Chapter 13 #2
‘How about an air fryer?’
‘Can I call you back? I’m in the middle of a murder investigation.’ Lauren parks outside Nadeeka’s house, where a white CSI van is parked on the driveway.
‘You always say that, darling, it’s starting to sound like an excuse.’
‘Mum, I work on a murder squad.’
There’s no police tape across Nadeeka’s front door, but a uniformed officer stands guard, his fingers curled into fists for warmth.
‘While I’ve got you,’ Lauren’s mum says, ‘have you done the sugared almonds?’
Lauren thinks of the untouched boxes on her kitchen table. ‘Yes.’
‘Excellent. That’s one less thing we have to worry about.’
We? Lauren thinks. Her mother’s primary contribution to the wedding has been to insist on complicated plans she has then left to her daughter to execute. Lauren is beginning to wish she’d given in to Fraser’s suggestion that they elope. ‘I’ll call you later, Mum.’ She ends the call.
As she gets out of the car, she realizes she’s being watched. A man, grey-haired, and coatless despite the cold, is standing on the pavement on the opposite side of the road. He walks towards her.
‘Can I help you?’ He’s wearing slippers. A neighbour, then, Lauren thinks.
She lifts up the ID card hanging on the lanyard around her neck. ‘Detective Chief Inspector Lauren Caldwell. Major crime.’
‘Is that right?’ The man takes hold of the card to inspect it and the lanyard tugs Lauren uncomfortably close. He points at the photo. ‘That doesn’t look like you.’
‘It was taken a while ago.’
The man is still scrutinizing Lauren’s picture. ‘Detective Inspector, you say?’
‘Detective Chief Inspector. And you are?’
‘Someone with enough smarts to check people are who they say they are.’ He drops the lanyard, seemingly satisfied, and Lauren takes a step back. ‘Stanley Hall. No. 17.’ He jerks his head towards Nadeeka’s house. ‘Shocking, what happened.’
‘Did you know Mr Golding?’
‘That’s his name, is it? We said hello a few times, but he wasn’t very forthcoming. I got the impression he was one of those introverts. Wasn’t the least bit interested in the council newsletter I took over for him, despite my having circled a particularly important section on hedge maintenance.’
Lauren thinks she’d probably become an introvert if she lived opposite Stanley. ‘Were you at home on Monday afternoon?’ she asks him.
‘I was indeed. I was putting up the Christmas decorations. My granddaughter Maeve was coming over and I wanted to surprise her.’
‘When did you become aware something was going on at No. 10?’
‘Not until the police arrived.’ Stanley puts giant air quotes around the word. ‘I saw the blue and white tape across the front door, so I went across. To see if I could help,’ he adds.
‘Of course.’
‘He didn’t want to know, of course. The detective. Which makes sense now we know he was a wrong ’un, but at the time? I was fuming, I can tell you. Almost made a complaint then and there.’
If only he had, Lauren thinks. ‘Can you describe him?’
‘Caucasian – that’s what you say, isn’t it?’
‘White?’
‘That’s right. And in his late fifties maybe, or sixties – I’d say at least ten or fifteen years younger than me, and I’m seventy-five.’
‘Build?’
‘Broad shoulders, but not muscly. Not fat, either. Just solid. He had a tie on, I remember that because most people seem to dress down nowadays, even in office jobs. That ex of hers . . .’ he nods to Nadeeka’s house again.
‘The girls’ dad. I’ve never seen him out of gym clothes, and he’s supposedly an IT manager. ’
Lauren tunes out.
‘Her new chap was always suited and booted; it was quite the sight seeing them squaring up to each other.’
‘I’m sorry—’ Lauren refocuses. ‘Squaring up to each other?’
‘A few weeks ago. No idea what it was about, but they had a proper shouting match. Right here in the street. Then the ex landed a punch, and the new chap brought his fist up but thought better of it. It was all over in a matter of minutes.’
‘Would you be happy to give us a statement?’
‘About them fighting?’
‘And about what you saw on Monday. I’ll send a colleague over, if that’s all right?’
