That little bitch went too far, he watched his mother pound the dough.
“Does Sanita know about this, Mum?”
Sandip racked his brain, wondering what progress the police had made with the reinvestigation of the case. He too never believed in Chelsea’s innocence when it came to his dad’s decision to cut him, his sister, and mother out of his will in favour of a woman young enough to be his daughter—a woman he had only known for seven to eight weeks.
Each month that passed, his anger boiled, his debts crept up, and he felt distain towards his dad, and Chelsea.
“No. I’ve not been in contact with her yet, everything’s happened so fast. The police only made contact the day before yesterday.”
Sandip nodded and watched his Mum pound the dough with interest. He pulled out his phone and updated his sister on the latest news on their father’s cold murder case.
22
Tables Turn
Detective Dunne
Standing in the light rain outside the building, Dunne and McDonald glanced at one of Chelsea’s windows.
Buzzing her flat number on the intercom, received no response.
Dunne stepped back from the entrance and his gaze roamed over the building. “Well, we’ve got the warrant to enter. It’s not going to be easy to cave in this security door.”
McDonald glanced over at the intimidating door, made with toughened glass and reinforced metal.
One of Chelsea’s neighbours made their way out.
“Is everything okay?” The elderly lady looked up from her small height to Dunne and McDonald, then at the surrounding uniformed officers. “Oh, dear.”
Finally, a stroke of luck, he thought.
“Yes, ma’am everything is fine.” Dunne grabbed the heavy door and allowed the lady to exit. “We just need to enter the building to carry out an investigation.”
“Oh, okay. I’ve lived here for almost ten years and never so much as seen anyone park illegally.” She re-arranged her handbag and walking stick, then expanded her umbrella to shield herself from the rain.
“Everything’s fine. By the time you’re back, we’ll be out your way.”
She glanced around and looked back at Dunne with a non-fussed expression. “No, no, don’t rush, take your time. If there’s something you must do, I’ll leave you to it.”
The elderly lady made her way down the street.
Dunne held to door open with his foot and took one final glance around the parking lot.
“Strange,” Dunne said, “her car’s parked downstairs, and the lights are on upstairs.”
He looked up at her window again.
McDonald nodded toward the inside of the building, then signalled to the uniformed officers to head inside. His ice blue eyes, and serious expression, turned back to his partner. “There’s only one way to find out what the deal is.”
Dunne, followed by McDonald and the uniformed officers, all piled into the building.
“All clear.” Dunne turned and beckoned his team to follow his lead up toward Chelsea’s front door.
The men took the stairs two at a time and arrived outside unit number twenty-five.
Dunne pressed his ear against the door. He nodded back at the uniformed officers on stand-by with a bollard to cave in the door frame.
Boom
The bollard ploughed into the wooden surface, it flew open, illuminating the hallway to Chelsea’s home.
“Chelsea.” Dunne crossed the threshold, then cleared the entrance. “Chelsea.” There was still no response. He turned to his team of men and waved them in, encouraging them to follow his lead.
“Chelsea.”
No response.
Dunne moved farther into the hallway, then kicked the bedroom door that was slightly ajar. Frustrated, he moved slowly down the hallway and walked into the open plan lounge and kitchen area.
“Oh, fuck,” he shouted, “call an ambulance someone.”
Dunne ran over to Chelsea, McDonald close on his heels.
Her body was sprawled in an awkward position on the floor.
McDonald reached down to check her pulse. “Forget it. We’re too late, she’s dead.”
Dunne and his partner looked around the living room area.
“The only sign of a struggle is the fridge door left wide open and a smashed bottle of wine on the floor,” said McDonald.
Dunne noted the shopping bags from an art supply store positioned neatly on the sofa. He walked over, pulled out a pair of gloves from his inside pocket, slid them on, and then used a finger to open the canvas bag. From inside, he pulled out a receipt.
“The date and time show she bought the items yesterday.” Dunne showed McDonald the receipt. “Someone bag this up for evidence,” he demanded. “Prints, DNA, everything, find it. Contact the store and ask for the CCTV footage from the last twenty-four hours.”
“Yes, sir,” one of the uniformed officers responded.
Within the hour, Chelsea’s home was sealed off with tape.
Dunne looked around the disarray in disbelief.
McDonald approached with his note pad in hand. He pointed down to his notes. “I’ve spoke to the neighbours. No one heard a sound or knows anything.”
“Typical,” Dunne scoffed. “Any CCTV around the place?”
“Nada, not a damn thing.”
McDonald huffed, then ran a hand over his stubble. His eyes roamed over the living area, busy with the forensic team. Cameras flashed, and everyone worked in silence.
“Right, forensics are dusting down every inch of the place,” McDonald said and turned to Dunne.
“Okay, let’s head out.” Dunne glanced around one final time.
McDonald nodded. “One second, let me grab this.” He pulled his phone out from his pocket. “Hello,” he said into the device, then listened to the caller. “Okay, thanks.” With the push of a button, he ended the call and met Dunne’s gaze.
“What is it?”
“Chelsea’s body is on its way for an autopsy, not much else we can do here.”
Dunne raised an eyebrow. “Okay, let’s head out to Mrs. Patel’s.”
23
Process of Elimination
Detective Dunne
“I say we bring her in for further questioning.” Parked a few houses away from Manisha’s home, McDonald turned to face Dunne. “We don’t have the time to hang around.”
“Hmm, but with Chelsea’s death, a murder weapon in hand, and another suspect placing Chelsea in the picture for Tony’s murder, it’s a hard call.” Dunne paused, then looked up at the family home. “What do we really
