6. The Mother

DI Rosen and DS Vega believe they have identified their dead boy.

6

Dowding House was a four-storey Georgian building down an off-shoot of Mount Pleasant; the long arterial road which led steeply through the town. Like most of the buildings in the area it seemed grand from a distance, until you got close enough to see the many mismatched doorbells where the former home had been divvied up. At one point it had been a dental surgery, an accountants and a solicitors, all at once. 
     Ten years ago and in a better fiscal climate, the local authority had purchased it from the freeholder. It had been bequeathed to CID in a bid to create more room for the police training college in Tonbridge: the Major Incident Team and the Priority Crime Team were split between the first and second floor. On the ground floor worked the civilian staff, and in the basement there were two interview rooms and a couple of cold toilets.
     For the past eighteen months there had been talk of selling the building and packing the teams off somewhere else. Vega wouldn’t shed any tears if it came to that, although there were some advantages to being this close to the railway station; some of their best collars had been made just by taking a short stroll around the corner. 
     Their most prolific cons came down from London either to push their pharmaceuticals or raid the high-end shops. The summer previous, some poor sod had neglected to pay his dealer who had taken umbrage and stabbed him twice in the gut. The man had died maybe two hundred yards from their front step. Some of the team, Daria especially, had taken personal offence to it but Vega was more pragmatic. With the traffic the way it was, a crime scene you could walk to was not to be sneezed at.
     Around the back of the building was a plot of land which must have been gardens at one point, but which was now tarmacked over to serve as an impractically small car park. Vega was pulling into it and already five minutes late when his phone rang. He answered without looking. ‘I’m here, just parking up, don’t worry.’ 
     ‘We’ve found human remains.’ The cut-glass voice wasn’t Rosen’s; it was DCI Lytton, and Vega could hear his smile in every syllable. ‘I thought it best to let you know first, before we went to the press.’
      ‘And don’t think I’m not oh-so grateful,’ Vega replied, kneading at his brow with thumb and forefinger. ‘But I’d like it kept out of the press.’
       ‘I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible. Until we identify the body, which could take weeks, there’s every possibility it isn’t your father and in which instance your wishes are irrelevant. Besides, the search has caused major disruption. The public �"’
     Vega hung up. The bitter night had broken into an equally cold morning and his car’s knackered heating had barely begun to soften the bite of it.  Treading cautiously across the frost laced car park, he tipped his head to the young man stood smoking at the back doors. ‘All right, Zaid?’
       The detective constable nodded. He was an arrogant little f****r, but they shared a dirty habit and so were sometimes forced into conversation. They should both be inside, but Vega wasn’t in the mood to set a good example.
     ‘Frizz is in a tizz,’ DC Khan said as Vega lit up beside him. ‘Me and Carmichael reckon she’s out of her depth. I mean, you’d think they would get a DCI in, wouldn’t you?’
     ‘They might do yet, but they’ll have to draft one in from another department.’
     ‘Why haven’t they replaced Keogh yet? He’s been gone, what, eighteen months?’
     Vega shrugged. He could explain to Khan why: that they didn’t have the budget for it, that Bishop was hoping one of the department’s detective inspectors would either transfer out or take the necessary exams to qualify for chief inspector, but he couldn’t be bothered to entertain him.
     They had lost most of their senior officers in the merge, when Kent and Essex formed their grandiose Serious Crime Directorate.  Bathroom whispers suggested the continuing survival of West Kent’s Major Incident Team was due to Conservative connections within the department. Vega’s money was on Bishop. 
     ‘Don’t call her Frizz,’ Vega said after he’d smoked the last of his cigarette in silence. ‘Come on, get your arse inside.’
     ‘I was just going.’ Khan flicked his filter down at his sergeant’s feet and Vega made a point of grinding it under his sole before following him in. 
     ‘As of now this is our most promising lead, but until we’ve spoken to her we cannot confirm that her son is indeed our victim, and so until that happens we carry on as we were,’ Rosen was telling the packed room.  
     ‘You think she’s stressed?’ Vega said, leaning in to Khan’s ear. ‘You don’t read people well.’ 
     ‘Then why is she talking to us like we’re at a f*****g junket?’ Khan hissed back. ‘I’m telling you. She’s freaking out.’
     ‘DS Vega, could you hold all comments until the end please?’ Rosen said. Vega mimed zipping his lips and chucking the key.

