Chapter 21
Maybe Emma ended the call with Jamie a little too abruptly. It irritated her though – that he was poking his nose around in the Langford case. Jealousy mostly, since he was free to poke around all he wanted while her hands were tied on the matter until the forensic report came in.
He’d called at a bad time too – right when she was gearing up to have a conversation with Sergeant Brodie which she suspected might not go her way. Glancing at her superior’s open door, she could see him on the phone, so she’d have to wait a little longer.
She ran a hand through her hair and considered the other reason she didn’t have a lot of patience with the guy in Moira’s house – the conversation she’d had with Moira the previous evening.
She’d been a little apprehensive about telling Moira about Marguerite Langford. But she hadn’t reacted the way she’d expected – not at all.
Idly, Emma tapped her pen on the desk while recalling the conversation.
“Poor Marguerite.” Moira’s features had turned sorrowful.
“She had such a rough time. The operation was supposed to give her a fresh start. And Edward will be devastated.” The sorrow vanished, replaced by a look of wild panic.
She put a hand over her mouth. “Jamie was supposed to do a job there . . . gardening work on Monday. When did you say she died?”
“Tuesday morning. Jamie was actually the one who found her.”
“What?” Her hand shifted, covering her face. “Have you spoken to him?”
“Yes.”
“Is he okay?”
The question took Emma by surprise. Why wouldn’t he be okay?
“Fine,” she said, then explained about the banister rail and Jamie’s work on it.
“Nobody is saying he did anything wrong, are they?” Moira demanded.
“We’re still looking into things.”
“What does that mean?” she snapped.
Irritation radiated from Moira – totally out of character. She calmed down quickly, insisting she was only concerned that she’d promised Jamie a relaxing break and instead he’d got a load of stress.
“Will you keep an eye on him?” she said eventually. “Make sure he’s okay?”
“Cal seems to have taken to him,” Emma replied. “I’m sure he’s fine.”
“Right.” Moira wrung her hands in her lap and looked as though she might say more, but hesitated. “I hope this doesn’t make him change his mind about house-sitting for me,” she said softly.
“It’s not a big deal, anyway, is it? Cal would be more than happy to stay at your place if Jamie doesn’t hang around. He’d take over any work too – you know he’s not that busy at this time of year.”
“I don’t want to put Cal out when I’m away for so long.” She gave a quick shake of her head. “I’ll try and get in touch with Jamie – check how he’s doing. Maybe you could call in on him too.”
“Maybe,” she agreed begrudgingly. “Didn’t you say he just responded to a job advert?”
“Yes. Why?”
She shrugged. “You seem overly concerned about him, that’s all.”
“I suppose I took a liking to him when I interviewed him. And he’s staying in my house. I feel kind of responsible for him.”
After their call Emma had slept badly, then woke with a niggling sense of anxiety that she couldn’t shake.
And then she’d taken it out on Jamie when he’d called.
She doodled an extra question mark beside one of the names on the spiral-bound pad on her desk. What did it even matter if she hadn’t been friendly with the random guy from London?
“Emma.” The sergeant’s rumbling baritone pulled her from her trance. “I’ve been on the phone with the pathologist. The post-mortem shows Mrs Langford’s injuries are in keeping with an uncontrolled descent from height. There’s no evidence of defensive injuries or assault.”
She nodded. “What I expected.”
“Really? I thought you’d got it in your head that someone killed her.”
“I think that’s a possibility, but if they did, they wanted it to look like an accident. The way the banister rail broke doesn’t make sense. Someone tampered with it. I’d put money on it.”
“You know the toolmark analysis might take a week?”
“Yeah.” She tapped her pen on the paper. “Is the toxicology report in? I was wondering if Mrs Langford was on any strong medication.”
He shook his head. “Nothing other than her prescribed meds.”
“So nothing that might alter her state of mind?”
“No. Why?”
Because Jamie had put the idea in her head, that was why. Her jaw tightened. “No reason. Just checking.”
The sergeant was turning away when she finally worked up some courage. “Sarge?”
