Page 18 of The Truth Will Out (DI Sam Cobbs #18)

“Without carrying out the usual tests on the organs, it’s going to be hard to say. You’ll need to find out what time the site was closed down last night. I’m assuming they worked here yesterday. Do we know what time the body was found?”

Sam glanced at Bob. “I’m on my way,” he shouted, sprinting back to the group of builders. He returned after speaking with the foreman and said, “Site closed at five last night. They showed up again at seven-thirty but didn’t discover the body until gone eight.”

“Did they see anyone hanging around?” Sam asked.

“Nope, I checked.”

“So, sometime between what? Sixish and seven-thirty would be my logical answer,” Des grinned.

Sam pulled a face, avoiding the temptation to poke her tongue out at him. She scanned the area. It seemed secure enough, and the knowledge that the front of the site would have been locked at the end of the builders’ shift was a cause of concern for her.

“How did he get here?”

“And more to the point, how did the killer?” Des added. “Hang on, is that something written on the fence over there?”

He pointed in the distance, but Sam’s eyesight was letting her down again. She walked towards it and was still quite a distance from the fence when Bob announced, “It’s the number three.”

“The third victim,” Sam muttered.

“Here’s the thing,” Bob started. He peered over his shoulder, making sure they were alone, then continued. “I recognise the name.”

“You do? How? Because of his job?”

“I remember reading it in the file. He was on the local authority board back when Pendle House was shut down. I stand corrected, but I think it was his signature on the redevelopment plans for the site.”

“What was erected in its place? Can you recall?”

Bob’s nod increased in tempo. “Luxury flats.”

“Say no more. I suggest backhanders were at play then. Hmm… convenient there’s no longer a site left for us to investigate.”

“Yep, very convenient.”

“The killer isn’t just targeting those involved. I believe they’re making a statement.”

“This sign, along with the others we’ve found, is written in blood.”

“They’re rewriting the past in blood,” Sam whispered. “Okay, you know what’s next?”

“We need to shoot over and break the news to the next of kin,” Bob said .

They left the scene after ensuring that the officers on site had taken down all the personal information from the builders, so that statements could be collected from them within the next few days.

“Another day, and another murder to add to the list. Bob, can you ring the station and put Nick on the case? Ask him to do the background checks on Weller. Let’s see what he’s been up to over the years, in case anything else rears its head.”

“On it now.” Bob issued the instructions to Nick and then ended the call. “All in hand. Nick wanted me to pass on his gratitude for trusting him with such an important task. He also wanted me to tell you that he won’t let you down.”

“I know he won’t. Hmm… maybe he’d be up for taking on Claire’s role in the team.”

“Good idea. I bet he wouldn’t mind that. Unless he was looking forward to getting his chance to be out there on the streets, getting stuck in and making the arrests.”

“I’ll have a word with him when we get back. I suppose it depends on what his computer skills are like.”

“Well, Oliver and Liam can help out occasionally on that front, too.”

Sam parked the car outside Weller’s home. They exited the vehicle.

“We can sort it when we get back, before Armstrong finds us a replacement. Let’s hope someone is at home.” Sam entered the small front garden.

There was an old man tending to his lawn next door. He stopped cutting the grass and glanced up. “I wouldn’t bother. He’s not in. His car isn’t in the drive.”

“Ah, okay. What about his wife?” Sam held up her badge. “DI Sam Cobbs.”

“They split up a few months ago. She lives in Workington, not sure where. My wife will know, though.” He opened the front door and bellowed, “Renee, can you come out here, please? ”

A grey-haired woman appeared in the doorway. She wiped her hands on the flowered apron she was wearing. “What do you want?”

“These two are police officers. They want Wendy’s address. Can you give it to them? I’m busy cutting the lawn.”

“And I’m busy making your dinner, or doesn’t that count?”

He tutted and started up the mower again.

His wife raised a finger and dipped back into the house. She returned with an address book a few seconds later. “Ah, yes, here we are.”

Bob poised his pen over his notebook.

“Block C, flat twenty-four, Greenacre Terrace. Do you know it?”

“I do. Thanks for the information,” Bob replied. “Do you know if she’s likely to be at home?”

“Yes. I saw her the other day. She told me she hadn’t had much luck finding a job, but she’s not in a rush either, because Stephen was paying the rent and giving her a healthy allowance to live on for the next few months.”

“Thanks, that’s great information,” Sam said.

