The Night Stalker (Detective Erika Foster 2)

‘And all these people, are they any closer to finding who killed my son?’

‘We are pursuing several leads,’ said Erika.

They reached the top of the stairs. Estelle paused to catch her breath, resting a Marigold-gloved hand on her hip. The heavy curtains covering the hall window had been removed, and it was much brighter on the landing.

‘When will my son’s body be released, DCI Fosset?’ Estelle asked.

‘It’s DCI Foster…’

‘Because I have a funeral to arrange,’ Estelle said, teasing off the gloves, finger by finger.

‘We’ll have to check who our first contact is in the family before passing on any details, I’m afraid,’ said Moss.

Estelle’s face clouded over even more. ‘Gregory was my son. I carried him in my belly for nine months. You will phone me first, do you understand? Penny was only married to him for four years. I was his mother for forty-six…’ She took a deep breath to compose herself. ‘She phoned me up, Penny. Demanding to know when the body was being released. “The body”! Not “Gregory” or “Greg” – he hated being called Greg. Penny wants to book the Shirley football club for the wake. A football club! No doubt Gary and his hooligan friends will get a good deal.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs Munro.’

Estelle stepped into the bathroom and ran her hands under the tap. She came back out drying them on a small towel. ‘I’ve had Gary on the phone today, threatening me.’

‘Threatening you?’ asked Erika.

‘Gregory altered his will when he and Penny separated. We’ve just found out that he left the house to me, and his rental properties in trust to Peter.’

‘What about Penny?’

Estelle shot Erika a look. ‘What about her? She’ll get the four-bedroom house in Shirley. It’s worth plenty. Gary was abusive on the phone, he said Penny was owed this house and that I’m to sign it over to her or else…’

‘Or else what?’ asked Erika.

‘Oh, use your imagination, DCI Fosset. Or else I’ll be dealt with. He’ll send the lads round. A car might plough into me on my way home from the shops. I take it you’ve read Gary’s criminal record?’

A look passed between Erika, Moss and Peterson.

Estelle went on, ‘I’ve changed the locks, but I’m still worried.’

‘I can assure you that Gary Wilmslow will not cause you any harm,’ said Erika.

Estelle’s eyes filled with tears and she scrabbled around for a tissue. Peterson was on hand again, and produced a pack from his pocket.

‘Thank you,’ she said, gratefully.

Erika signalled to Moss and they left Peterson to reassure Estelle. They moved along the corridor to the small bedroom Gregory Munro had used as his home office.

A heavy, dark wood desk was squeezed in against the window, and opposite were a set of shelves with the same dark wood finish. The shelves were filled with a mixture of medical books and paperback novels. Erika noted that Gregory Munro had three of the DCI Bartholomew crime novels written by Stephen Linley.

‘Shit!’ she said.

‘What is it, boss?’

‘Nothing…’ Erika remembered her conversation with Isaac last week, and that she’d agreed to dinner with him tonight. She looked at her watch and saw it was approaching six.

Estelle shuffled back into the room, followed by Peterson.

‘It was here,’ Estelle said, pointing to the wall behind the desk where there hung two gold picture frames. One was filled with photos: Gregory and Penny cutting their wedding cake; Penny holding a pair of sunglasses on their cat’s unimpressed face; Penny in a hospital bed, clutching what must have been Peter when he was born, with Gary, Estelle and Penny’s bespectacled mother standing awkwardly either side. The other frame was empty.

‘I asked Penny if she had it, but for once I think she’s being truthful when she says no,’ said Estelle, pointing to the empty frame. ‘If it was the television or the DVD player she’d have had it, but not this.’

Erika went over to the empty frame, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. She lifted it off the wall, finding it was very light and made of plastic.

‘Have you touched this at all, Mrs Munro?’

‘No, I haven’t,’ she said.

Erika turned the frame over, but couldn’t see anything.

‘We should call in a fingerprint technician. It’s a long shot, but…’

‘Okay, boss,’ said Moss. She pulled out her radio and placed a call; a voice came back saying no one was available.