Secrets and Shadows

Chapter 12

‘DCI Swan’ she answered, picking up the telephone.

‘Grace, are you trained to PIP level III?’ Superintendent Andy Claybourne, the Chief Officer at West Garside asked.

‘Yes sir,’ she had attained level III of the Professional Investigation Programme at the College of Policing, a necessary step towards promotion and advancement.

‘Good, a potential homicide has been called in, I’d rather Trevor Luithen took it as SIO, but he’s indisposed you so will have to take it.’ Great, thanks for the vote of confidence, she thought.

Great, thanks for the vote of confidence‘OK, sir, show me responding.’ Grace said, taking down details on a notepad. She plucked her coat from the stand and hurried out into the CID room, shouting across to Terry Horton. ‘DS Horton? Grab your coat and come with me. Suspected assault believed fatal.’

He picked his coat and scurried after her. ‘Right behind you ma’am’ he said as they made their way out to her car. Terry gave the Alfa a quick glance of approval before sliding into the passenger seat and buckled up as Grace punched a post code into the sat-nav.

‘Where are we off to, ma’am?’

‘Blackmires Road, do you know it?’

‘It’s up Blackfalls somewhere, ma’am. Not my usual habitat, a bit too rich for my blood, if you know what I mean. What do we know about the shout, anyway?’

‘A David Jarrett, called it in. Seems he returned home and found his father dead in the kitchen, apparently beaten about the head. He also states that his mother has hanged herself in the garage.’

‘Murder/suicide?’

‘Could be but we’ll keep…’

At the next roundabout, take the third exit, the sat-nav interrupted her.

At the next roundabout, take the third exit, ‘Could be,’ Grace continued, ‘but we’ll keep an open mind about it.’

‘Yes ma’am, goes without saying.’

‘It still needs to be said.

‘Yes ma’am’

‘Listen, it’s Grace, all right? Outside and inside the nick unless there’s top brass…’

Take the next right turn.

Take the next right turn.‘Bossy cow, isn’t she? As I was saying, unless there’s top brass about, it’s Grace. I can’t stand too much formality. And you’re Terence, right?’

‘Yes ma’am, Terry. Sorry, er …Grace, wasn’t quite sure how you wanted it, being new and all. Just transferred I mean. I mean some senior officers want the full bells and whistles, yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir. You just don’t know.’

‘That’s OK, I’m still finding my way around and I need to get to know you and the others pretty-quick smart and too much yes ma’am no ma’am just gets in the way’

They sped through the town centre and up the hills towards Fallswood, following the sat-nav directions. As they turn into Blackmires Road they can see two police cars, blue lights flashing, an ambulance and a clutch of onlookers. Passing cars slowed down to gawk, impeding traffic.

You have arrived at your destination.

You have arrived at your destination.‘Talk about stating the bleeding obvious.’ Terry said.

‘Christ, it’s sodding mayhem.’

They exit the car and show their warrant cards to one of the uniforms.

‘Ma’am,’ Dr Phil, Dr Bagster, the police surgeon is already on the scene.’

‘Thank you, constable. Get the road blocked off and make sure that none of the curious cattle get in the way’, Grace said gesturing to the thronging on-lookers.’

‘Yes, ma’am, just about to do that,’ he said, holding up the roll of blue and white crime scene tape.

‘Good. Thank you.’

Grace and Terry returned to the Alfa to don white forensic suits, hair nets and latex gloves. Grace then slipped off her shoes and pulled on white rubber boots. They then made their way into the house, giving their names to a uniform who noted all who entered or exited the building.

They stopped briefly in the hallway to acquaint themselves of the layout. To the right was a carpeted dog-leg staircase leading to the upper floors, there was a cloakroom with clothes hooks from which dangled a collection of outdoor coats and jackets, beyond which was a toilet, with wc and wash-basin.

To the left was a large sitting room which they did not enter, then a dining room that exited into a large glazed conservatory. At the far end of the hallway was the kitchen and Grace and Terry surveyed the scene through the open door.

As befitted the elegant house, the kitchen was large, the walls well-appointed with Shaker style cream units, white marble worktop, a cream Aga and a tall white Smeg fridge/freezer. A television was mounted in one corner. A double white Belfast sink sat below a window that looked out into the garden. One door led to the outside, another to a pantry and a third to a utility room.

The kitchen table stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by four wooden chairs.

The murder victim, presumably Donald Jarrett, was seated on the nearest chair, with his back facing Grace and Terry as they examined the scene through the doorway.

He was slumped across the table, the back of his head a mess of blood, clotted hair and shards of white skull. Blood had pooled about his head and dripped to the floor in a bloody puddle. His right arm was stretched across the table as though reaching for something, whilst his left arm hung by his side. There was a bloody hammer to the left side of his head which was lying on top of a newspaper that he apparently had been reading when attacked.

