Isabel’s stomach reeled. Hiding her shaking hands in the pockets of her coat, she walked along the edge of the muddy trench and looked down – but instead of seeing human bones, her vision blurred and a creeping black mist began to close in, threatening to shut her down.
‘We’ve also found a partial dental plate,’ Raveen said. ‘It might help us to establish a more accurate timeframe.’
His voice was coming to her as if from a distance, his words muffled and distorted. Lurching away from the trench, Isabel went over to the rear wall of the garage and leaned against it. Blood rushed in her ears and she took a series of deep breaths to clear her head.
Dan was observing her closely, his brown eyes watchful. ‘You all right, boss? I didn’t have you down as someone who would get queasy over a bunch of bones. I’d have thought you’d seen way worse than this.’ A half-smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he took in her obvious discomfort.
‘If you don’t mind, Dan, I’m going to stand down and let you take over for now, while I put in a call to the Super.’
‘OK …’ His forehead creased into a frown. ‘Was it something I said? I was only joking about the bones, you know.’
Isabel chose to ignore his wisecrack. ‘Will you be all right picking up the questioning?’ she asked.
Dan nodded confidently, but his expression wavered as he clocked the serious expression on her face.
‘Is there a problem?’ said Raveen.
‘Possibly,’ Isabel said. She was clenching her fingers so tightly, her nails were digging into her palms. ‘You see, I grew up in this house. Forty-one years ago, I lived here with my parents.’
Chapter 4
Isabel walked away from the crime scene with a torrent of questions sloshing around in her head. One in particular was vying for attention. Could it be him? Was it possible?
She reached the side gate on legs that felt so watery and weak she wasn’t sure they would take her the short distance back to the car. She paused to look back at Dan, fending off a stab of guilt for abandoning him. Left in charge, he seemed tense and uncertain. Raveen stood next to him, deep in thought.
‘Before I go,’ Isabel said, ‘can you tell me whether the body is male or female?’
Raveen nodded. ‘Based on what I can see of the skull, I’d say male.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘The slope of the forehead, the prominence of the supraorbital ridges and the shape of the eye sockets are all consistent with a male skull. So, yes, I’m pretty certain. I’ll be able to confirm it when I’ve had an opportunity to examine the rest of the bones.’
‘Can you tell how old he was?’
‘Definitely an adult, but age, as yet, is undetermined.’
‘OK. Thanks.’ She paused to regain control and, pointing to Dan, said, ‘Don’t forget. Make sure everything is recorded correctly. Log all decisions, actions and information.’
With clumsy fingers, she fumbled with the latch on the gate. It was stiff and clunked loudly when it eventually lifted. As she returned to her Toyota and climbed into the driver’s seat, a pair of curtains twitched at the downstairs window of the house next door. Some things never changed.
The car’s interior was warm and stifling. Isabel leaned her head on the steering wheel, closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. I have to know, she thought. I need to find out one way or another.
Reaching for her phone, she scrolled through the contacts stored alphabetically, stopping at the name of the only person who could answer the question that was burning a hole in her brain.
Her finger hovered over the name on the screen. All she had to do was ask one question. The answer she received would either put her mind at rest or plunge her into a deep pit of despair – but anything was better than not knowing.
Before she had a chance to make the call, her phone began to ring. The incoming caller was Detective Superintendent Valerie Tibbet.
‘DI Blood? What’s the situation?’
Isabel closed her eyes. ‘We have a body. The site’s been cordoned off and we’re treating it as a crime scene … but there’s a complication.’
‘What kind of complication?’
‘The house where the victim was found,’ Isabel said. ‘I used to live there. A long time ago.’
‘Right. Well, you’ll need to disclose your connection to the address during any future prosecution case, but there’s no reason why you can’t carry on as SIO.’
‘The problem is, the timeframe’s unclear,’ she said. ‘Forensics estimate the body’s been there for between twenty and forty years, possibly even longer.’
‘I see. And does that coincide with your time in the house?’
‘Potentially. My mother sold up in 1978.’
‘Do you have any reason to believe the body was buried while your family lived at the address?’
This was it. The moment of truth: the point at which she should tell the Super everything. Except there wasn’t much to tell, was there? Just an old story with an unknown ending. Best to say nothing – at least for now.
