‘Sorry, I had to use the hydraulics to get the bed moving for her to sit up. It’s a new machine and cost a fortune, but it can be problematic. Give her ten minutes to settle herself, then you can go in.’

  ‘I’m sorry for any inconvenience,’ Jack said. ‘We tried to call, but your phone’s out of order.’

  ‘Tell me about it. We’ve had one problem after another ever since we got an extension put into the bedroom. BT have been back and forth trying to fix it. Now, can I get you a cup of tea?’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  Harold noticed the groceries laid out on the table and thanked Sara. He began putting them into the large fridge.

  ‘Did you order my dinner?’ a loud voice called out.

  Harold sighed and went to the kitchen door. ‘Yes, I did, they’re delivering in about half an hour. Do you want a cup of tea?’

  ‘No, I don’t. They can come in now.’

  Jack and Sara walked past Harold and into the bedroom. As soon as they saw her, they struggled to hide their reactions. Joyce was enormous, swathed in a satin kimono that ballooned around her vast bulk. She was propped up against the padded headboard of a huge bed that took up most of the space in the room. There were various levers and wires attached to it, and the mattress was about four feet off the ground. Positioned next to the bed was a table on wheels, as well as a cabinet on wheels holding an array of pills, medicines, and cosmetics, along with a makeup mirror. The wall opposite Joyce had numerous framed photographs on it, and a very impressive flat screen TV. There was a DVD player and stacks of DVDs on a small bookstand underneath it.

  ‘Good afternoon, Joyce,’ said Jack. ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Jack Warr and this is DC Sara Norton.’

  ‘I hope he gave you a cup of tea. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. You wasn’t expected and I always have to have time to get this contraption working. It helps me sit up, and it can also get me onto my feet, but to be honest it’s too painful. Did he tell you I’ve not left this room for over two years?’

  ‘I am very sorry to hear that. Thank you for agreeing to talk to us.’

  ‘You’re a nice-looking young man!’ she said, giving him a coy smile.

  Joyce had so many chins that her features seemed to be tiny compared with the size of her head. Her arms were enormous rolls of fat hung from her shoulders, with tiny little hands and painted fingernails. Jack guessed she must have weighed at least thirty stone. There was nowhere for either of them to sit, so they just stood beside the gigantic bed.

  ‘We just want to ask a few questions about your nephew, Rodney.’

  ‘How did you find me?’ she asked, patting her chest.

  ‘Sara contacted the rehab centre where your sister-in-law, Karen, stayed. They kindly gave us your address.’

  ‘Which one? She went to so many, and none of them did her any good. She’d go in and clean herself up, then come out and go straight back on the drugs. Tragic, she was, absolutely tragic . . . but I got so bad I just couldn’t get in to see her. Anyway, she topped herself in the end . . . everyone expected it. She never recovered after her girls died . . . it broke her and broke my heart too. Those little girls were adorable, that’s them behind you on the wall . . . first thing I see in the morning . . . and the last thing at night.’

  Jack turned to look at the framed photographs of the two pretty girls, at various ages from toddler to around the age they were when they died.

  ‘I have a young daughter, so I can understand how terrible it must have been,’ Jack said.

  ‘It was terrible. They used to come for weekends with me sometimes, and I took them to the park. I had an electric wheelchair then and they would sit on my knee and have such a laugh. They were cheeky little devils as well, just like any youngster, and Karen spoiled them. They both had iPads and would be on them whenever they could, playing games; the beeping and pinging used to drive Harold mad. Did he not give you a cup of tea?’

  ‘He offered, but we declined. Thank you. I don’t want to take up too much of your time, Joyce, but I just need to ask you about Rodney.’

  Joyce’s body shuddered as she shook her head.

  ‘He had it hard, with his mother walking out on him. My brother never married his mum. She was from Ghana and was a really rough woman. I always thought she got herself pregnant just to move in with Anthony, but nobody could ever tell him what to do. I think Rodney got a lot of racial abuse at school. He also got it from Anthony as he was such a trouble-maker.’

