The couple were silent for some moments. Then Grace asked, ‘When you say “standard coffin”, what is that, exactly?’
‘A choice of any of our wood veneer finishes. Although for a young person, parents sometimes prefer to go for a paper veneer, which we do have to make a charge for. These can be painted a bright colour — a favourite colour, perhaps — or they can be printed with virtually anything: photographs, views, scenes, characters. I can give you links to a few websites that might give you ideas. If he had a favourite toy or TV show, or football team, perhaps?’
Roy turned to Cleo. ‘What about the colours of Bayern Munich?’
She nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said distantly. ‘That could be nice.’
‘Another thing,’ the funeral director said, ‘I don’t know whether you or anyone else would like to visit Bruno? If so, we would suggest our embalmer has a look at him to make sure he is at his best?’
‘We’ve already said our goodbyes,’ Grace said.
Again Cleo turned to Roy. ‘What about his grandparents?’
‘No, they’ve said their goodbyes at the hospital. We won’t be seeing them until the funeral, which is probably for the best.’ He had a long, difficult history with Sandy’s parents, who had, for all the years Sandy had been missing, made out that they believed he had murdered her. They’d taken their suspicions to the highest level of Sussex Police, resulting in Cassian Pewe ordering a ground-penetrating radar search of the garden of his and Sandy’s former house in Hove. He would never forget how this twisted, horrible couple had lied to him rather than tell him she had been alive and living in Munich in Germany.
‘Once you’ve made your choice of coffin,’ Thomas Greenhaisen said, ‘you might consider whether you would like a framed photo or a favourite toy or book to go in it with him. Also, if I may suggest, youngsters are usually dressed in their own clothes. And a final thing for you both to consider is the frill colour of the coffin. It’s usually cream, but we can accommodate any other colour — whatever you would like. With a small extra cost,’ he added and nodded, his face the very picture of phoney sympathy, Grace thought. And remembered an expression he’d once heard: If you can fake sincerity, the rest is easy.
‘OK, Mr Greenhaisen, thank you,’ Grace said, cutting his spiel short. ‘My wife and I will go away and have a think about all these options.’
‘Of course, of course, decisions of this nature must never be hurried.’
‘Indeed,’ Grace said.
Mr Greenhaisen raised a perfect, soft hand that had clearly never actually dug a grave. ‘I would just say that — very sadly in our city — there is always a waiting list for venues and officiates, so the sooner you and Mrs Grace can make your decisions, the sooner we can make the necessary bookings — subject, of course, to the Coroner.’
‘I appreciate that,’ Roy Grace said, irked by the man’s sudden pushiness. ‘But I don’t think our son is in any hurry. Would you be?’
Greenhaisen floundered for a reply, his lips twitching. ‘Of course... I mean... of course, please take your time, these are important decisions.’
‘Yes,’ Grace said. ‘They are.’
He felt tears welling up. He stood, shook hands with Greenhaisen, thanked him with a faltering voice and turned away.
69
Roy and Cleo arrived home shortly after 1 p.m., to be greeted by Humphrey holding another of his collection of ragged stuffed toys in his mouth — with half the stuffing gone, like most of them. He was wagging his tail but seemed more subdued than usual. Grace knelt and hugged him. ‘Brought me a gift, have you, fellow? Thank you.’
Humphrey dropped it, a small bear with both eyes missing that had once been Noah’s before he’d appropriated it, then looked at him, a tad balefully. Did he sense something? Roy suddenly remembered a book Cleo had given him for his birthday last year, a volume of short stories titled Explaining Death to the Dog. Did this creature understand something? That Bruno wasn’t coming home again?
Roy heard beeps and tings and a series of quacks and grunting sounds coming from the lounge — Noah was active in his play area, with his noise-maker toy.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kaitlynn approach. ‘I thought you guys might be hungry,’ she said gently in her Californian accent. ‘I’ve done you a tuna salad and I found some bagels in the freezer which I thought I’d toast to go with it. There’s no need to speak, I know how hard this is for you both. Just know I’m here and can help when you need.’
‘Thanks,’ Cleo said, ‘that’s really thoughtful of you.’
Roy stood up and smiled his thanks, not trusting his voice.
‘I’ve taken Noah and Humphrey for a good walk, so you don’t need to worry about Humphrey for a while,’ she added.
‘Just going to go up to Bruno’s room,’ Roy said to Cleo. ‘See what I can find for some ideas for his—’
‘I’ll come up with you,’ she said, and turned to Kaitlynn. ‘Lunch in ten?’
‘Sure, tell me when you’re ready. You OK?’
Cleo nodded and said in a quiet voice, ‘Yeah, thanks, trying to hold it together — we just feel like we’re in a daze.’
They went upstairs and entered Bruno’s immaculate bedroom. His trainers, football boots and shoes all neatly in a row in front of his white wardrobe. Grace looked at the two posters of Bayern Munich football team on the wall. Alongside them was a large photograph of his local hero, the German footballer Pascal Groß, who had joined Brighton and Hove Albion and was dressed in the team’s blue-and-white strip. Below, sat a red model Porsche Turbo on a shelf beside a row of books and computer games.
‘I’m pleased we can have his coffin printed in the Bayern Munich colours,’ Cleo said.
Roy’s reply was interrupted by his job phone ringing.
‘Detective Superintendent Grace,’ he answered. And heard Glenn Branson’s voice at the other end.
‘Boss, sorry to intrude, but you said to call if we found anything.’
‘Tell me?’
‘The team excavating the deposition-site area have found a bone — they think it might be human. Lucy Sibun’s assistant attended and says it could be a lower arm radius, but we might not know for sure until Lucy gets here — which is not going to be until early evening. Meantime, they’re emailing photographs of it to Dundee.’
Dundee University ran the UK Centre for Anatomy and Human Identification. They could normally identify bones as being human or belonging to another animal within a few hours.
Grace thought for a moment. Glenn had the search under control and, strictly, he wasn’t needed. But as the SIO, with there being a potentially significant find, he wanted to be there. And besides, not really wanting to admit this to himself, it would be a welcome, temporary distraction.
‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’d like to see the site.’
‘I’m heading there, want me to pick you up? I could be with you in forty-five minutes.’
Grace thought briefly. He didn’t feel like talking to anyone at the moment and wondered about driving there on his own. But maybe it would be good to have the company of his friend. ‘Sure. Where exactly is it?’
‘Want me to give you the what3words location?’
‘Thanks.’
‘It’s boil.stunner.throwaway,’ Branson said.
Memorizing them, Grace entered them in the what3words app on his phone. The app had recently become an invaluable tool for the police. The entire world had been gridded into three-metre squares, each of which was given a three-word ident. boil.stunner.throwaway showed him a location in Ashdown Forest a short distance from what looked like a parking area.