Chapter 15 #3
Vinny headed upstairs ahead of me and we started to comb through the rooms, spaces that had accumulated the detritus of time. Wallpaper had peeled free, the edges brown and curling. One of the rooms had an unmade bed, as if it was expecting its usual occupant to return.
“This place is as creepy as fuck,” was Vinny’s poetic observation. “I can’t imagine this being a nice place to live. I haven’t seen a single TV and it doesn’t look like anyone’s ransacked the place.”
“Someone’s been in here recently,” Amy said.
“There are footprints, size seven men’s, and another set, which are a men’s size ten.
They’ve left marks in the dust. Can’t tell what brand they are though, but definitely two different people.
And there’s definitely been someone in the glasshouses at the back. ”
We followed her up to the top floor, the walls not quite as blackened, although I wasn’t too confident that the floor would hold Vinny’s newly acquired muscle.
“There’s a small room here that’s been completely emptied, and I’d agree that it was recently, as you can see the marks where things had been on the floor for some time.
” She pushed open the door and stood out of the way so we could peer in.
The room was small, maybe space enough for a single bed and one very small bedside table, the eaves of the house on one side.
There was a small window which looked out onto the front of the property, the room maybe designed for a maid or a nanny.
“Some of the marks are the same as A4 paper, like a pile of paper or books.” I stated the obvious, looking at the worn, filthy carpet.
“Did you find anything in the cellar of the other house. Wrigley said something about paperwork having been burned.” Vinny leaned into the room.
“We’re seeing if we can recover anything viable still,” Amy said. “We found some papers in Amanda Goodhew’s house that might be of interest as well.”
“Where were they?” Her office space had been clear when we’d checked.
“At the bottom of her bedside cabinet. You can pick them up after here. Weekend reading.” Amy gave a grin. “Ste should be here in a few minutes though.”
“How come?” I hadn’t requested anyone from fire investigation.
“This was a textbook case for CSIs and fire around accelerants, so I think he wants to see it in person, and it might be helpful to see if he can find anything that links the two fires. I doubt it, but it was a good enough excuse for him.” She moved away to the door of another room, opening it up.
It, and the third room on the top floor, were much the same as the other spaces we’d been able to see.
I didn’t pay them much attention, pretty sure that we’d find nothing of interest, especially as the bedroom I would’ve been interested in – Lily’s room – was out of bounds as the floor wasn’t safe, and I’d heard Ste’s voice from below.
We headed back downstairs, the building feeling more ramshackled than eerie, like it had the night before.
With the land around it, I was surprised The Holding hadn’t utilised the space to grow produce or plants, or that it hadn’t been sold.
Although if it had, it would more than likely have been bought by property developers, who would’ve rid it of trees and wildness, and built squat, square houses, which I suspected was against what The Holding stood for.
“Hey, Detective McAllister,” Ste sounded more pleased to see me than almost everyone I’d ever met. “Who’s your friend?”
I saw Vinny stiffen and hoped he wasn’t about to start a pissing competition. He was a bit like a hen when another hen was added to the flock, with hen being a better comparison that anything particularly fierce.
“DS Vinny Leigh,” I introduced, my voice sounding chirpier than usual. “This is Ste Turner; he was one of the fire investigation officers at the Micky Mulligan incident.” I sent Vinny a glare, hoping he wouldn’t decide now was the time to practice being a pillock.
“Good to meet you.” Ste’s grin was again cheerful.
I imagined he even smiled when his football team lost. “I heard you were looking at this place and I offered my services – to be honest, I wanted to have a look. It was one of the key case studies when I was training.” This was said for Vinny’s benefit, rather than mine.
“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Vinny folded his arms and I cursed under my breath.
“Plenty, but I can spare an hour, and I know you’re considering a connection between the cases so I thought it would be worth coming over and seeing if there were any commonalities.” Ste had not let Vinny spoil his cheeriness.
Vinny remained silent, no friendliness, no camaraderie towards another member of the emergency services, just frost.
“That could be useful. Have you had chance to look round?” I decided to have words with my colleague after.
Ste paid no attention to DS Grumpy Arse, which elevated him in my estimation. “Briefly, which is probably all it needs, so I won’t be wasting the taxpayers’ time.” Goal for the fire investigator. “Let me show you.”
