Page 7 of No Safe Place

Wednesday | Morning

Field

The address on David Moore’s driving licence was a narrow townhouse on the edge of Greenwich Park. Every house on the street was well maintained, freshly painted – and Moore’s was no exception.

David couldn’t have been walking back to this home last night – they were more than a twenty-five-minute drive from the scene.

Wilson performed a neat parallel park and Field let her lead the way up the path to the house. Field’s face felt flushed and sweaty, from the heat or hormones – she couldn’t tell. She glanced across at Wilson, whose dark skin was wrinkle- and sweat-free.

They turned the volume on their radios down before knocking.

A woman opened the door, holding a wooden spoon and wearing an apron covered in flour.

‘Penelope Moore?’ Wilson asked, and the woman nodded, the spoon dropping to her side. They both held up their warrant cards. ‘My name is DS Wilson, and this is DCI Field. Could we come in?’

Penelope took a moment to look closely at their cards, cleared her throat. ‘Can I ask what this is regarding?’

She was a tiny slip of a woman, younger than Field had been expecting, with vivid red hair, in a short bob. The calm demeanour, the baking – this wasn’t a wife who’d been up all night, wondering where her husband was.

‘I think it’s best we come in, Penelope, and take a seat,’ Field said.

She looked between them, gave a curt nod, and stepped backwards into the house. ‘It’s Penny, by the way.’

In the hallway Penny untied her apron, and placed it on a side table with the messy spoon on top. She led them into a high-ceilinged living room, and they took their seats.

Wilson spoke softly. ‘Penny, your husband is David Moore – is that correct?’

A split-second hesitation, then: ‘Yes.’

Instinct made Field glance at Penny’s left hand, clutching her bare knee below the hem of her summer dress. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

‘David was involved in an incident in the early hours of this morning. A stabbing.’ Wilson lifted a hand as Penny’s face crumpled. ‘It’s okay, he’s at the hospital now. We’ve been told he’s stable. But we are treating this as an attempted murder.’

Penny stayed very still, apart from the rise and fall of her chest. Her pale collarbone looked vulnerable.

Wilson did well – delivering the facts in a kind, but firm voice, as the incongruous, sweet smell of baking cake drifted into the room.

Penny was stoic, still. Taking in the information being offered without reacting.

‘Is there anything you want to ask us?’ Field asked, indicating to Penny that Wilson was now finished.

Her eyes were wide. ‘Which hospital?’

‘King’s,’ Field said. ‘In Denmark Hill. We’ll take you straight to the hospital, but first—’

Penny’s head snapped to look at her.

‘—it’d be really helpful if we could ask you a few questions. It’ll only take a few minutes.’

Penny nodded, then sagged back into the overstuffed sofa. Her legs curled up and she wrapped her arms around her knees, like she was trying to take up less space.

‘DS Wilson, make us all a cup of tea, would you?’

Wilson took the dismissal without hesitating and stood up.

‘The kitchen’s at the back,’ Penny said, her voice a whisper. Her eyes, unfocused, moved to the window.

To give Penny a moment of privacy, Field stood, as if stretching her legs for a moment.

Penny wasn’t crying, but that wasn’t unusual. This sort of news did strange things to people.

The living room was expensively furnished, tasteful but still homely, with bookcases of battered paperbacks on either side of the chimney.

There were photos of Penny and David on the mantelpiece – one in a park or garden, a couple on holiday.

In all of them David was grinning goofily, arm thrown round a tight-smiling Penny.

Field wondered about the age gap again. There had to be ten years between them, at least.

Field heard Wilson’s steps in the hall, and then she was back in the room.

‘I turned the oven off,’ Wilson said, quietly.

Field took a mug from the tray, and then sat again, this time taking the spot on the sofa closest to Penny. ‘I know this has been a terrible shock.’

Penny turned wide, blank eyes to her.

‘You’ll be assigned a family liaison officer today – you might hear us refer to them as a FLO,’ Field said. ‘They’ll be your main point of contact as our investigation progresses. She’s called Zara and she’s a star.’

Penny gripped her tea but didn’t drink any.

‘I’m going to ask you those questions, now. Is that okay?’ Field asked.

Penny nodded.

‘Take your time,’ Field said quietly. ‘When did you last speak to David?’

Penny looked up at the ceiling. ‘Not for a while. We’re—’

Field waited.

‘We’re separated. He’s been staying in a flat in Plumstead somewhere. I don’t have – have the address.’

The words tumbled out of her. It explained why David had been so far from the house.

‘We’re getting divorced,’ Penny said, finally.

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Field said.

‘It’s amicable,’ Penny said. She looked to Wilson, and the notes she was taking. ‘We were taking some space. I last spoke to him maybe – maybe three months ago?’

Penny put the mug down on the coffee table, placed her hands on her knees.

The living room, with its pictures of the couple, didn’t feel like Penny had gone in for the clean break. Field made a mental note to check the download of David’s phone for communication with his wife.

Field moved on. ‘Do you know if David has any after-work routines? He was walking home quite late.’

Penny shook her head. ‘No.’

Wilson pressed the point. ‘Did he have a local?’

‘I don’t know. He drank in The Mitre while he lived here, but I don’t know about now.’

‘That’s okay, Penny, thank you.’ Field kept her next question nonchalant. ‘Were you with anyone last night, Penny? Did you go out?’

‘No,’ Penny said. ‘I was here, on my own.’

