Chapter 50
Chapter Fifty
Freya’s day started badly and went downhill from there.
She left the house at eight o’clock as usual and, on the drive to work, she skidded on a patch of black ice and crashed into the back of a Mini. She wasn’t injured and the car could be repaired, but that was beside the point. It was a cost she didn’t need right now.
Arriving at work an hour later than usual, she missed the morning briefing and was given the shitty task of attending a local primary school which had been broken into the night before.
Why anyone would want to burgle a primary school was beyond her comprehension.
What did they hope to steal? Pots of poster paints and coloured paper?
When Freya arrived at St Thomas’s, she found the headmaster struggling to make sense of why whoever had broken into the school had seen fit to drop a plugged-in toaster into the large fish tank, electrocuting all one hundred guppies.
Freya spent the majority of the day at the school taking statements, writing up reports, and being shown everything else the depraved burglars had done, including using the staff room kettle as a toilet.
The attack bore all the hallmarks of disgruntled former pupils, but the level of vandalism required a full investigation.
By the time she arrived home, Chris was already waiting for her and was in the kitchen serving up some cod and homemade chips for tea. They sat down to eat.
‘Guess who we took a booking from today?’ Chris said.
‘Who?’
‘Malcolm Ripley MP.’
‘Really? I know his wife.’
‘I know you do. That’s why I’m telling you,’ Chris rolled his eyes. ‘Apparently he’s got some important people coming up from London next week for a visit and wants a couple of executive cars to drive them around for a few days.’
‘That’s good. Get an MP as a regular customer and people might take notice.’
‘Fingers crossed. How was your fish?’ he asked, taking her plate.
‘It was nice.’
‘You hardly touched it. It’s just a big mess.’
‘Sorry, I’m not really hungry.’
‘Bad day?’
‘Annoying day.’
‘Would you like me to add to your annoyances?’
‘I’d rather you didn’t.’
‘Shower’s leaking again.’
‘What? He only came out a fortnight ago to mend it.’
‘I know.’
‘Get him on the phone. That cost us fifty quid.’
At the mention of the phone, it started ringing.
‘I’ll get it,’ Freya said. She heaved herself off the chair and went out into the hallway, answering it with a tired ‘Hello.’
‘Freya, it’s Caspian Tandy. Am I all right to call you at home?’
Freya suddenly bucked up. ‘Yes. Fine. It’s probably better, actually.’
‘That’s what I thought. I’ve got some news.’
‘Good or bad?’
‘Well, both and neither.’
‘That doesn’t make much sense.’
‘Well, first and foremost, there is plenty of trace evidence on Alice’s clothing.
The results have come back where stray fibres belong to Alice and have come off other items of clothing.
However, there are a couple of dark blue fibres on her underpants that don’t correspond to any other item she was wearing at the time she was killed. ’
‘So, you need to match them?’
‘We do, but they’re mass-produced. You’d have trouble convincing a jury on the basis of these few strands. I have been able to find semen samples on the underpants as well. It’s a trace amount and unfortunately not enough to extract DNA.’
Freya deflated. ‘What does that mean?’
‘Well, simply because I can’t extract DNA doesn’t mean to say it isn’t there. Like I said to you when you brought the evidence over, this technology is still in its infancy. You know how quickly technology progresses these days.’
‘So, what do I do now?’
‘There’s nothing you can do but wait. And please don’t ask for how long.’
She smiled, but she felt her lip wobble. ‘I wasn’t going to. Thank you, Caspian, for everything.’
She ended the call.
For the past two weeks, she had tried to not get her hopes up, but at the back of her mind, as each day passed, she kept thinking that maybe today she’d get a call and Caspian would yell ‘Eureka!’ down the phone.
Back to square one, and poor Anthony would have to remain on the high dependency wing of Blackmoor Prison for a little while longer.