‘Yes, said Karen. ‘That was Aunty Jo.’

  ‘What happened next?’

  ‘She told us to sit down in her sitting room, and then she asked if we were hungry.’

  ‘No,’ objected Jake. ‘She asked if we were hungry first.’

  ‘No she didn’t,’ contradicted Karen. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter. She brought us some egg butties, and crisps and a drink each.’

  ‘What happened after that?’ asked Jill.

  ‘The next thing I remember properly, we were in the cellar, on the bed. I woke up and Jake was next to me.’

  ‘Do you remember going down the stairs to the cellar?’ asked Jenny.

  ‘No. Not really. At least…’ Karen screwed up her face with the effort to remember. ‘I might remember being very sleepy and Aunty Jo saying we needed to go to bed, and her taking my arm … but it’s all muddled.’

  ‘OK, that’s fine,’ said Jill. ‘What happened next?’

  ‘When I woke up properly, I started to look around and I went to the door, but I couldn’t open it. Then Aunty Jo came in with some breakfast and told us she was going to look after us. I said, “What about our mum?” and she said…’ Karen’s eyes glistened with sudden tears. ‘She said Mum was dead but we didn’t need to worry because she would look after us. I guess that was true, because it was in the paper she showed us. The bit about Mum, I mean.’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid that was true,’ said Jill.

  ‘Then later,’ went on Karen, ‘she told us Dad was dead too and we were orphans and that we didn’t have anyone but her.

  ‘What’s going to happen to us now?’ she asked. ‘Now we have no one. Even Tim has disappeared.’

  Lily leaned forward. ‘You are safe and you will be looked after, I promise you. I will personally see to it that you and Jake are found a new home together. It’s a promise.’

  Karen sniffed, and Jill pushed the box of tissues on the coffee table toward her, feeling that it would take very little for her to need the tissues herself.

  ‘Is that the Tim who was a friend of your mother’s? she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Karen.

  ‘Well, I can tell you that he’s going to be OK. He was in hospital for a bit, which is why you couldn’t find him, but he’s fine now.’

  ‘Can we see him?’ asked Jake.

  ‘I’ll talk to him about that,’ said Lily.

  ‘Tell me about your life in the cellar,’ said Jill.

  ***

  Comparing notes back in the car, Jill and Jenny tried to focus on the facts to suppress their horror at what might have been.

  ‘Shorn of Jake’s worries about Covid and his reliance on “Aunty Jo”, the children’s accounts are pretty consistent,’ said Jenny.

  ‘Let’s summarise what they agree on,’ said Jill. ‘First, they agree that Aunty Jo gave them food and drink on the evening they arrived, and neither of them clearly remember going into the cellar. There must be a realistic supposition that she drugged or doped them. Make a note that we need to ask the forensic team if they found anything like that in the bungalow.

  ‘Second, they agree that the door was kept locked, and that Karen asked on multiple occasions to be let out. That’s false imprisonment.

  ‘Third, they both say that on the one occasion Karen did get out, Aunty Jo pushed her back down the stairs quite violently. That’s assault.’

  ‘There’s no suggestion she assaulted them in any other way,’ said Jenny.

  ‘Correct,’ said Jill. ‘But she did film them through that remote camera in the corner of the cellar, and there are images on her laptop which, while I suspect they weren’t intended to be sexual, would qualify as Category C indecent images. That’s another charge.’

  ‘Then there’s the body in the garden.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jill, pulling her seat belt round and clipping it on. ‘I don’t think Aunty Jo will be out anytime soon.’

  The rap of a knuckle on the side window made her look round. It was Lily.

  ‘Did you get everything you want?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes. Thanks, Lily, for your help. Can I ask you something unofficially?’ added Jill.

  ‘Yes, of course, although I won’t guarantee I’ll answer unofficially,’ said Lily with a smile.

  ‘My partner, Diana Grain, taught Karen at school in Great Yarmouth,’ said Jill. ‘She suggested I ask you if you thought some remote teaching might bring a bit of normality back into the children’s lives, in which case she’d be glad to help.’

  ‘It’s a thought,’ said Lily. ‘Although I don’t think they should be exposed to any mass Zooms with other children just yet.’