‘Okay, thank you.’ Field shut her notebook. ‘Do you have any questions for us, Penny?’

Penny tipped her head back and looked at the ceiling. ‘Was it a mugging? Why would someone—’

Field waited a few seconds, to see if Penny would keep talking, then answered. ‘I’m sorry, Penny, but it really is too early to draw any conclusions. I’m afraid at this stage, I can’t be more specific with the details.’

There would be time for details. Field wanted to ask about the study mentioned on the scrap of paper. Make a start on victimology, dig into what made David tick—

But that could come later.

There was a knock on the front door.

‘That’ll be the FLO. DS Wilson, could you get that please?’

Wilson bobbed her head and left the room again. She came back in with another female officer, DC Zara Ayres.

Introductions were made that Penny seemed to barely register. She sat in silence, picking at dried flour on the hem of her dress.

Ayres had been in MIT4 for a couple of years, but was relatively new to the FLO role. Field had no complaints so far. She was as petite as Penny, smartly dressed in a grey blouse and cream trousers, dark hair in a neat bun.

‘I have one last question, if that’s okay,’ Field said, turning back to Penny with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. ‘Was David worried about anything? Was there anything unusual going on – or any reason you can think of that someone might want to hurt him?’

Penny shook her head. ‘No one could – could want—’

For the first time, her voice cracked.

‘Thank you, Penny. You’ve been so helpful. That’s all I need for now.’ Field put her hand over Penny’s. ‘I’m going to talk you through what happens next, okay?’

A crease appeared between Penny’s eyebrows, and she pulled her hand away. ‘Next?’

Field kept her tone light. ‘David is in ICU – intensive care. I’m going to the hospital now, to meet with Dr Young – a forensic medical examiner. That’s just so we can get a picture of David’s injuries, to help with our investigation.’

Penny’s grey eyes were intense, unblinking and unnerving.

‘We should be finished with the examination by—’ Field looked at her battered Casio. ‘I’d say by around 1 p.m. Zara will drive you to the hospital, and she’ll wait with you until—’

‘No.’

‘Penny—’

‘I’m not going to the hospital.’ She pushed herself to standing, swaying a little. A beam of sunlight fell across her face, making her expression hard to read. ‘And I don’t need a family liaison officer.’

Penny moved quickly, taking four strides across to the door, almost knocking into Wilson and her second tray of tea.

‘Thank you, for coming to let me know.’ Penny’s voice was strained, and high-pitched. ‘But it really is nothing – nothing to do with me.’

Wilson turned to Field, confusion written plainly on her face.

‘Let’s just sit down and take a moment, shall we?’ Field put her hands up. ‘You don’t have to come to the hospital, Penny.’

Penny closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her cheeks and neck were pink, and she tucked her hair behind her ears before opening her eyes again. ‘I’d like you all to leave.’

Wilson and Zara looked to Field.

She kept her movements slow, like she was in no hurry to go – offering Penny plenty of time to change her mind.

Field flicked to a blank page at the back of her notebook, set it down on the coffee table. Reached into her bag to get a pen, then tore out a page. Wrote down her mobile number and email address.

She didn’t give it to Penny straight away. Field led Wilson and Zara Ayres back into the hall. Field was hit by a wall of heat as they stepped back out into the morning sun.

She paused on the top step. ‘Here’s my number, Penny. Call me any time.’

The woman hesitated, then took it.

‘Could you give me a contact for someone I can call?’ Field asked quietly. ‘A friend of David’s or a family member, perhaps? We don’t want him to be on his own in the hospital.’

A moment of uncertainty, but then Penny disappeared into the house, leaving the door open.

She was back in under a minute, with a business card in hand. ‘David’s mentor.’

Penny thrust it into Field’s hand, nodded at Wilson – and then shut the door.

The whole thing had taken thirty minutes. It always threw her, how quick it was – turning someone’s life upside down.

Field and Wilson walked back to the car in silence, and Zara followed, getting into the back for a quick debrief. No one spoke until all three car doors had slammed.

‘That was—’ Wilson hesitated. ‘Weird. Right?’

‘Shock?’ Zara said. ‘No part of her was expecting that news today.’

‘Well, they were getting divorced,’ Wilson said, craning her neck to look up at the house. ‘Maybe she secretly thinks he deserved it.’

Penny’s response had been muted, certainly. Not all victims’ families sank to the floor in spasms of anxiety.

Field turned in her seat. ‘Thanks for making it so quickly, Ayres.’

Zara smiled. ‘Of course, boss.’

It had felt unnatural earlier, calling Ayres by her first name – but it was important in front of the family.

Field’s use of surnames for her team was horribly old-fashioned, but a quirk she’d become known for, and secretly enjoyed. A hangover from having a military father, and hating her own first name.

Field chose her words carefully. ‘I’m surprised Penny doesn’t want to come to the hospital. It might be a tricky one, Zara – but I think you’ll need to persevere with her. Try and get her to open up.’

They had a quick chat about timings and logistics. Zara took the business card, and responsibility for contacting Dr Simon Dawes. Then she headed back to her own car, and Wilson started the engine.

Something about Penny made Field uneasy. The fact David had a ring on, but she didn’t. The long period of no contact – it was all a little odd.

She glanced back at the house as they pulled away. Closure had its role in all of Field’s cases. Families needed the closure of a perpetrator caught and imprisoned.

Field also knew about the closure of a divorce. The relief of it, when it was final.

As long as David pulled through, that was something Penny might still get to have.