Body in the Woods (Carlos Jacobi Book 1) Page 4

  He poured another coffee and looked into his dog’s adoring eyes.

  ‘Didn’t even bother to tell Mrs Sissons face-to-face, Lady. I hope he’s more sympathetic when they meet.’

  6

  Sophie flew down the stairs, satisfied her makeup was in place and she was dressed just smartly enough to come across as professional, but casually enough to put her neighbour at ease.

  ‘I wish you were coming.’

  Her brother stood to see her out.

  ‘Me too, but you’ll be less threatening alone. Trust me, Masters won’t want me anywhere near. Try not to tell him what you do for a living.’ Carlos kissed her cheek.

  ‘Unless he asks.’

  ‘He won’t. He’s not one for detail, and experience tells me his only interest is himself. I’m going out for the morning to chase up some leads on the case I’m working on. Should be back around two. Is it all right if I leave Lady here? She won’t be any trouble.’

  ‘No problem. I’d better go, Carlos.’ Sophie ruffled Lady’s fur before departing.

  As soon as she arrived at her neighbour’s, the door opened. Meg must have been looking out for her; she appeared years older and much frailer than she had been just a few days ago.

  ‘Hello, Meg. I’m so sorry to hear about Harold.’ Sophie knew better than to try to hug her, as an attempt in the past had turned awkward, the older woman going stiff as a board. She and Gary had laughed later that day when she told him. He had explained that some older people just don’t like being hugged.

  ‘Thank you, Sophie. Do come in. I’ve made a pot of tea.’

  Sophie scanned the familiar room as she followed Meg into the lounge. Everything was in exactly the right place, just as it always was. She’d only been in the house half a dozen times, but nothing ever changed. There was not a grain of dust, as far as she could see; the polished dining room sideboard held a fruit bowl placed dead centre on a doily that, although ancient, was clean.

  The sterility of the lounge always struck Sophie as lacking personality, particularly as the place had no photos. Most elderly people she knew displayed family photos, often a youthful wedding photo to remind themselves of times past, but there were none. She knew Meg had a daughter called Caroline, but when she had asked about her, a faraway look had appeared on the older woman’s face. Now that she thought of it, Sophie didn’t know her neighbour at all. They passed the time of day, spoke about mundane things like the weather in the typical British way, but Meg and Harold had always answered questions with automatic responses.

  ‘How are you?’

  ‘Fine, and you?’

  Since Harold Sissons’s disappearance, Sophie had managed to get a little more information out of Meg, but not much.

  ‘How are you?’ Out of habit, Sophie asked the ridiculous question.

  ‘Holding up.’ Meg looked behind Sophie as if expecting someone else. The police were due any minute; perhaps she was looking for them.

  ‘I can’t believe he’s gone.’

  Was that a sense of relief Sophie detected in Meg’s usually expressionless eyes? Of course not, she’s in shock.

  ‘Have you told Caroline?’

  Sophie noticed the immediate stiffening of the old woman’s body as she stopped in front of the tea tray she’d neatly prepared for her arrival. A vacant confusion crossed her face.

  ‘Who?’

  Sophie’s mouth dropped open. She wondered if the woman’s shock was more serious than she’d realised.

  ‘Here, let me bring that through.’ Sophie lifted the tray and laid it on the coffee table in the lounge part of the room. Meg followed, like a puppy.

  ‘Harold usually does that.’

  Sophie nodded, understanding. ‘Shall I pour?’

  ‘No!’ Meg snapped. ‘I do that. Harold wouldn’t like it.’

  Sophie was glad she’d put the tray down or she might have dropped it. Gary teased her about how clumsy she was, and the sudden sharpness in Meg’s usually meek tone had made her jump. She withdrew her hand and smiled. The routine she had previously thought quirky now struck her as verging on obsessive.

  Why didn’t I notice it before?

  ‘Please take a seat.’ Meg recovered, taking over the pouring, but not before moving the tray to the exact central position on the table. Sophie sat down, and almost straight away she heard car doors slamming outside, followed by a loud male voice.

  That must be the DCI Carlos mentioned, the reason he’s not here.