  Sara interrupted, asking if she could use the bathroom.

  ‘It’s the big wide door in the hallway, dear. Had it widened so I could get my wheelchair through, but I can’t use that anymore.’

  Sara left the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

  ‘What was his relationship with Karen like?’

  ‘Whose?’

  ‘Your brother.’

  ‘Oh, he worshipped her. She was a looker, and a lovely girl as well. She was only sixteen and they got married when she had her first baby girl, then it started to get too much for her and she started using. I looked after the baby here, but then she got herself back together. I think she had that depression you get after having a baby. Then she goes and has another one, and it was much worse the next time, but I couldn’t have them both here as my health wasn’t good. I only had them over when they got a bit bigger.’

  Joyce shifted her bulk and winced with the pain.

  ‘I don’t use the toilet in there no more. My carers have a commode for me. It’s a sad life, isn’t it? They are such good women, having to wash me privates. I get very painful sores in the creases, and bedsores as well. They have very good ointments for it all. Then there’s a girl who comes in to wash and dry my hair, and gives me a manicure, and . . .’

  Jack interrupted. ‘How did Rodney react to the girls?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Well, he was that much older.’

  ‘He was very good with them, especially when Karen was having her bad times, but she never liked having him at home. I think it was very difficult, him not being her own child. And Anthony was handy with his fists when things blew up. Rodney was getting into trouble and my brother didn’t like having the coppers turning up. Could you give me some water? There’s a plastic beaker on the table, and I need a straw.’

  Jack passed her the green plastic mug, along with a thick straw to insert in the lid.

  ‘Thank you, dear.’ Joyce took several sips before holding it up for him to take it back. He replaced it on the table just as Sara returned and came to stand beside him again.

  ‘Was your brother abusive to Rodney?’

  ‘I don’t want to speak bad of him. He was doing his best, working a few jobs at once and with Karen having trouble with drugs. I know he did knock Rodney around. There had been a big row and I think Karen told Rodney he had to leave, then my brother got involved and it was him that put his foot down and told him he had to go and not come back.’

  ‘Would you have taken him in?’ Jack asked.

  ‘No, he couldn’t come here; Harold wouldn’t allow it.’

  ‘The night of the fire, Rodney was babysitting the girls, wasn’t he?’

  Joyce nodded. For the first time she appeared to be uneasy, fiddling with her painted fingernails.

  ‘Your brother accused Rodney of having something to do with it.’

  ‘Bad things were said. It was all down to grief; nothing was ever proved and my brother, like poor Karen, never really recovered. He got into bad stuff, and now he’s banged up again, but what could I do?’

  ‘Has Rodney tried to contact you?’

  ‘No, he’s a loner. I read he got arrested again. What happened the night of the fire ruined everyone’s lives.’ She paused. ‘I’m feeling very tired now, and I need to have my dinner. I hope what I’ve said is helpful, but can you go now please?’

  Jack had no legitimate reason to continue questioning her, and just then the doorbell rang.

  ‘That’ll be my dinner,’ she said. ‘It was nice meeting you.’

  Jack and Sara made their way out as Harold was taking pizza boxes and other takeaway cartons from the delivery boy. He almost dropped one box as he fished in his pocket to pay for it all. Jack helped him with the pizza boxes and carried them back into the kitchen, with Sara following.

  Harold hurried in to take out the warm plates from the oven.

  ‘I bet she never said a bad word about that brother of hers, but he’s a no-good thug. She thinks the sun shines out of his mean arse. She wouldn’t listen to anything I had to say about him – that poor girl Karen was sometimes black and blue, just like Rodney. And that poor lad didn’t stand a chance, trying to protect those girls. I told her that something bad was happening in their house. I would have called Social Services on him because those two little ones weren’t right. They had bruises on them, and sometimes they were filthy. But Joyce would get into a frenzy if I interfered.’

  A bell rang and he pursed his lips. ‘I’ve said too much. It’s all over now anyway. But if it had carried on, I would have had to do something.’

