‘What were Gillian Forth’s finances like?’ asked Willis.
‘She didn’t earn a lot of money; friends say she was careful. She had a small mortgage – fifteen grand, thereabouts. Up to six months ago she had twenty grand savings in the bank, then she withdrew the lot. Could be your man Ellerman but equally…’
‘House improvements?’ Carter asked. ‘Did she do the attic conversion with it?’
Tucker shook his head. ‘My first thought too but no… that was done two years ago. She withdrew it all in cash – twenty thousand – and it didn’t turn up again. She may have accounts elsewhere that we haven’t found yet.’
‘What about this boyfriend of hers?’ asked Carter. ‘Neighbours never saw him?’
‘No. He must have been an infrequent visitor if he existed at all. We’ll have to wait for the phone records.’
‘Meanwhile, we can ask Ellerman if he knew her,’ said Carter. ‘We can ask to see his phone records, save time. We’ll see if that twenty thousand turns up in Ellerman’s bank statements.’
‘He’s not likely to give us permission, guv.’
‘Yeah, I know, but we’ll try,’ said Carter, then turned to Tucker. ‘Did you ask her work if they’d ever heard of Ellerman?’
‘I did,’ answered Tucker. ‘They said he was down as one of their clients. He’s used them for parts for his cars.’
They drove to the mortuary and Tucker introduced them to the technician in charge. He wheeled out the body and began removing it from the bag.
‘This is Gillian Forth.’
The charred remains were shrunken into a boxer’s pose: knees up, arms ready to punch.
‘It’s okay.’ Carter held up his hand. ‘I don’t think we need to get the body out – we can see it fine, thanks.’
‘Okay, call me when you’re done.’
‘Thanks.’ Tucker had the post-mortem report in his hands.
Willis peeled back the bag away from the zip.
‘If there’s one thing that I hate it’s barbecued corpse,’ said Carter, standing back.
‘Yeah, nasty,’ agreed Tucker. He opened the post-mortem report on the trolley and rested it on the end of the body bag. There was also a diagram of the house and where she was found.
Willis was taking a closer look at the body.
‘Her skin is blistered where her clothes were,’ she said, matching up the page of the report to the body. ‘Which means she had begun to try and defend herself against the burning.’
‘She didn’t die from smoke inhalation then?’ asked Carter.
‘She had no chance in hell of getting out,’ said Tucker. ‘She was found here, beneath the window.’ He indicated the spot on the diagram of Gillian Forth’s bedroom. ‘There was one way up to her bedroom in the attic and it was completely impassable as soon as the fire started.’
‘They’re saying now that it didn’t have the necessary planning permission. Is that right?’ asked Carter. He was holding the plan of the house in his hand.
‘Yes. It’s true.’
‘What was found in the room with her?’ asked Carter.
‘Usual bedroom furniture: bed, chest of drawers, mirror on the wall, photo… of what? We don’t know. There was also a tablet computer, glass from more than one drinking glass and her phone.’
‘It was too early for her to be in bed,’ said Willis. ‘Was there any evidence that someone else was there, Scott?’
‘In the 999 call she made, she said there was no one else in the house with her. Are we done here?’ asked Tucker. Willis nodded. Tucker called the technician in.
‘Do we know how it started? asked Carter as they walked back to Tucker’s car.
‘It started at the front door. We haven’t found out what was used yet – some kind of inflammable liquid was poured through the letterbox.’
‘Can we go and see Gillian Forth’s house now? And it would be good to talk to anyone we can about her boyfriend,’ said Carter.
‘No problem. It’s not far.’ Tucker started the car. ‘Where are you two staying tonight?’ Tucker looked from one to the other; his eyes settled on Willis. Willis shrugged. ‘Let me take you out and show you some of the sights of Exeter. You can stay in the accommodation at Headquarters.’
Carter grinned. ‘Woo-hoo. Not sure if we can take the excitement, hey, Eb? He turned round to wink at her. Carter could swear she was blushing.
They drove to the cordon surrounding Gillian’s house and parked up.
‘That’s a nasty sight,’ said Carter as they got out of the car; the house had a blackened front to it. The windows were intact on the ground floor. The skylight and part of the roof was burnt out, a gaping black wound in the roof’s structure. ‘You have to seriously hate someone to want them to die like that.’
‘Yeah – the intention to kill was there from the start.’
‘This road is on the way out of the city, isn’t it? Does it get much traffic coming through?’ asked Willis.
‘Only during work hours. It’s not a short cut. Most people go on the bypass. It’s quiet in the evenings. There’s no trouble with parking on this street.’
‘Any recent reports of trouble that might lead up to this kind of thing? Anti-social behaviour? When was the last arson attack you had in the city?’
‘Last summer we had a school set on fire,’ replied Tucker. ‘We have a couple of kids for that. We’ve looked into her company – no court cases pending, no customer complaints, mainly praise for the company.’
‘So, this is personal then,’ said Carter as they stood outside the front of the house. They could see the white of the SOCO forensic team moving past a window upstairs. The blackened stairwell was in front of them as they looked through the open door.
‘Can we talk to the neighbours again?’ asked Carter.
‘Be my guest.’
They knocked on the door to the right of Gillian’s house. It was answered by a man in his late seventies.
‘Hello, Mr Tiller, it’s Detective Sergeant Tucker again. Sorry to bother you. These are two detectives from London who are helping to investigate what happened next door.’
‘Terrible. Terrible shame.’
‘Did you know Gillian well, Mr Tiller?’ asked Carter.
‘Well enough. I’ve only been here a couple of years. If she saw me then we would stop to speak. She was a nice woman. Kept herself to herself.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘Terrible shame.’
‘Did you ever see anyone visiting Gillian, Mr Tiller?’ asked Willis.
‘Like friends, you mean?’
‘Anyone really. What about in the last week?’
‘I don’t see much at all. The weather’s been so bad I haven’t ventured far.’
‘Do you have a car?’ asked Willis.
‘No, dear – not any more.’
‘Do you know the people who have cars on the street?’
‘Yes, I suppose so. When I go down the Spar shop at the end of the road I see the same cars. One of them belonged to Gillian; that’s the blue one over there.’ He pointed to a Polo.
‘Do you know anyone else’s?’
‘That white one down there, with the dog sticker on the window, that belongs to a man and his friend, they live at number 85, that’s three doors the other way. Then there’s the lady in 89 – she has a green hatchback, three-door.’
‘You have a good eye for cars, Mr Tiller.’ Tucker picked up the thread of the conversation.
‘Is there any car you see sometimes and don’t know who it belongs to?’ asked Willis.
Tiller thought about the question and nodded.
‘Yeah. Someone further down the street has a visitor sometimes. He drives a very fancy car. Beautiful-looking machine. Aston Martin.’
‘Have you seen the person driving it?’ she asked.