  Meg remained seated, pouring tea as if she hadn’t heard anything and not looking up when the door knocker banged. Sophie surreptitiously glanced to check whether her neighbour wore a hearing aid.

  ‘Milk, no sugar, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, please. Meg, I think the police are here. Should I answer the door?’

  ‘No. We don’t answer the door at this time. Harold doesn’t like to be disturbed when having tea.’

  ‘Meg,’ said Sophie gently. ‘The police are here to talk about Harold. I think we should answer.’

  Meg gazed up from pouring her own tea. The vacant mask and confused eyes appeared once more. The pause lasted forever as the door knocker banged again, louder this time. Then, as if a light had been switched on, the older lady rose from her seat and hurried to the door.

  ‘Mrs Sissons, I’m DCI Masters and this is DS Cook. I believe Sergeant McDonald called earlier to arrange an appointment.’

  ‘Yes, Chief Inspector. Do come in, I’ve made tea.’

  Sophie remained seated as a burly man in his mid-thirties stomped into the room, followed by a scruffy female wearing a pale blue plastic mac. DCI Masters was handsome in a rugged sort of way and obviously kept himself in shape. He was dressed more smartly than his DS in a brown suit with an immaculately positioned tie. His hair screamed ex-army as if he wanted to let people know where he came from. She noticed the head of a snake tattoo peering from the right-side of his neck, above the collar of his shirt.

  DS Cook was mid-forties, obese and the opposite of her boss. She wore a loose-fitting pink floral dress that had seen better days underneath the unbuttoned mac. Her lipstick was smudged, but her face was radiant and kind. Sophie liked her immediately.

  ‘And who might you be?’ The DCI addressed Sophie.

  ‘This is my neighbour, Mrs Cole. I asked her to be here, Inspector. I don’t want to miss anything with my memory not being what it was.’

  ‘I see.’ He shrugged.

  ‘Shall we sit down?’ DS Cook motioned to the remaining two armchairs and the DCI sat down heavily on the one nearest the fireplace.

  Meg let out an audible gasp. DCI Masters missed the reaction, but DS Cook was on it in an instant.

  ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘It will be easier to talk if we all sit.’ Her voice was low and reassuring.

  Meg returned to the sofa, sitting next to Sophie while anxiously keeping the other chair in sight.

  DS Cook fetched a dining chair from the far end of the room. ‘Sir, why don’t you sit over there while I sit here and take notes?’ She directed her boss to the other armchair.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I think it would be better, sir. You would be able to see Mrs Sissons better.’

  The DCI, clearly oblivious to the distress he was causing Meg, let out a deep, impatient sigh and moved his heavy frame from one chair to the other. Meg visibly relaxed and poured two more teas, not asking if either of the police officers wanted milk or sugar.

  ‘If we’re quite ready?’ DCI Masters stared pointedly at his DS. ‘Sergeant.’

  ‘Mrs Sissons, we understand Detective Sergeant McDonald called you this morning to inform you that a body had been found in Shady Woods last night?’

  ‘Harold.’

  ‘We believe it is your husband, as the clothes fit the description on file, but we need to await confirmation. I was wondering, do you have a recent photo of your husband?’

  ‘Harold didn’t like having his photo taken.’

  ‘I see.�
�� DS Cook looked at her boss, obviously not wanting to proceed without permission. He nodded for her to continue. ‘Did your husband wear a wedding ring?’

  ‘No. Harold said such things were a needless expense. He didn’t like waste.’

  DS Cook raised an eyebrow and proceeded gently. ‘Are you certain there are no photos? A driving licence or passport perhaps?’

  Meg thought for a moment. ‘Harold did renew his passport last year. Just a moment.’

  Sophie couldn’t understand why the police couldn’t just check the DVLA records for themselves, but didn’t say anything. She was here as an observer.

  ‘Show her the photos,’ DCI Masters hissed while Meg was out of the room.

  DS Cook shook her head.

  Meg returned with a purple passport and passed it to DS Cook. Sophie realised it was a good move, bringing DS Cook along. Perhaps the DCI wasn’t as bad as her brother thought he was.

