‘I’ve told you I don’t know.’
‘Is it possible that George had decided to try to make peace with the Stouts?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘I don’t think it is ridiculous, Mrs Hubbard. Apparently George was the more forgiving of the two of you, and maybe he didn’t feel as strongly about the feud as you do. You made a promise to a woman on her deathbed to keep it going. That’s quite a commitment. Perhaps, George didn’t agree. I think he wanted to try and end it so the kids could live in peace, and he could have his son back.’
‘That’s utter rubbish, and even if it was true, does it matter? They still shot him.’
Kim pictured the wound on George Hubbard’s left temple.
‘Not unless they can shoot around corners. The shot came from here.’
‘She shot him. She confessed.’
‘And that’s what kept the investigation minimal. Martha admitted it, but she didn’t do it. You did. So, Lena Hubbard, I’m arresting you for the murder of George Hubbard. You do not have to say anything…’
Fifty-Five
Penn knew he had no business being here, which was why he’d told no one that he was visiting the Chances for a second time. There was no doubt in his mind that the couple were making a play for Ava for the financial rewards. What was one more kid to not feed but still get paid for? He just had no way to prove it.
The door was opened by the oldest child whom he’d seen the day before. Only this time he was clean.
‘Mum, copper’s here,’ the child called behind him.
The boy ran back inside before any response came from the parents, and Penn took the opportunity to enter.
The first thing he noticed was the smell. Some kind of lavender fragrance had been liberally sprayed, hanging heavy in the air, and the carpet in the hallway had been vacuumed.
Lyra appeared from the kitchen and her husband from the front room. The boy disappeared up the stairs.
They looked very different to the previous day. Gone were the trackie bottoms and oversized tee shirts. In their place was what his mum would have called Sunday best. A set of clothes brought out for special occasions. The outfits were dated and tight, as though they hadn’t been worn for a while.
It looked as though they had both showered recently, and he even detected a little make-up on Lyra’s face.
‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘We got social services coming in a bit.’
Of course they had. He’d known there was an explanation for the makeover.
‘I won’t take much of your time,’ he said, following Lyra to the living room.
‘Get rid of them bin bags,’ she called over her shoulder to her husband before taking a seat.
Although still not fashionable by any means, the clear-up had made the room appear spacious and liveable. Gone was all the rubbish that had littered every surface, the carpet was clean, and the aroma of Mr Sheen was noticeable beneath the lavender.
‘Mrs Chance, you’ve made a serious accusation against your brother-in-law, Daniel Reynolds.’
‘We gotta protect that little girly,’ she said, reaching for the cigarettes that had already been placed out of sight.
‘I just wonder why you didn’t mention your concerns to me when we spoke.’
She coloured. ‘Well, I mean, it’s social services, ain’t it?’ she said as Warren came into the room.
‘Obviously we have to look into it as well. It’s now a criminal matter,’ Penn lied. ‘Can you tell me the last time you saw Ava?’
‘Probably a couple of years now. We saw them up Merry Hill. She was acting all strange, wasn’t she, love?’ she said, turning to her husband.
‘Yeah, yeah, that’s right. She was all moody and quiet, and she didn’t want to hold his hand. We thought something was a bit off, you know.’
