Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Lachy was a good twenty minutes behind, bringing in a platter of sandwiches onto our floor, which was empty of anyone apart from our team.
Wrigley looked exhausted and I figured his day at the cricket had been interrupted later on, if more things had gone down with the operation Vinny was involved with.
We’d lost out on resources because of it, but it had also kept a lot of media attention off us, with the fire barely a mention anywhere.
Wrigley hadn’t been applying pressure either, too consumed with what else was going on, and the cricket.
We each gave an update on what we’d uncovered so far, collating the leads we had. I talked through the forensics and what Ste had said about how the fire had taken hold. Lachy added to it, throwing in what the CSI who’d gone through both gardens had found.
“It looks like they knew each other through their gardening, and possibly a group called The Holding. Both of their lifestyles were very off-grid. Amanda could’ve been there to pass on some of her jams or home cooked meals.
It looks like if they were in a gardening group, or The Holding, they may have exchanged things they’d grown or made.
We need to see if we can find anyone else involved with this.
Amanda was involved with The Holding at the time of the first fire, and the DCI involved in that case remembers her working for them.
There are more notes on the system.” I nicked a couple of sandwiches before the piranhas could get all of them.
Lachy rearranged himself so he was sat on my chair.
I wondered why until I saw him sneak a can of coke from next to my monitor.
“Amanda would make herbal remedies with some of the plants she grew in her garden and her neighbours’.
I think she was something of an herbalist or medicine woman, so really trying to live away from society. ”
“What else – Carly, have you had anything back from the solicitors?” The young PC was sat at a desk near the murder board.
“Just come through. They both had the same solicitor, a Mr K Proctor who’s about seventy.
Single practice with a virtual assistant.
He has a small office, but generally sees his clients in their homes.
” She paused, focusing on me. “The beneficiary of the wills is the same for both – any savings or property are bequeathed to The Holding. Their wills were made some time ago; Micky Mulligan updated his about nine years ago after his wife died. Amanda Goodhew updated hers twenty years ago, and then just last year. However, the house that Amanda lived in that was in the first fire was sold to The Holding for a nominal fee twenty-five years ago. The Holding is a non-profit organisation, with their sole director an Andrew Smith who lives in Wethersett. He does have an online profile; he blogs about gardening and living off the land.”
“Good work, Carly.” She looked pleased at the praise.
“It’s taken a while to get it. I can do some more digging on Andrew Smith. I can’t find any photos of him online, so I’m thinking he has limited online presence. I’ll keep on it.” She unlocked her computer, suddenly aware of all eyes being on her.
“Verity, did you get anywhere with tech and Lily’s CCTV footage?” We were waiting longer than usual for some things to come back because of Operation Hawthorn; the organised crime case Vinny had been balls deep in.
“This morning. They can’t find any evidence of anything being doctored, and there’s nothing to show her leaving the house when she puts the bins out.
The camera at the back captures her, then the front camera picks her up, and we can follow her back in.
She’s in her dressing gown and looks ready for bed.
We haven’t asked neighbours for any doorbell camera footage yet. ” Verity grabbed a few more sandwiches.
Wrigley had been sat there, eating, focusing on what we saying. “Lily is a beneficiary of Amanda’s will, although it isn’t a life changing amount. Would she know this?”
“We need to find out, don’t we? I think we need to talk to Lily about The Holding. She’s the only other firm connection we have with this group. I’ll see if I can meet her this evening.”
“I’ll come with you,” Wrigley said. “I’d like to meet her for myself. I heard a lot about her.”
“Okay.” I was actually interested to see what he thought after meeting her; she’d be nothing like he was expecting. “We also need that recording from the fire service from when the fire was reported.” I’d already covered the bones of that.
“I can track that,’ Carly put herself forward.
“And the quad bike.” Lachy stood up and stretched. “I’ll go and do some door to doors near the field, see if I can find out if anyone owns one.”
I went through some of the other jobs, Wrigley making notes as he was reporting back to the DCI this afternoon on where the case was up to.
“We’re looking at this being targeted arson and murder,” Wrigley summarised, nearly knocking a cold mug of coffee over.