  DS Cook handed the passport to the senior officer before continuing. ‘We’ll show this to the coroner for confirmation. Would you be happy to look at some photos of the clothes we found?’

  Meg nodded before glancing at the photos briefly. ‘That’s the tie he always wears on a Thursday. The jacket’s his favourite.’ She looked away. ‘He went missing on a Thursday. You told me he left me.’ Meg’s head shot round to DCI Masters, who swallowed hard.

  ‘I don’t think that’s exactly what I said, Mrs Sissons. I said there was no evidence that any harm had come to your husband and that he could have gone away for a while.’

  Sophie noticed the disbelief briefly cross the sergeant’s face before she reined it in.

  ‘Mrs Sissons, perhaps we could go over the day your husband went missing again another time, but I think for now you’ve had a lot to take in. You should prepare yourself that it is almost certainly your husband we’ve found.’ DS Cook looked at Sophie. ‘Is there anyone else we can contact?’

  ‘Meg has a daughter, Caroline.’ Sophie glanced towards Meg. ‘I don’t think Meg wanted to worry her; she hasn’t been told her father is missing.’

  If DS Cook was shocked, she didn’t show it. ‘Mrs Sissons, could we have your daughter’s contact details, please?’

  Meg got up again. This time she went upstairs.

  ‘Do you know why her daughter hasn’t been told?’ whispered DS Cook.

  ‘Not entirely. From the brief snippets I’ve been able to gather, they weren’t on speaking terms. Harold and Caroline, that is. They haven’t seen each other in years.’

  ‘Families can be complicated.’ DS Cook sighed, and Sophie suspected she had first-hand experience of this.

  ‘Do you know how he died?’ Sophie lowered her voice.

  ‘Bashed over the head, from what we can gather,’ DCI Masters answered. ‘Most likely a mugging gone wrong. We didn’t find a wallet, and he had no money on him.’

  Meg appeared and handed DS Cook a note with an address and phone number. ‘Harold won’t be happy about you contacting her, but tell her it would be nice to see her.’

  DS Cook nodded.

  The two officers stood before DCI Masters stopped abruptly and turned to Sophie. ‘A neighbour, you say. Which side?’

  Sophie had also stood as the officers made to leave. She pointed to the left.

  ‘There’s only one side. Meg’s is an end cottage.’

  DCI Masters scowled and abruptly marched out with a confused DS Cook following close behind.

  ‘I don’t like him,’ said Meg.

  ‘She was nice, though.’

  ‘Yes, I like her.’

  ‘Meg, do you think it would be a good idea if you called your daughter before the police do? It will be much better coming from you.’

  ‘I was wondering what should be done. Harold would normally see to such things.’

  ‘But you’re the one in touch with Caroline. I thought she and her father weren’t the best of friends.’

  ‘Harold doesn’t allow me to call her, but I go to the telephone box in the village. He checks the bill, you see. And I write.’

  Shocked, Sophie said, ‘I’m sure she should know about this even if she and her father weren’t, erm—’

  ‘Speaking? I don’t know what happened there. Neither of them told me. I’ll go into the village.’

  ‘Meg,’ Sophie spoke softly, ‘I don’t think that’s necessary; you can use your house phone now. Would you like me to stay with you while you phone?’ Sophie wasn’t convinced Meg would call at all if she didn’t.

  ‘That would be kind of you.’

  Meg picked up the telephone after glancing around as if to check Harold wasn’t going to appear. She tapped in the number, leaving Sophie wondering why she’d made such a play of going upstairs to find Caroline’s contact details. That said, Meg did still appear to be suffering from shock.

  ‘Aiden? Hello, it’s Meg. Is Caroline there?… Oh, I see. Yes, of course. Would it be possible to have her work telephone number?… Right. Yes. I’ll wait to hear from her, then… Urgent? I’m not sure.’ Meg looked towards Sophie who was frantically nodding.

  ‘I have someone with me. Perhaps it would be better if I put her on.’

  Meg handed the phone to Sophie and began clearing cups and saucers away into the kitchen.