‘No, of course not. I’m trying to do everything by the book, that’s all. There’s no escaping the fact that the address is linked to me and I don’t want to jeopardise the enquiry. It’s best that I stand down pending confirmation of the timescales. In the meantime, Dan’s in charge at the scene.’
‘Fair enough,’ said Val. ‘That seems sensible, given the circumstances. When we’ve got a better idea of the timeframe and any overlap with your family’s occupancy of the house has been ruled out, you can re-join the investigation. In the meantime, I’ll find someone to take over as SIO. For now I’ll have to trust DS Fairfax to make the initial enquiries.’
‘I have every faith in Dan,’ Isabel said. ‘He’s very capable.’
‘Has he been involved in this kind of investigation before?’
Isabel sighed. ‘Not that I know of, but this will be good experience for him. He needs to start taking on more responsibility.’
‘Is that a problem with him? Is he shirking?’
Isabel rubbed her forehead. ‘No, Val. That’s not what I meant. Dan’s a good detective, but he needs to believe in himself. This case will help boost his confidence.’
‘OK, if you’re sure. I’ll give him a call and have a word. I’ll ask him to keep me updated for now and I’ll get back in touch with you as soon as I hear anything.’
Isabel ended the call, started the car and drove home through the rush-hour traffic.
Chapter 5
A month ago, when Dan had joined DI Blood’s team, everyone had warned him that she was a stickler for procedures, so her swift retreat based on a decades-old connection to the house came as no great surprise. What did puzzle him was her physical response to the crime scene. Dan was aware she’d worked some pretty gory cases in the past, so he was fairly certain she wasn’t squeamish – but her face had definitely looked pale, unnaturally so. What was that all about? She’d done her best to hide it, but something was bothering her. He felt sure of it.
It was all a bit weird. He could understand his boss’s desire to do the right thing, but he was also pissed off that she hadn’t given him a few more pointers before buggering off. As it was, she’d dropped him right in it. He hadn’t been involved in an investigation involving human skeletal remains before and now, here he was, seemingly in charge of the scene.
Left to his own devices, Dan decided to begin his enquiries by talking to the owners of the house. Leaving Raveen and his team to their forensic examination, he went round to the front of the house and rapped on the door.
A woman of about thirty answered. Her dark brown hair, pale skin and wide cheekbones gave her face an exotic look.
‘I’m DS Dan Fairfax.’ He flipped open his ID wallet. ‘I need to ask you a few questions, if that’s all right?’
The woman nodded. ‘Yes, of course. I’m Amy Whitworth. Come in.’
She led him into the kitchen, where a man was perched on a stool at an old-fashioned breakfast bar, his hands wrapped around a mug of steaming coffee.
‘This is my brother, Paul.’
‘Your brother? Right. Sorry, I assumed you were … you know … a couple.’
Amy smiled. ‘No. We’re brother and sister. Twins actually.’
Other than the colour of their hair and eyes, Dan could detect little resemblance between the siblings, although the comparison was somewhat hindered by the enormous hipster beard that dominated the lower half of Paul Whitworth’s face.
‘But you’re joint owners of the house?’
‘Yes.’ Amy nodded. ‘Our father died last year and left us some money. This is our first foray into property development, isn’t it, Paul?’
‘It could well be our last if the whole thing goes tits up.’ Paul Whitworth seemed tetchy and disillusioned.
‘You’ll have to excuse my brother, Detective. Finding a skeleton in the back garden has come as a shock.’
‘That’s understandable,’ Dan said. He pulled a notebook from his pocket. ‘Can I ask how long you’ve owned the house?’
‘We bought it at auction and got the keys eight weeks ago,’ Paul told him.
‘And yet you’ve only recently started work on the extension? I thought property developers liked to turn things around quickly. Get the work done, sell the house and make some fast money.’
‘That’s the general idea,’ Paul said, ‘but we had to wait for planning permission to come through.’
‘What can you tell me about the previous owner?’
‘We never met her,’ Amy replied. ‘We were told she was an elderly widow who’d gone to live in a residential home. Her son auctioned off the house to get a quick sale.’
‘Do you recall her name?’
Paul shrugged. ‘Can’t say that I do. Our solicitor will have all the details.’
