Jack had finally been allowed into the greenhouse around 4 p.m. and, since then, had been sifting through the debris with Mal. They’d been told that they had to confine themselves to the front half of the greenhouse, due to most of the debris falling towards the back. This had not yet been checked by CSI and it was their hope that whoever installed the vents, heaters and filter system might have left usable prints behind on items currently buried.
Mal had asked CSI to bag several stacks of plant pots which had melted together in groups of twelve. His hope was that one of them might have a branded label or barcode on the bottom which, due to being stacked, might have been protected from the flames. The rest of the greenhouse was an unsalvageable mess in terms of evidence. Mal confirmed that the plants themselves gave them nothing unique to go on. ‘There’s a metal shell from one of the heat lamps with forensics which could have prints, and I’ve written down the serial number. The water pump had a serial number too. You can get all of this stuff online or from garden centres but, once we know the shop, we might get lucky with CCTV.’ Jack asked Mal to keep in close contact as their separate investigations progressed. ‘I’ll call you every day, Jack, even if it’s just to say that there’s nothing to say. This looks like gangs to me, but you have doubts?’
A voice came from the back door. ‘Sir, she’s coming out.’ Jack acknowledged the uniformed officer with a wave before returning his attention to Mal.
‘No, I get it, Mal. The volume of drugs says gangs. And callous dismemberment says gangs. But the victim... where does she fit in? How does someone like Avril Jenkins get involved with gangs?’
Jack thanked Mal for his usual meticulous attention to detail and walked round the outside of the property to the front driveway where the black mortuary van was parked close to overhanging bushes, away from prying eyes. A trolley with a black body bag on it bumped down the three steps which led from the front door. Angel followed it out. Once outside, she removed her face mask.
‘I did a walk through, Jack, and you’re right about there being no visible blood drops anywhere else in the property. I think your killer or killers must have worn paper suits.’ Angel headed for her car. ‘Right, I’m knackered. I’m going before you ask me to do anything else. We processed the attic room like you asked — results from everything will start filtering through from tomorrow afternoon. Send me a priority running order if you’ve got one, otherwise I’ll start with the en suite and work my way out. ’Night, pet.’
Jack walked slowly down the driveway, surveying the vast, multi-faceted crime scene. Above a lowest part of the partitioning hedge, Bernard Warton was watching vehicles leaving. He looked deeply shocked and made no attempt to hold back the tears. ‘Find whoever did this, won’t you, Detective Warr? I know I said some horrible things about Avril, and I’m not going to be a hypocrite by taking any of them back, but I don’t think she did any harm.’ Warton managed a crooked smile, even though his lower lip was trembling. ‘She kept me on my toes. I don’t know what I’m going to do without her.’
‘I’ll find who did this, Mr Warton. And when I do, I’ll knock on your door. Then me and you can have a drink to Avril Jenkins.’ Warton nodded in tearful agreement, then disappeared below his immaculate hedge.
Jack looked back and watched the mortuary van doors slam shut. Avril had been her own worst enemy by being so challenging, defensive and untrusting. But she’d not always been like that. Mr Warton had known a better woman than the one Jack met. That was the woman Warton cried for now. And that was the woman Jack would get justice for.
Chapter 6
Arnold Hutchinson was a man in his early 70s, wearing a three-piece pinstriped suit and with a mane of grey hair that might not have been his own.
A smartly dressed young lady entered his large, opulent office with a tray of tea. ‘That’s May. She’ll be my boss before I know it. Very smart girl, but serious as hell.’ Arnold stirred the pot. ‘I can’t believe Avril’s been murdered, DCI Ridley. I mean, why would anyone do such a thing? I’ve looked after their legal, business and financial matters for going on forty years. When her husband Frederick died she inherited everything. In truth, that house has been beyond her means for the best part of a decade. It’s mortgaged to the hilt. Freddie had some high- and low-risk investments, but the Iceland Bank crash lost him a great deal of money. Lost some of his clients’ money too. Clients can hold grudges if the losses are big enough. Maybe one of them...?’
‘I don’t think it’s likely...’ Ridley said. He couldn’t imagine vengeful investors resorting to the dismemberment of a spouse, ten years after the husband had died. ‘But we’ll not dismiss anything without checking into it.’
Arnold shook his head. ‘I can’t believe she’s gone. She was an extraordinary lady. Didn’t suffer fools — and why should she? But she was always charming to me. After Freddie died, she became very careful with money. The house cost her far more than she got in, so she sold a few paintings to keep the wolf from the door. She’d have been ripped off, no doubt, but she was a proud woman who struggled with asking for help, regardless of it being freely offered.’
‘Did you know Adam Border?’ Ridley could tell by the blank expression on Arnold’s face that the name didn’t even ring the vaguest of bells. ‘He was her gardener and odd-job man.’
Arnold explained that he never saw Avril at the house, she always came to his office, so he hadn’t met any workmen. When Ridley asked if Avril and Frederick Jenkins had any family, Arnold mentioned that Freddie had a brother in California, who lived with his partner. Other than that, it was his understanding that there was no extended family on either side. Arnold became more disturbed when Ridley asked about the cannabis in the greenhouse.
‘You’re bloody joking! Drugs? Well, she didn’t know they were there, I can tell you that much. Where was the greenhouse? Miles away from the house, I bet.’ Arnold took a moment to calm himself. ‘She can’t have known, DCI Ridley. She was eccentric in recent years, but she was good. Fundamentally good.’
Ridley reminded Arnold that he had only just finished explaining how Avril had been known to sell the odd painting to — in his words — ‘keep the wolf from the door’.
‘I did say that, yes... which is exactly why I don’t believe she’d need to sell drugs for financial reasons.’
Arnold confirmed that he’d last seen Avril ten months ago. They’d spent the hour exchanging pleasantries and drinking tea, just as they always did. The only business they discussed was why her utility bill was so high when she’d not changed her habits. They’d concluded that it was a mistake and she’d left saying that she’d call the utility company with an accurate meter reading. Arnold couldn’t seem to get his head round the idea that he’d never see Avril again.
‘After Freddie died, it felt like my duty to look after Avril for him. She didn’t make it easy, but I called her monthly. Not that she always answered. Each time I spoke with her, I asked if she was OK and if there was anything she needed. She always said she was fine. I’m so sorry if I let her down. I tried my best.’
By 8 p.m., Jack was alone inside Avril’s property. Outside, two uniformed officers stood on sentry duty by the front gates, whilst others were still doing door-to-door around the neighbouring houses, and one SOCO van was still parked on the driveway.
Jack had explored every room in the house and was about ready to call it a day, when he noticed the double garage. He’d parked outside it on his second visit, but he now wondered if it had been searched yet.
Jack stood on his tiptoes and peered in through the filthy window. He tried to clean away the grime with his coat sleeve, but it was as much on the inside as the outside. He could, however, make out two vehicles under tarpaulins — one large, one smaller. As he was still wearing his protective paper suit, Jack pulled on a fresh pair of nitrile gloves and turned the unlocked Yale. Jack pulled at the wooden door which dug into the gravel where it had dropped over the years, but not too deeply for it to open.