  ‘No, certainly not,’ agreed Jill. ‘Too much risk of the media gatecrashing, let alone other children being insensitive. No, what she had in mind was some one-to-one classes, or one-to-two if Jake wanted to join in.’

  ‘I’ll see how the children react and get back to you,’ said Lily. ‘Thanks for the offer.’

  Hard on the back of another ‘no comment’ interview, Greg was pleased with Jill’s summary.

  ‘Good work,’ he said. ‘And a very thorough assessment of what we’ve got on Mrs Hamilton with regard to the children.’ He checked his watch for the umpteenth time that morning. ‘I think it’s time we charged her with those offences, then we can keep her in custody until the forensic results come back on the body in the garden. Would you like to come with me this time?’

  Jill nodded an eager thank you, and the two of them went back to the interview room.

  ‘I hope you’ve come to release my client,’ said Mr Streeter, rising to his feet to deliver what, Greg reflected, he must have known was a forlorn hope.

  ‘On the contrary,’ said Greg, after he had introduced Jill and sat down. ‘We are here to charge your client with some serious offences.

  ‘Joanne Hamilton, you are charged with the unlawful imprisonment of Karen and Jake Mirren from Friday, 27th of March 2020 to Wednesday, 5th of August 2020. You are further charged with assault on Karen Mirren, and with the making and possession of Category C indecent images of both children. You do not have to say anything—’

  Joanne Hamilton’s jaw had dropped, and she interrupted to ask, ‘What indecent images? You can’t accuse me of that! I never touched either child. I wouldn’t. And what assault?’

  ‘Both children agree that you pushed Karen Mirren down the stairs. That is assault,’ said Greg. ‘And indecent images of both children were found on your laptop. That is an offence in itself. You will appear before magistrates in the morning and your case will be remitted to the Crown Court.’ In a patient voice he completed the interrupted caution and checked she understood.

  ‘Other charges may follow,’ he added. ‘DS Hayes, will you see Mrs Hamilton back to the custody suite, please.’

  Back in his office, Greg had barely sat down to complete the paperwork when the phone rang.

  ‘It’s me,’ announced Ned unnecessarily, given his number on the display. ‘I have some results back on the DNA samples. Can I come and see you?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Greg. ‘But can’t you tell me on the phone?’

  ‘I’m just upstairs, and I think this is something you need to see,’ said Ned. He rang off precipitously and the sound of footsteps galloping down the corridor soon followed.

  ‘What’s the excitement?’ asked Greg as Ned entered the office.

  ‘This,’ said Ned, slapping a couple of charts on the desk. ‘These are the results of the DNA tests on the body found in the garden, as compared with DNA taken from Joanne Hamilton. They prove that the body is Joanne Hamilton’s mother.’

  ‘They what!’ exclaimed Greg. ‘How confident are you of the match?’

  ‘Over ninety-nine per cent confident. The body in the garden ornament was the mother of the woman we have in custody. Moreover, Dr Paisley has been consulting with your old friends in Bradford, George and Mildred, and sent them some photos of various key bones – I believe, the pubic symphysis, and of knee and hip joints amongst others.’

  ‘And what do they say?’ he asked.

  ‘The body was, they estimate, around sixty to seventy years old when death occurred, and they also agree that death occurred around two years ago.’

  ‘Hang on,’ said Greg, doing the maths. ‘If Joanne Hamilton’s mother was, say, seventy years old in 2018, how did she manage to have a daughter who appears to be sixty-plus years old now? Sorry, I know that doesn’t make sense. I’m thinking aloud. If the woman in the cells is the daughter of the body in the garden, then the body must be Joanne Hamilton, and the woman we have in custody is her daughter.’

  ‘That’s where I got to,’ said Ned. ‘Which means that she’s been masquerading as her mother for a couple of years, claiming her pension, living in her home and using her bank accounts.’

  Greg picked up his phone. ‘Jim, you need to hear this,’ he said. ‘Get yourself along to my office.’

  When Jim had joined them, Ned and Greg outlined the position between them, voices chiming in point and counterpoint. Jim took a few moments to assimilate the data, then his eyes gleamed.