‘I think it was Repton,’ Amy said. ‘Rhoda Repton.’
Dan made a note of the name. ‘And have you any idea how long she’d lived here?’
‘No. Sorry. You could check with the neighbours though. They might be able to tell you.’
‘Someone’s doing that right now.’ Dan smiled. ‘Tell me, when you got the keys, had the house been cleared? Was it completely empty?’
Paul and Amy exchanged smiles.
‘As it happens, we had to get rid of a lot of furniture and other stuff that had been left behind,’ Paul said. ‘It was a right load of old tat – even the charity shops didn’t want it. We took everything down to the tip in my van.’
‘Was there anything unusual or out of place? Anything that seemed odd? Something hidden away?’
‘Not that we noticed,’ Paul said. ‘It was the sort of stuff you’d expect to find … a few clothes had been left in one of the wardrobes, and there were some old magazines and newspapers … a crappy framed picture. An old rug. Nothing much else.’
‘I finished clearing the pantry this afternoon,’ Amy said. ‘There was all sorts of junk in there. Tins of food, cereals, jars, old pans and utensils. I put everything in the dustbin at the side of the house.’
‘But nothing out of the ordinary?’ Dan wasn’t sure what he had hoped to hear. The discovery of a decades-old blood-stained knife perhaps, or a bottle labelled ‘poison’ hidden away behind a can of mushy peas.
‘I think the family took away anything of value and left the rubbish for us to dispose of,’ Paul said.
‘You didn’t come across any letters or bills?’ said Dan, knowing he was grasping at straws. ‘No correspondence of any kind?’
‘There was an old bureau in the hallway,’ Paul replied, ‘but it was empty.’
‘OK. Well if you think of anything, let me know.’ Dan handed them a card with his telephone number on it. ‘I’ll get someone to come in and take a statement from you in a few minutes.’
‘Do you know how long those guys are going to be out there?’ Paul nodded towards the forensics team whose white scene suits stood out, ghost-like, in the dark garden.
‘The remains you found have been confirmed as human,’ Dan said. ‘The body was buried recently enough to warrant a forensic and police investigation, so we’ll need to do a thorough search of the site. It’ll be a while yet. Several days, I would imagine, but we’ll let you know as soon as they’ve finished. In the meantime, I’m afraid your back garden is off limits.’
***
As Dan let himself out of the front door of the house, he ran into the uniformed officer who’d been tasked with speaking to nearby residents.
‘Any joy with the neighbours? Learn anything interesting?’
‘Not so far,’ the officer replied. ‘The family at number 21 only moved in three months ago, so they didn’t know the previous owner. I wasn’t able to get an answer at number 25. I’m going to try across the road next.’
‘OK, keep me informed. Someone must be able to tell us something useful.’
As he watched the officer weave around the parked vehicles and cross the road, Dan pulled out his phone and rang the office. He needed some background information and if there was one person he could rely on to pull everything together quickly, it was DC Zoe Piper.
‘Zoe,’ he said when his colleague answered, ‘I need you to run some checks for me.’
‘No problem.’ She sounded remarkably perky for someone who was working the late shift. ‘What do you need?’
‘Find out who’s owned or lived at 23 Ecclesdale Drive over the last forty-five years. Can you also check whether the address is linked to any reported incidents … domestic violence, mispers … or whether there’s any criminal activity associated with anyone who’s lived there. Let me know as soon as you find anything.’
‘Consider it done,’ Zoe said.
As he ended the call and strolled back to the rear of the house, Dan marvelled at the way Zoe always managed to sound so upbeat. He suspected her positive attitude was driven by ambition and a desire to make the right impression, but maybe that was unfair. Perhaps she just had a naturally optimistic view on life and work.
He noticed a light go on in the kitchen at number 25, and the silhouette of a person began to move around inside. It was obvious someone was at home, so why hadn’t they answered the door when the uniform had knocked?
A yawning Raveen ambled over and stood next to him.
‘You look knackered,’ Dan said.
‘The baby’s keeping us awake,’ Raveen replied. ‘I’m hoping he’ll start to sleep through soon, but at the moment the little tyke only seems able to manage a few hours at a stretch.’
