Looking Good Dead

26

‘The managing agents of the flat your daughter rents in Brighton let us in yesterday, Mr Stretton, and allowed us to take a couple of items belonging to her for DNA testing. We took some hair samples from a brush in the bathroom and a piece of chewing gum we found in a pedal bin,’ Grace explained.

Derek Stretton held his cup without drinking, eyeing him warily.

‘We sent these up to the Police laboratory at Huntingdon, and earlier this morning we received the results. The DNA from the chewing gum and from the hair is from the same person, and there was a complete match with the body that we found on Wednesday. I’m afraid the only conclusion we can come to, sir, is that the murdered young lady is your daughter, Janie.’

There was a long silence, and for some moments Grace thought that Derek Stretton was about to throw his head back and roar with laughter. Instead, all that happened was that the cup began to rattle in the saucer, louder and louder, until the man leaned forward and set it down.

‘I – I see,’ he said.

He looked at Grace again, then at Branson. Then slowly, like a complex folding chair, he seemed to collapse in on himself. ‘She’s all I have in the world,’ he said. ‘Please tell me it’s not true. She’s coming today – it’s my birthday – we’re going to dinner. Oh God. I – I…’

Grace stared rigidly ahead, avoiding Branson’s eye, wishing desperately that he could say it wasn’t true, that it was a mistake. But there was nothing he could add, nothing that would make this man’s grief any less.

‘I lost my wife – her mother – three years ago. Cancer. Now I’ve lost Janie. I…’

Grace gave him some space, then asked, ‘What kind of a daughter was she, sir? I mean – were you close?’

After a long silence Derek Stretton said, ‘There’s always a special bond between a father and daughter, I’m told. I’ve certainly found it so.’

‘She was a caring person?’

‘Immensely. Never ever forgot my birthday, or Christmas or Father’s Day. She’s – she’s just – a – perfect…’ His voice tailed away.

Grace stood up. ‘Do you have a recent photograph of her? I’d like to get a picture out into circulation as quickly as possible.’

Derek Stretton nodded bleakly.

‘And would you mind if we took a look in her bedroom?’

‘Do you want me to come – or…?’

‘We can go on our own,’ Grace said gently.

‘First floor – turn right at the top of the stairs. It’s the second door on your right.’

It was a young girl’s room, a tidy, organized, methodical young girl. A row of cuddly toys lay back against the cushions. A U2 poster hung on the wall. There was a collection of seashells on the dressing table. Bookshelves stacked mostly with children’s books, girls’ adventure stories and a few legal thrillers from Scott Turow, John Grisham and several other American writers. There was a pair of slippers on the floor and an old-fashioned dressing gown hanging on the back of the door.

Grace and Branson opened all the drawers, rummaged in her clothing, through underwear, T-shirts, blouses, pullovers, but they found nothing to remotely suggest what she had done to expose herself to a savage killer.

Then Grace picked up a velvet jewellery box and popped open the lid. Inside were some delicate amethyst earrings, a silver charm bracelet, a gold necklace, and a signet ring with an embossed crest. He closed the lid and held on to the box.

After fifteen minutes they went back downstairs. Derek Stretton did not seem to have moved from his chair, and he had not touched his tea.

Grace held up the box and opened the lid, showing Janie’s father the contents. ‘Mr Stretton, are all these your daughter’s?’

He peered at them and nodded.

‘May I borrow one of the items? Something that she might have worn recently?’ He ignored the strange look that Glenn Branson gave him.

‘The signet ring’s probably the best,’ he said. ‘It’s our family crest. She used to wear it all the time until quite recently.’

Grace removed a small plastic evidence bag from his pocket, which he had brought with him for this purpose, and, lifting the ring out of the box with his handkerchief, carefully placed it in the bag.

‘Mr Stretton, is there anyone you can think of who might have had any reason to harm your daughter?’ Grace asked.

‘No one,’ he whispered.

Sitting back down opposite Derek Stretton and leaning towards him, Grace cradled his chin on his hands and asked, ‘Did she have a boyfriend?’

Staring at the carpet, Derek Stretton said, ‘Not – not anyone special.’

‘But she had a current fellow?’

He looked up at Grace, seeming to regain some composure. ‘She was a fine-looking girl with a great personality. She was never short of admirers. But she took the law very seriously – I don’t think she wanted too many distractions.’

‘She’s a lawyer?’

‘A law student. She did a law degree here at Southampton University, and she’s been studying for the past few years at Guildford Law School. Currently she’s articled – or a trainee – or whatever they call it nowadays – with a firm of solicitors in Brighton.’

‘And you’ve been supporting her during her studies.’

‘As best I can. It’s been a little tight these past months. Bit of a struggle. I…’

Grace nodded sympathetically. ‘Can we just go back to the boyfriends, sir. Do you know the name of her most recent boyfriend?’

Derek Stretton seemed to have aged twenty years in the last twenty minutes. He was pensive for some moments. ‘Justin Remington – she went out with him about a year or so ago. Very charming young man. He – she brought him down here a few times. Develops property in London. I quite liked him, but I don’t think he had a big enough intellect for her.’ He smiled with a faraway look. ‘She has a – had a remarkable brain. Couldn’t get near her at Scrabble from the time she was about nine.’

‘Would you know where I could get hold of this Justin Remington?’

There was a silence as Stretton sat thinking, then furrowing his eyebrows he said, ‘He was into real tennis. I don’t think there are that many players. I know he played in London – I believe it was Queens,’ he said.

It was rapidly becoming clear to Roy Grace that he was going to get very little more from the man. ‘Is there someone you can phone?’ he asked him. ‘A relative or a friend who could come over?’

After some moments, Derek Stretton said meekly, ‘My sister. Lucy. She’s not very far away. I’ll give her a call. She’ll be devastated.’

‘Why don’t you make the call while we’re still here, sir?’ Branson urged, as gently as he could.

The pair of them waited while he made the call, retreating as discreetly as they could to the far end of the room. Grace heard him sobbing; then he went out of the room for a while. Finally he came back in and walked over to join them, holding a brown envelope. ‘I’ve put some photographs of Janie together for you. I’d appreciate them back.’

‘Of course,’ Grace said, knowing the poor man would probably have to make half a dozen calls over the coming months to get them back – they would inevitably get misfiled somewhere in the system.

‘Lucy’s on her way – my sister. She’ll be here in about half an hour.’

‘Would you like us to wait?’ Grace asked.

‘No, I’ll be OK. I need some time to think. I… Can – can I see Janie?’

Grace shot a glance at Branson. ‘I don’t think it would be advisable, sir.’

‘I’d really like to see her one more time. You know? To say goodbye?’ He put out a hand and gripped Grace’s firmly.

Grace realized he had not absorbed from the newspapers that Janie’s head was missing. This was not the moment to tell him. He decided to leave that to the two FLOs. Vanessa Ritchie and Maggie Campbell were about to earn their keep and give some payback for the massive investment in their training.

‘There are two women detectives who will be along to see you shortly, from our Family Liaison Unit. They’ll be able to guide you on that.’

‘Thank you. It would mean a lot to me.’ Then he gave a sad little laugh. ‘You know, officers, I – I never discussed death with Janie. I have no idea whether she wanted to be buried or cremated.’ Wild-eyed he added, ‘And her cat, of course.’ He scratched the back of his head. ‘Bins! She used to bring Bins here before she went away. I – don’t know… it’s all so…’

‘They’ll be able to help you with everything; that’s what they are here for.’

‘It never occurred to me that she might die, you see.’

Grace and Branson walked back out to the car in a deeply uncomfortable silence.