  Jack watched as Harold heaped a hamburger and chips onto one plate, then put garlic bread and a huge pizza onto a second plate. He took some tomato ketchup from the fridge and a large bottle of Coke, placing them all onto a tray with cutlery and a paper napkin.

  Jack moved closer to him and spoke quietly. ‘Harold, did you think the children were being sexually abused?’

  Harold could not look him in the face, turning away as he fussed with salt and pepper shakers.

  ‘I’ve spoken out of turn. You can show yourselves out. I need to give Joyce her dinner as it’s past her usual time, and she won’t like it if it gets cold.’

  Sara held the door open as Harold carried the tray through, almost bow-legged from the weight of the food. She then opened the bedroom door for him.

  As they closed the front door behind them, they heard Harold’s voice.

  ‘I have everything you ordered, Joyce dearest.’

  *

  Jack started the car as Sara pulled on her safety belt.

  ‘Was all that food really for her?’ she asked.

  Jack shrugged. ‘There was only one knife and fork. I think Harold eats the healthy food, poor sod. What a life, with that beached whale of a wife.’

  ‘When I passed his room earlier, he was sitting in what I presume was his bedroom,’ Sara said. ‘It had a single bed and a desk with a computer and a laptop. He was eating a salad. I said I was on my way to the bathroom and he told me he was working on all the documentation to get the carers in for his wife, complaining that it was a full-time job sorting out the benefits she was entitled to. He had to give up work due to a back injury, apparently.’

  ‘No doubt from shifting his wife around,’ Jack said.

  ‘Why do you think she protects her brother?’ Sara asked.

  ‘Shame, guilt, who knows. But somebody certainly takes care of her very well. The house is spick and span, gets her nails and hair done every week, and all those carers . . . She didn’t provide much insight into Rodney, though. Harold gave us more just as we were leaving.’

  Jack dropped Sara off at a Tube station as he was eager to get home. He offered to drive her, but she declined. He was relieved as he sometimes found her rather irritating, but more importantly, after the day’s interviews, he had a lot to think about.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Jack arrived home feeling worn out and went straight up to his office to dump his briefcase. He came downstairs where Maggie was reading Hannah a story whilst she sat in her highchair eating a banana, waving it around gleefully. Maggie caught his arm and whispered to him that he should say something about his mother’s hair. Jack gave her a puzzled look, as Hannah threw the banana skin at him and giggled.

  Penny was bending down and looking into the oven, checking the chicken.

  ‘Hi, Mum, I’m just going to do some work in my office.’

  ‘It’s a chicken in the bag, with stuffing. It’s really wonderful, cooks inside the bag and you just take it off and its ready to serve.’

  Penny turned around to face him and Jack was glad that he had been warned. Her hair was not only quite short, but very blonde.

  ‘Good Heaven’s, Ma! You look wonderful. It really suits you. Turn around for me.’

  Penny giggled and did a twirl, then fluffed the curls. ‘I decided I was looking too frumpy and old fashioned. Do you like it?’

  ‘I most certainly do. It makes you look much younger. Good for you! Give me a shout when dinner’s ready.’

  Jack hurried up the stairs, thinking that perhaps he should pay more attention, not only to his mother, but to Maggie as well.

  Eager to get back to the Ridley investigation, Jack unloaded his briefcase. He stacked the pages into a neat pile to sort through and prioritise, then picked up the first memory stick which had a typed note taped to it, indicating that this was the post-mortem report. Jack wondered how the hell Ridley had gained access to it. He plugged it into the laptop he had taken back from Leon, still fully charged, and was just about to open it when Maggie popped her head around the door.

  ‘What did you think of the new hairstyle?’

  ‘A bit of a surprise, but she seems very happy with it,’ he smiled.

  Maggie shut the door behind her and came over to his desk. Jack shut the laptop, not wanting Maggie to see what he was working on.

  ‘I was emptying the bedroom waste bin,’ Maggie said, ‘and there were loads of Marks & Spencer clothing bags in there. Penny’s been buying a new wardrobe by the look of it.’