Dan held up his hands. ‘Don’t expect any advice from me. I know absolutely nothing about babies, and I hope it stays that way … for a few years, at least.’
Raveen grinned. ‘We’ll be taking the skeleton away shortly, but I thought you’d appreciate a quick update. The remains are definitely male, and there are signs of bone spurs around the knees, which suggests he was suffering from osteoarthritis. We’ve also found a cigarette lighter. I’ll clean it up when I get back and let you know if it can tell us anything.’
‘In a perfect world it would be inscribed with the victim’s name and date of birth.’
Raveen laughed. ‘As we both know, there’s no such thing as a perfect world. A good thing too, otherwise you and I would be out of a job.’
Dan smirked. ‘Keep me posted, Raveen. Zoe’s doing some checks back in the office … hopefully she’ll find something that will help with an ID. I’m going to nip next door and have a word with the neighbours. Perhaps they can shed some light on who these bones belong to.’
***
Dan looked up at number 25 and the house peered back at him through dark, grubby windows. Its architecture was identical to the other houses on the street, but its shabbiness made it stand out from the rest. Unlike number 23, it didn’t look as if it would be getting a makeover any time soon. The wooden window frames were poorly maintained, with shrivelled putty and peeling paint, and moss was growing in the cracks on the concrete driveway.
His knock on the front door went unanswered, so he wandered around to the back of the house and peered through the kitchen window. A silver-haired woman was standing at an old-fashioned oven, cooking something on an eye-level grill. She jumped when he knocked on the window.
Dan heard the rattle of a security chain sliding into place. The door opened marginally and the woman squinted suspiciously at the warrant card he held in front of her.
‘I’m DS Dan Fairfax, I wonder if I could have a word?’
‘You’d better come in.’ She closed the door again to slide off the chain and then opened it wide, allowing Dan to step into the kitchen.
‘I saw the police cars and wondered whether someone would be round to talk to me.’
‘A police officer did knock a while back,’ Dan said, ‘but there was no reply.’
She shrugged. ‘I’m a bit deaf. I’m supposed to wear hearing aids, but I can’t get on with them. They keep whistling.’
She was grilling kippers. The smoked, fishy smell was unmistakable.
‘Were you about to eat? I can come back in half an hour or so if you’d prefer.’
‘It’s all right.’ She turned off the grill and led Dan through to the living room. ‘I can always warm them through again when you’ve gone.’
‘Do you live on your own, Mrs …?’
‘Littlewood. Joyce Littlewood.’ She sat down in a winged armchair that faced a huge widescreen television. ‘My son lives with me, but he’s at work. He does shifts over at a distribution centre near Matlock.’
‘And have you lived here long?’
‘Since the house was built. Me and my late husband moved here in 1963.’
‘Wow! That’s a long time ago. I imagine you must have got to know everyone who’s lived at number 23 over the years.’
‘Some better than others,’ Joyce Littlewood replied.
Dan could see that she was weighing him up, gauging whether to trust him.
‘Rhoda was a nice lady,’ Joyce continued. ‘Rhoda Repton. She left last year. Went into a care home somewhere near to where her son lives. Wirksworth way, I think.’
‘The couple that have bought number 23 are building an extension at the back,’ Dan explained. ‘They’ve uncovered some skeletal remains in the garden … human remains … which is why the police were called.’
Joyce pursed her lips. ‘I thought it must be something like that,’ she said. ‘I’ve been looking out of the back bedroom and I spotted the people in white suits. I couldn’t see what they were doing, but I knew it had to be serious. I have to say, it’s not the sort of thing you expect to see when you look out of your window.’
‘They should be finished in a few hours,’ Dan told her. ‘At least for today.’
Joyce tilted her head inquisitively. ‘Is it Celia?’
‘Is what Celia?’
‘The bones. I always thought something bad must have happened to her.’
‘Who’s Celia, Mrs Littlewood? And why do you think something might have happened to her?’
Chapter 6
‘Celia Aspen,’ Joyce Littlewood said. ‘She lived next door. Took off one day in 1986 and hasn’t been seen since. Her disappearance was reported to the police, so you’ll have it all on record. I’m quite willing to tell you what I know about it, but it could take a while, so you’ll have to listen while I eat my tea. Hang on two ticks and I’ll be back in with a tray. Shall we have a cup of tea as well? Or coffee, if you prefer it.’
