Raindrops hit the windscreen as Gina pulled up in front of the coach house. Darkness had almost drawn a close to most people’s day. Not for her though. Her days never ended. Crimes didn’t simply occur Monday to Friday, or between the hours of nine and five, and she was glad. The thought of being stuck in a standard nine to five job filled her with dread.
‘What are Dale Blair’s parents called again?’
Jacob glanced at the notes. ‘Cynthia and Phillip Blair.’
The upstairs curtains parted and a long-haired woman peered out as a man opened the door. They’d been expecting detectives to visit and Gina was aware that they were later than scheduled but getting the liquorice booked into evidence had been a priority.
Running to dodge the icy raindrops, Gina led the way.
‘Come in,’ Phillip Blair said. His round glasses didn’t do a good job of hiding his red-rimmed eyes. The tall, thin, balding man towered over her. He and Dale bore no similarities in appearance at all, except the nose. Long and thin, just like she remembered Dale’s.
As they followed him upstairs to their residence, she glanced at the photos adorning the walls. Childhood snaps of Dale at different stages of his life. Family holidays when he was a chubby teen and a photo of him posing with a trowel as an older teenager. His parents were clearly very proud of him.
Entering the lounge, Gina felt the warmth of the log burner. After the last couple of days, it was most welcome. The room smelt of lavender and sandalwood and was lit by several lamps. Tastefully decorated, two leather settees had been placed adjacent to the fireplace. She wondered where their television was. Books were stacked up in wooden cases, floor to ceiling along every available wall. They were readers, she could see that. Maybe they didn’t have much love for the television.
Mrs Blair dabbed her eyes. Her long flame-red hair framed her round face. Dale had inherited most of his mother’s genes when it came to shape. The crow’s feet lines suddenly looked to be more ingrained as she held back her emotions.
‘Thank you for seeing us. I know this is hard for you both,’ Gina said.
Phillip Blair gestured for them to take a seat. Gina removed her damp coat and wrapped it up. She didn’t want to dampen their settee.
‘Can we get you a drink?’ Mrs Blair dropped the box of tissues on the coffee table next to a copy ofThe Handmaid’s Tale.
Jacob shook his head. ‘No, thank you.’
Gina sat back slightly as both Mr and Mrs Blair sat together on the opposite sofa.
‘Do you have any more information?’ Mrs Blair asked, a hope-filled expression spreading across her face.
‘I’m afraid not. I was hoping you could tell us a little more about your son, Dale. I know this is soon, and it may even feel too soon, but with what happened to Dale, we need to know about anything that may help us find who murdered him. I’m so sorry to have to bother you in your moment of grief—’
‘You’re not bothering us. We want this bastard caught!’ Mr Blair stood and turned to face the curtain-covered window. ‘Whoever did this to my son, I’ll kill them myself if I—’ The man held up his arm as he choked back his emotions, starting Mrs Blair off. Once again the box of tissues was back on her lap. As he turned, he wiped his tear-stained face and Gina spotted another emotion spreading across his face: pure anger. He sucked air noisily through the slight gap in between his two front teeth as he seethed, spitting a little as he exhaled.
Jacob opened his notebook. Mr Blair wasn’t going to need prompting to speak. Gina knew he wanted to do nothing more than talk freely about his son. Jacob went to say something. Gina held up her hand, signalling for him to hold his thoughts, and he did.
‘Dale was such a kind, gentle person. He’s never hurt anyone, not a soul. You know, he’s given his time up and plastered the local village hall for nothing. Dale – always there to contribute to the community. The story of an old dear hit the papers not so long ago, living in squalor, she was. He went over, re-plastered her grotty old bungalow and decorated it, all for nothing. Dale is… was the type of person to help people less fortunate and expect nothing in return and we were and are so proud of him. How anyone could do what they did. Suspected strangulation they said, the other officers.’ He shook his head back and forth before kicking the wall under his window ledge.
‘Do you know if Dale had any enemies?’
Mrs Blair wiped a trailing tear. ‘Everyone loved him. I always said he was too generous though. People took advantage of his good nature. He was such a giving person but I worried that he was always seeking approval.’
‘In what way did people take advantage?’ Jacob asked.
‘You know. Trying to blag free work on their properties. Not paying him the proper rates all the time or getting him to do jobs, then not paying him, coming up with sob stories. He was known to be a soft touch in the community. I noticed that he’d become a little withdrawn of late.’ Mrs Blair’s wiry red hair fell over her eyes. Gina was drawn to the reflection of the fire in her irises, giving them a shimmering red glow.
Mr Blair sat back down. ‘I had to help him now and again, you know, ask his debtors for his money. My boy was the gentlest lad in the world. It was wonderful to see him giving so much to the community but it was sad to see others taking advantage. He always did rely on us to help him out. We were a close family. He still came over most evenings, for tea and to tell us about his day.’
‘How had he seemed? You said he’d become withdrawn.’ Gina didn’t want to lose the conversation strand that Mrs Blair had opened up.
Mrs Blair crossed her feet at her ankles and hunched over, hugging her knees. ‘I noticed that he seemed quieter over the past few months, a little distant. He wouldn’t tell us what was bothering him and he even walked out on us in the middle of dinner a couple of times when we’d quizzed him. There were other times I could see him looking at me, like he was about to tell me something before walking out. That wasn’t like Dale at all. Like we said, he’d always been such a mild-mannered person. If he ever thought he’d even upset someone a little, he’d feel guilty for weeks and have to put things right. This past few months though, it was as if he was troubled. Phillip wondered if someone owed him money or was giving him grief over a job. We just wanted to help. I don’t know what we said or did that was wrong. Anyway, he hadn’t visited as much recently and on the occasions that he did, we asked how he was doing and he’d tell us we were stifling him.’
Gina could relate to that. People constantly asking if she was okay had become one of her pet hates. ‘Do you know of any enemies he may have had?’
Both shook their heads. Mrs Blair wiped a piece of hair from her mouth. ‘Everyone loved him.’
Gina fumbled around in her folder until she felt the shiny texture of the photo, of Susan. ‘Do you know this woman? Her name is Susan Wheeler.’ She held the photo under the lamplight.
Mr Blair removed his glasses and squinted. ‘I saw her picture online, in the local newspaper. She’s missing, isn’t she?’