     ‘How certain are we, though? That um, that this boy is the dead one?’ DC Carmichael ventured. 
     ‘He’s around the same age as our victim and he has the same basic markers; grey eyes, brown hair, small pockmark near the hairline. That could describe a lot of boys his age though.’ 
     Still, Vega was beginning to prick his ears up. You played the odds and these odds seemed pretty good. ‘How long has this kid been missing?’ he asked. ‘What are the circumstances?’
     ‘Suspected abduction, at this point,’ Rosen said. ‘The parents are newly separated and the boy was staying with his father as part of a trial custody plan. He was supposed to bring the boy home last night. When he still hadn’t this morning, the mother called us.’
     ‘When did she drop the boy off with the father?’
     ‘She didn’t. He picked him up from a half-term club, so sometime Wednesday afternoon.’
     ‘Meaning he could have killed him Wednesday, which would fit the time of death Rooker’s given us.’ 
     There was a sudden buzz of chatter. Rosen waited for silence before she answered him. ‘That is one possibility, yes.’
     ‘Does she know we’ve found a body?’
     ‘Not yet, no. She’s still with the officers who responded to her call, they gave us the nod,’ Rosen said. ‘We’ll need to speak with her as soon as possible, to establish if her missing son is our victim, and if so, whether or not the father is indeed involved in his death.’
     ‘Give me a name and an address and I’ll go,’ Vega offered. ‘I’ll take Carmichael.’ 
    ‘No,’ Rosen said. ‘I’ll go with you. I should be there if there is difficult news to break.’ 
    ‘Your call, boss.’ 
     Rosen looked around at her gathered team. ‘Is everyone satisfied? You all know what you’re doing during the coming hours?’ 
     There was scraping of seats and a shuffle of bodies as the team sensed the briefing drawing to a close. Vega met Rosen’s eyes for all of a second before she glanced away. 
     This wasn’t going to be awkward at all. Not in the slightest.

 