  ‘That’s a good few charges to add,’ he said, rubbing his hands together. ‘Not to say a motive for murder. How on earth did she think she’d get away with it?’

  ‘She has for over two years,’ Greg pointed out. ‘I suppose there was a family likeness which she exaggerated by dressing in her mother’s clothes and maybe dying her hair. And the subterfuge would be helped by the fact everyone agrees her mother was a recluse. She’d just keep up the pretence with little or no interaction with neighbours. Easy!’

  38

  6 August 2020 – afternoon

  Enjoying a hasty lunch at his desk, Greg seized the moment to make a quick call to Chris.

  ‘There’s been a development,’ he said. ‘It means I’m probably going to be late home again.’

  ‘That makes two of us,’ was the reply. She sounded tired and dispirited.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

  ‘That family I mentioned. The woman I thought would give evidence to prosecute her husband… I was too optimistic. She’s gone back to him again.’

  ‘Oh, Chris. So sorry. That’s a bummer.’

  ‘Certainly is,’ she said. ‘She’s certain he’s sorry this time – sure he means it. There’s no chance. This leopard has the same spots running right through, like a stick of rock. I just don’t see why she can’t see it!’

  ‘Not that she can’t, but that she doesn’t want to,’ suggested Greg.

  ‘I suppose so, but I’m really worried that I’ll be picking up a body next time. His violence is escalating. I don’t know what else I can do, Greg. I’ve tried supporting her; I’ve tried scaring the bejaysus out of him; I’ve tried finding her and the kid a place in a shelter; I’ve tried introducing her to other women who’ve gone through something similar and got out. I’ve run out of options.’

  ‘You’ve done everything you can,’ said Greg. ‘In the end, you can’t make decisions for someone like that. For anyone, if it comes to that. It’s hard, but sometimes all we can do is pick up the pieces after we’ve tried everything else. You’ve done everything right,’ he repeated.

  ‘No, there must be something I haven’t tried yet. I’m going to have a chat with the woman who runs the battered wives shelter. She has a lot of experience. She might have a suggestion.’

  ‘That sounds a good idea,’ said Greg. ‘But if she says the same as me, that sometimes you can try everything and nothing works, then you have to take a step back and look after yourself. Or let me look after you,’ he added. ‘I’m not doing a very good job of that at the moment, but we will take some time for ourselves soon, I promise.’

  ‘You said you had a development too,’ said Chris. ‘Good or bad?’

  ‘Don’t know yet. Interesting, definitely. It turns out the woman we have in the cells seems to have murdered herself.’

  ‘That is different,’ said Chris.

  ‘Strictly speaking, we’ve found a body in her garden that turns out to be the person we thought we’d arrested, and even more interestingly, is the mother of the person we have arrested.’

  ‘Now I’m totally confused,’ said Chris, but she sounded more cheerful. ‘See you later.’

  Greg and Jim convened just outside the interview room, with Jill observing from the suite next door.

  ‘Ready?’ asked Greg.

  ‘Ready.’ They opened the door and joined the elderly-looking woman and her brief at the table.

  ‘DCI Geldard and DI Henning have entered the room,’ said Greg. ‘I would remind you, Ms Hamilton, that you are still under caution. I’ve asked you before about the body found in the concrete pillar in your garden.’

  ‘And my client has exercised her right to remain silent,’ Mr Streeter commented. ‘I can’t see that anything has changed.’

  ‘What has changed, is that we now have an analysis of the DNA samples taken from the remains. In light of what that tells us about the identification of the body, I wonder if you would like to amend anything in your previous statements, Ms Hamilton?’

  ‘How can my client comment when neither she nor I yet know what that evidence is?’ protested Mr Streeter.

  ‘Oh, I think your client is well aware of what the evidence will have told us,’ said Greg. ‘Isn’t that so, Ms Hamilton? Or do you have another name? Other than your maiden name that is?’ Mr Streeter looked up sharply, but Joanne continued to look at the floor.

  ‘Still playing the game? It won’t wash you know,’ said Greg. ‘Jim, read out the summary of the report, would you?’