Dan knew that a shared cuppa was often the best way to get people talking – the older ones at least. ‘I’ll have tea please. White, one sugar.’
As Mrs Littlewood pottered in the kitchen, Dan prowled around the living room, examining the collection of framed photographs on the mantelpiece. They showed three children at various stages of their lives – two boys and a girl, all of whom had inherited their mother’s beaky nose and wide blue eyes. There was also a more modern studio shot which he guessed was of Mrs Littlewood’s grandchildren. The distinctive facial features seemed to have continued down the line to the latest generation.
On the teak coffee table next to her chair was a pair of knitting needles that held a partially completed cable-patterned cricket sweater. Behind the chair was a corner cupboard full of the same type of Royal Crown Derby china that Dan’s own gran collected. Imari pattern. A dense dark blue and red design, finished off with gold. Definitely not Dan’s thing at all.
When Joyce came back, she was carrying a tray containing a pot of tea, a milk jug, sugar bowl and two china cups. The crockery wasn’t as grand as Crown Derby, but posh enough to make Dan feel he should crook his little finger as he drank.
He sat on the sofa and sipped his tea while Joyce scurried back to the kitchen. She returned with a plate of kippers and another piled high with bread and butter.
‘It helps the fish bones to go down,’ she said, when she saw Dan eyeing up the excessive quantity of bread. ‘Now, tell me, young man, what is it you need to know?’
‘What year did Celia Aspen move in next door? Can you remember?’
‘What?’ Joyce cupped her ear. ‘Speak up.’
‘Can you remember when Celia moved in?’
‘Of course I can. I may be old and hard of hearing, but there’s nothing wrong with my memory.’
Between mouthfuls, she told Dan what she knew about the history of the house next door.
‘Now … the Corringtons. They lived there until 1978 – lovely family – I was sorry to see them go.’
That must have been the DI’s family, Dan thought. Sounds as though they got on well enough with the Littlewoods.
‘A young couple moved in after the Corringtons,’ Joyce continued. ‘Davidson or Davison … something like that. They seemed nice enough, but I didn’t get to know them very well. They’d only been living there a year when she ran off with another bloke. They sold up and got a divorce.
‘It must have been the autumn of 1979 when Celia Aspen bought the house. She was all right I suppose, but she did have rather a superiority complex. She was pernickety; always very careful about her appearance … never went anywhere without make-up and a touch of lippy. A bit up herself, if you know what I mean. Quiet and reserved, but a decent enough neighbour … at least in the beginning.’
‘Did something happen to change your opinion of her?’
Joyce stirred her tea. ‘It’s all water under the bridge now, of course. I don’t want to speak out of turn …’
Dan waited.
‘It was her attitude to my youngest son that I didn’t like. Timothy got on well with Celia to start with. In fact, she was patient with him at a time when others weren’t so kind. Timothy did odd jobs for her … mowing the lawn and so on, but I put a stop to that after a while.’
‘Why was that?’
‘Celia had a niece called Julie Desmond. She was a cocky sort. Absolutely full of herself, if you ask me. She was three years older than Timothy, and he was in awe of her. Celia reckoned that Timothy was making a nuisance of himself … accused him of following Julie around and saying things that were inappropriate.’
‘And was he?’
‘Was he heck as like. Timothy may have been different to other lads his age, but he wasn’t stupid. He has autism spectrum disorder, so he can be clumsy … socially, I mean. He talks too much sometimes and goes on about stuff that isn’t relevant to the conversation you’re having with him – but he’s kind and hard-working and a good son. He did like Julie, fancied her even … but he was never a pest.’
‘Is that what Celia Aspen accused him of being? A pest?’
‘Not in so many words, but it was what she inferred. Timothy stopped going round there after that and things became rather frosty between Celia and me. It was a shame, but no one criticises my son and gets away with it.’
It was obvious that Joyce Littlewood was a devoted mother-hen and Dan had no doubt she would be quick to defend her chicks.
She was proving to be a great source of information, but he couldn’t help comparing her narrative to the complicated pattern of the pullover she was knitting. He needed to take back control of the conversation … unpick it, otherwise he’d be here all night.