Chapter 8 #3
I didn’t follow him to the kitchen, having no desire to see what it was like or potentially be in an even smaller enclosed space. I looked around the room, seeing some photos, possibly of his children and grandchildren, one of him on his wedding day. Maybe Mrs Jones was still about.
He returned with a teapot, jug of milk and a plate of biscuits on a tray with a couple of mugs. “The missus would kill me if I didn’t use a teapot for guests.”
“Where is Mrs Jones?”
“She’s gone on a cruise with her sister, so I imagine she’s currently buying a load of tat from whatever tourist trap they’ve stopped off at.” He laughed at himself. “Oh well, I’ve no one to nag me for watching the cricket all day.”
I softened slightly towards him, seeing a man who was stuck in his ways and probably reliant on a woman without realising it.
“When’s she back?”
“Four more days. Then my peace will be shattered.” He poured the tea. It was a little weak but was more drinkable now I’d seen another side to him.
“Have you been together long?” I accepted my cup, pouring my own milk.
“Thirty-five years. After a while it becomes a habit, and after that it becomes another limb. Not sure I’d recommend it; not sure I wouldn’t. Anyway, Lily Goodhew. Where were we?”
“The night you arrested her.”
“Oh yes. We didn’t arrest her that night.
She was taken to hospital. She was freezing cold with being outside all night in a flimsy nightdress and mute.
We had no idea what had happened to her.
The hospital got her out of the nightdress and gave it to us as evidence, and we also swabbed her – protocol.
” He gave me a quick look as if to say you know what I mean.
“You thought she could’ve been sexually assaulted?”
“We had no idea what we thought, but she’d just lost three fifths of her family. She smelled of petrol and had soot on her, so we knew she’d been near the fire – my guess was that she’d stood back and watched it burn.”
I paused for a second, imagining that scenario. “If she started the fire, it was planned. She used two different accelerants but only one was identified on her hands, and then after running away she was in such a traumatic state. Didn’t you think she could’ve been a victim?”
I expected him to rise at that; I was questioning everything about his case and maybe his effectiveness too.
He didn’t. “We did. That was our first assumption. But given her background and relationship with her parents and her behaviour beforehand, and the petrol on her hands, it began to look cut and dried. I always thought that her not saying anything was either trauma from her killing her family, or trying to get out of it.”
“Why would she kill her brothers?”
“The older one wasn’t meant to be there.
I think him dying really got to her. The younger one – well, she might’ve meant that.
She was expected to look after him when she wasn’t in school and she resented that.
One of her teachers told me that, and I could see it being true.
Her parents had ideas of very traditional roles; dad was head of the household and mother was there to do his bidding, although he was a nice bloke, very involved in aspects of the local community.
” He had drifted away, back into memories of a different life.
“Did they go to church?”
“No,” he shook his head. “Religion didn’t play any part in their lives, but they met regularly with what they called their community, which was like a gardening group.
They all grew slightly different crops then they could pool their resources; their goal was to live off the grid, be self-sufficient.
That was one of the difficult things about the case, even back then; they didn’t have mobile phones, or even an email address.
They dealt in cash apart from utilities, and they didn’t have a car.
The kids weren’t allowed computers and they’d even asked the school to limit and monitor what they used the internet for. ”
“It sounds like it did have religious undertones.”
“It did, and we looked at that. There wasn’t anything, just a desire for a simpler life.” He stirred in his chair. “Maybe I should try it, then my missus can’t spend my pension on the holidays she finds on the internet.”
“But think of the quiet time you wouldn’t get.”
“Aye. True.” But I could tell he didn’t mean it.
“Amanda Goodhew is living the same sort of way. Her garden was full of flowers and veg and she had a lot of homemade meals frozen, preserves and other things she looked to have made fresh. We found no computers in the house, although her landlady said she worked from home. Do you think she was still involved in this gardening group?” It made sense if she’d swapped her produce for someone else’s.
He nodded. “I’d have been more surprised if she hadn’t. She was the treasurer for the group – I think it was called The Holding – and maybe by now she’d have a salary.”
“What was The Holding like? Can you remember anyone else who was involved?”
“I never found out much; we didn’t need to.
It was its own little community from what we did know, but they weren’t part of the investigation.
Amanda was in hospital for weeks after, but when she was discharged I think she went to stay with a couple from The Holding; James and Jemma Hughes.
I remember thinking she was lucky to have such good friends.
” He topped his tea up from the pot. “Do you have any other suspects for the fire?”
“No. Both victims had anonymous lives. Both liked gardening, so I’m wondering if the connection is something to do with The Holding.” Again, plaiting Scotch mist.
“If I remember rightly, there were members of the group who had disconnected from society completely. No one really talked about it; they didn’t promote it and I doubt there was an online group or anything like that.
They had their own centre in Millthorpe, I think, but that’s as much as I know.
What’s the name of the other person you found after the fire? ”
“Micky Mulligan. Do you recognise it?”
“No, but that’s not to say he wasn’t involved with the Goodhews. When we were able to interview Amanda she gave nothing away.”
“Did she accuse her daughter?”
“No. She said she woke up because of the smoke in the living room where she’d fallen asleep and managed to get herself to the door where she passed out.
When we told her Lily had been arrested she didn’t say anything.
I asked her if she thought her daughter would do such a thing and she told me she had no idea.
” He downed the rest of his tea. “I figured she didn’t want to say yes because she’d be accusing her own daughter and that would be pretty hard for any mother. ”
“What happened to the house after?”
“It’s still there. It was a big thing, even for a family of five, with loads of land. It’s been left to rack and ruin. Shame, but I don’t suppose anyone wants to rebuild it, not somewhere three people were killed.”
“It could’ve been sold for land. Why didn’t Amanda do that? It would’ve been hers, or was it?” Other avenues were opening now, other questions that needed answering.
“Maybe she did. I doubt she would’ve wanted to have anything to do with it after what happened.”