We followed him to the back door, the bricks charred and blackened.
“This house doesn’t look like it was set the same way.
There’s no clear low-level point of origin like Mulligan’s.
This one’s more dispersed, like someone was using whatever was handy, whereas I’d say the Mulligan house was better planned.
So we have multiple ignition points, which we knew from the original report.
I’d also say at Mulligan’s we had a clear trail of accelerant throughout the house; this is random and even though time has had an effect on this place, you can still see where the flames have surged. ”
He led us through to the front of the house, pointing out patterns and marks and giving an explanation that I only processed half of.
“I don’t think it was the same offender. There’s nothing similar at all between the two.” He leaned against one of the walls, arms folded, looking at Vinny, who’d remained silent throughout.
“There’s seventeen years between the two fires and offenders evolve.
I’d have more questions about it being the same offender if the patterns had been the same after so much time.
” I looked at the tides of soot and scorch, wondered what it would’ve been like to have been trapped inside, waking up to realise what was happening.
The boys and their father had been asleep when they’d died, the house absent of smoke alarms. Only Amanda had woken up in time to save herself.
Ste stood away from the wall. “And all we have to work off is what we found out then, and we didn’t have the same tools or understanding as we have now, even two decades ago.”
“Seventeen years.” Vinny just couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
“Sorry, I added three years.” For the first time I saw a glimmer of annoyance from Ste.
“Thank you; I appreciate you coming over.” I wasn’t sure what extra we’d learned from him, but I was glad it was him who’d showed up instead of Paul, who I was hoping could soon afford to retire early.
“No problem. I’m just going to have a scan outside. If I notice anything worthwhile, I’ll drop you an email.” He headed out through the back, letting on to one of the CSIs who was photographing the contents of a sideboard.
“Why do you have to be such an arse?”
Vinny didn’t look like he cared. “He’s a weirdo.”
“No, he’s just not your kind of bloke, but that doesn’t mean he’s weird.” I was sure Vinny had recently been on a training course for equality and diversity. “He’s just not jaded like the rest of us yet.”
“I’m not jaded.”
“I disagree. You suspect the worst of everyone.”
“In the hope I’ll be proved wrong, but I rarely am. Seriously, though. It’s seventeen years since this place was on fire. What are you going to find?” He stared at me. “Wrigley is convinced it’s the girl who started this.”
“I know. I’m not sure he’s wrong, but I’m not sure he’s right either.
” I recounted my conversation with Doctor McKay.
“There’s absolutely no evidence to tie Lily to the fire at Micky Mulligan’s.
Every link we have is tenuous.” We walked out of the house into the gardens at the back, the glasshouses reflecting the late afternoon sun.
Vinny pushed his hands back in his pockets. “Someone wanted those people dead, Mia. To strangle someone and tie another person up so they couldn’t escape a fire – they definitely wanted them dead.”
I didn’t go out for drinks with my colleagues, partly because I was in a bad mood, but mainly because I wanted to be up early in the morning to do my usual parkrun.
I liked the familiarity of Saturday mornings, breathing in fresh air and getting to see the hills and greenery of Derbyshire alongside other runners, who were all running off their different weeks and stresses.
Instead I headed back to my money pit of the house, wondering where to start on the master bathroom before I could even book a plumber, and wondering why I’d bought this building that needed so much doing to it, rather than something smaller that was ready to live in.
A van was pulled up on my drive; one I hadn’t been expecting. No trades people had been booked today, unless I’d really lost the plot and forgot.
I headed around the back, realising just how unsecure the property was. For all I knew, someone had let themselves in and was currently drowning in disappointment at how little there was to steal.
Adrenaline kicked in as I unlocked the back door, or realised I didn’t need to. Had I really not locked it? The sound of drum and bass filtered down the stairs, the sort of music I would listen to at the end of a half marathon, a pounding rhythm that did not suit my current mood.
This was no average burglar. Music on and definitely the thump of something being banged.
I had my suspicions.
They were confirmed ten seconds later when I entered my large, carpeted bathroom, finding what was now a familiar form with his head stuck under a bath.
It was not an unpleasant form.