A police surgeon, forensically suited. was examining the body intently, oblivious to Grace and Terry as he pulled up an eye-lid to check for rigor mortis.

They backed out of the doorway, Grace took out her mobile and called the Coroner’s office requesting the presence of a Home Office Pathologist.

‘OK, done. Terry, get onto some of the team’ Grace ordered, ‘whomever you think best suited. Get them talking to the immediate neighbours. See if they saw or heard anything, arguments, visitors they didn’t recognise, that sort of stuff . We need to build up a picture of what the family is like. We know there’s a son and his mother. Any other siblings? Uniform will do a wider door to door later once the House to House Team Leader is appointed, but let’s get initial enquiries under way.’

‘OK. I’ll get Emma Cox and Brian Endcliffe, both DC’s, they’d be best, got good common sense, the pair of them.’

‘Good.’

As Terry left, Grace returned to the kitchen doorway, there was a momentarily blinding flash as the surgeon took a photograph before looking across to Grace.

‘Oh, hi. I’m Bagster, Dr Phillip Bagster the PS. You’re the SIO?’

‘DCI Swan. Grace Swan. Grace. Pleased to meet you.’

‘Dr Phil they call me, after some American TV show. Never heard of him myself. Anyway, nice to meet you too, pity it’s under such circumstances but that is what we do, right?’

Bagster turned back to the body as Terry returned and gave a nod to Grace to confirm that her instructions have been carried out.

‘Death is obviously confirmed, life is extinct,’ Bagster continued, ‘most likely blunt force trauma to the back of the head but the final cause of death will be confirmed at the post mortem.’

‘Time of death?’

‘Rigor has started in the eyelids and jaw, so I would suggest about three hours ago.I haven’t checked the body for lividity, but the Home Office pathologist will do so when they take control of the body.’

‘The Coroner’s office said it would be Erika Berger?’

‘Erika? Good, she’s one of the best’

Bagster finished his examination of the body, his only function to confirm that death had occurred. ‘Right, one of the response officers said there might be another body in the garage?

‘Yes, the son, David, states her mother might have hanged herself in there. The trouble is the garage door is electronic and apparently there’s only the one key fob. The son claims his mother must have taken the only key inside with her.’

‘No, even if it’s electronic, there should be a manual override,’ Terry interjected, ‘in case of a power cut or something. Usually there’s a keyhole, the lock pulls out to insert a crank handle, it’ll be located at the side or front of the garage, on the same side as the motor.’

‘OK, good. Let’s go and talk to the son and find out where this handle is.’

After removing and bagging up the forensic suits, they would put on fresh ones if they needed to return to the house, otherwise there could be cross-contamination of the scene. Preservation of the scene is the priority element of any investigation.

David Jarrett sat in the back of one of the police cars, playing a game on his iPhone. Grace slid in beside him, Terry stood outside by the open car door, bending down so he could listen to the conversation. David looked up briefly at Grace but did not stop playing, his thumbs flicking rapidly back and forth across the screen as he shot down invading monsters.

‘David? David Jarrett, I’m Detective Chief Inspector Grace Swan. May I talk to you for a moment?’

Reluctantly, David stopped his game, but only after playing for another 10 seconds, just to make his point. ‘Yeah?’

‘Firstly David, I am sorry to confirm that your father Donald is dead.’

‘Yeah, thought he must be.’

‘When you made your 999 call and when you spoke to the response officers, you said that your mother must have hanged herself in the garage. Why did you say that?’

David sniffed loudly and thought for a moment, ‘Dunno really, but it just seemed so obvious at the time. I mean she wasn’t in the house, the garage key wasn’t there and so what else could it be? And I was in shock I suppose, said the first thing that came into my head. Look, I don’t want to talk about it anymore, right? I’m upset, can’t get my head round things, you know what I mean?’

‘All right, I understand but we will have to have another talk later, probably tomorrow.’

‘Whatever.’

‘Just one last thing. Does the garage door have a manual override? There is a key hole at the side, there should be a manual handle or crank to open the garage door when there‘s a power cut. Do you know where it is?’

‘Not offhand, but there is a small key in the wooden bowl on the hall table, that’s where we put car keys, the garage and the alarm remotes, stuff like that. Wondered what it was for, p’raps that’s it.’

‘Very good, David…’

‘Don’t f*****g patronise me, I’m not a kid.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t intend to.’

‘Yeah, whatever.’

‘What about a handle or crank, do you know where that might be?’

‘The only place I can think of is the cupboard under the stairs, Donald keeps, kept, a white plastic box with tools and stuff, most likely in there I should think.’

Having found the key and crank handle as suggested, one of the uniforms inserted the handle into the socket and began to turn it. With a groan of protest the door slowly creaked open until it was raised about three feet. Grace called a halt, not wanting the whole world and his dog to see what was inside and then she and Terry slid underneath the door and into the garage.

Hanging from the roof beams was the body of a woman.