Deadly Secrets (Detective Erika Foster #6)(65)

‘Found out?’

‘She dropped round, late, at bath time. Kyle’s bath time, I mean.’

‘Obviously…’

‘I opened the door holding Kyle; he called me Daddy. Fran was there too.’

‘Shit.’

‘I tried to talk to her, but she drove off in her car, swerving up the road. I didn’t know if I should follow, but I didn’t, and now she’s gone off sick.’

Moss saw how worried he looked.

‘James, it’s nothing to do with you. It’s true that Mark’s dad had a fall and was rushed to hospital. He had to have an emergency hip replacement and there were complications. That’s why she’s gone.’

‘Oh, shit. She didn’t say anything to you about me?’ he said.

‘Her mind was on other things… As is mine.’

He nodded. ‘Okay. And well done, I’m made up for you taking over.’

‘Thanks. I need you and Crane to keep things moving here.’

‘Sure.’

Moss went over to Kay, who was sitting at her computer.

‘You’re with me today; I want to go and see the Pitkin family and ask some questions about Joseph.’





Forty-Six





The snow was melting when Moss and Kay arrived at Coniston Road, and they tried Don Walpole’s front door. Kay was ready with the portable DNA kit, but there was no answer.

‘Shit,’ said Moss. She pulled out her radio, and called into the station. ‘Crane, I need you to do a search for Don Walpole…’ Moss looked up and saw the old man in his usual spot, smoking a cigarette. ‘Hang on, I need to call you back.’

They came out of the front gate and went over to the old man.

‘You looking for Don?’

‘Yes, we are,’ said Moss, showing him her warrant card. ‘My colleague said that you saw him and his wife leaving yesterday afternoon. Have you seen them today?’

The man shook his head. ‘I’m out here a lot; the wife don’t let me smoke indoors. I was out just before six and again at seven-thirty and eight… And again at nine.’

‘So, you’re quite a heavy smoker?’ asked Kay.

‘You will go far as a detective,’ he said, pointing his cigarette at her and grinning with a set of yellow teeth.

‘You didn’t see any lights on, any movement?’ asked Moss.

‘Nope.’

They came back to the car and Moss called back in to Crane at the station, telling him to keep trying Don’s phone and to put out a search on his number plate against the national database. They then drove the short way around the corner to David and Elspeth Pitkin’s house.

David Pitkin opened the door; he was dressed in black, and had deep, dark circles under his eyes. They showed their ID and asked if they could come inside to talk.

‘Haven’t you people done enough?’ he said imperiously.

‘We have some more questions about Joseph, about his friendship with Marissa Lewis,’ said Moss, trying to be tactful.

‘I’m sorry, no. My wife is in a terrible state. She hasn’t left her bed since…’

‘I’m so sorry about what happened to your son,’ said Kay. ‘We just don’t want his death to be in vain. We think he may have known things about this case. He may have been able to help us with our investigations.’

David looked down at them from the step, chewing over what they were saying. ‘Where is she?’

‘Who?’ asked Moss.

‘That bloody awful detective with the blonde hair.’

‘She is on leave. I have taken over the case,’ said Moss.

‘Is this because of my formal complaint? I wrote to the assistant commissioner, asking for a full enquiry and that she be removed from duty.’

‘Yes, that’s in process. That’s why I am now on the case,’ said Moss. She was sure Erika would understand her playing along with David Pitkin.

He took them through to the kitchen. ‘Would you like tea?’

Kay looked at Moss for guidance.

‘We wouldn’t want to impose,’ said Moss. ‘We just need to ask you a few questions.’

‘Have some bloody tea!’ he snapped. ‘I need to keep busy.’

They nodded and sat at the long table. Moss noticed that all the clocks, of which there were many on the walls, had stopped at 1.25 p.m. The room was silent.

‘It’s something I wanted to do,’ he said, noting her gaze. ‘That’s the time the doctor pronounced Joseph…’ He didn’t finish the sentence. They waited in silence as he made three cups of tea and then came to join them.

‘How long had Joseph been involved in photography?’ asked Moss. David Pitkin looked surprised at the question.

‘I don’t know, four or five years.’

‘And you bought him supplies?’

‘At school, his art teacher did a project where students made a pinhole camera out of lavatory rolls, tinfoil and photo paper. He found it fascinating, and pestered me to buy supplies so he could make his own pinhole camera.’

‘And he needed a dark room to process the photos?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where did you buy the chemicals?’