‘Constable, Sean, what else can you tell me? At least, before the crime scene examiner and his people move us out.’
‘It’s not a suicide pact.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘If you look again, you will see some clothes stuffed in a corner and some footprints made in the blood. There was a third person.’
‘The murderer?’
‘That would be the assumption.’
‘What else?’
‘Female, judging by the discarded clothes.’
‘Anything else?’
‘There is a number carved into the male’s chest.’
‘What does that mean?’ Sara Stanforth asked.
‘No idea, but there it was. Number 2.’
The crime scene examiner arrived, briefly spoke to the DI and the PC, donned his overalls, put gloves on his hands, protectors over his shoes, and commenced his work.
‘A full report as soon as possible,’ Sara Stanforth said.
‘You’ll have a preliminary within two hours. The full report sometime tomorrow,’ Crime Scene Examiner Crosley replied.
Stanforth phoned DCI Bob Marshall. ‘I want this case,’ she said.
‘It’s yours. Don’t stuff it up.’
‘I won’t.’
Sara could see that PC Sean O’Riordan was a good man, and his analysis of the murder scene had been spot on. If he wanted, she would see if he could transfer over to her team.
The DI donned a similar outfit to the crime scene examiner and re-entered the murder scene. PC O’Riordan intended to remain at the scene as well. A murder investigation excited him, even if the sight of the blood had not.
***
It had been forty-eight hours since Gregory Chalmers had been murdered.
CSE Crosley had filed a preliminary report: verbally at the crime scene, in writing later that night. The full report would be coming through within a couple of days, subject to forensics.
‘Gregory Chalmers died as a result of multiple knife wounds to the chest; in his case, a Mundial carving knife, with death as a result of severe blood loss. The number 2 was carved on his chest after his death,’ he had said.
‘How long after?’ Sara Stanforth had asked.
‘Difficult to be certain, but less than five minutes. And a different knife to the one that killed him. Almost certainly the knife that was used on Stephanie Chalmers. Forensics can confirm.’
‘And the third person?’
‘Female, mid-twenties, blonde hair.’
‘Any more you can tell me about her?’
‘Not really. I am only confirming the blonde hair and that it was a female. The age is assumed due to the style of the clothing found at the scene. She used a downstairs shower and helped herself to some clothes from the wardrobe upstairs. She was probably in the house for another fifteen minutes after the crime was committed. We can ascertain that she acted calmly after the earlier violence.’
‘How?’
‘The shower was still wet. On getting out of the shower, she dried herself and hung the towel on a hook. She also wiped the bathroom floor. Not the actions of someone frantically attempting to leave a crime scene.’
‘Anything else?’
‘No sign of forced entry, so we are assuming it is the woman in the photo that we found in one of the children’s bedrooms.’
‘Is there a name?’
‘Not on the photo, although the young boy who dialled 999 mentioned an Ingrid.’
‘The photo shows a woman in her twenties,’ Sara Stanforth said.
‘The assumption is that the murderer and the woman in the picture are one and the same,’ Crosley said.
‘That’s it at the present moment, an assumption?’ Sara asked.
‘You’re the lead detective on this case. It’s for you to find out.’
***
‘It was her,’ the heavily-bandaged woman said as she sat up in the hospital bed.
‘Her?’ DI Stanforth asked. She had been warned that Stephanie Chalmers was still under sedation and had nearly died on the operating table. According to the doctor, she had only just made it; a miracle, he had said, which, to Sara, were not the words that she expected to hear from a doctor. Besides, she had no time for miracles. To her, there was no such thing, only hard work and sheer dogged perseverance. She realised that she was a driven woman, and the only time that she would relax her guard was in the confines of the small apartment that she shared with her DCI, and then only when the door was closed.
‘Ingrid. I trusted her with my children.’ It was evident to Sara that the woman’s slow speech was a result of the sedation. Apart from that, she appeared coherent.
‘I need to ask some questions.’
‘I want that bastard woman brought to justice. She killed Gregory.’
‘Yes, I know. I need your help,’ Sara said. She was not an overly sentimental woman, but she could feel a profound sadness for Stephanie Chalmers.
She had noticed the two children outside and had briefly spoken to the woman who was looking after them. Stephanie Chalmers’ sister had told her that the children were as well as could be expected under the circumstances. Sara Stanforth could only agree; the first time she had seen a dead body, fished out of the River Thames, bloated and naked, its hands tied behind its back, she had been upset for weeks. And the young boy, a sensitive soul according to his aunt, had seen his father covered in blood, his mother dying.
It was remarkable that he had the clarity and the intelligence to phone the emergency services and to give an address, Sara thought.
The aunt had said that she would have expected no less, but now Billy Chalmers and his sister Emma were detached from reality. They had seen their mother, asked when she was coming home, and where was Daddy.
‘Ingrid?’ Sara asked the woman lying in bed.
‘I took her on to help with the children.’
‘Did she?’
