inside.
On the surface, Natalie still paid attention to the helpful woman, but inside her head were just a few words going round and round.
‘Bleeding, abdominal pain, lower back pain, pelvic pressure, bleeding, abdominal pain…’
Natalie checked her watch and acted alarmed.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she interrupted. ‘I’m going to be late for an appointment, thank you so much for your help. Have a good day.’
She turned and exited the pharmacy, happy that she had the information she’d been looking for.
Ben sat in the swanky office of his father’s solicitor. He finished the coffee the secretary had made for him and placed the cup back onto the saucer.
The house, along with a smaller amount of money had been left directly to Mrs Green, it should eventually be sold, with the proceeds to fund her stay in a good care home, which was for Ben to organise, explained the solicitor, as per his father’s wishes.
Ben, having received over eighty per cent of the valuation of the will, wasn’t expected to spend his life looking after his mother, just to make sure she wasn’t left alone to spiral further into the depths of madness.
But Ben had his own ideas with regards to what was best for his mother.
The solicitor offered Ben the name of a counsellor, someone who he could talk to about the sudden windfall he had just received. Apparently, people who’d never had an abundance of money in their lives, often lost or wasted any unexpected inheritance or lottery win that they came into, and ended back on square one, financially speaking, as they just weren’t prepared for being rich.
Ben knew this wouldn’t be a problem for him, and flatly turned down the offer. Even if Ben had plans to make the money last, the solicitor and the counsellor were probably in cahoots, sharing any money wasted on them by the newly-rich.
Other than that, the transfer of funds only really needed a signature and a photocopy of his identification made. The money was wired directly into the account Ben had chosen and given the solicitor details of, and would normally be available to Ben within days.
Ben stood and shook hands with the man, dressed sharp in a tailored suit, probably a Saville Row. On a normal day, maybe Ben would feel inferior wearing his denim jeans and plain white tee shirt, but not today, today was a day of change.
The solicitor once again gave his condolences for Ben’s loss, and wished him a happier future. Ben accepted the man’s kind words with grace, and thanked the receptionist on his way out of the office.
40
Tanya Reynolds sat in an interview room with Summers.
Summers would have preferred her own office, as Tanya wasn’t a suspect and the grim looking interview room wasn’t the proper environment to help make a heavily pregnant woman who had just lost her husband to a brutal murder feel comfortable, but the walls were covered in photographs and diagrams of dead bodies, crimes scenes and possible murder weapons, which were arguably a lot less comforting than where they sat now.
Tanya had calmed down a lot from the night before, although was understandably not on form. She had grown withdrawn and looked pale, a million miles away from the blossoming expectant mother that she was at the same hour, the day before.
Summers gently tried to prise information from Tanya, but either Tanya was hiding something, or she really did think that David was an angel.
She claimed that David had no enemies, was too charming to offend anyone and his honesty and loyalty meant she found it completely beyond reason that someone would choose to hurt him over anything else. In her eyes David was a saint, this must have been a random attack, and her unlucky husband was the latest unfortunate victim of The Phantom, or some other lunatic that was stalking the streets.
Summers listened to the way Tanya spoke of her late husband and knew what she was witnessing was love, in its purest form.
Was love blind?
On the surface, Summers accepted what Tanya was telling her, there was absolutely nothing to gain by pushing Tanya as what she was saying was the truth, in her head anyway, and in her heart.
Summers, on the other hand, wasn’t in love with David, had never even met him, alive anyway, and knew that no man was as saintly as the man portrayed by Mrs Reynolds.
Was love blind? In this case, yes, it was.
Summers mentioned the link between David and his old boss, Charles Peacock, they were both dead within hours and they used to work together. Did Tanya think there could be a link?
‘No. No, I don’t think so,’ said Tanya, confused.
Summers leant forward and softly took Tanya’s hand in hers.
‘Mrs Reynolds,’ she said, ‘there is a chance, that David was involved in something that you and I don’t know about. These next few days, weeks, are going to be difficult for you. But I want you to know, that we are going to find the person that did this, and lock him up for a long time.’
Summers said they’ll need to go through his phone records and emails to help with the investigation. Tanya’s eyes began to well up again, Summers offered a tissue which she took and dabbed away the tears.
‘To be honest,’ replied Tanya, ‘I don’t like prisons. I don’t think people should be locked up like animals, it’s not right. There must be another way to teach people right from wrong.’
Summers squeezed Tanya’s hand lightly and looked deep into her eyes. Tanya was possibly the most warm-hearted person that Summers had ever met, someone so kind and gentle, yet clearly misguided in her views of law and order. She concluded the meeting and escorted Tanya towards the exit.
‘I’m sorry, is there a bathroom that I could use?’ she asked.
‘Of course,’ replied Summers. ‘Follow me.’
Summers took Tanya’s handbag and placed it by her feet as she waited outside the bathroom door and answered her phone that rang in her pocket.
‘Hello,’ she said when answering the call.
‘Detective Summers, I’ve got some news regarding the evidence we collected from the crime scene of Mr Charles Peacock,’ said the voice from the other end of the phone without introducing himself, Summers concluded it was the head of forensics.
Tanya exited the bathroom, saw Summers on the phone and gently tapped her on the arm, signalling that she was going to leave.
‘One moment, please,’ she said to her colleague on the phone. ‘The exit is just through that door there. Thanks again for your time, Mrs Reynolds.’
She watched as Tanya awkwardly manoeuvred her and the baby in her tummy through the doors and out of the building.
‘So what have you got?’ asked Summers, her attention back to the phone in her hand.
‘Sadly, all the blood we’ve tested seems to be from the victim, Mr Peacock,’ he said.
Summers had the awful feeling in her stomach that this phone call was more of the same bad news that had plagued this case from day one.
‘But,’ continued the forensic scientist, ‘the hair, I knew finding the hair was a stroke of luck, it certainly didn’t look like it should have been there, and we could say a good hunch on my part if we wanted…’
‘Yes, brilliant work,’ cut in Summers, ‘but what are you saying? You have DNA from the hair?’
‘Yes, we do have DNA from the hair root, but no match on the database…’ he said.
No match wasn’t good news, but still, for future use at trial if they ever found their guy would be very helpful indeed.
‘Also,’ he continued, ‘the hair was long, dyed red and has an XX chromosome.’
‘A woman?’ she said, not really asking.
‘Yes, a woman.’ he replied. ‘The preliminary results are ready and will be sent to your office shortly.’