They drove to the wife’s address and found the flat they were looking for. It was up four flights of stairs, and the lift was out of order. Sam had to listen to Bob complain all the way up.

Finally, on the last flight of steps, she said, “Give it a rest, will you?”

“Sorry. I thought I was fit until I started climbing these frigging steps. I need to take out another gym membership.”

“Hang on. I thought you’d recently bought a home gym.”

His mouth twisted, and his nose wrinkled. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?” Sam paused and faced him on the landing.

“Retain trash information like that?”

She laughed. “You’re unbelievable, the crap you come out with. Did you buy a gym or not?”

“I did. I just haven’t got around to setting it up, yet. That’s going to be a bloody workout in itself before I get to use the damn thing. ”

“Haven’t you got a friend who can help you?”

“I might have. Number twenty-four should be on the right up ahead.”

“Ah, the swift change of subject. That’s one thing you’re the master of, if not building a home gym. Blooming heck, how difficult can it be to screw a few bolts together?”

“Difficult enough. Back to business, eh? Before we have one of our notorious arguments.”

“Bollocks. Since when do we argue?”

“All the time.”

She sniggered and led the way. The door was opened by a woman in her forties wearing a towelling robe.

“Oh, sorry. Did we have an appointment?”

Sam produced her warrant card. “I’m Detective Inspector Sam Cobbs, and this is Detective Sergeant Bob Jones. Would it be all right if we came in and spoke with you, Mrs Weller?”

“I don’t understand. What’s this about?”

“Your husband. Or should I say, your estranged husband?”

“How does what Stephen gets up to now concern me? We’re separated.”

“It would be better if we spoke inside.”

“If I must. I have to say, anything that man has done shouldn’t reflect badly on me.” She gestured for them to enter. “Close the door behind you.”

Bob did as instructed, and they followed her up the narrow hallway. By the look of things, this flat was a comedown from the home she had shared with her husband.

“This is temporary until the house is sold. Then I get fifty percent of the pot, which will enable me to at least put a substantial deposit down on another house.”

“Glad to hear it. Would you mind if we take a seat?”

“As long as you’re not expecting a drink. I’ve run out of milk. I need to go to the supermarket later.”

“Don’t worry, we’re fine.” Sam waited for her to sit and then hit her with the news. “I’m sorry to have to inform you, but your husband’s body was found first thing this morning.”

“His body?” After a slight delay, she asked, “Are you telling me he’s dead?”

Sam nodded. “Yes. I know you’re separated. I was wondering if you could tell me whether his parents are alive, or if he has any siblings you think should be informed.”

“No. He was an only child. He told me his parents died when he was in his twenties.”

“Ah, I see. And are there no other distant relatives you can think of who we should inform?”

“No. He was a bit of a loner. Didn’t get on with his family and saw them as leeches. I got the impression he thought the same of me, come the end.”

“Is that why you split up?”

“Yes. There comes a point in one’s life when you need to put your foot down and think of yourself.

The trouble with Stephen was, I suppose you’d call him self-absorbed.

He spent years living on his nerves, working all sorts of unsociable hours for that damn council.

He didn’t enjoy his job; he did it because he had to. ”

“Was he on any medication?”

“Yes, he was. Don’t ask me what type. He kept it from me. The shutters came down years ago. We should have separated back then. It was foolish of me to stay in the belief that he might change.”

“Do you think the fact that he was on medication has changed him over the years?”

“Hard to say. He was always a difficult man to read, even before we got married. Maybe I should have considered that before our wedding day. You know how it is; you tend to put all the doubts you have about your partner to one side…”

“Just to have a wedding day?”

“Yes. Now that I’ve said it out loud, I realise how shallow that sounds. Sorry.”

“There’s no need for you to apologise.”

“I suppose I should ask how he died. ”

“I can’t go into details, but what I can tell you is that we’re treating his death as suspicious.”

A hand slapped against her chest, and she let out a gasp. “Does that mean he was murdered? Who? Why?”

“It does. That’s what we need to find out. I appreciate how difficult and possibly awkward this is for you, but is there anything, anything at all, you can tell us that you think might help?”

“What would I know about someone wanting to murder him? Yes, I admit I’ve often felt the need to do it over the years, but going through with it would have been a different kettle of fish. Oh my… do you think it was to do with his job?”

“What makes you say that?” Sam asked, her interest piqued.

“I got the impression that he did a lot of work out of hours.”

“Such as?”