‘Will do,’ said Jill, and rang off.

  By the time Greg had greeted Bobby and Tally, showered, shaved and consumed a hasty slice of toast or two, his eyes were closing. He lay down on the sofa, Bobby curled up alongside, and, taking the precaution of setting a thirty-minute alarm, he tried to stop his mind spinning in circles. When the alarm went off he woke with a jerk, startled to find that sleep had arrived so quickly, but much refreshed by the short nap. He was already ringing Jim as he took his seat in his car.

  ‘I’ll be in within the half hour,’ he said. ‘Anything from the doc yet?’

  ‘Not yet,’ said Jim, his voice echoing round the car. Jim always seemed to shout down a hands-free. ‘But we’re promised at least an interim report shortly. Mrs Hamilton’s currently in discussion with a duty solicitor. She apparently said she doesn’t have a solicitor and wouldn’t know where to go for one, so with luck we can start interviewing her when you are ready.’

  ‘Anything from Ned?’ asked Greg.

  ‘Again, an interim report. He says they’ve been through the whole property, outbuildings and so on, and found nothing else untoward.’

  ‘By which I take it he means no more bodies.’

  ‘That’s right. But there’s every sign the children have been kept in that cellar ever since they arrived in Ormesby. The cellar had a CCTV camera in one corner and Ned’s got a laptop, presumed to be Mrs Hamilton’s, which is currently being analysed. They also found a mobile phone in the main bedroom, and an iPad in the cellar which may well be the one Diana Grain loaned to the children for schoolwork. They’re all with the techies.

  ‘What Ned describes as “loads” of fingerprints have been lifted from different parts of the property – Mrs Hamilton doesn’t seem to have been an assiduous cleaner – and DNA samples have been taken from toothbrushes, hairbrushes and so on. That’s about it for now.’

  ‘Good. Jim, I’d like you to join me for the first interviews. I may want to rotate Jill in later, just to get a different perspective, when she’s had a break. She’s with the children at present.’

  ‘What about you?’ asked Jim. ‘Have you had any sleep?’

  ‘Some,’ said Greg and refrained from elaborating. Jim got the message anyway, as was evidenced by the large mug of black coffee that awaited Greg on his arrival.

  Greg took a large swig then rang for Jim. ‘Let’s have a chat and agree our strategy,’ he said, just as the interim report from Doctor Paisley pinged into his inbox.

  The body is that of a woman, estimated age somewhere between 50 and 70, height around 1 metre 60. Hair is grey and there has been some dental work on the teeth, so dental records may be helpful in IDing the remains. It has also been possible to take samples that should yield DNA, but they will take a little time to analyse.

  Cause of death is tricky, with so little soft tissue remaining unchanged. There is damage to the occipital bone but it’s doubtful it would have been lethal on its own. Samples have gone for analysis, but we may never know for certain what was the cause.

  There were no clothes, belongings or any other materials enclosed with the body, other than a leather strap used to hold the arms close to the torso. Otherwise it’s just bones, and a lot of adipocere, resulting from the anaerobic environment in which the body was stored.

  Estimated date of death is 2–3 years ago.

  Greg looked up as Jim came into his office. ‘I take it you’ve seen the doc’s report,’ he said.

  ‘Yes. Not much to go on yet.’

  ‘No,’ agreed Greg. ‘Let’s hope dental records and the DNA give us an ID. I gather Steve’s already checked and the former owner of the property not only moved out more than ten years ago, but is alive and well and living in Great Yarmouth.

  ‘Right, let’s plan this interview. We have two areas for questions. First, the children, how she came to meet them, how they came to be imprisoned in her cellar, her motives for keeping them, what she was intending to do with them, and so on.

  ‘Then, the body. Who is it? How did they come to die? How did they end up in her garden ornament? Who killed them? How did they acquire the injury to the back of the head?’

  36

  5 August 2020 – afternoon

  Greg’s phone rang just before he headed to the interview suite with Jim.

  ‘Chris, everything OK?’ he asked.

  ‘Just about,’ she said. ‘One of the families I’ve been monitoring had a bit of a bust-up last night and I’ve been involved in interviewing the wife.’ She sounded exhausted and Greg was immediately concerned.

