rays already, and I’ve got something on this evening so can’t hang about.” Walton opened the lid of the tub, and placed the hand gently onto the autopsy table before pressing his foot down on a pedal to record his commentary. He said the date and time and listed those present before turning his attention to the hand.
“Here we have a dismembered left hand recovered from the sea just near Cley-next-the-Sea early this morning at approximately zero six hundred. Skeletal maturity on radiology suggests that it belongs to an adult. The hand is clad in a black neoprene glove with the name O’Neill inscribed on the wrist in red letters.” He pressed his foot to the floor again before looking up at Malcolm and Kate. “We’ve got a full set of photographs. Are you happy for me to remove the glove?”
Malcolm nodded, knowing that the quality of the photographs taken would be excellent. “Sure, go ahead, Walton.”
“It’s Doctor Walton, Detective Superintendent Griffiths.” Malcolm pressed his lips together to hide a smile. One all.
In front of him, Walton picked up the hand and peered at the grey flesh that was visible. “On the visible stump, there are several lacerations in the flesh that are consistent with marine life. The edge of the flesh is irregular and uneven, and there are several striations on the small areas of the proximal scaphoid and lunate bones that are exposed. Again, these appear to be consistent with marine scavengers.”
Walton picked up a set of gleaming surgical scissors and started to cut the glove away from the hand itself. It took him a few moments to complete this procedure, which he did in complete silence. Malcolm could see that he was taking care not to accidentally cut the flesh, but to do this he had to slice down each of the glove’s fingers. When he had finished, he put the glove back into the tub of salt water. On the table now was just the hand, its skin a mottled grey colour with the only hint of colour a yellow wedding band.
“I take it you want the ring off now, do you?” Walton asked Malcolm.
“Yes, please,” Malcolm replied. “If it’s the man we think it is, there’s an inscription on the inside.”
Walton started trying to work the ring off the finger. As he did so, some of the flesh on the finger sloughed away, exposing the bone underneath. Malcolm heard a hiccoughing noise beside him and turned to see Kate with her hand over her mouth. The colour had drained from her face, and she was almost the same colour as the hand on the table.
“I think I might get a bit of fresh air,” she whispered, looking at Malcolm with wide eyes. “Would you excuse me?”
12
Laura was sitting in Annette’s front room, sipping a mug of tea, with her briefcase in front of her. Inside the briefcase was a file she had prepared, with Paul’s help, for Annette to complete.
“Are you sure you’re okay to do this now?” Laura asked Annette when she came back into the room carrying a plate of biscuits.
“It’s been almost a week, Laura. I need to get things moving.”
When Laura had arrived, Annette had explained that the police had tentatively identified the human remains they had found at Cley as belonging to Philip. They had removed a wedding ring. His wedding ring. DNA would confirm it, but their working assumption was that Philip was dead.
“Okay,” Laura replied with a sympathetic look at Gareth’s sister. “Just a few questions to start off with, then we’ll go through what it is you need to do.”
Laura reached into her bag and pulled out the file, retrieving the first page.
“Does—I mean did—Philip have life insurance?”
“Yeah, he did. The paperwork’s upstairs somewhere.”
“And a will?”
“Yes.”
Laura breathed a sigh of relief. The fact that he had a will would make Annette’s life much easier in the weeks and months to come. She made a few notes on her paper, putting check marks next to the first two points on it. The two most important ones.
“There’s a box file upstairs in the attic with all that stuff in it. I think there’s some more bits and pieces in there as well,” Annette said. “He was pretty organised like that. Do you want me to get it?”
“That would be really useful. The police might want to see copies of them.”
Laura read through her notes, framing her next questions in her head, while Annette disappeared upstairs. Outside the lounge window, she heard a car pulling up. It was followed a few seconds later by the sound of a car door closing and Annette’s front gate opening. Laura peered through the net curtains to see who it was.
“Talk of the devil,” she muttered as she saw the policewoman from the other day sauntering up the path toward the house. Laura got to her feet and went to the bottom of the stairs.
“Annette?” she called out. “You’ve got a visitor. The police are here.”
“Just let them in,” Annette called back. “I’ll be down in a second.”
When Laura opened Annette’s front door, the policewoman was about to knock on it.
“Detective Constable Hunter, isn’t it?” Laura said, smiling. “Kate?”
The policewoman stood, her hand raised for a moment before she lowered it.
“Laura Flynn. Laura the lawyer,” she replied, not returning the smile. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Laura frowned as the policewoman ran her eyes from her head to her toes and back again. Knowing that she was being sized up and wishing she wasn’t wearing a baggy sweater and jeans, she thought back to when she had met this woman with Detective Superintendent Griffiths. Laura was fairly sure that she hadn’t been introduced to the policewoman as Laura Flynn, but just as Laura. Which meant that Kate had looked her up, or at the least discussed her with her boss.
“Why don’t you come in?” Laura said, trying to keep her face friendly as she stood back to let Kate enter the house. “Annette’s just upstairs. She’ll be down in a second.”
A moment later, Laura and Kate were sitting in the lounge in silence, waiting for Annette. Laura could feel the policewoman still looking at her and was getting irritated at the scrutiny.
“Is everything okay?” Laura asked, eventually.
“Sure, I’m just returning Mr McGuire’s wedding ring,” Kate replied, finally looking at something other than Laura. She pulled a small transparent evidence bag from her pocket, and through the plastic Laura saw the glint of yellow metal.
“How long will the DNA take, do you think?” Laura said.
“Few more days, I would imagine. It’s not a priority.” Her eyes alighted on the papers on the table. “You helping her with the paperwork, then?”