Mrs Jodie Stowe, soon to be Ms Groves, lived in a two-bed apartment in a leafy enclave down by the Old West Station, where some summer weekends steam trains still puffed along the line. 
     The Georgian house had been converted into apartments in the 80s. Pigeon wires now stuck up along its wide sills and the white paint had flaked off in continent-shaped patches, but despite the neglect it had retained some of its former grandeur. 
     ‘Carmichael would have been fine to come along,’ Vega said as he hefted himself out of Rosen’s poorly parked Prius. ‘You’re going to have to test his mettle eventually. He needs to experience the ugly side of the job. It’s just as important as all the administrative bollocks you stick him with.’
     ‘Since when did you give a toss about Tony’s personal development? Now which flat was it again, do you remember?’
     ‘Four, I think.’
     Rosen pressed the bell and waited. They heard a buzzer sound inside and the lock of the front door click. The hallway was narrow and dark but newly carpeted. They took the stairs up to the second floor where a door was left ajar. 
     The top floor flat was bright and airy and populated by unpacked boxes, against which were propped perhaps a dozen large canvasses. The paintings differed in style and medium but they were all uniquely brilliant. A well-chosen collection. Vega found his attention drawn to them rather than the woman.
     Jodie was sat perched on the edge of a large Chesterfield sofa, whose corners were badly scuffed from where it had been shoved through the apartment’s narrow doorway. All of the furniture was too big for the room; it had belonged to another home, and now it had been displaced it made little sense.
     The police sergeant and his constable had each clasped a cup of tea but when the detectives arrived they put them down on what surfaces they could find. CID’s involvement marked a quick escalation in the case, something Jodie seemed to realise. She had been sat on her feet, but now she uncrossed her legs and stood. Her face was without make-up, her t-shirt clearly slept-in, but her hair was freshly washed and slipped across her sun-bed bronzed shoulder when she held out her hand for the detectives to shake.
     Introductions were swiftly made. There followed a stiff silence, and so Vega spoke up.
     ‘We need to talk about your son, Ms Groves.’
     ‘It’s Jodie,’ she said. Her voice wasn’t what Vega had expected. She looked as if she came from money, her slim gold bracelet and the single diamond hung about her neck certainly suggested it, but her accent said otherwise.
     He realised that he’d met her before. Judging by the way she was looking at him, she remembered meeting him too. Where and in what circumstances though he couldn’t say. 
     ‘Can I get you a cuppa?’ she offered, wiping her palms on her skinny jeans. ‘I’ve only got builders, but there’s biscuits if you want them.’ 
     ‘No thank you. Please, Jodie, take a seat.’
     ‘I’m all right standing.’ She folded her gym-toned arms like she was embracing herself. ‘So you’re going to find my b*****d ex, right? I want him strung up by his f*****g sack for this!’ She ran her fingers through her hair. Her highlights needed doing again, her roots were dark. ‘Sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t mean that. I just…I don’t understand why he’s doing this to me. I would never keep the boys from him, never. I couldn’t even if I wanted to!’ 
     ‘So they’re close to their father?’ Rosen said. Jodie nodded emphatically.
     ‘Oh yeah, very. Deano’s a real mummy’s boy, being the baby, but he worships his dad.’
     ‘Some of what we have to ask you is going to be difficult, Jodie, and I apologise, but if we’re to help you then you need to answer truthfully. Do you understand?’
     Jodie sat back down. ‘Come on then, ask what you need to ask.’
     Rosen positioned herself next to her on the sofa. ‘Has your ex ever been abusive, to you or the children?’ 
     ‘No. Definitely not.’
     ‘You sound certain.’
     ‘I am. Sam is all about self-destruction, he would never hurt anyone else.’
     ‘Sam? Sam Stowe? That’s your ex?’ Vega interjected. Rosen looked at him quizzically, and Jodie began to rub one hand over the other. ‘What’s your eldest called?’
     ‘Reese.’ 
     ‘Reese Stowe,’ Vega said, to himself more than anyone else. Rosen disregarded him and kept her attention on Jodie.
     ‘I understand your husband has had some difficulties lately, professionally.’
     Jodie barked a laugh. ‘That’s a nice way of saying his life’s work’s been flushed down the shitter.’
     ‘Have you received any threats?’ 
      Jodie stopped fidgeting. ‘What are you saying?’
     ‘I’m not saying anything, Jodie. We’re just trying to build up a picture.’ 
     Vega looked around the room, at the boxes waiting to be unpacked, at the small kitchen area and the plate of dinner just visible behind the oven door. Made last night, he supposed, when Jodie had still expected her son to come home. If she had been involved in his death, then her attention to detail in covering it up was impressive. 
     ‘Can we see a photo of your two sons?’ he asked. Jodie looked towards the uniformed officers.
      ‘I gave one to them.’
       The police sergeant passed a framed picture to Rosen. Vega saw her brows lift, just a fraction. She handed it to him, and Vega looked down into the face of their dead boy. He was grinning, chin lifted, grey eyes squinting in the sun which had darkened his dusting of freckles. ‘Cheeky chappy, isn’t he?’ he said, giving it back to Rosen. ‘But I asked to see a picture of both of them. Him and his brother.’ 
     ‘I’ll go look for one.’
     Rosen waited until Jodie had left the room before speaking again. ‘She has no idea that Deano is dead,’ she said softly. ‘She genuinely believes he’s with her ex.’
     The detective fell back against the sofa, placing the picture face-down on the vacant seat beside her. She closed her eyes, her brow niched. Vega wondered if she was coming down with one of the migraines he knew she suffered with, and he felt in his jacket for the co-codamol he carried for those occasions.
      ‘Why do you keep pressing her about her eldest, Rich?’
      ‘I’ll tell you in a minute. You did your homework about Sam.’
     ‘Everyone knows about Sam.’ 
     They fell silent when Jodie returned and handed Vega an album of family photos. He flipped through to the earlier ones with his large, nicotine-yellowed thumb until he found what he was looking for.
       He dipped the tip of his tongue into the hole in his back molar, and Rosen watched his cheek bulge as he prodded at it. A habit he had when he was thinking. 
     ‘You know what, Jodie? I think I will have that cup of tea,’ she smiled. Jodie nodded uncertainly and went to make it. Rosen waited for the roar of the kettle before she beckoned Vega closer. ‘What? What is it?’
      ‘This boy,’ Vega said, stabbing his finger at the face of a thin, bookish child on the cusp of adolescence. Deano was stood beside him, eight or nine at the time the photo was taken, with his arm slung around his older brother’s shoulders. ‘This is Reese Stowe.’
     ‘Yes. And?’
     ‘And six years ago I questioned him over the murder of Tom Healy.’ 