  ‘Who is this? Is Meg all right?’ a concerned male voice asked. ‘She never calls from this number.’

  ‘My name is Sophie Cole. I live next door to your mother-in-law.’

  ‘Is something the matter?’ Sophie could hear children playing in the background, or perhaps the man was watching television.

  ‘I’m afraid so. I don’t know how to tell you this, but your father-in-law has been found dead in the local woods.’

  ‘What? When? How?’

  ‘Last night. I think it would be good if someone could come and be with Meg. She’s had a terrible shock. I’m worried about her.’ The clattering stopped in the kitchen as Meg awaited the response.

  ‘I see. Of course, but it’s Christmas and my parents are arriving up here for the holidays this afternoon. I’ll have to discuss it with Caroline. She may want to come down.’

  Sophie knew families could be fractured, but she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  ‘I’m sure she would want to be with her mother at a time like this. Please could you ask her to call Meg as soon as possible?’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course. I’m not being insensitive, but we haven’t seen Meg in fifteen years, not since our wedding. Harold didn’t come; I never met him.’

  ‘I understand. Nevertheless, Meg would love to see her daughter. By the way, the police will be calling today, too.’

  ‘The police? What have they got to do with it? Wasn’t it a heart attack or something?’

  ‘They don’t believe Harold died of natural causes, Mr…?’ Sophie lowered her voice.

  ‘Winslow. What was it, then?’

  ‘You’ll have to ask the police that question.’

  Sophie put the phone down and watched the colour drain from Meg’s face.

  7

  Carlos arrived back at Sophie’s and let himself in using the spare key. Lady threw herself at him as soon as the door opened. He knelt down and gave her the affection she craved before making his way to the kitchen. A note waited for him on the breakfast bar.

  ‘Meeting friends for Christmas shopping.

  I’ll fill you in on this morning when I get back.

  Be home around five, help yourself to food,

  Love Soph xxx’

  He sighed, disappointed again that he hadn’t been able to be next door when the police arrived. He’d found it difficult to concentrate on the job he was being paid for after meeting Masters last night. It had unsettled him in every way possible – the deep-seated memories resurfaced, along with the possibility… no, probability that Masters would dismiss the murder of the neighbour’s husband as some random robbery or any other simplistic resolution without following due process. The man was lazy but ambitious, making
it highly likely he would arrest a poor, unsuspecting minor criminal and fit him up for murder. That was Masters’s modus operandi.

  Lady gazed up at him. ‘You’re right, girl. I should forget it, but you know what? I just can’t. I was a coward last time, but never again. That woman next door deserves justice, and so what if I get revenge at the same time?’

  Carlos had decided to investigate whether Masters liked it or not and felt better for having made the decision. He would quietly dig around, even though he had no idea where to start. He needed information, but Sophie would be gone for hours yet.

  He smiled, wondering whether the police had managed to find the wallet yet. The hidden wallet puzzled him. The only conclusion he could come to was that it had been hidden to make the murder look like a robbery.

  ‘But why didn’t the killer take the wallet and dispose of it later?’

  Lady whined in answer.

  Deciding there was nothing for it but to wait until his sister came home, Carlos set about transcribing audio notes from the morning’s investigation. At least he’d made progress with the case and should be able to close it and contact his client with the evidence that his son was embezzling money from the family firm. His client would not be happy and Carlos hated these kinds of jobs, but they paid the bills. They also gave him time to do his unpaid or low-paid work for those who couldn’t afford his fees, but needed help.

  He was busy transcribing when he heard a car pull up outside and a door slam. Going to the window to see if it was the police returning to Meg Sissons’s house, he saw a familiar figure walking up Sophie’s driveway. He raced to the door just as the bell rang and beamed at the woman standing on the step.

  ‘Fiona! Great to see you. I forgot you worked in these parts. Come in.’

  He hugged the large-framed woman who kissed him on both cheeks, Italian style.

  ‘Carlos Jacobi, I heard you were here urinating in our pond!’ The familiar belly laugh filled him with hope while Lady danced excitedly around the new visitor’s legs. She bent to stroke the excited dog. ‘And this must be the Lady I’ve heard so much about.’