“Lily Good- Mayhew – is a beneficiary of her mother’s will, although for a token amount, and we’ve found nothing to connect her with the scene.
I think you use the opportunity of what she can remember about The Holding to also see what else she has to say about her mother now.
We need more about The Holding as well and the director.
Unless anything comes up, we’ll meet for an update at seven tomorrow morning. ”
We were dismissed, meeting done, tasks assigned. I started off going through the updated case notes, getting more detail than we’d covered in the briefing. Then I moved onto the case files from the first fire, scanning for names, seeing if Micky Mulligan was mentioned anywhere.
No luck. There was one mention of The Holding. Amanda had been their treasurer; Lily’s father had been their Director of Propagation, whatever that role entailed.
It was interesting that while Lily had distanced herself from her past, she’d chosen a career in the area that her parents were most committed to. That contradicted some of what she’d said, maybe to herself as well.
There was one file I couldn’t get access to. Named GoodhewHolding, it was password protected and none of the passwords I knew worked. I ended up locking myself out.
“I can’t get into one of the case files for the Goodhew fire,” I said to Wrigley when we were in his car, heading to Lily Mayhew’s house. She’d agreed to see us at three o’clock and we were going to be there slightly late, because Wrigley drove at the same pace as a game of cricket.
“Why’s that?”
“One file is password protected. Nothing I tried worked, and now I’m locked out.” I hated not being able to get to something, rather like a cat with a closed door.
“There’d be no point password protecting it if it was something you could guess. I think there are a few files that were archived.” He slowed down again when there was no need. “They won’t be relevant to the case.”
“I’d rather check that myself.”
“That’s unfortunate. Look, Mac, I’ll request access and let you know what they say.
It’s probably an empty folder and someone’s made a cock up.
Which turning is it?” That was something else about Wrigley; he hated using sat nav which made every car journey with him feel like a space exploration adventure.
“Next left. Don’t park in front of her house. She’s really paranoid that someone will work out who she was.”
Wrigley carried on driving, eventually parking in a spot that wasn’t outside anyone’s house. I wondered how much like cops we looked as we walked the few metres down to Lily’s house and checked to see if there were any twitching curtains.
Lily’s door opened before we could ring the bell, and I guessed she was watching for us on the doorbell camera.
“Hi, come in.” She gave us a smile as she let us through, but it was forced. “Do you want a drink?”
“If you don’t mind, that would be great.
Coffee if you have it.” I didn’t pause in the living room, following her into the small kitchen dining room.
“My boss is with me, DI Wrigley. He’s fussy with his coffee – you’ve got to get his sugar levels just right.
” Wrigley, in fact, had three sugars, but we were under instructions from his wife to get it down to one and a half if we made a coffee for him.
He’d cottoned on and kept some sachets he’d nabbed from a café in his drawer, but when we weren’t at the Fishbowl there wasn’t much he could do.
“Sure. It’s just instant. I usually have tea.” She opened a cupboard door and pulled out a glass jar filled with tea leaves and bits in it. I caught a glance of what else was in there – bog standard beans, spaghetti hoops and a selection of tinned soups.
No home-made preserves.
“What’s in that?”
“I add chamomile that I grow and a few other herbs. Nothing illegal.” She looked worried for a second. “I don’t do anything like that. I don’t even drink.”
“You did when you were younger though. What changed?”
She shook her head. “Do you want sugar in the coffee?”
“None for me and three for DI Wrigley.” I gestured no as I said three, and stuck one finger in the air.
This got a smile and a nod.
“Do you grow your own veg as well as designed gardens?” I could see her back garden from the kitchen window, clusters of flowers between lush green shrubs, some in bloom. It was spectacular, even for a small space.
“Yes, I have an allotment when I grow a lot of my own.” She opened another cupboard and pulled out the sugar. This time I saw rows of jars, but there were no labels.
“And you preserve some of what you grow?” I pointed to the cupboard.
“I do. I learned to do it from when I was living with my parents.” Her choice of words was considered.
“From your mum? I saw lots of jams and chutneys in her kitchen.” I pushed, knowing that Wrigley would be listening to me from the living room, as well as having a good root round.