 

 

Author's Note

All constructive criticism gratefully received.

Reviews

[The Quill]

this is amazing, writing such a long writeup needs patience and prowess to bind the emotions in words, and i must say you master it.
the description of things of surroundings is just wonderful,
you are indeed having a very different style of writing and very powerful too...

[IK]

Just quoting the bits I felt were slightly off:
" ‘You think she’s stressed?’ Vega said, leaning in to Khan’s ear. ‘You don’t read people well.’
‘Then why is she talking to us like we’re at a f*****g junket?’ Khan hissed back. ‘I’m telling you. She’s freaking out.’
‘How certain are we, though? That um, that this boy is the dead one?’ DC Carmichael ventured.
‘He’s around the same age as our victim and he has the same basic markers; grey eyes, brown hair, small pockmark near the hairline. That could describe a lot of boys his age though.’
----seemed a bit jumpy, Like the Khan convo never really finished.

" All of the furniture was too big for the room. It had belonged to another home, and now THAT it had been displaced it made little sense. (ALSO POTENTIALLY USE ; TO JOIN THE SENTENCES UP)

" The police sergeant and his constable each clasped a cup of tea, although now they put them down on what surfaces they could find. (NOT SURE ABOUT THE "ALTHOUGH"...CONSIDER REPHRASING)

" ‘I’m all right standing, ta.’ She folded her gym-toned arms like she was embracing herself. ‘I’ve been sitting all morning, it was either that or pace holes in the carpet. (THIS SOUNDS LIKE AN OXYMORON...SHE'S SAYING I CAN EITHER SIT OR WALK...MIGHT WANT TO THINK ABOUT THIS)

The general arc of the chapter seems fine. It might benefit from getting the briefing bit to include an objective for the meeting with the mother. Something for the reader to look forward to to see if it is found/solved etc.

[NoelHC]

I like the way you handle the dialogue, and the characterization is excellent. I had a great image of what "Mrs Jodie Stowe, soon to be Ms Groves" looked like from your words.
Well done.
I anxiously await the next installment.

[SLD Bailey]

Thanks so much, Noel! I'm glad that Jodie was easy to picture as she will be central to much of the plot.

[W.k.kortas]

The little descriptive asides are nicely done, giving visual touches and the concept of someone, in this case Ms.Stowe, of someone in the process of taking a step or two down in the world. The narrative remains very clean and well-paced. Another strong entry.

[SLD Bailey]

Ah ha! I'm finally able to reply to your (very kind) review! The site has been unusually glitchy for me lately and keeps chopping up all my comments :/ Thanks so much for always commenting so graciously (and so promptly!). On days when I feel like a complete hack (I call them weekdays :P ) people like yourself are great motivators to carry on with the creativity!