‘Yes, darling, I know,’ she whispered.
‘And the family?’
‘He’d killed them,’ said Mrs Edwards quietly. ‘The children he’d suffocated with pillows as they slept, so at least they hadn’t suffered.’ Tears rolled down her cheek and she lowered her face so that she could use the cat’s fur to brush them away. ‘They were little angels, those boys. I should never have gone upstairs, should I, Mr Nightingale?’
Nightingale shrugged, not sure what to say. He needed her to continue talking and he didn’t want to say anything that would stem the flow. He looked across at Jenny and she grimaced.
‘Seeing something like that, it’s like having a photograph that you can’t erase. It’s been years since I could remember what my father looked like. These days he’s just a big man with a moustache, I can’t remember his face. But those children, their faces will stay with me until the day I die.’
‘And Mrs Fraser?’
‘Sally? He’d strangled her. And banged her head against the wall. It had smeared down the wall in the boys’ bedroom. The flies were in the bedroom, too. Buzzing and crawling over their faces.’
‘Then you called the police?’
Mrs Edwards nodded. ‘They were here almost immediately. You hear stories about how slow the police are, but I phoned nine nine nine and I was still talking to the operator when the first police car came.’
‘It must have been terrible for you.’
‘I was in shock, I think. A very nice policewoman took me into my house and made me tea and put far too much sugar in it. She said sugar helps you when you’re in shock.’
‘It does.’
She smiled. ‘It didn’t help me, I can tell you that. A doctor came over and he gave me an injection and that made me feel a bit better, so at least I got some sleep that night.’
‘The thing is, Mrs Edwards, do you have any idea why he would have done what he did?’
She shook her head. ‘He loved those boys. Loved them with all his heart. And Sally was the apple of his eye. Once a week I’d babysit so that they could have an evening out. And he was always bringing her flowers and chocolates.’
Jenny leaned forward and smiled encouragingly. ‘How long had they been married?’
‘Five years, I think.’ She frowned as she stroked the cat. ‘Their anniversary was in July. He took her out for a slap-up meal with champagne and everything and he bought her a gold bracelet.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘I don’t understand why he did what he did.’
‘Was he a drinker?’ asked Jenny. ‘Or drugs?’
Mrs Edwards laughed harshly. ‘Good grief, no. I mean, he’d have a beer sometimes and wine with meals but he didn’t have a drink problem.’ She nodded at the ceiling. ‘Now him upstairs, he went through a phase a few years ago when he was drinking way too much but his diabetes put paid to that. But John was as good as gold. He was a lovely man, Mr Nightingale. He was great with the kids and Sally loved him with all her heart.’
‘They didn’t argue?’ asked Nightingale.
‘Of course they argued. What sort of marriage would it be without arguments? And raising boys is never easy. But he never lifted his hand to the boys and barely even raised his voice to them.’
‘So no shouting matches, no outbursts?’
‘Nothing. He wasn’t the type. And Sally was a lovely girl. A slip of a thing. John was always so protective of her.’
‘So why do you think he did it, Mrs Edwards?’ said Nightingale. ‘What do you think made him snap?’
Mrs Edwards tried to rub her face against the cat’s back but the animal slipped from her grasp and jumped down to the floor. Mrs Edwards looked over at Nightingale. ‘You know what I think? I think he was possessed. I think something made him do it.’
75
Nightingale lit a cigarette as they walked towards Jenny’s Audi. ‘You’re not getting into my car smoking that,’ she said.
‘Come on, the new car smell went ages ago,’ said Nightingale.
‘It’s not about the smell, it’s about secondary smoking being a killer.’
‘I’m not sure that’s true,’ said Nightingale. He took a lungful of smoke, held it deep in his lungs, and let it out, careful to blow it away from the car. ‘There’s a lot of anti-smoking hysteria these days.’
Jenny shook her head, unwilling to get into a discussion about the rights and wrongs of smoking with Nightingale. ‘So what do you think?’ she said.
‘About what?’
‘About what she said? Possession? Do you believe that?’
Nightingale shrugged and took another drag on his cigarette. ‘If he was possessed then maybe whatever it was moved from the girl to the nurse.’
‘So where is it now?’
‘I’m no expert on this, kid,’ he said. ‘Maybe it just moved on. I don’t know.’ He dropped the remains of his cigarette onto the pavement and ground it out.
‘There is another possibility, of course,’ she said.
‘Yeah? What’s that?’
‘Mrs Steadman might just be stark raving mad.’
Nightingale smiled thinly. ‘To be honest, I hope you’re right,’ he said. ‘Because if she isn’t, I’ve no idea what the hell I’m going to do.’
Jenny’s phone rang. She smiled apologetically at Nightingale and took the call. ‘Uncle Marcus!’ she said, and Nightingale winced at the enthusiasm in her voice. ‘Sure. Dinner would be great. Excellent.’
She ended the call and put the phone away. ‘Uncle Marcus?’ said Nightingale.
‘He’s in London on Friday and wants to take me for dinner.’ She unlocked the Audi and climbed in.
Nightingale forced a smile. ‘You can’t turn down a free dinner.’ He got into the front passenger seat.
‘Not at the Ivy, anyway,’ said Jenny. ‘Do you want to come? It’d give you a chance to get to know him.’
‘I’d love to,’ lied Nightingale. ‘I’ve got something on.’
‘Jack, I promise not to mention work,’ she said.
‘The thought hadn’t even entered my mind,’ said Nightingale.
76
‘Come on, Bella, open wide.’ The dentist smiled down at her but Bella steadfastly refused to do as she was told.
‘I don’t want to.’
Malcolm Walton had been a dentist for almost twenty years and he’d never liked working with children, but they represented a big chunk of his six-figure income so he’d learned to just grin and bear it. ‘I’m not going to do anything that will hurt you,’ he said. ‘This is just a check-up. And afterwards you can choose a toy from my toy jar.’
His assistant Debbie picked up the big glass jar of cheap plastic toys and shook it as she smiled encouragingly.
‘I don’t want a toy.’
Debbie put down the jar. ‘Would you like to watch a DVD?’ she said. ‘We have some great cartoons.
There was a flat screen TV up near the ceiling that they used to distract patients. It worked well. Cartoons kept the kids occupied, men could be distracted by rock videos with scantily dressed dancers, and Walton had most of the soaps recorded to keep the housewives quiet.