  Jack shrugged. ‘OK, so maybe that’s where the extra money went. But I don’t think she’s bought anything new since our wedding. You know, if you ever want to have a new hairstyle, or new clothes, or whatever . . .’

  Maggie looked at him quizzically. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, I was just thinking . . . I mean, you look perfect to me, but I know I’m not very good at complimenting you. Maybe you need to take some time out to pamper yourself.’

  ‘What’s the matter with my hair?’

  ‘Nothing, I just meant that we’ve both been working flat out – you in particular – and sometimes it’s good to do something for yourself.’

  Maggie put her arms around him, but he shrugged her away. ‘I’m being serious, but now I need you to leave me alone as I have some work to do.’

  ‘Want to talk about it?’ she asked.

  ‘No, it’s the Ridley situation. I’ve not had the time to go over all the material he gave me, so I want to catch up. I can’t focus on it at the station as I’m still getting nowhere fast with this Middleton case. His girlfriend has disappeared and I need some information from her.’ He raked his hand through his hair. ‘I met Rodney’s aunt today. She was enormous, like a big wobbling waterbed and . . .’ He sighed. ‘See, you’ve got me started. Just leave me to sort out Ridley’s stuff. I don’t want to even think about bloody Rodney Middleton.’

  Maggie held up her hands in mock surrender. ‘I’m going, I’m going. I can’t wait for dinner: it’s chicken in a bag that cooks itself!’

  Maggie shut the door behind her and Jack opened his laptop again. A voice-over on the video gave the date, time and the location of the mortuary, then the screen filled with the shot of the body on the mortuary table, covered in a green plastic sheet. Two figures in white suits with hoods and masks were mopping the floor, and the pathologist, a man Jack didn’t recognise, stood holding a clipboard. He was also dressed in a white protective suit and had a white hat pulled down over his hair. Jack knew that the post-mortem had already been completed. He saw two other masked men standing to one side, neither of whom were known to him.

  ‘Right, gentlemen, let me take you through the findings,’ the pathologist began. ‘The victim has deep strangulation marks on her neck, made by some kind of cord, perhaps from an electrical appliance. I would say that the assailant was standing behind her. There are no defensive wounds on her hands, so I estimate it was looped over her head and tightened quickly so that she lost consciousness within a very short time. The stomach contents revealed that her last meal was a steak and salad with fruit. Obviously, we will await the toxicology report to ascertain if there were any drugs or alcohol in her system, but she appeared to be in good health, with good muscle tone. Consequently, I initially estimated her age to be late thirties. However, I was wrong.’

  Jack was only half paying attention. The victim’s head remained covered, and he was eager to see her face, but then his attention was alerted again.

  ‘I would like my assistant, Nidal, to explain her findings and the reason I may have miscalculated the victim’s age.’

  Moving into the camera shot was a petite, dark-skinned woman wearing a white coat, mask, and with her hair under a cap. She slowly lifted the plastic sheet away from the victim’s head and lowered it to just above her shoulders. Jack craned forwards but she was standing in front of the victim and blocking his view.

  ‘It is clear from her hairline that she has had a lot of plastic surgery: her forehead has been lifted and her neck has been tightened. She also has chin and cheek implants, and her nose has been very carefully reconstructed. Whoever did this surgery was an expert. Examining the victim’s rib cage there are a number of small scars, which underscores this, as it is usual, when reshaping a nose, to take small slithers of bone from the rib cage. She does not have any breast implants but has had silicone injections. She has faded white lines from being suntanned some months prior to her death, and her hair has been professionally coloured and highlighted recently, as there is no natural new growth showing.’

  At last Jack got a close-up view of the woman on the slab. Even devoid of any makeup her skin looked flawless. The assistant covered the victim’s head again and took out a hand from beneath the cover.

  ‘No defensive wounds, and very well-manicured nails. Again, I found slight scars which can be found when surgery is used to tighten the skin and remove age spots.’