‘I’m afraid we don’t know that yet,’ Adrian said.
‘Did he drown? He was a really good swimmer. He’s the only family I have … had left,’ she sobbed.
‘We are investigating what happened to Simon. At this point, we don’t believe he died of natural causes. If possible, would you be willing to give us a DNA sample so that we can confirm the person we have is in fact your brother?’
‘Why can’t I see him? Why won’t you answer my questions? Where did you say you found him?’
‘We really don’t know anything yet. The body was recovered from the River Exe in Exeter.’
‘What was he doing there? You don’t think he died of natural causes. So, you think he was murdered?’
‘It seems your brother sustained some serious injuries before he died, probably from a physical assault.’
‘Who would do that to him? Everyone liked Simon; he was a good man. Honestly, you would be hard pushed to find anyone who had a bad word to say against him.’
‘We don’t know who yet, but we will find out. Did your brother have a mobile phone?’ Adrian asked.
‘Of course he did. What kind of question is that? Who doesn’t have a bloody mobile phone these days?’
‘It would have been on him?’ Imogen said.
‘More than likely.’
‘Your brother lived in Higher Sea Lane in Charmouth, correct? Do you have spare keys for his property?’ Adrian said.
‘Yes, I’ll get them for you.’
She stood and walked over to a sideboard, where she opened the drawer and pulled out some keys, which she held in her hands tightly. Imogen could see the woman’s knuckles whiten as she squeezed.
‘I was close with my brother; he came here every week for Sunday dinner. When he didn’t turn up last week, I knew something was wrong. He was secretive and I know there was a lot he never told me about himself, but he wasn’t a bad person. I don’t know why anyone would want to hurt him.’
‘Can you think of any reason your brother would be in Exeter?’ Imogen said.
‘He used to work there until about six months ago.’
‘Where does he work now?’ Imogen said.
‘He’s an Assistant Site Manager for the Sigma construction company. He’s working on a flat development on the front in Weymouth.’
‘Does he have any close friends we can talk to? Someone who might be able to shed some light on your brother’s activities?’ Imogen said.
‘He’s worked with a guy called Leon Quick for the last couple of years; Leon got him the job at Sigma after he left the last place.’
‘Thank you very much, Miss Merton. Again, we are sorry for your loss and we will let you know as soon as we have any information for you. Is there anyone you need us to call to come and be with you?’ Adrian said.
‘Thank you, DS Miles, I can call my neighbour, don’t worry,’ she said, arms folded as they walked to the door.
I gain entrance to the house by the patio door, which is always left unlocked. I go to the shower and wash the smell of hospital off me. I add make-up and put on a dress. Then I go into the kitchen and start dinner. He gets home and hangs his coat up. When he smells the food cooking, he’ll know I am back. The table is laid and there is a cup of tea waiting for him, his newspaper to the side of it. Everything is just the way he likes it.
He walks in and kisses me on the forehead. He tells me he knew I would be back before sitting at the table with his cup of tea and the paper. I tip the carrots into the pan of water and we both carry on as though we live a perfectly normal life.
Imogen and Adrian walked into Simon Glover’s flat. It was a nice place looking out towards the horizon, probably quite pricey. But it was empty. Bed stripped, no electricals or soft furnishings, no sign of human habitation. The walls had been freshly painted, the doors and woodwork, too. It smelled clean, too, but not polish clean, bleach clean, ammonia clean, sterile and medical. Unnatural. It looked like it had just been built.
‘We should call this in before we look around,’ Imogen said.
‘Presumably, Fiona Merton has no idea that Glover’s flat is like this. She would have said something if he was moving out.’
‘Unless he didn’t tell her,’ Adrian said, shrugging.
He could be right; they already knew Glover kept secrets from his sister.
‘Where are all of his clothes? His things? Did he do this?’ Adrian said.
‘You think this is the crime scene?’
‘I would put money on it.’
‘If that’s the case, then this has been professionally cleaned, which is concerning,’ Imogen said.
‘Concerning, how?’
‘Who cleaned it? I’m going to assume there was some blood, which would correlate with Simon Glover’s murder having taken place here. And who painted this place? It’s not as if Glover was disposed of particularly carefully. But this level of work and attention to detail means that more than one person was involved. Cleaners, painters, movers.’
‘This seems highly organised. Is this something they have done before? Something they do regularly. Not to mention the distance from the original crime scene. We are at least an hour away from where the body was found.’
‘Maybe you do need to do a TV appeal for information. They love you at the moment.’ Imogen smiled, knowing Adrian hated being the centre of attention, but she loved to watch him squirm.
‘Seriously, though. If they have done this before then why was this job so sloppy? Why haven’t we been finding bodies in the river for years? Are they trying to send a message to someone else?’ Adrian said.
‘Sloppy, how?’
‘You know, body in the river, which is basically a trail of evidence. Not to mention the fact that they didn’t finish the woman off. Not quite professional, more confusing. I’m telling you, it’s a message. Judging by the way the woman behaved, I think she was probably the intended recipient of that message. She wasn’t beaten as badly. I reckon Glover was beaten as a lesson to her.’
‘You’ve been watching too much TV. People don’t do that in real life.’
‘Maybe not in your life. We’re missing something.’
‘That’s an understatement,’ Imogen said.
‘So, what now?’
‘Let’s go and see this co-worker of his and see if he can shed any light on what might have happened to Simon Glover.’
Adrian pulled out his phone and called Karen Bell, the lead crime scene investigator and recently promoted head of the forensics department. Imogen knew that she and Adrian alone wouldn’t find anything here – not a fingerprint, a strand of hair or a speck of blood that would confirm it as the crime scene. They needed to call the crime scene technicians in to work their magic. Even the cleanest rooms aren’t forensically clean.
They waited outside for someone to come and secure the scene; the smell inside was too chemical and overwhelming to stay there.