‘And the symbols?’
He shrugged. ‘You said they were for protection. Maybe she Googled them.’
‘She’d have to Google pretty deep to get the pelican symbol. Even the Tau-Rho …’ Matt looked back at the storeroom and clicked a finger. ‘CCTV!’
Larry smiled, and the smile turned into a tiny chuckle. ‘I do admire your enthusiasm but they don’t have cameras in the classrooms. It’s a child safety risk. There’s a few cameras at the gates and one that covers the playground.’
‘And?’
‘They recorded Mrs Ellis and her dog rocking up here at about three in the morning, yesterday. She was alone. It’s the last image of her alive. Next time anybody saw her was yesterday at the open day.’ Larry looked down at his fingernails.
Matt stood up from the desk. ‘So that’s it? You’re just moving on?’
‘Not quite. Now I go and tell the husband that he was right all along. His wife was killed by an unstable dog.’
‘Does he have an alibi?’
‘You sound like Columbo.’
‘Does he?’
‘Yes,’ Larry nodded. ‘They have a seven-year-old son. The kid was having a lot of bad dreams lately so they let him stay in their room. He was there last night. Slept next to the dad till the morning.’
Matt thought of Amelia again, scared of her room, and he saw him and Wren dressed in prissy Victorian-era outfits refusing to let her sleep in their bed, and forcing her to sleep in hers, instead. Compassion? What’s that? The child must learn.
He blew out a whistling, guilty breath. ‘I want to come.’
‘Pardon?’
‘Let me come with you. I can ask him about the symbols. Find out where she learnt them from.’
‘Don’t you have to get back?’
He checked his watch. ‘I’ve got ages.’
Larry shrugged. ‘But you let me do the talking, right?’
‘Right.’
‘Right.’ He paused for a second, then he shrugged and they headed out together, Matt taking one last look at the room and the blood pools in it. Outside, an officer with gloves helped them peel off the MC Hammer shoes, now caked with drying blood, and he greedily sucked in fresh air as they crossed the playground to reach the car.
Larry gave the nod to the policewoman. ‘Cleaners can start.’
Just before Matt got in the car he glanced up at the building and noticed the CCTV camera, watching them all with its never-closing eye. Then he looked over at the gates to find the church clan. He thought he might toddle over there, just to dig a little deeper, but they were gone. In fact, the entire street outside of the school looked totally empty and desolate. No moving cars, no locals walking. The only movement was a cold breeze, which blew the leaves in a twirling dance along the pavement.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The front door creaked open. Behind it was a woman in her sixties. Steph Ellis’s mother. Tiny she was, with a bunched-up little face and hunched shoulders. A Jim Henson puppet of a woman who didn’t smile when the door opened. But then, losing a daughter tends to take that body function away for a while.
‘Hello again, Evelyn,’ Larry said.
She stared at him. Through him.
‘I’d like a quick word with your son-in-law, please.’
She closed her eyes and nodded. Old lips pursed, tight and pale.
‘And this is a colleague, Matthew Hunter.’
Larry had dropped the Professor bit. Wisely, Matt thought. No point in flagging up that this woman’s dead daughter was becoming something of a theological exhibit. It didn’t matter, anyway. Evelyn had exactly zero interest in Matt. She shuffled back on slippered feet and let them through as she stared at the wall.
The hall had laminate flooring in pine effect with black and white flowery wallpaper. A large, glass, fairy-tale mirror hung on the wall with a silver, gilded frame. He’d seen this look in the Next catalogue. Seemed to be the thing at the moment. The only clutter he could see was from a small boy’s action figures that were lined up at the bottom of the stairs. He could smell dog in the air too, which was the first time he realised that the four-legged murderer happened to live in this house too.
‘Where is he?’ Larry asked.
Evelyn cleared her throat, which made a tiny bit of food pop onto her lip. Something white. ‘Greg’s in the conservatory and he’s been there most of the day.’ She looked at their legs. ‘Take your shoes off.’
They kicked them off and slid them into a neat row.
As they headed through the lounge to the conservatory, Matt wasn’t quite sure what he expected. Perhaps a red-eyed widower rocking in a rattan chair, surrounded by tear-wet wedding albums. But as they walked into the bright, glass-filled room he saw Mr Ellis with his son. If he was remembering the article correctly the kids name was Josh Ellis, the seven-year-old that Larry said was having the nightmares. They were leaning over a table about a metre and a half square, both of them with fine little brushes, flicking dust from the rooftops of a spectacular village scene made from Lego.
Okay, this was an investigation and these two had just lost a mum and wife. But this was Lego.
‘Wow.’ Matt walked closer. ‘That’s incredible!’
Greg looked up and smiled. ‘It’s Innsbruck.’
‘That’s in Austria,’ the boy said. ‘In Europe.’
‘I see … well, you’ve done an amazing job. It’s really spectacular.’ Matt went to crouch. ‘Sheesh … may I?’
Greg nodded.
Matt dropped a little so he could look over the rooftops. He always did this with models. He got low so he could look through them rather than down at them. Seemed cooler that way. There were little mountains in the distance made of grey bricks, with white bricks at the top for snow. They’d made cobbled streets from different shades. The cows even had tiny bells hanging from their necks. A full diorama and seriously impressive.
‘This must have taken days,’ Larry said, immediately demonstrating his
