Page 31 of The Scene of the Crime

‘It’s OK, thanks. I take it I won’t be able to go into my house for a while?’

‘We are still examining the scene, but hopefully we will be finished sometime tomorrow. I can arrange for an officer or one of my team to assist you in getting some clothes and anything else you need from the house.’

‘It’s fine, thanks. I’ll go to Holly’s house. She’s my sister. My mother said she’d tell her what’s happened, but I’ll call her later.’

‘Can I ask you a personal question?’

Michelle looked puzzled. ‘OK . . .’

‘I noticed one of the rooms in your house looked like it might be used as a baby’s room . . . are you pregnant?’ Michelle didn’t look as if she was.

Michelle started to well up again. ‘Yes, nearly four months . . . and expecting a boy.’ She placed a protective hand over her stomach and seemed about to say something when she began to gasp, overcome with tears.

‘With the stress you’re under right now, it might be worth telling Doctor Babu. He could arrange for you to have an ultrasound to make sure everything is OK.’

Michelle nodded. ‘I’ll do that.’ They exchanged phone numbers and Michelle gave Jessica her sister’s details. Jessica also gave Michelle DI Chapman’s number and explained she didn’t have DCI Anderson’s but she would text it as soon as possible.

As they approached Johan’s bed, Michelle began to shake and Jessica put a steadying arm around her shoulder. Looking at the figure on the bed, surrounded by tubes and wires, she would never have recognised the man in the hunting photo. His face was grotesquely swollen, looking like a balloon that was about to burst.

‘Oh my poor Johan, what have they done to you?’ Michelle sobbed, collapsing into the chair next to the bed. She looked up at Jessica with a helpless expression. ‘God, I feel so useless right now. If Johan had come with me to Lancashire, or I’d been at home . . .’

‘You mustn’t blame yourself in any way, Michelle,’ Jessica said firmly. ‘You are not responsible for the actions of others.’

‘I’m frightened to touch him.’

‘I’ll help you.’ Jessica took Michelle’s right hand and gently placed it on Johan’s left.

As they touched, Michelle became even more distressed. ‘Please don’t die, Johan. I need you . . . I can’t live without you.’

Jessica felt herself welling up as memories of her mother’s last moments flooded her mind. She took a deep breath, tryingto compose herself, and made a silent vow to find whoever was responsible for what had happened to Johan De Klerk.

* * *

Walking to her car, Jessica recalled the last week of her mother’s life, eighteen months earlier. She was fifty-seven. It was the usual Sunday get-together at the bungalow in Petts Wood. Eileen had cooked roast beef, vegetables and giant Yorkshire puddings filled with gravy.

She’d hardly touched her own plate and Jessica had noticed that their mother’s skin looked yellow and she’d lost a lot of weight. When she mentioned her concerns to David, he agreed and told Jessica he’d also noticed their mum wincing in pain and struggling when walking up the stairs or doing anything strenuous. He’d asked her if she was unwell, but she brushed it off as the symptoms of menopause. David hadn’t known that women generally put on weight during menopause.

They persuaded Eileen to go to her GP. The only appointment available was in two weeks, and David said he could take Eileen as it was in the afternoon after his work. When the day of the appointment came, Jessica vividly remembered her brother calling her while she was at a crime scene, thinking it was to tell her what the GP had said.

‘I’m at the Princess Royal Hospital with Mum,’ David had said, a tremor in his voice.

‘I thought you were going to the doctor’s?’

‘That’s why we’re here. The GP said Mum had jaundice, and it might be from a liver infection. He told us to go straight to the emergency department for tests. When we got here, they took some blood and urine samples, then an hour later they said Mum’s blood test showed some anomalies and she needed to have a CT scan.’

‘They’re probably just covering themselves. They wouldn’t want to tell you one thing and then discover it’s something else. At least we know Mum’s in safe hands.’

‘I think you should come. You know more about these things than I do.’ He sounded desperate.

She remembered arriving at the hospital and joining a pale-faced David in the waiting room. ‘Any news?’ she asked, sitting down beside him.

‘They’ve done the CT scan, but now they’re doing an MRI.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know . . . I’m not a bloody doctor!’ he snapped.

Jessica vividly remembered the doctor entering the room, prompting David to jump out of his chair, demanding to know what was wrong with their mother. The doctor informed them that Eileen had been moved to a bed in a private side room and wanted to speak with them. As David grew increasingly frustrated, firing off question after question, the doctor just repeated that their mother wished to talk to them.