  ‘Where are you now?’ he asked.

  ‘On my way home. I’m going to take a break, then write my report up at home. Fingers crossed, but I think this time she may actually support a prosecution. I heard about the children,’ she added. ‘It’s all over the news. I’m thrilled for you, Greg. Such a relief. But what’s this about a body?’

  ‘I’m hoping to find out,’ he replied. ‘Just about to start the interview with Mrs Hamilton. Take care, Chris. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way home.’

  He rang off and walked briskly down the corridor to the interviewing suite, picking up Jim en route.

  ‘All ready?’ he asked.

  ‘Think so,’ said Jim. ‘Anything more from Ned?’

  ‘Nothing yet.’

  They entered Interview Room 2, to find Mrs Hamilton sitting at the table with a duty solicitor they recognised. He nodded as they came in and sat down.

  ‘You met me this morning, Mrs Hamilton,’ said Greg. ‘I’m DCI Geldard and this is DI Henning.’ He held up a hand as she seemed about to launch into speech. ‘If you don’t mind, we’ll just do the formalities for the tape, and then we can get started properly.’

  Everyone introduced – the solicitor turned out to be Mr Joseph Streeter, a name Greg vaguely recognised as a regular round the magistrates’ courts – and the caution repeated for the tape, Greg paused a moment and looked at Mrs Hamilton. Her grey hair was now tamed into a straggly ponytail, and she’d been provided with a tracksuit from the police stores. Either tiredness or some disaster of longer standing had etched stress lines into her hollow cheeks and engraved deep contours under her eyes.

  ‘You have been charged with the unlawful imprisonment of two children, Karen Mirren and Jake Mirren. What have you to say?’ asked Greg.

  Somewhat to his surprise – he had been expecting a ‘no comment’ response – she replied calmly.

  ‘I was not and never have imprisoned the children. They came to me, lost and abandoned, in the middle of a pandemic. I took them in, looked after them and kept them safe. And this is the thanks I get.’

  Jim and Greg exchanged glances. ‘How do you explain that the door to the cellar was locked with them inside it?’ asked Greg.

  ‘I was keeping them safe and obeying the lockdown rules,’ she replied. ‘Jake is a good boy and was content to stay indoors, but Karen is wilful and had already tried to wander off. It was for their own good.’

  ‘Why did you not let them stay in the main part of your property?’ asked Greg. ‘You had an empty spare bedroom. Surely it would have been more comfortable and healthier than keeping them below ground.’

  ‘To start with, it was because I was shielding,’ said Mrs Hamilton. ‘I wanted to keep my exposure to them to a minimum until I was sure they didn’t have Covid. Then, it was because Karen was naughty about the lockdown restrictions.’

  ‘And why didn’t you inform the authorities, either the council or us, that you had the children? There has been a major manhunt underway for them that has been fully reported in the press and on the TV. We even held a special event just across the road from your bungalow, asking for help to find them.’

  ‘Oh, was that what that was?’ she said. ‘I didn’t know. I told you, I was shielding. As for the news, I’ve more or less stopped watching it. It’s so depressing.’

  ‘You take the local paper,’ said Greg. ‘I’ve seen it in your home.’

  ‘Well, I just didn’t see the need to get involved with all that,’ she responded. ‘I’ve told you, the children were safe with me.’

  ‘You paint a delightful picture of yourself as their rescuer,’ said Greg. ‘Unfortunately it doesn’t accord with the children’s version of events. They say you found them in your boat, took them into your house, doped them, then kept them under lock and key in that cellar, never letting them out even to go to the bathroom, let alone to play in the garden!’

  ‘The children’s version, or Karen’s?’ asked Mrs Hamilton. ‘I’m sure Jake has said no such thing, and Karen’s version can’t be trusted. The basement room has toilet facilities, it isn’t so bad! I may have been a little cavalier in not letting the authorities, as you put it, know I had them with me, but that’s all.’

  Greg had to concede, within his own head, that she was right about Jake. He looked at Jim, to take up the questioning.

  ‘Let’s turn to another issue,’ said Jim. ‘Whose is the body we found in your garden?’

