Shattered bones, p.13
Shattered Bones, page 13
39
DS Turner pulled up outside the address he had been given for Bernadette’s sister. He had been tasked with attending and taking a witness statement from her. He’d already been given the heads-up by Sean that she was a terrible witness, and he wasn’t relishing the prospect of interviewing her.
There had been a debate in the office as to whether Sean should interview her, having already dealt with her previously. It was quickly agreed that as Rose’s death appeared suspicious, that the investigation into her death and Trevor’s disappearance should be kept separate.
The front door opened before Turner even had a chance to knock. A slim woman with cheaply dyed blonde hair, pinched features and a pale face greeted him.
‘Stacey?’ Turner asked. She nodded and gestured for him to come in.
Turner’s heart sank at the sound of wailing coming from another room. This was going to be bloody painful.
‘Follow me, Bernadette’s in here. Can I get you a drink?’
‘A black coffee would be lovely, thanks. No sugar.’
Stacey introduced him to Bernadette. She was wrapped in her unicorn dressing gown with the hood up as if shielding herself from hearing any more devastating news. The juxtaposition of such a cheerful piece of clothing against the backdrop of her obvious distress wasn’t lost on him. She stopped crying for long enough to ask her sister for a cup of tea.
Then she turned her attention to DS Turner. Her small, darting eyes were shining with tears. Turner was struck how alike the sisters looked. He smiled at Stacey as she left the room, settling himself into a chair opposite Bernadette as he braced himself before starting the questioning.
‘Mrs Dawlish, understandably, I can see how upset you are, but it would help greatly if I could ask you a few questions so we can build up a picture of what has happened.’
Bernadette nodded and gulped back tears.
‘I believe you found your mother-in-law, is that right?’
Bernadette nodded as she started to cry softly. She swallowed back tears before she began to explain.
‘As I’m sure you know, my husband, Trevor, has been missing for several weeks now. It’s been such a difficult time and it hasn’t been easy looking after Mum. She’s been even more confused than normal since Trevor disappeared.
‘Anyway, Stacey suggested I come for tea last night, for a break and change of scene. I wasn’t comfortable with the thought of leaving Mum at first, but without sounding awful, the thought of a break sounded too good to be true. Oh, I wish I hadn’t…’
She burst into tears again and Turner sat back, giving her the time she needed to compose herself before she could continue. ‘I mentioned it to my neighbour, Laurel Miller. She said it would do me good and offered to look in on Mum. She has a spare key, you see, and Mum and Laurel have always got on, so I agreed.
‘Anyway, after dinner I started to feel a little unwell and had a terrible headache too. I think it’s the stress. I was so tired. Stacey told me I could sleep over here rather than chance driving home. I rang Laurel and asked if she’d make sure Mum got to bed okay, which she said she would. She sent me a text message to let me know everything was okay at home. Not long after that I went to bed.’
Turner made some notes before returning his attention to Bernadette. ‘What happened this morning?’
‘I had a quick brew with Stacey before I went home. I knew Mum would want her breakfast and need to take her pills. I let myself in the front door and then… I saw her…’ Bernadette began to sob, her shoulders shaking as she hugged her knees to her chest. Stacey had just returned with the drinks. She set them down and engulfed her sister in a hug, rubbing her back and murmuring soothing words into her hair.
Turner waited patiently for Bernadette to gather herself. Stacey smiled apologetically at him. ‘Laurel rang for an ambulance straight away and they contacted the police. We’re not sure why, though, as Bernadette seems to think it looks like she’d fallen down the stairs. She wasn’t very steady on her feet, you know. She had a very shuffling kind of walk and was always falling over because she didn’t pick her feet up enough.’
Turner cleared his throat as he flicked through his policy book and read through some initial notes, including the observations Maya had made about how the slipper and the chairlift looked staged. ‘It’s early into the investigation, but our preliminary enquiries have suggested that your mother-in-law’s death may not be accidental.’
