Читать книгу St Oda's Bones - Marcus Attwater - Страница 20

Collins had spent longer with Ms Dunstable than he intended, and DS Holmes was waiting impatiently to drive them to Swindon, where Kester's mother lived in a meticulously kept semi indistinguishable from all the others on the street.

He looked at Sally. 'You sure Satnav hasn't sent us to Privet Drive?'

'What? You said Roosevelt Avenue. This is it.'

She walked up the garden path and rang the bell before he could explain. The door was opened by a slender woman in her sixties, who looked at them without saying anything.

'Mrs Christine Shaw?'

'Yes?' she said cautiously, 'Are you the police?'

They showed their warrant cards. 'I am Detective Inspector Collins, this is Sergeant Holmes. We spoke on the phone last Friday. May we come in?'

'Please.'

She led them through to the living room, told them to sit down with a wordless gesture and took her place, very upright, in an armchair.

'You've found him, then?' she asked flatly, before Collins could begin his carefully prepared speech.

He made it anyway. 'Mrs Shaw, your son Kester went missing in October 1983. I realise this must be painful for you, but we have found remains we believe to be his. We will need a DNA sample from you or another close family member to confirm identification.'

'But you aren't sure?'

'As sure as we can be without the DNA test. I'm sorry.'

'Not for you to be sorry. I always knew he was dead. From the moment I found his bed unslept in that morning, I knew he was dead. They wouldn't believe me, they said he'd run away.' She spoke matter-of-factly, giving no indication of the pain this must have caused her.

'You thought it unlikely that he would leave home without letting you know?' Sally asked.

'I thought it unlikely he'd be alive if he'd done that. Where did you find him?'

'He had been buried under the shrine in the church of St Oda.'

'St Oda's?' For the first time she became more animated, letting out a sniff that was almost a laugh. 'He loved that place, he was always hanging around there.'

Collins exchanged a look with his colleague. This wasn't the response they had expected.

'Do you feel up to answering a few questions? I realise this must be a shock to you…'

'No, not really. I expected you to arrive for a long time. Then I got used to the idea that maybe you would never come. So ask your questions now you're here.'

He took her through the events of the night her son disappeared and the days that followed. She answered the questions calmly.

'Can you think of anyone who would have wanted to harm your son?'

'They asked me that at the time, naturally. I really don't know. I hardly knew Kester's friends, there was a group of boys and girls his age who all lived in Abbey Hill, but he didn't bring anyone home. There was a big lad called Steve, and that farmer's daughter, Gail something… but I really wouldn't have known if he had quarrelled with someone. It's not something a boy that age tells his mother, is it?'

No, but she can ask, Collins thought. But it was too late for that.

'Do you have a photograph of Kester?' he asked instead.

'What would you need that for?'

He thought quickly. 'Someone killed Kester, and lied about it to Inspector Clarke. They are going to lie to me about it as well. But I hope a visual reminder may provoke a reaction.'

'Wait here.'

She went upstairs, returned five minutes later with an unframed photograph, which she gave to DS Holmes.

'Thank you. We'll make a copy and return it to you,' Sally said, putting it in her bag.

'I have others. I don't want to see it all over the papers, though. I don't want journalists and whatnot asking me questions.'

He could imagine that, but he feared that unless they got a result at once, there would be bound to be media attention.

'I'm afraid I can't guarantee that. They won't learn your present name and whereabouts from me, but if they're interested, they'll track you down anyway.'

Again, he had the idea she continued with her own train of thought without taking notice of his.

'Hayley doesn't know, you see. My daughter. She was born after Kester died, she doesn't know she ever had a brother. I didn't want her to grow up with that knowledge hanging over her.'

'It may be wise to tell her,' Sally said gently, 'Rather than let her find out by accident.'

Mrs Shaw's face showed plainly that she didn't need advice on that from the police, but all she said was. 'I'll show you out.'

'We'll be in touch again about the DNA test,' Collins said, 'Thank you very much, Mrs Shaw.'

Back in the car Sally handed him the photograph of Kester.

'Good idea, showing his picture to the suspects,' she said, 'Especially since you thought of it on the spur of the moment.'

'Did it show?'

'Not to her, she's in another world. Why did you want it?'

'To make it real,' he explained, 'I've never seen this boy whose killer I have to find. You don't get much of a sense of personality from a skeleton.'

The photograph was a school portrait, nothing remarkable about it, or the face it showed. A narrow face, a child's large eyes, very fair hair cut in spikes. Apart from the slightness. Collins could see no resemblance between this boy and the woman he had just spoken to. In the picture Kester looked no more than thirteen or fourteen, but the back said May 1983.

Back at the station, Collins compared the list of Clarke's witnesses with the list Ms Dunstable had emailed - commendably promptly for someone who claimed she'd have to think about it.

'That's going to be a lot of interviews,' Sergeant Holmes said, looking at it as well. 'Good practice for you,' she added to DC Robbins.

They divvied up the potential witnesses between them. 'We'll have to ask them specifically if they saw anything out of the ordinary in the church or the churchyard, since Clarke didn't know Kester ended up there,' Collins told them, 'And also whether anyone was acting oddly the next morning, before the police arrived.'

'Of course. You think it was someone who knew him, then?'

'Isn't it always? And don't you get a feeling it was one of that lot?' he asked her, tapping the print of Ms Dunstable's list, 'His 'not really friends'?'

'I think you're right. When you read the interviews with the adults, Kester doesn't seem to have really registered with them. And even if it isn't one of that lot, we have to start somewhere.'

Collins smiled at Joshua Robbins' bewildered look. 'Did you think we'd be rushing off to question the right suspect on pure instinct? If only. It's mostly legwork and hope.'

He showed the plans and photographs John Davidson had sent to DCI Flynn, and told her what he had heard from Laura Fox.

'I'm thinking that it may be redundant to start digging there again. And they filled the hole with concrete this time, anything useful will have probably been damaged beyond recovery.'

'You say that as if you expect me to object. If you think it will not bring up any new evidence, I am happy enough to not spend the money.'

That was what he had hoped she would to say.

'I know, it's just that I am wary of, I don't know, not trying hard enough? It's easy to be dismissive of something that happened long ago and no one feels a sense of outrage over anymore.'

'You have spoken to his mother?' DCI Flynn asked.

'Yes. I had the impression she'd rather I stayed away.'

'All right, wrong example, but the sense of outrage never goes away entirely, and you know it. And you, of all people, are not going to be accused of not caring enough, Collins, snap out of it. It doesn't have anything to do with our present decision, anyway. If you can solve this without digging up the church and squandering our budget, so much the better.'