Close to Home (DI Adam Fawley #1)(67)



Chapter six: Summer holidays again

A small suburban garden; it’s obviously still the same house. The grass is tired and brownish. There’s some sort of industrial building visible behind the house beyond the back fence – perhaps the canopy of a petrol station. Or perhaps I only see that because it’s what I saw, every day, for the first fifteen years of my life. The Masons’ blurry footage is like a parody of my own past.

Barry appears now in a pair of tight black Speedos that leave nothing to the imagination, his chest out and his hands on his hips. He looks like he’s oiled himself. We see him lifting weights and striking a pose to show his muscles. He’s laughing. Then the perspective shifts and we see Sharon in a loose-fitting kaftan thing. She’s holding a drink with a straw and an umbrella in it, and she raises her glass, but she looks listless and she’s clearly put on a lot of weight. Then the camera pans to Gerald Wiley in the adjacent deckchair, stiff in a cardigan and a shirt and tie, and then to Daisy, sitting on her grandmother’s knee. She looks uncomfortable, as if she feels out of place. It’s a strange expression to see on the face of such a young child. And then the camera pans to the side, and we see Leo in a paddling pool, splashing in a monotonous, repetitive way that appears to bring him no pleasure. As Sharon comes over to lift him out, he begins to scream, and I realize that he has not looked directly at the camera once.

*

Sent: Sun 24/07/2016, 10.35 Importance: High

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Case no 372844 Mason, D

Attached herewith the results of the forensic tests on the black Nissan Navara belonging to Barry Mason. It has not been possible to test Sharon Mason’s car, which has sustained extensive fire damage.

To summarize:

The interior and exterior of the pick-up were tested for blood and other physical evidence. Nothing untoward was found. There were no traces of blood in the flatbed, nor any DNA. If it was used to transport a body, the remains must have been extremely carefully wrapped in some impermeable covering. I note that Mr Mason owned a number of high-viz vests and other similar items of protective clothing for use on building sites, which could in theory be used for this purpose, though the jacket found in the car definitely had not been: the only DNA was Barry Mason’s. There was also a hard hat and a pair of black safety boots with steel toecaps, likewise bearing only his DNA. There were other high-viz items in the house, but the damage caused by the fire has rendered them useless for evidential purposes.

The car showed no signs of being recently valeted (indeed, rather the opposite). The DNA of Barry, Sharon and Daisy Mason was found on the seats, as well as that of another male, presumably Leo Mason. The latter principally took the form of bitten fingernails consistent in size with a child’s hands. Samples from the other individuals were mainly hair and some skin, though there were vaginal secretions from two other unidentified females, mostly in the back of the car, as well as minute traces of semen, identified as that of Barry Mason.

There was only one unexpected finding. We have not taken a DNA sample from Leo Mason, but based on the fingernail fragments, I can state categorically that he is not related to the rest of the family. Leo is not the Masons’ biological child.

*

‘So why didn’t you tell us Leo’s not your son?’

I’m standing in Barry Mason’s cell. It’s Sunday morning. I can hear the bells from the colleges, each ringing to their own approximation of the time. And actually that’s as good a thumbnail of the character of this town as you’re likely to get. Barry is lying on his back on the bed with his knees up. He’s badly in need of a shower. As for me, I’m badly in need of a shot to the brain. Because I can’t believe it took me so long to work it out. Leo doesn’t look anything like either of the Masons, and if nothing else, the timeline should have screamed at me – if they were married in December 2005 and Leo is ten, Sharon would have been pregnant at the wedding. Which she clearly wasn’t.

Barry sits up and runs his hands through his hair, then he swings his legs round over the side of the bed.

‘I didn’t think it was any of your bloody business,’ he says eventually. But the fight has gone out of him. ‘Daisy’s the one who’s missing, not him.’

He rubs the back of his neck and looks up at me. ‘Should I be talking to you without my lawyer?’

‘It’s not related to the pornography charge. But you can call her if you want. We’ve got an extension, by the way – we can hold you for another twenty-four hours before we have to charge you.’

He stares at me for a moment, considering, then sighs. ‘OK, have it your way.’

‘So why did you decide to adopt? You’re clearly able to have kids of your own.’

‘We didn’t know that then, though, did we? Look, I only asked Moira for a divorce because Sharon was pregnant, but then she lost the baby and she was all over the place. The doctor said she might not be able to have another – they said IVF was the only option but the odds were against us. We’d be lucky if it took. So we decided to adopt.’

‘But do the IVF anyway. Just in case.’

‘Right.’

‘How old was Leo when you got him?’

‘About six months.’

‘You were lucky – there aren’t many babies available these days.’

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