Bernadette’s head shot up, she was open-mouthed and wide-eyed.
‘I knew I should never have left her.’
‘Who would possibly want to harm an old lady? Especially someone as lovely as Rose?’ Stacey asked, stunned.
Bernadette stood up suddenly, fists clenched either side of her, tears streaming silently down her face. The hood of her dressing gown dropped away, and she looked like a determined Jedi.
‘Laurel,’ she announced resolutely as she eyed Turner. ‘Laurel Miller wanted Trevor’s mum dead.’
40
Maya had carefully and meticulously taken a succession of tape lifts and swabs from Rose Dawlish. Once she had finished, she and Kym had placed the shattered bones into a body bag ready to be conveyed to the ironically named Rose Cottage where her post-mortem would take place. The sight of the diminutive bulge in the body bag left a lump in Maya’s throat and she was glad that this was one post-mortem she wouldn’t have to endure.
Kym had told her that Nicola and Elaine would attend, leaving Maya free to stay with the scene. Once the body had left the address, Maya had headed back to Beech Field, relieved that her shift was over as she was physically and emotionally exhausted. She rang Dominique to check she was okay before riding to the supermarket closest to home so she could pick up something quick for her tea. She usually preferred to cook, but decided this evening was definitely a ready meal night.
She ambled up the aisles, gazing dully into the chiller, waiting for something to catch her eye and tempt her appetite. Her heart wasn’t in it as she moved along to the rows and rows of freezers which made her think of the bodies stacked in the mortuary. She thought particularly of John Doe and sighed as she wondered how much longer he would lie in there unidentified. The longer they waited to find out who he was meant that his killer could be anywhere by now and she wondered if they would ever have justice for the murdered man.
She thought about the facial reconstruction and wondered how it was progressing. The process was a combination of experts in anthropology and osteology, as well as artistic skill to recreate the face. She knew that a cast would have been taken of the skull by now and that the experts would then apply depth markers to the different areas to indicate the thickness of facial tissue at the various points. Strips of clay would then be used to rebuild the face based on the relevant measurements.
She caught her own reflection in the freezer doors and a movement behind her made her jump. She apologised to a harassed-looking woman who reached past her to grab some items. Her eyes continued to graze across the packets of frozen food, but her mind remained consumed with thoughts of John Doe. What if the facial reconstruction didn’t help? What if still, nobody recognised him and came forward. How could someone disappear for this long, and be murdered, yet nobody had come forward to report a loved one, friend, neighbour or colleague missing that matched his description?
She knew she shouldn’t be too surprised. She’d been to countless burglaries where people didn’t know who their neighbours were, had hardly seen them let alone spoken to them. She mused over how Trevor Dawlish’s bank card had ended up in John Doe’s pocket and not for the first time concluded he could be a vagrant. That would certainly account for the fact nobody was looking for him. And he wouldn’t be the first homeless person to resort to pickpocketing or shoplifting.
She let out an audible groan as she thought of how Rose Dawlish would soon be John Doe’s neighbour and wondered who was responsible for her death. What if her death turned into another seemingly unsolvable mystery? She shook her head and forced herself to concentrate. She was tired and overthinking things. Now wasn’t the time. She just needed to have something to eat, get a bath and a decent night’s sleep so she was fit and ready for work again in the morning.
She opened the freezer door closest to her and pulled out a frozen pizza. That would have to do. A bit of comfort food might do her the world of good. She closed the door and jumped again as the glass reflected someone stood behind her. She admonished herself as she turned to see several fellow shoppers amble wearily along the aisle. Their faces mirrored her own exhaustion.
Clutching the pizza, she dashed to the till, keen to be out of the supermarket and back in the comfort and warmth of her own home. As people bustled around her, she didn’t realise she was being watched. She didn’t realise that Marcus Naylor was discreetly following her from a safe distance. His eyes were devouring the very sight of her, as a wistful smile lingered on his face.
