DI Shirley purses her lips together and the two detectives exchange glances.
The male officer says, ‘I’m afraid the fire investigations team found evidence of an accelerant used.’
‘Accelerant? But … she would have had turps, paints and all sorts of combustible stuff in her studio,’ I say.
‘Petrol was found,’ says DI Shirley gravely. ‘And we’ve only just been told that you’ve inherited her house.’
There is a loaded pause.
‘Wait! You don’t think … you don’t think I had anything to do with her death, do you?’ I blurt out.
‘You’re the only one to benefit from her death,’ the male detective pipes up and I want to slap him.
‘But … I haven’t seen her in years.’
‘Strange, then, that she’d leave everything to you,’ muses DI Shirley, her eyes not leaving mine.
‘Yes. Absolutely. I’m still trying to get my head around it. I don’t know why she left it to me.’
‘Where were you,’ asks the male detective, somewhat smugly, ‘on Sunday the fifth of January?’
My mind races. Where was I? I can’t remember what I did last night, never mind five months ago. Oh yes, thank God. ‘I went to visit my sister, Alison Davies, in Cardiff,’ I cry out jubilantly. ‘For my niece’s sixth birthday. I was there until the Monday morning when I got the train back. You can ring her to check if you like.’ I pick up my phone from the worktop and reel off her phone number, which the male detective scribbles down. Then he tucks the book back inside his jacket and hops off the stool.
‘There’s something else,’ says DI Shirley. ‘We’re not totally sure, but it looks like Dorothea might have been pushed down the stairs.’
‘What?’ I can feel the blood draining from my face. ‘Pushed? Someone pushed her? But why?’
‘That’s what we’re trying to find out,’ says DI Shirley.
‘But … there’s been nothing in the press about murder.’
‘We haven’t revealed it yet,’ she explains. ‘The fire investigation team took a while to submit their report. I know you’re a journalist, but we’d be grateful if it’s kept out of the press for now.’
‘Of course,’ I promise. Tears burn the back of my eyes at the thought of Dorothea being pushed down the stairs. Someone wasn’t content in just torching her studio, they actually wanted to make sure she died. The realization sends ripples of shock through me.
‘That’s all for now. We’ll be in touch,’ says the male detective.
As I’m showing them out, DI Shirley turns to me and adds, under her breath, ‘Will you be moving into Dorothea’s villa? A house like that probably shouldn’t be standing empty.’
‘Um … yes, we are,’ I say while thinking it’s none of her business.
She waits until her colleague is at their car before adding, ‘You probably don’t remember me. I was one of the detectives working on your mother’s case.’
That’s why she’d looked familiar. I nod. ‘Oh yes, I remember now, meeting you in court …’
Something shifts in my memory and an image of her rushing over to me and Alison as we entered the lobby of Bristol Crown Court on the first day of my father’s trial pops into my mind. A younger DI Erica Shirleyappearing through the throng of people (which I’d later realize were the CPS solicitors and barristers); her kind chestnut eyes and general air of dishevelment had put my nerves at ease. She’d escorted us to the right court room, insisting we find her if we needed anything.
‘You and your sister were very brave,’ she says with a small smile, bringing me back to the present. Then she turns and joins her colleague at the car.
I contemplate calling Alison but I talk myself out of it, reasoning she’ll be busy in the salon as she works Tuesdays. I decide to ring Rachel instead. I haven’t spoken to her since being suspended. She’d tried to call me a few times and she left messages asking if I was okay, but I didn’t have the energy to call her back. I was too ashamed. I still feel ashamed. But I was a good journalist, before.
‘Immy!’ she exclaims as soon as she picks up her phone. ‘I was worried I’d never hear from you again.’
I hop onto a bar stool, slightly disgusted to see the imprint of the male detective’s bottom in the leather. ‘I’m so sorry. So much has happened. I’m just so embarrassed about it all. I mean, it’s just so …’
‘Oh Immy,’ she sighs. ‘Anyway, you’ve still got your job for now, so that’s something.’
‘I don’t know if I have. I’ve been suspended while they look into my conduct, apparently.’
