‘Erm, no.’
‘OK, is there anyone you know who might have wished her harm?’
Denise pressed her lips tight together, shaking her head slowly. ‘I did my best,’ she said, her voice quaking with emotion. ‘I always…’ She couldn’t continue.
They heard the door go, the FLO returning. ‘Denise…’ He entered the room, heading for the scullery kitchen at the back of the house, took in the scene. The weeping woman. ‘Denise, a cup of tea?’
She didn’t respond, too far gone for politeness. Janet caught his eye. ‘We’ll be on our way.’ Signalling with a tilt of her head that she wanted a word.
He stepped outside with them. A woman across the street with twins in a double buggy stopped to gawp.
‘Take a picture,’ Rachel muttered.
‘Keep a close eye,’ Janet said to the FLO. ‘The woman’s lost both her kids, she’s already struggling, too fond of a drink, on tablets for her nerves, she’s a wreck.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘I will. SIO tells me there was some problem at the scene.’
‘Bit of rearranging of the furniture that shouldn’t have happened. Can you get Denise’s phone charged, check her calls.’
‘Will do,’ he said. ‘What you after?’
‘Call she made to Lisa early afternoon. We need the time.’
‘Should have been sterilized,’ Rachel said as they buckled up, ‘not fit to raise a goldfish.’
Janet looked at her. Was the girl doing this to wind her up? Trying to shock? Negative attention better than being ignored? Like Taisie when she was being gobby.
‘What?’ Rachel demanded. ‘I’m entitled to an opinion.’
Janet shook her head, started the engine and pulled out. She wouldn’t waste her breath.
‘HOW WAS IT?’ Gill rang Sammy.
‘Not bad, I only just finished the last question, though.’
‘Did you get Mussolini?’ He was doing his AS practice papers and Gill thought it was touch and go whether he’d meet his target grades. It was hard weighing up how much to push and how much to trust him to get his course work and revision done under his own steam. Harder because she was dealing with it on her own. Thanks to Captain Arsehole.
‘Yeah, that was good.’
‘What you doing now?’ Gill said.
‘Going back to ours with Craig and Joe.’
‘OK. Watch the china.’
‘One thing!’ His voice rose in mock indignation. ‘We broke one thing. It wasn’t even a nice lamp.’
Smiling to herself. ‘And that’s why skateboards are designed for outside use only.’
‘I know, Mum.’
‘Food in the fridge; don’t eat the fish.’
‘Minging. Laters.’
He was pretty self-sufficient. Had to be, given that both his parents worked all hours. Sammy had been three, nearly four, when Gill saw the job advertised with the National Crime Faculty. It was a fantastic opportunity, but she’d known it would mean a lot of travelling away from home. Could she make it work?
