There’s a hesitation on the line before the caller answers. ‘This is PC Rob Featherby from Shaftesbury. My sergeant said I should call.’
‘Sorry, Rob, I just spilled something. Give me a sec.’ She shifts the paperwork away from the spreading dark puddle and blots it with tissues from her bag. ‘Back with you. Apologies again, what were you saying?’
‘Myself and PC Jones turned out to that burglary over in Tollard. I had the control room call you — they did, didn’t they?’
‘They did. Many thanks. How’s your colleague?’
‘He’s fine. Lost his voice for a bit. Which was no bad thing.’
She laughs. Like most coppers, black humour is what keeps her sane. ‘I just read your report. Very thorough. If we ever get this on Crimewatch, they should book you.’
He’s flattered. ‘Thanks. I try to remember as much as possible.’
‘How can I help?’
‘Are you still interested in the case? The break-in I mean, I know you’re investigating the suicide.’
‘What have you got?’
‘Well, the scenes of crimes mob lifted some good sets of footprints from the lawn and soil beds this morning and they match prints inside the house.’
‘Excellent.’ Her optimism gets the better of her. ‘Have you got a suspect?’
He laughs. ‘We wish. It gets better though. The offender left behind a canvas bag, a sort of break-in kit. It’s filled with tools.’
‘Rob, I’m about forty miles from the Chase estate. Do you think you could meet me over there in, say, two hours’ time? I’d really like you to walk me through where things were found, what you think happened.’
‘I’ll have to check with my sergeant but I don’t see why not. If there’s a problem, I’ll call you back. Okay?’
‘Fine. Thanks.’ She hangs up. She’s glad of the chance to see Gideon Chase again — the opportunity to find out why he’s lying.
32
The hour is up. Caitlyn is dressed and at the door ready to leave.
She got everything she wanted. The guy is cute. Obedient. A pretty good lay. Granted, he could learn to be a bit more patient but that’s a lesson all men could do with attending a few boot camps on.
Jake hasn’t bothered getting dressed. He’s slung on a white towelling robe. He’ll step in the shower when she’s gone. Or maybe he’ll keep the smell of her on him all day. He approaches her, his eyes still hungry. ‘Do I get a kiss goodbye?’ He pops an ecstasy tablet on to the tip of his tongue.
She steps forward and smooches it off him, a reward for his attentiveness. She swallows and steps back a pace. ‘If only they made Es that tasted like Ben & Jerry’s.’
‘Everyone would be high all the time.’
‘Exactly.’
‘So you liked the Cherry—’
She interrupts. ‘What wasn’t there to like. You did well.’
He smiles. ‘And when might I get the chance to do well again?’
‘Don’t get clingy. I can’t do clingy.’
He looks taken aback.
‘Same time, same place, next week. You book. Get everything the same again, only I’ll pay. Okay?’
Now he feels cheap. ‘That’s not necessary. What about a more regular date? A movie, a club, dinner. You do that kind of shit, don’t you?’
She breaks up laughing. ‘Man, you’ve no idea the hell my father would put you through before you even got to buy me coffee.’
He goes silent on her.
She buttons her coat. ‘Look, I have to go. Same time next week?’
He nods.
‘For what it’s worth, I like you. Let’s see how next week goes. Then we can talk about whether we risk the wrath of Daddy for the sake of dinner or a cup of coffee.’
He has nice crinkly lines in the corner of his eyes and a really friendly smile. She gives in to a moment of softness and puts her hands around the back of his neck, kisses him in a way she hasn’t kissed another man. Relaxed. Non-urgent, non-demanding. Intimate.
It shocks her. ‘I have to go.’
Jake barely has time to open his eyes before she’s clicked open the door and is down the corridor. ‘Hey!’
She turns her head.
‘I’m going to surprise you.’ He makes a pretend phone out of his thumb and little finger and holds it to his right ear. ‘Listen for your mobile. Be ready for my message.’
33
Megan draws her Ford alongside the patrol car parked outside the gates of the Chase estate and winds down the passenger window. ‘I guess you’re Rob Featherby?’
A good looking dark-haired man in his early twenties smiles across at her. ‘I am. I just arrived myself. Shall we drive on up?’
She gestures towards the house. ‘Lead the way.’
The PC gives her a playful look, starts the engine and heads off.
They park behind an Audi in the drive and step out into warm sunshine. Featherby brings a thick envelope with him packed with photographs of evidence recovered from the scene.
Megan presses the buzzer and raps the heavy doorknocker for good measure. After close to a minute, she looks towards the A4. ‘He must be in, that’s his vehicle.’
The PC gives the bell another long ring. As he takes his finger off the button, the door opens. Gideon Chase holds it and peers through a foot-wide gap. He looks pale, shaken.
‘Sorry to have to trouble you,’ Megan says. ‘We need to ask a few more questions.’
Gideon can’t face it. ‘It’s not convenient.’ He starts to shut the door.
She puts her foot against it. ‘This is PC Featherby. You have met, though you don’t remember it. He dragged you out of the fire the other night.’
The revelation pulls Gideon up short. He marshals his manners and extends a hand. ‘Thank you. I’m most grateful.’ He glances at her and reluctantly opens the door wide. ‘Best go right through to the back. The kitchen’s the only place I’ve got to know so far.’
They head in as he closes the door. His head is screaming from decoding several diaries and he really doesn’t want them here.
‘Big kitchen!’ Megan shouts, trying to alter the mood. She runs a hand over an old Aga. The only thing missing is femininity. There are no curtains, vases, casserole pots or stacks of spices. It’s been reduced to the worst thing she can think of — functional masculinity.
Gideon joins them. ‘I’m a little embarrassed.’ He looks towards Featherby. ‘You should at least be able to offer the man who saved your life a cup of tea or coffee but I’m afraid there’s no milk. I can do black, if that’s any good?’
‘I’m okay, thanks,’ says the PC.
‘I’m fine as well,’ Megan adds.
Gideon folds his arms defensively. He leans against the cupboards and tries to look bright. ‘So how can I help you?’
She notices his red eyes and presumes stress is starting to take its toll. ‘Forensics from Rob’s station found quite a bit of evidence in relation to the break-in. I’ve asked him to walk me through it, so I can best assemble a profile of the offender. Is it okay with you if we do that?’
He looks helpless. ‘Of course. What do you want me to do?’
‘Nothing.’ She tries to be gentle. ‘We just need access to the study, that side of the house and the gardens. Do we have your permission to do that?’
He’d rather they didn’t but doesn’t feel like he can object. ‘Sure. I’m just sorting some of my father’s things upstairs; please shout if you need me.’
She nods. ‘Thanks. We will.’
He wanders off, feeling like he’s being banished.
Featherby leads the way to the burned-out study. Megan looks at the blackened walls, ceiling and floor. ‘What a mess.’ The place stinks of the fire. ‘You say the source of the blaze was around the curtains and desk?’