Jacqueline turned to Gardener. “I’m sorry about that.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“You look like you could use a cup of tea.”
Jacqueline thought Gardener seemed unsure of her offer at first. Then his face softened into the comely expression she was used to, the one she liked.
“Er, yes. I’d appreciate that,” he replied. “Thank you.”
She studied him for a moment. He had a tall, athletic frame – a little too lean, perhaps – with short, black, well-groomed hair and brown eyes. He wore a grey designer jacket, a blue denim shirt, and grey chinos. He held his hat in his right hand. His face was tired and drawn as if he hadn’t slept properly. She knew what he did for a living. Perhaps his work was keeping him up. She couldn’t help but admire him for the way he’d coped with his own recent tragedy. Not only had he kept himself together, but his family as well. Jacqueline gave him a warm smile.
After a quiet word with the other officers and the press photographer, Gardener and the minister turned from the grave. They walked back towards the vicarage – a short stroll down a pretty, tree-lined path, which had become a haven for squirrels.
Jacqueline hunched her shoulders up against the cold, rubbing her hands together. As they entered the house, she showed Gardener through to the sitting room, where the heating quickly took away the chill of the cemetery.
The burgundy leather Chesterfield, matching footstool, pure wool carpet, and fine collection of sculptures and paintings displayed Jacqueline’s expensive tastes. A television stood in one corner, a stereo in the other. An array of potted plants decorated the room, adding a rich natural beauty to an already colourful space.
Jacqueline returned with a tea tray. She placed it on a small table and poured a cup for each of them.
“I feel as if I ought to apologize for what happened back there,” she said, taking a sip of her tea, her cup clasped between both hands.
“There’s no need.”
“Nevertheless, there’s a time and a place.”
“She was grieving. That’s something I understand only too well.”
“It can’t have been easy for you, losing your wife so recently.”
“It was a year ago. You cope.”
“Yes, but bringing up a son as well, I think you’ve coped marvellously.” Jacqueline noticed that her compliment unnerved Gardener, made him blush.
“I’m lucky. My father lives with us. He’s a widower as well.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had lost your mother.” Jacqueline could have cut her tongue out.
“It was a long time ago, now. My father knew what we were going through. His experience came in handy.” Gardener sipped more tea. “To be honest, it was only meant to be temporary. It became a permanent arrangement due to a loophole in the mortgage agreement.”
“What happened?”
“My wife dying didn’t mean that the house insurance would pay off the mortgage. I had to keep up the payments anyway. Three months in and they were crippling us. Dad figured it out and offered to move in permanently, help us financially. My son’s health and well-being were the most important things to both of us.”
“No wonder Lesley’s comment struck a nerve.”
“I’d have preferred not to have heard it. Chris has been through so much as it is.”
An expression returned to his eyes.
“I hope you catch the person responsible, for everyone’s sake.”
“I don’t have anything to go on at the moment. What Lesley doesn’t realize is that, until now, it hasn’t been a murder inquiry.”
David Vickers had been abducted. He’d said goodbye to his friends after school, but never made it home. Someone found his body a week and a half later on a piece of waste ground, naked, his school bag sitting next to him.
The post-mortem revealed puncture marks in his arms, and signs of sexual abuse. The results from the specialist toxicology report confirmed his body contained traces of a powerful sedative. He’d been dead twenty-four hours by the time he’d been found.
“But surely you are looking for someone?”