He gave a quizzical grunt and turned back.
“I was thinking I might speak to the Langfords’ cleaner.” A little more conviction in her tone wouldn’t go amiss, but she failed to muster it.
“Why?”
“According to a neighbour the Langfords had been arguing with her recently. The neighbour overheard it. Apparently, they fired her for stealing.”
“Did they report that?”
“No. But I called Mr Langford and he confirmed it. He said they didn’t have any proof it was the cleaner and didn’t want to make a fuss, but that .
. .” She glanced at the list of names on her paper.
“Petra didn’t take it well when they let her go.
Apparently she made threats to get back at them.
He thinks she still has a spare key. I also spoke to her previous employer. They let her go for stealing as well.”
He huffed out a weary breath. “And you want to talk to her about these thefts?”
“No. Well, kind of. Her being caught stealing, and then losing her job, it’s motive, isn’t it? Also she made threats against the Langfords.”
“You really think being caught stealing jewellery is motive for murder?”
“Is there ever a valid reason to kill someone?” She softened her tone. “I’d just like to get a feel for her. See if I can’t cross her off my list of suspects.”
He peered over her shoulder at the paper on her desk. Emma’s hand moved instinctively, covering the final name on the page.
“You have a suspect list for a case which we’re not actively investigating and which I’ve told you to hold off on?”
“It’s only a few thoughts.”
“You also seem to have gathered a fair bit of information for this case which you’re not supposed to be working on.”
She didn’t have a good answer for that, so she went on the defensive. “Would you rather I didn’t use my initiative?” she snapped, then immediately regretted her tone.
“Sometimes I would, yes.” The flicker of amusement in his eyes made her wonder if he actually had it in for her, or if she maybe took things a little too personally at times.
“Sarge?” she called when he started towards his office. “Can I speak to the cleaner?”
“And say what?”
“Ask her about her relationship with the Langfords? Try to figure out if she really did steal from them.”
“You think she’ll spontaneously confess?”
“No, but . . .”
“You can’t get a warrant to search her property.”
“I know, but I’d at least like to see how she responds to having a detective show up on her doorstep.”
Sergeant Brodie stretched his neck, seemingly considering her request. “If you wait until the forensic report comes back, you could build a case and obtain a warrant. Crashing in there now might not be the best approach.”
She tapped her pen again, following his train of thought. “If I go now, it’ll give her a heads-up that we’re looking into it. Give her time to get rid of anything before we get a warrant?”
“Exactly.” He cocked his head. “Since you seem to be so passionate about it, I’ll leave it up to your judgement.”
“Okay.” That felt like a trap and one she was likely to walk straight into since her instincts were screaming at her to speak to the cleaner.
“I also thought I could canvass the neighbours on the Langfords’ road.
And maybe check to see if I can get my hands on any video footage for the area on the morning of Mrs Langford’s death. ”
A slow smile cracked over the sergeant’s face. “Don’t push your luck. A quick chat with the cleaner is one thing, but there’s no way we can put that kind of time in before we have any evidence a crime has taken place.”
“Yeah. Right.” She’d definitely been pushing her luck, but it was always worth a try. “Thanks, Sarge.”
He tipped his chin and left her alone to stare at the names on her paper. Family members always had to be on a suspect list. Then Petra Horvat, the cleaner. The neighbour, Trisha Harrington, because she’d been around when Mrs Langford was found, and Emma had got weird vibes from her.
Her fingers shifted, revealing the final name. Jamie Sinclair.
She hadn’t liked putting him on the list, and even now she had an urge to strike through his name. That made no sense, though. Professional instincts told her his name had to be there – same as the family members.
But another instinct whispered that investigating him would be a colossal waste of time. Considering how guarded she usually was with new people, it unnerved her that she trusted him so quickly. Maybe it was Moira’s concern for him, clouding her reasoning.
She ran her fingers over her forehead, massaging her frown lines. Her professional judgement shouldn’t be affected because he was sincere, and because the people closest to her had taken a liking to him. In her job, she had to keep an open mind.
She added another question mark after his name.