Lost Souls by Jenny O'Brien (android e book reader txt) 📕

…’ But before she could finish she felt a slight tug on her arm and, tilting her head, she glanced down at where Diane had scribbled something on the top of her pad.

‘Okay, there is just one further question that my colleague has reminded me of,’ Gaby said, her tone hiding the sudden excitement building. ‘Did your son have a key to your property or, like ninety-nine per cent of the population, is it routine for you to leave a spare hidden in your garden for emergencies?’

She watched the colour fade from Janice’s cheeks. ‘He left his on his desk, along with a note, when he went. There’s also a spare key hidden outside. I can’t remember the last time we had to use it.’

‘Right, thank you. It’s something we’ll follow up with you on your release.’ Gaby finished the interview and depressed the microphone switch. ‘Police Constable Carbone will accompany you to the cell. It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes to check out your alibi. I take it you’ll be heading back to the office in case we have any further questions?’

‘Immediately after I’ve changed out of this lot,’ she said, curling her lip at the state of her dress.

Gaby nodded, turning to the door.

‘Detective Darin.’

She paused, one hand clutching on to her mobile, the other resting on her hip, her mouth barely registering a smile. ‘Yes, Mr Morgan?’

‘I’d like to have a quick word with my wife?’

I’ll just bet you would! ‘Well, as you can see, we’re a little busy right now. All I can promise is that I’ll pass on your message. Now, if you’ll excuse me.’

Chapter 36

Owen

Tuesday 4 August, 8.50 a.m. St Asaph

Owen had started to run through the tasks planned for the day with Diane, only to have her whisked out from under his nose and a very unhappy Marie Morgan take her place. It didn’t take her long to explain why, her speech interspersed with a couple of loud sniffs.

‘I’m sorry, Owen, but I couldn’t sit and face him.’

‘No, of course not and no one would expect you to.’ He pushed to his feet and grabbed his suit jacket from behind his chair. ‘Come on. It’s probably a good idea for us to get away from the office in case that erstwhile husband of yours decides that he can accost you at work. Diane and I have already arranged to meet up with Barbara Matthews’ bosom pals over at her house to see if they can add anything now that the CSIs have finished with the property.’ He picked up his pen and wrote a quick couple of lines on a Post-it Note. ‘I’ll leave this with the desk sergeant on the way out to let Diane know that I’ll be working with you for the remainder of the shift. There’s no point in swapping back halfway.’

Owen hated the complexities of people management, which was the main reason why he’d never decided to go further than detective constable, despite his crime-solving skills and excellent memory, which were a huge bonus to any team. He viewed himself as a backroom detective, quite happy to stay in the shadows and have the limelight diverted to those who relished the attention. The likes of CS Winters and DCI Sherlock were more than happy to leave him to it. It was only Gaby who was determined to see him shoot up the ladder, just as much as he was determined to stay glued to his current rung.

Having Marie along while he visited Barbara Matthews’ home was his way out of a potentially awkward situation. With those three old biddies present, there would be very little opportunity for Marie to discuss anything that wasn’t work-related – unlike the last time they were in the office together, he remembered. A win all round as far as he was concerned.

Owen found himself struggling not to laugh at the way Mildred Pennyworth and her friend Iris Farnsworth immediately accosted him at the front door, both vying for his attention and very much ignoring Doreen Frost, who had taken a step back and was clearly distressed at the whole situation. Once inside, it was Doreen who sat on the chair nearest to the door, her hands neatly folded in her lap, apparently quite happy for Mildred and Iris to take the lead. With her bright twinkling eyes and calm demeanour, Owen had already pegged Doreen as the more observant of the group. The other two would have been too busy asserting themselves to take much notice of anything else. He might be proved wrong but he very much doubted it.

With Marie taking notes, he led them through the lounge and across into the study while they argued between themselves as to what might be missing, Doreen trailing behind.

‘There was a Georgian silver teapot,’ Mildred said, ‘and a collection of Royal Doulton Toby jugs. Three I think.’

‘Edwardian, dear, and actually seven jugs,’ Doreen interrupted in her quiet voice. ‘Don’t you remember her telling us that it was Henry VIII and his six wives?’ She tilted her head towards Marie, a gentle smile holding a glimmer of the beautiful girl she’d once been. ‘Barbara’s father used to be a collector, you know. There were also some miniatures that she used to keep in that drawer over there.’ She pointed to an apple wood desk with ornate brass handles. ‘She rarely took them out as she hated the idea of paying her cleaner extra to dust them.’

‘There’s no sign of them now,’ Marie said with a shake of her head as she stared down at the empty space.

‘She employed a cleaner, did she?’ Owen’s brows knit together, trying to join the dots. If Ellie Fry’s mother was Barbara Matthews’ cleaner …? He shook his head, unable to arrange them into a workable pattern.

‘Two hours a week, rain, hail or shine,’ Mildred said, darting a look of dislike at Doreen, presumably at the temerity of her hogging the conversation. ‘Actually, that’s a point.’