“Yes,” Laura replied, picking up the papers and putting them back into her file. As she did so, she saw Kate frowning.
“Something to hide?” the policewoman asked. Laura looked at her uncertainly. Why would she ask that?
“No,” Laura replied, stopping herself from adding anything else to the statement. She didn’t know why, but there was something about this woman that she didn’t like.
They sat in a stony silence for a few more moments before Annette came back into the room.
“Hey, Kate,” she said with a broad smile that surprised Laura. “Is everything okay?”
“Sure,” Kate replied, returning the smile for a few seconds. Laura watched as her face slipped back into a more neutral expression and she pulled the transparent bag back out of her pocket. “I’m returning Philip’s wedding ring.”
Laura watched as Annette’s face fell at the sight of the bag. Her mouth formed a perfect O shape and her eyes widened.
“I was just explaining to Miss Flynn that while we’re waiting for the DNA results to come back, we’re assuming that the remains belong to your husband.” Kate lifted the bag a few inches. “It’s got the inscription you described, so we’re sure it’s him.”
Annette nodded wordlessly and sat down, still staring at the bag. Kate put it down on the coffee table.
“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about Philip?” Kate asked. “Seeing as I’m here?” Laura immediately bristled at the question. Now was not the time to be asking the poor woman questions.
“Can’t they wait, Detective Constable Hunter?” Laura asked. “You can see she’s upset.”
“Annette?” Kate said, ignoring Laura completely. “It won’t take long.”
“Do I have to?” Annette replied, looking at Laura. “I’d rather not, to be honest.”
“I think it’s probably time for you to go,” Laura said firmly, getting to her feet. “I’ll show you to the door.”
“I know where the door is, Miss Flynn,” Kate replied through gritted teeth. Her eyes flicked from Annette to Laura and back to Annette. Sighing, Kate got to her feet and swept past Laura, muttering something under her breath as she did so. Laura didn’t catch what the policewoman said, but didn’t need to know that it was aimed at her and wasn’t complementary. As she reached the door of the lounge, Kate stopped and turned around. The look she gave Laura was fierce, but when she looked at Annette, her face softened slightly.
“I’ll be in touch, Annette,” Kate said. “We’ll organise another time to have a chat.” She looked pointedly at Laura as if to say when we’re alone.
Laura waited until the front door had closed behind Kate. A few seconds later, she heard the gate being opened and closed.
“What on earth was all that about?” Laura muttered to herself as she made her way back into the lounge.
“I think she knows, Laura,” Annette whispered. She was still staring at the transparent bag with the wedding ring in it.
“Knows what?” Laura asked. Annette looked up at her with scared eyes.
“About Philip.”
13
Annette stood in her dressing gown, waiting for the kettle to boil. The previous day, she had told Laura everything about Philip. About what a control freak he was. About the beatings. What he did to her in bed, and what he made her do—whether she wanted to or not. About the fact she was glad he was gone.
She hadn’t wanted to tell Laura everything, but once she’d started, she’d not been able to stop. Annette had told her more than she’d even told Gareth, after swearing her to secrecy. Laura being such a good listener hadn’t helped the situation, and by the time Annette was finished, it was all out in the open.
On the table in the kitchen was a letter that had arrived earlier that morning. The postmark on the brown envelope read Norfolk Police, and inside was a report that would mean she could get started on the necessary arrangements while waiting for a death certificate. Annette wondered if Kate had completed it the previous day after she had stormed out of the house. That had been weird, the whole exchange. The policewoman knew something wasn’t right, that much was obvious. While Annette was grateful to Laura for making the woman go away, she knew that at some point everything would come out. Maybe she should talk to Laura? Or maybe she should ask Gareth to talk to her on her behalf. The more Annette thought about it, the more this seemed like the best thing to do.
There wasn’t much in the report. Just that human remains had been found in the sea near Cley and had been identified as belonging to Mr Philip McGuire of 249 Ipswich Road. He was, according to the scant report, presumed dead. It didn’t make sense to Annette. How could he be presumed dead when they had found his body? She picked up her phone and crossed to the mantelpiece to retrieve the business card that the policeman had given her.
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“Detective Superintendent Griffiths,” the voice at the other end of the line said a moment later.
“Hello, Malcolm. It’s Annette.” There was a pause. “Annette McGuire?”
“Mrs McGuire,” Malcolm replied a few seconds later. “How can I help?”
“Well, I’ve got the report, but it doesn’t make sense.”
“Okay, which part doesn’t make sense? Let me just bring it up on my screen.” Annette could hear a mouse being clicked in the background.
“It says he’s presumed dead?”
“That’s correct.”
“But you’ve found his body. So how can he be presumed dead when you’ve got his body?” There was a silence on the other end of the line that seemed to Annette to last for ages. “Malcolm?”
“Are you available later on today, Annette?” the policeman said, eventually. “I’ll pop round for a quick chat and explain everything, if that’s okay?”
“Er, yes. I’ll be in.”
“Just after lunch?”
“Okay.”
“I’ll see you then.”
After ending the call, Annette frowned. She picked up the report, putting it together with the paperwork that Laura had completed for her yesterday. Annette was half-way through texting Gareth to see if he could be free later when the doorbell rang. Jumping, Annette looked through the window to see a delivery driver standing on the path. Behind him, parked on the road, was a large white van with a FedEx logo on the side.
“Got a delivery for you,” the driver explained when she opened the door. He had a large envelope in one hand and an electronic device in the other. Annette used a stylette attached to the device to scrawl something that looked nothing like her signature before thanking the delivery driver.
Single Handed (Gareth Dawson Series Book 3) Page 5