  That did shock her. Her eyes widened and her fingers clutched at the edge of the table. She swallowed a couple of times before she managed to say, ‘What? What body?’

  ‘You tell me,’ said Jim. ‘Is there more than one?’

  The solicitor was watching his client with some concern. ‘Take a drink of water,’ he said to her, then to the police officers, ‘I think a few moments’ break might be in order.’

  Jim scowled at him, but as Greg rose from his seat, he followed suit.

  Outside the interview room he turned to Greg. ‘That was the only point we had her on the run,’ he complained.

  ‘You’re right,’ said Greg. ‘I suppose a defence based on Jake’s version of events being different from Karen’s was predictable. I think, in court, Karen would be the more believable witness, so I’m not too worried about that. And the failure to let anyone know about the children plus keeping them under lock and key is just not defensible in reality, whatever she says now.

  ‘But her reaction to the mention of the body was interesting, don’t you think?’

  ‘Yes, but I also think she’ll go “no comment” on us now.’ Jim was still irritated at having to pause his questions.

  ‘You’re probably right on that too,’ said Greg. ‘In which case, we’ll need to wait for more forensic evidence to hit her with. There’s no way that body found its way into the concrete column without leaving some traces somewhere.’

  Both predictions proved to be accurate. When Jim and Greg reconvened at the end of the day with no further progress made, it was to consider tactics.

  Greg looked at his watch. ‘She’s been in custody since the early hours of this morning,’ he said. ‘We have until tomorrow morning to charge her or apply for an extension.’

  ‘On grounds that she’s suspected of a murder?’ asked Jim.

  ‘Quite. Park her in the cells overnight and we’ll see what science can come up with. Then we’ll either charge her with false imprisonment or apply for an extension. For now, get yourself home, Jim, and I’ll do the same.’

  37

  6 August 2020 – confidential location near Norwich

  Buoyed up by Diana’s delighted response to the news the children had been found safe, Jill had slept well and deeply. Now she and Jenny were sitting in her car outside the foster parents home near Norwich, waiting for the arrival of the designated social care worker from the council.

  ‘What about the grandparents?’ Jenny had just asked. ‘I thought the mother’s parents were still alive.’

  ‘I spoke to them yesterday after Margaret Tayler let them know the children had been found and were well,’ replied Jill. ‘They said they were relieved about that, then said that, of course, they were too frail to take responsibility for two kids and they hoped we understood that.’

  ‘Oh!’ said Jenny, in a tone that spoke volumes. ‘How old are they?’

  ‘I don’t know for sure,’ said Jill. ‘In their fifties or sixties I’d guess, and definitely not minded to put themselves out. I gather they’ve had little or no contact with the children since they were born, so it’s probably not a great surprise.’

  ‘And the father’s parents?’

  ‘Not known. It seems Kit Mirren was adopted as a baby, and lost contact with his adopted parents when he was in his teens. As far as we can tell from a quick and dirty search of records, they seem to have moved to Spain shortly after. His father’s identity isn’t recorded on his birth certificate and, according to the adoption records, his birth mother died of an overdose soon after he was adopted.’

  ‘How on earth did you dig all that out so quickly?’ asked Jenny.

  ‘I did the digging around when we started the hunt for the kids,’ explained Jill. ‘I was trying to find out if there were any other family members they might have fled to.’

  Jenny nodded her understanding. ‘So the children will probably end up fostered or adopted,’ she said.

  ‘Seems so. Here she is,’ said Jill, seeing a small Peugeot draw up in front of them. ‘Let’s get started.’

  Jill went up to the woman climbing out of the car and held her hand out. ‘DS Jill Hayes,’ she said, ‘and this is DC Jenny Warren. I suggest we keep everything as informal as possible and use Jill and Jenny.’

  The social worker was a sensible-looking middle-aged lady in jeans and blue polo shirt, clutching a clipboard and tablet in one hand. ‘And I’m Lily North,’ she said. She leaned back against her car for a moment. ‘Obviously I’m here as the children’s appropriate adult,’ she said, ‘but I’m also going to take the opportunity to check with their foster mum how they’re getting on and whether she needs any help.’

