She just had to focus on where she was headed.
29
‘Feels like we’re paying our last respects in a funeral parlour,’ said DS Jessica James. ‘Should be playing organ music.’
The body lay straight on the bed, arms by its sides, legs together, head back, eyes closed. She leaned over it, scrutinising. Particularly the neck and the head. She straightened up, turned to DC Deepak Shah who was next to her. ‘What d’you think? Are you fooled?’
He shook his head. ‘As much as you are, ma’am.’
She nodded.‘If he was standing upright, his head would stay on his neck about as well as a bowling ball on a broomstick.’
The investigation was into its second day but hadn’t made much progress. No one had reported seeing a child matching Josephina’s description, either on her own or with anyone else. But they were still pursuing it, the uniforms out canvassing and the team searching the area.
With nothing else happening, Jessie had paid another call to Jeff Hibbert intending to ask him some more questions, and had received no answer. Thinking that it was unlikely he’d be out, she had gone round the back of the house and found the lock on the door frame hanging off, the frame splintered, the back door itself open.
She ran inside, calling his name with no response. Fearing the worst, she made her way upstairs. And that was how she found him. Laid out on the bed. Peaceful.
She wasn’t fooled for a second.
And neither were the Forensic Scene Investigators. She had called it in straight away, keeping her hands off any surfaces, then carefully retracing the path she had taken into the house in reverse, stepping outside so as not to contaminate the scene further.
The pathologist and FSIs were finishing up their preliminary investigation and had allowed Jessie and Deepak in. They stood in the dull room, the drawn curtains lending it an ever deeper atmosphere of depression.
Her own head was feeling a little like a bowling ball on a broomstick. Caning it two school nights in a row. Not good, but she couldn’t help it. Just the one with a mate. That had been all. Or all she had intended. But it had spiralled and there hadn’t been a happy reception when she had finally got home. She sighed, rubbed her eyes, pushed it all into a small corner of her mind. She could deal with that later. She had more pressing matters to attend to.
‘What a horrible place to live in,’ Deepak said, looking round.
‘And die in,’ said Jessie, turning away from the body and seeing what the rest of the room contained. ‘Which he was doing. Lung cancer, I reckon.’ She pointed to the oxygen cylinder at the side of the bed. ‘He looked rough when I came to see him yesterday. Thought I’d better question him again as quickly as possible.’
Deepak frowned. ‘Why?’
She told him about Stuart Milton and the address he had given. ‘I got the feeling Hibbert knew more than he was letting on.’ She turned back, looked at the bed.‘We’ll never know now.’
Deepak nodded towards the FSIs. ‘Unless they can tell us anything.’
‘True.’
Jessie examined the room once more and noticed a couple of circular marks in the dust on the sideboard. She looked down at the floor. Two ugly figurines lay there, one with its head broken off. Knocked off in the fight, she thought. She knelt down beside them. Glanced under the bed. Saw something …
She got right down, nose almost to the carpet. From her position she could smell how unclean the fibres were. How infrequently it had been cleaned.
‘Stinks down here … ’
‘I doubt housekeeping was top of his priorities, ma’am,’ said Deepak, watching her.
Jessie took out her phone, switched on the flashlight, ran it over the carpet. She ignored the debris and accumulated dust as best she could, concentrated.
‘Yes … ’
She sat up. Felt the room lurch a little as she did so. Last night’s alcohol making its presence felt again. Deepak watched her.
She stood up. ‘There was something under there.’ She pointed. ‘There’s a rectangular mark where something’s been taken.’
Deepak got down on the floor.
‘What d’you think?’ she said.
He shrugged. ‘Laptop? Old family bible?’
Jessie nodded. ‘It looks like — and I don’t think we’re jumping to conclusions here — someone broke in, tried to take his laptop, there was a struggle … ’ she pointed to the broken figurine, ‘and poor old Mr Hibbert got his neck broken.’
‘Then the burglar rearranged the body, hoping to make us think he’d gone peacefully,’ finished Deepak.
‘Exactly.’ She nodded. Looked at the body again. ‘Or … ’
Deepak waited.
‘This was done deliberately, the laying-out of the body. No burglar does that. It’s almost like he’s been left … ’
‘At peace,’ finished Deepak.
‘Right. So … why? Is this all coincidence? Stuart Milton, the fire yesterday, the missing girl, or just some opportunist targeting the house of a dying man?’
‘We don’t believe in coincidences, ma’am.’
‘No, Deepak, we don’t. But what—’ Before she could go further, Jessie’s phone rang. She checked the display before answering. Mickey Philips. She felt something flutter inside her as she put the phone to her ear. Probably last night’s alcohol again.
‘Good morning, DS James.’
‘Good morning, Mickey. And don’t be so formal. Call me Jessie.’
There was silence on the other end of the line. ‘Jessie … James?’
‘Yeah. Wondered when you’d make that connection. But don’t bother, I’ve heard all the jokes. And before you say it, Suffolk Police are not a cowboy outfit.’
He laughed. She liked the sound of it. Deepak turned away.
‘We’re at the house of a murder victim,’ she said, recovering quickly. ‘Just wondering whether it ties in with yesterday’s events.’
‘And does it?’
‘We don’t know yet.’ She told him of the connection.
‘Never ignore a coincidence,’ said Mickey. ‘As my boss always says.’
‘Your boss and I think the same. How is he?’
‘Still under sedation. But they’re hopeful, apparently.’
‘Fingers crossed, then.’
‘Yeah, fingers crossed. Got an update for you.’ He told her about Marina.
‘Well,’ said Jessie after he’d finished, ‘I think we can rule her out of Mr Hibbert’s murder.’
Mickey didn’t laugh. Jessie wasn’t sure if she had meant it as a joke.
‘OK. This is what we’re doing this end,’ she said. ‘We’re looking into Hibbert’s death. We’re going to look for the guy who called himself Stuart Milton, see if we can find him and also run the name, see what we get. We’ve got a team out searching for the missing girl and we’re trying to trace that car that was parked outside the cottage when it went up. We’re going house to house, door to door, giving it the full Hollywood.’
‘Great. I’ll keep looking for Marina, then.’
‘Stay in touch.’