41
Bernadette had composed herself enough to be able to continue her conversation with DS Turner. The flush of anger that accompanied the accusation dissipated as quickly as it had come, leaving Bernadette a sobbing mess who clung to her sister like a life raft.
Turner smiled kindly at her. ‘Are you ready to continue?’
She nodded.
‘What makes you think Laurel killed Rose? That’s quite an accusation. Why would she want to do that?’
‘She’s obsessed with my husband. I realised it when we first started going out. At first it was just dirty looks when she saw me coming and going. Then, when we got more serious and I started staying over with Trevor, I noticed scratches on my car, slashed tyres, that kind of thing.’
‘And did you speak to her about it?’
‘Not straight away. It was awkward. First of all, I don’t like any kind of confrontation or arguments and secondly, Laurel was good friends to Trevor and Mum. As far as they were concerned, she was a family friend who could do no wrong.’
‘And did Laurel’s hostility progress?’
‘Yes. She’d be all smiles and pally-pally in front of them, but when it was just the two of us, oh, she said some horrible things.’ Bernadette took a moment to blow her nose. ‘She would tell me how I wasn’t pretty or clever enough for Trevor. That I was too stupid…’ At this point her voice broke with fresh tears as her sister patted her back encouragingly.
‘Surely the others must have picked up on this. Did you not think to say something?’
Bernadette nodded. ‘When Trevor proposed I didn’t accept straight away, I told him I’d have to think about it. I hated doing that as I knew I was breaking his heart. I also knew if I agreed to marry him, it would mean moving in with him and his mother and having to put up with her.’
‘So, what happened?’
‘I was so nervous, so scared to do it, but I went round to her house and confronted her. Told her that Trevor had proposed and that I wanted to say yes, but I couldn’t bear the thought of putting up with her hateful comments. I told her I was going to say yes to Trevor on the condition that we sell up and move away.’
She gave a dry laugh. ‘Well, that changed things. She started to cry and apologise. Told me she couldn’t help it; she was in love with Trevor and jealous of me. I told her I wasn’t her enemy but wasn’t going to be her verbal punchbag either.
‘The thought of Trevor moving away so she’d never see him again seemed to get through to her. She promised she’d change, and to be fair for the last few years, she has. We’ve even been getting on, or at least tolerating each other. I know she still thinks I’m a fool.’
‘So, what makes you think she killed your mother-in-law?’
‘She’s been in bits since Trevor went missing. Obviously, we all have. She mentioned something in passing the other day that if something happened, maybe that would bring Trevor home.’
‘What sort of thing?’
‘She didn’t say in so many words but hinted that if Mum was ill and Trevor heard about it, there’s no way he’d be able to stay away; it would make him come straight back home.’
‘What did she actually say? It would help if you could remember the words she used and her demeanour when she said them.’
Bernadette screwed her eyes shut and wrung her hands together. ‘I don’t know. I just can’t remember. It’s the pills the doctor has given me, you see. They make me feel so sleepy. I didn’t even hear Trevor come home the other day. I only knew because of Laurel.’ She tailed off looking utterly despondent.
‘When I look back, it’s so obvious. Laurel insisting I come here. Even if I’d not felt poorly and ended up sleeping over, I think Mum would still have died. I think Laurel orchestrated the whole thing. She must have let herself in and managed to get Mum to the stairs and then pushed her. I blame myself,’ she said as she buried her face into her sister’s shoulder and began to cry again.
‘There’s something else,’ she added, suddenly straightening up as she dabbed her eyes with a tissue. ‘Something that I think inflamed her jealousy and might also be the reason Trevor has gone away for a while. The reason I wasn’t feeling well the night I stayed here.’ She exchanged a glance with Stacey.
‘And what’s that?’
Her hands reached down instinctively to cup her stomach. ‘The baby.’
