Imposture (DI Gardener 6)

“Let’s just say, we don’t think it’s necessary for you to see all of the body, Mrs Henshaw,” said Reilly.

“Why? Isn’t he all there?”

“Rosie, love,” said Michelle, “I think these gentlemen are trying to save you from too much distress.”

The room descended into a short silence. No one knew what to say. Rosie eventually nodded and the assistant appeared at the other side of the glass and lifted the sheet.

Rosie did crumble, falling to her knees. “Oh my God, James, what have they done to you?”

Gardener nodded and the sheet was replaced. Both officers supported Rosie out of the room and across the hall to the cafeteria. The SIO ordered four teas and had them brought to the table. The atmosphere in the café was altogether more pleasant, but it couldn’t have been any worse. The tables were clean, the staff friendly, and the light background music helped.

Allowing time to pass, Gardener asked Rosie if she was okay.

She nodded. “Who’s doing this?”

“We’re giving it everything we’ve got, Mrs Henshaw, but as yet we haven’t found the suspect.”

“What did they do to him? James?”

“I’m not sure it’s something you need to know, Mrs Henshaw.”

“I do.” She took a sip of tea. “He was like a skeleton. Looked to me like he’d been starved. Was he?”

She was staring directly at Gardener. He wasn’t going to lie. “We believe so.”

“Drink your tea, Rosie,” said Michelle, “no point upsetting yourself.”

The tears rolled down her cheeks. “What am I going to tell the kids?”

“We’ll have plenty of time to work on that one,” replied Michelle.

Rosie glanced at Gardener. “For what it’s worth, I know I’m not Anthony Palmer’s biggest fan, but he wouldn’t do that to James.”

“What makes you say that?” Gardener asked.

“James was closer to Anthony than the other two.”

“That’s the name of the man who called last night,” said Michelle.

“Anthony Palmer called last night?” asked Gardener, the policeman’s instinct immediately surfacing.

“At the house?” asked Reilly.

“Yes,” said Michelle.

“Did he say where he was?”

“No. The conversation – if you could call it that – lasted less than a minute. He asked if he could speak to Rosie and I told him James had died.”

“What time was this?”

“About eight o’clock.”

“When you told him what had happened to James, did he say anything?”

“Nothing, the line went dead.”

“I’m sorry to ask you this at such a bad time,” said Gardener, “but did you hear anything in th