‘That would be fine.’
The crime scene investigation officers are working in Nadeeka’s living room, with the forensic lead, Hannah Foster, directing proceedings.
The carpets have been ripped up and a section of skirting board taken off the wall.
On the underlay, and soaked into the base of the exposed wall, is a large rust-coloured stain.
‘If you ever stab someone . . .’ Hannah joins Lauren in the hallway ‘ . . . keep your victim away from the walls. It’s almost impossible to get blood out from under skirting boards, no matter how much bleach you slosh about.’
‘Top tip. What’s your verdict?’
‘I know there was some suggestion this might have been cooked up by the pair of them so Golding could disappear, but the extent of the blood loss suggests little or no chance of life.’ Hannah’s mask catches on her hair as she pulls it off. ‘This isn’t a MisPer investigation; it’s murder.’
Lauren finds Fraser upstairs, looking through the wardrobe in the master bedroom.
‘She didn’t give the poor bloke much room.’ He pushes back the sliding doors to reveal a rack of women’s clothes beside the handful of hangers holding jackets and shirts.
‘Maybe the dresses are his.’
‘Don’t come at me with your wokery, Lauren soon-to-be-Hogan.’
‘Soon to be Caldwell-Hogan, actually. Anyway, some guys just don’t have much stuff. My brother’s been in his place for three years and it still looks like he just moved in.’
‘Golding had hardly anything. These clothes, another drawerful over there, and the desk on the landing. Are we even sure he existed?’
‘He existed all right; the neighbour just told me he had a stack-up with Nadeeka’s ex. Can you run a PNC check on him? His name’s Scott Hadley.’ Lauren moves a stool across to the wardrobe to look on the top shelf, where Nadeeka had thought the charity shop donations might be.
‘Sure. I’m heading back to the nick now anyway. CSI have Golding’s toothbrush and they’ll fast-track the submission so we can see if his DNA’s a match for any unidentified bodies.’
‘Make sure it goes to Interpol too,’ Lauren calls after him, her voice muffled by the wardrobe.
She finds the T-shirts, but nothing else of interest. She doesn’t know what she’s looking for really, but even just being here in Nadeeka’s house helps her get a handle on what kind of woman she is; what kind of relationship she had with Jamie.
The place is clean, but the house is short on storage and there are baskets everywhere, overflowing with toys and shoes.
Hanging on the walls are dozens of photos of Maya and Nish at different ages, and several of the girls with Jamie.
On Nadeeka’s nightstand is a novel and a notebook.
Lauren takes a peek – she is definitely overstepping the limits of Nadeeka’s permission now – but it’s just lists.
Things to do, groceries to buy, meals to cook.
Maybe Jamie helped out, but Nadeeka definitely carried the mental load.
Lauren wonders if she’s just lucky – she and Fraser have always split the chores fifty-fifty – or whether this imbalance is something that happens when a couple have children. She thinks about Bahnaz dashing off to collect her little ones, and wonders whether Bahnaz’s partner ever does the same.
In the top drawer of the nightstand, Lauren finds hand cream, lip salve, a selection of hairbands, and a bundle of cards and letters secured with an elastic band.
She looks through them. There are sweet notes from the kids; birthday cards from Appa and Amma.
Nadeeka’s parents, perhaps? Grandparents?
A card from Jamie reads, Six months today! Love you always and forever x.
At the back of the drawer, tightly creased, as though it had once been screwed in a ball, is a letter. Lauren recognizes the handwriting from Jamie’s card.
I’m so sorry, Nadeeka. Please believe me, I never meant to hurt you. I love you, but I think it’s best if I move out. J x
Lauren sits on the edge of the bed. When had Jamie written this note, and why hadn’t Nadeeka mentioned it to her? She’s now spent several hours with Nadeeka and she doesn’t doubt that Nadeeka loved Jamie. But it’s clear, too, that she’d been terrified of losing him.
Lauren reads the note again. So Jamie had been planning to leave Nadeeka.
How far might Nadeeka have gone to stop him?