  ‘In summary,’ read Jim, ‘the DNA analysis shows that Sample A was taken from the biological mother of Sample B, with a 99.7 % probability.’

  ‘Sample A, as I’m sure you realise, was taken from the remains. Sample B was taken from you. The body in the garden is your mother, and the rightful owner of the property in Ormesby. You are her daughter, and have been masquerading as your own mother, claiming her pension and making use of her property. Any comment?’ asked Greg.

  As the silence continued, Mr Streeter said, ‘I would like a copy of that report and time for a private discussion with my client.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Greg. ‘But first, I need to make one thing clear. Joanne Hamilton, you are further charged with the murder of your mother, also known as Joanne Hamilton, and with prevention of the lawful and decent burial of a body. Charges relating to theft and fraud—’

  Joanne interrupted. ‘Stop, wait. I didn’t murder her. I didn’t murder my mother.’

  Mr Streeter attempted to interrupt in his turn. ‘I recommend you remain silent until—’

  ‘It was an accident,’ said Joanne. ‘I didn’t mean it.’

  Greg and Jim exchanged looks as the room fell silent. Next door, Jill punched the air with a whoop. ‘You’re saying your mother’s death was an accident?’ said Greg.

  ‘I really think—’ said Mr Streeter with an air of desperation.

  ‘Yes, it was an accident.’

  ‘Perhaps you’d like to tell me what happened,’ said Greg, his voice deliberately quiet and low-key.

  Joanne took a shuddering breath. For a moment Greg and Jim thought she’d taken her solicitor’s advice and gone silent again. But she started to speak, and what she had to say made it difficult for Greg to suppress an audible gasp.

  ‘She killed my son. She killed Frankie. I came home from work and found him dead. I lost it and I pushed her, but I didn’t mean to kill her.’

  So many questions filled Greg’s head he didn’t know which to ask first. ‘Tell me about Frankie,’ he said.

  Next door Jill was leafing through her notes, a memory triggered. Yes, I’m right. The name I saw inside some of the children’s books in the basement was Francis Chalmers. She scribbled a note for Greg, but held on to it, correctly judging that this was not a good moment to interrupt proceedings.

  ‘Frankie was my son,’ said Joanne. ‘He was a good boy, a quiet boy. He liked reading and animals. We came to my mother when my partner walked out. I had no money and nowhere else to go. Worst decision of my life,’ she said bitterly. ‘I’d have been better to work on the streets and keep Frankie safe. As it was…’ She paused to scrub at the tears on her face with her hands. Jim pushed a box of tissues across the table, but she ignored them. She sniffed and wiped her nose and eyes on her sleeve.

  ‘What happened to Frankie?’ asked Greg.

  ‘I told you, I came home from work and found him dead. She said she’d given him crab for his lunch, and it had made him ill. I thought, after, it must have been that allergic thing. Shock. If she hadn’t given him crab, or if she’d called for an ambulance quickly, if she’d done anything to help him, it might have been all right. But she did nothing. She killed my son. I saw red. I remember shouting and pushing her, and her falling backward onto the stairs. Then she was dead.’

  There was a long pause. Then she went on. ‘I buried Frankie in the garden, but I wasn’t having that evil old witch anywhere near my boy. So, I put her in the freezer. Later, months later, I cemented her into that column.’

  Greg looked up at the two-way mirror, behind which he knew Jill was sitting, and gave a slight nod.

  In the soundproofed observation suite, Jill picked up a phone and rang Ned. ‘We need a new search of the grounds,’ she said. ‘We’ve information that there’s another body buried in the garden.’

  Greg continued his questions. ‘What should we call you, Joanne?’ he asked. ‘What’s your real name?’

  ‘Joanne Kate Hamilton,’ she said. ‘Joanne after my mother. Kate after my grandma. I’ve used Joanne Chalmers. I never married Frankie’s father, but I wanted the same name as my son.’

  ‘Where is Frankie buried?’ asked Greg.

  ‘I don’t want you disturbing him. That’s sick. Leave him in peace, for God’s sake. Leave him alone.’ She was becoming increasingly distressed and started to bang on the table. Mr Streeter opened his mouth to object, but Greg was there before him.