Downstairs, Mel and his team were at work, and the body was uncovered once more while photos were gathered. With his spirit flown, Harry looked more like a mannequin than before, and she found she could inspect him with less painful emotion. Another tech was in the kitchen dusting surfaces.
‘Looks like someone was staying here,’ said Jo.
‘Yes, a woman,’ said Mel.
‘You’ve worked that out?’
‘There’s lipstick on one of the glasses in the drying rack,’ said the crime scene examiner. ‘And there are several of these on the sofa.’ He proffered a transparent evidence bag containing three wavy blond hairs, each at least eight inches long, matching the one Jo had found upstairs.
‘Anything in his pockets?’ she asked. ‘Phone or wallet?’
Mel shook his head. ‘You think they were stolen?’
‘I’ve not come across anything,’ she said. Don’t let all this be over a few quid, please …
‘If you find anything interesting, call me direct,’ she said.
Mel turned away from her, to look down at the poker. ‘Everything I find is interesting, sergeant, but I take your point.’
* * *
On the way back on to the street, Jo asked the constable signing her out of the premises where she could find Mrs Milner, the woman who’d reported the crime, and was given the address of the house two down. She knocked, and the door was opened by a young man of about thirty, dressed in a boiler suit, with a tool belt at his waist, and hands ingrained with some sort of white dust. ‘What do you want?’
Jo showed her badge. ‘I was hoping to speak with Mrs Milner.’
‘Again?’ said the man, making no move to shift his formidable bulk from the doorway. ‘I reckon your lot have squeezed it all out of her already. Mum’s had a shock, you know? She was the one who found the poor bloke.’
‘We appreciate that,’ said Jo. ‘I’m the detective leading the investigation, and … well, Mr Ferman was also a good friend of mine.’
The hardness in the man’s face softened. ‘Mum, there’s another copper,’ he called back. There was no answer, but he stepped back. ‘Go easy on her, all right?’
‘Of course,’ said Jo. Inside, the house had the same layout as Harry’s, but the décor brightened it up considerably. The cast-iron fireplace was gone, replaced with a wood-burning stove, and the carpets were stripped back to reveal pale oak floorboards. An open-plan arrangement gave Jo a view through to a dining area, with a kitchen built into an extension at the rear of the house. Sitting at the dining table, nursing an oversized glass of white wine, was an elegant, bird-like fifty-something woman with short hair dyed to a reddish brown. Jo introduced herself.
‘I know you’ve been through details with my colleagues,’ she added, ‘but I wonder if I could have a word too.’
The woman looked at her with a startled expression. ‘I don’t think I can help,’ she said. ‘I didn’t see anybody.’
‘But you heard a disturbance?’
The woman took a gulp of wine, holding it in her mouth for a few moments, before audibly swallowing. She nodded.
‘Harry and a woman?’
‘I think so,’ she said.
‘You think so?’
If there was accusation in her voice, she didn’t intend it, but Mrs Milner’s son bristled. He didn’t understand how memory could degrade. This might be the last opportunity to glean vital information from his mother.
‘Well, it was just raised voices for a few seconds as I came back from walking the dog. He had a girl staying with him. I assumed it was a relative.’
‘Can you tell me what she looked like?’
‘Young. Blonde hair.’
‘Anything else? Height?’
‘Not tall.’
Jo glanced at the minimalist clock on the wall. It was almost six. Theo would be getting really grizzly.
‘But you didn’t speak to Mr Ferman about her?’
‘Why would I? It’s not my business who he has to stay.’
‘Shall we finish up here?’ said the son.
‘Almost done,’ said Jo firmly. ‘So you heard the raised voices about three? Did you see Harry or the woman after that?’
Mrs Milner shook her head, took another sip and continued. ‘I went out a bit later – I had a doctor’s appointment in Temple Cowley. That was when I saw Harry through the window. His next-door neighbour has a key, so I …’
She took a tissue and dabbed her eyes. Her son stepped protectively beside her, laying an arm over her shoulders.
‘Happy, detective?’ he said.
‘Just a couple more questions,’ said Jo. ‘The woman – have you any idea how long she might have been staying with Mr Ferman?’
Mrs Milner dried her eyes with a piece of screwed-up tissue. ‘Not exactly,’ she said. ‘But I did hear music coming from his house about a fortnight ago. He normally keeps himself to himself, but I was walking past and I heard one of those dreadful new pop songs, playing very loudly. Not like something a man of his age would listen to.’
Jo made a note. ‘About a fortnight ago? Can you be more exact?’
The woman shook her head. ‘I’m not … actually, yes! It was a Sunday morning, so what’s that … eleven days ago?’
Jo checked the calendar in her notebook. ‘The 6th. Thank you, that’s very helpful. And one last question? Have you heard about any break-ins in the area?’
Mrs Milner’s son made a scoffing sound. ‘So now you lot give a monkeys about break-ins, do you? I reported it three weeks ago.’
‘What’s that?’ said Jo.
‘All my tools,’ said the man. ‘Nicked from my van while it was parked up the road. Broad-bloody-daylight.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. Nothing was recovered?’
‘No one even came out to see me!’ said the man. ‘Just gave me a crime number for the insurance. And you wonder why people don’t have time for the police …’
Jo didn’t want to get into an argument in his mother’s front room, and she understood his frustrations. She was glad Mel Cropper wasn’t with her – he’d have wasted no time at all spelling out quite how far down their list of priorities petty burglaries sat.
‘There were a couple of break-ins over on Chichester Road, too,’ said Mrs Milner. ‘It’s the world we live in now. No one was hurt though. Not like this.’
Chapter 4
Thanking Mrs Milner for her time, and leaving her own details in case the witness remembered anything useful, Jo liaised with the officers outside, organising a door-to-door to glean any further information about the woman staying with Harry, the apparent argument, or the music heard by Mrs Milner. Mel’s van was still parked up, and no doubt would be for several hours. The timeline was all too vague to be particularly useful at the moment. But someone must have seen something of this mystery woman’s comings and goings. Each resident’s front room looked directly out on to the street. In days gone by, before everyone had a car parked bumper to bumper on both sides of the road, it was the sort of place neighbours would have all known each other’s business and kids would have kicked a ball up and down, smashing the occasional window but otherwise doing no harm. People like Mrs Milner would have known the name of her local bobby, and probably his kids’ names too.