Page 124 of Dying Truth

Eighty-Six

‘That’s the one,’ Kim said, pointing to a small bungalow at the end of a row of identical properties that had housed Lorraine Peters’s mum for almost six years. The small front garden was overgrown with weeds that came up to her knee. Kim saw recycling bags shoved into the corner by the front door, which opened as they approached.

Kim guessed the woman to be early- to mid-fifties, reed thin, with bobbed purple hair. She wore a blue overall and held the keys to the property in her hand.

‘Maggie Peters?’ Bryant asked.

‘Inside,’ the woman said, blocking the door. ‘She don’t need no windows, a new drive or boiler and she’s got a bible.’

‘Good to know,’ Kim said. ‘But we’re not selling anything. We’re police officers.’

‘Oh, okay then,’ she said, but still didn’t move.

‘Is Mrs Peters at home?’ Bryant asked.

‘ID,’ the woman demanded.

They both obliged as Kim noticed the stickers on the front window about cold callers and unsolicited visitors.

‘Can’t be too careful,’ the woman said. ‘Only last week she had two nice ladies come to tell her she needed to go to the bank and transfer her money cos staff at the bank were stealing it from her.’

Kim ground her teeth. Yet another scam that played on the fears of the elderly.

‘Luckily, she phoned me before agreeing to anything,’ she said. ‘And by the time I got here they were gone.’

‘And you are?’

‘Maggie’s home help, carer, whatever they call us these days, and I live just over the field.’

Kim followed her through a small hallway into a lounge that looked out onto the road.

A thin frail woman smiled at them from the single armchair that faced both the window and the small television in the corner. A small-two seater sofa lined the back wall. Part of the sofa was occupied by a few books and a knitting bag.

‘Mrs Peters?’ Kim asked, offering her hand.

The woman took it and nodded as she looked around them.

‘Shelly?’

‘It’s okay, Mags, they’re the police.’

Maggie looked less than convinced it was all in order.

Kim took a seat in the vacant spot as Bryant began to move the woman’s possessions to the side.

Shelly stood in the doorway.

‘We’re fine now, thanks,’ Kim said, aware that the woman had been on her way out.

‘Yeah, so am I,’ Shelly said, folding her arms. She wasn’t going anywhere.

Maggie smiled fondly. ‘She’s a Godsend. Takes care of me every day. I don’t move so well any more,’ she said.

Kim calculated that she was only mid seventies but appeared around ten years older.

‘Arthritis,’ she said. ‘Rheumatoid arthritis in the joints, probably from the swimming.’

‘You were a swimmer too?’ Bryant asked.