42
Rose Dawlish was laid out naked in the mortuary. She was a pitiful sight, stick thin and with her joints jutting out at warped angles from the broken bones she’d sustained in her fall. Anyone who looked at her couldn’t help but wince as it looked so painful. Her sparse, white pubic hair was a startling contrast to the aubergine lividity of her skin. Her drooping breasts and stomach looked like nothing more than pockets of overhanging skin, and with her false teeth removed, her mouth looked sunken. Had she been alive, she would have been mortified at people seeing her without her teeth and being naked in front of them.
But sadly, what Rose had once thought or indeed felt was now irrelevant. Nobody knew about the people she had met along her life who she loved deeply. These strangers gathered around her in the mortuary would never know that she used to have the sweetest, most infectious laugh or that she could sing like an angel. They didn’t know she’d been a huge fan of The Beatles or that she loved to read Agatha Christie novels of an evening while sipping a port and lemon. That was before her failing eyesight made it too difficult and uncomfortable to read. To them she was just a clue. An exhibit to be pulled apart and discussed. One piece, albeit the most important, of this investigative jigsaw puzzle.
Doctor Granger tutted his way through Rose’s post-mortem examination due to the obvious signs of neglect, from the sparse stomach contents and the inflamed skin on her buttocks and genitals where she had been left regularly in sodden incontinence pads. She was clearly malnourished although Granger suggested that neglect appeared to be a relatively recent occurrence as there was nothing to suggest long-term abuse.
This time, Jack remained in the viewing gallery, Adila acted as exhibits officer and Nicola assisted as the ‘dirty’ SOCO whilst Elaine carried on with the photography. It had been a solemn affair. Even though the death of someone Rose’s age was not unexpected, the thought that someone could deliberately harm her was inconceivable.
Granger concluded that death was caused by a major head trauma sustained during the fall. It was hardly surprising that a lady of her fragility and age would not survive such an experience. Regarding culpability, it was not possible to ascertain if death was deliberate or accidental. As far as the post-mortem went, that was so far inconclusive and down to the detectives to investigate.
That was why Malone was approaching Laurel’s address with a view to interviewing her, especially after the damning accusations Bernadette had made. If Laurel refused to comply, he would have no choice but to arrest her on suspicion of murder based on Bernadette’s claims. Malone hoped it wouldn’t come to that. At this stage, until concrete evidence could be found, it was easier to treat Laurel as a witness. He had viewed the scene photographs that Maya had taken and agreed with her belief that the fall looked staged. Rose Dawlish’s death was definitely not accidental.
Malone knocked on the door, his eyes scouring the street for any CCTV cameras, either council or private. He made a mental note to get a team to check around the back of the Dawlishes’ house to see if that gave any leads when the door was swung open. Laurel was dressed in a black jumper adorned with crystals, and black jeans. Her face was devoid of make-up, her hair unkempt, the gold crucifix already gripped between her fingers.
‘Mrs Miller?’
‘It’s Miss. I assume you’re here about Rose.’ She sniffed noisily as she examined Malone’s warrant card. ‘Come on in, detective.’
Malone studiously wiped his feet, before he entered the pristine hallway and was led into a spacious lounge. Weak winter sun flooded the room and accentuated a cupboard storing an array of crystal ornaments, causing rainbow prisms to dance across the walls. The lush carpet was spotless, the room sweet-smelling of beeswax and lemon. The plush sofa he sank into was clearly expensive.
‘How is Bernadette?’ Laurel asked as she sat opposite Malone, too distressed to even offer him a drink.
‘She’s being well looked after by her sister,’ Malone replied diplomatically. ‘Obviously, we’re keen to piece together the events surrounding the elder Mrs Dawlish’s sudden demise and wondered if, based on the information Bernadette has given us, you could answer a few questions.’
Laurel nodded keenly, leaning forward to concentrate on Malone. He opened his policy book and skimmed his notes. ‘What’s your relationship with the Dawlishes?’