  ‘Makes sense,’ agreed Jill. ‘I imagine a period of normality and calm would be recommended, so we don’t want to be heavy-handed about this interview. We just need to clarify a couple of points from what the children told me in the hospital.’

  ‘I understand that,’ said Lily. ‘But let’s keep it short, if possible.’

  Nodding agreement, Jill and Jenny followed her into the house, to be greeted by a lady in a voluminous kaftan and with vivid multi-coloured hair.

  ‘This is Mrs Helga Ratcliffe,’ said Lily. ‘One of our best and most experienced foster mums. How are Karen and Jake?’ she asked.

  ‘Both doing surprisingly well, I’d say,’ replied Helga. ‘I’m waiting for reaction to set in. It’s bound to happen sooner or later, but for the moment I think Karen, especially, is enjoying the change of scene and the fresh air in the garden. Jake was a little slower to get over his nervousness about catching Covid from us, but our old dog Maisie solved that problem. In fact, I think he’s sharing her bed as we speak. Come through to the sitting room and I’ll bring the children to you. You may have to have Maisie as well.’

  ‘No problem,’ said Jenny. ‘My regular work partner is a springer spaniel, so I’ll be delighted to have some assistance from Maisie.’

  The sitting room was a comfortable and casual space, full of cosy sofas covered in throws against dog hair, piles of discarded toys and books. Jenny pushed a few books aside to make space on a battered coffee table for her recording equipment, then she and Jill sat down on one sofa while Lily chose a squishy armchair at right angles to them.

  Helga reappeared with Karen, but no sign of Jake. ‘He won’t come without Maisie,’ announced Karen.

  ‘That’s fine,’ said Jenny. ‘I’d like to meet Maisie anyway.’

  After a short pause Jake appeared, hesitating in the doorway, and was firmly pushed aside by a large golden retriever which made a beeline for Jenny and started nosing her pockets.

  ‘Nothing wrong with your scenting skills, old girl,’ she laughed, and produced some gravy-bone biscuits from the pocket. ‘Sit, Maisie,’ she instructed, and the dog slapped its rump onto the floor.

  Jake came forward. ‘She’ll shake paws too,’ he told Jenny.

  ‘Will she? That’s advanced stuff,’ said Jenny.

  ‘I’ll show you,’ said Jake, and took a handful of the gravy-bones. ‘Maisie! Shake!’

  Karen sat herself down on the sofa opposite Jill and Jenny, while Jake sat on the floor with his arm round the dog.

  ‘You know Lily, don’t you,’ said Jill. ‘Today she’s here to look out for you while we ask a few questions. Is that OK?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Karen. ‘I want to answer your questions. You need to know what happened.’

  ‘Where’s Aunty Jo?’ interrupted Jake. Karen sighed heavily and started to put him straight, but Jill interrupted.

  ‘Aunty Jo is fine,’ she said to Jake. ‘She’s safe with us and she’s answering some questions too.’ Karen got the message and smiled a little. Jenny nodded to indicate that the recorder was running.

  ‘We’re going to record this, just in case we forget anything you tell us,’ said Jill. ‘Is that OK, Karen?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  ‘OK. Just for the tape, we have here Jill Hayes, Jenny Warren, Lily North, Karen Mirren and Jake Mirren.’

  ‘And Maisie,’ added Jake.

  ‘And Maisie the dog,’ agreed Jill. ‘Karen, yesterday you told me how you and Jake got to Ormesby by bus, and bought some food from the garage, before getting into a boat on a trailer in a drive not far from the garage. What happened after that?’

  ‘I told you yesterday,’ objected Karen.

  ‘Yes I know. Sorry, I know it’s boring, but I just need to go over it again.’

  ‘OK. We climbed into the boat, ate our supper, and Jake was playing pirates, twirling the steering wheel round. I had just told him to be a bit quieter, when a voice told us to get out of the boat or she’d call for the police. I think she was a bit surprised to see we were only children,’ said Karen, ‘and after she looked us over, she told us to go into the house.’

  ‘Who was that?’ asked Jill.

  ‘It was Aunty Jo. At least, that’s what she told us to call her,’ said Karen.

  ‘And that was the lady at the house when we found you yesterday?’