Gravel crunched underfoot as we climbed out of the car and onto the wide driveway. The double fronted house faced a well-tended lawn, the faded peach stonework bathed in late afternoon light. The surrounding forest created long shadows across the grass.
Light spilled from several sash windows. Juliet and I walked towards the manor, the entryway visible through narrow panes of glass either side of the front door. Polished wooden flooring stretched towards the back of the house.
‘You’re in the lead still,’ Juliet said, as I lifted the brass door knocker.
I let it fall with a loud thunk. ‘Step in if you notice something I don’t.’
I wasn’t too proud to ask for help. Juliet might be a consummate failure at talking to victims’ families, but she was one of the best at wheedling the truth out of perpetrators of violent crimes. It was her face: kindly looking and open. Killers and rapists placed Juliet firmly into the ‘not a threat’ category. Most of them only realised their mistake once it was already too late. Her benign smile hid an exceptionally quick mind, one that spotted inconsistencies in a story long before anyone else.
I wanted to prove myself, but that wouldn’t make me lose sight of what was important: bringing Melanie’s killer to justice, stopping them before they could hurt anyone else. That was one similarity between Juliet and I; we would do anything to find the truth.
Timothy Dunlow emerged from one of the rooms at the back of the manor. He’d had time since arriving home from work to loosen his tie, but he was imposing in a tailored inky blue suit. He frowned through the glass as he opened the door. The wind had obviously changed while he was pulling that face.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Dunlow.’ I held out my hand, summoning a tight smile. ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Gabe Martin and this is Detective Inspector Juliet Stern. Thank you for meeting with us.’
Dunlow took my hand and gripped it firmly. He looked the kind of man who would have been to a seminar about the appropriate pressure to use when shaking hands to impress upon everyone his importance and power. There would have been a follow-up workshop in never giving those lesser than you permission to use your first name.
‘I didn’t have a lot of choice.’ His voice was a low growl that would cut across any boardroom.
‘Still, we’re grateful you made time for us,’ Juliet said, as he pumped her hand. Her lips were upturned, but there was a hardness around her eyes as Dunlow turned and led us into the manor.
I unbuttoned my coat, gentle heat lapping over me. It was the same in all posh houses, or at least in the ones where the owners had enough money for the upkeep. They didn’t endure draughts or blasting radiators. These opulent places were like carefully maintained zoo exhibits; the environment rigidly controlled to maintain the inhabitants’ constant comfort.
Dunlow led us to a sitting room at the back of the house. The view through the windows showed the sun setting over lawns surrounded by tall trees. I wondered whether it was intense dislike of the outside world that led Dunlow to shut it out so thoroughly with dense forest in every direction, or if he liked living in a civilised oasis in the middle of all that green.
I wouldn’t have been able to stand the quiet, the lack of humanity. I liked the occasional walk around places like this, but returning to a home blanketed in every direction by hundreds of others was a comfort. My rented maisonette was on the edge of my comfort zone; not in the city proper but built up enough that I felt swaddled by the surrounding humanity.
Every piece of furniture in the sitting room was clearly far more expensive than all the items in Ida Pirt’s flat. Dunlow settled into a highbacked armchair near an empty fireplace. Scorch marks on the back panelling proved its usefulness, but Juliet and I were not the kind of guests he would light a fire for. A drink rested on a table at his elbow, something amber in a low glass. He didn’t offer us anything.
We sat on a sofa opposite. The cushions were so highly stuffed that they barely gave way as they took our weight. I pulled my notepad out of my pocket and rested it on my knee.
‘It would be helpful to our investigation if you’d answer a few questions.’ I sensed Dunlow wouldn’t appreciate any padding. ‘Can I ask who was on the estate last night?’
‘Myself.’ Dunlow looked at one of the long windows rather than at either of us, his words delivered in a bored drawl. ‘My younger son, Leo, slept in the den over the garages. Karl would have been somewhere on the grounds.’
‘And your other son, Terence?’
Dunlow’s eyes snapped to me. The barb had landed. I’d let him wonder how much digging we’d done about his family.
‘Terence was away at a wedding. He’s coming home later today.’
‘Great.’ I made a note to check that alibi. ‘And what did you do yesterday evening and last night?’
‘I got home from work at seven and had dinner with Leo at around eight.’ Dunlow picked up his glass and swirled it. ‘Afterwards, I worked for a couple of hours and then I went to bed. I read a book and fell asleep at around eleven.’
‘Can anyone confirm your whereabouts after you ate with Leo?’
‘Why would they need to?’ Dunlow stared flatly at me, drink cradled in one hand.
‘At this point, it would be helpful to rule you out as a suspect,’ I said.
Dunlow’s eyes continued to bore into mine. They were blue, incredibly light. Combined with his white hair and bushy eyebrows, they gave him a washed-out quality.
Juliet flicked her hair over one shoulder. The movement grounded me. I wasn’t a young woman annoying an older man, but a detective with every right to be here.
‘No. Leo and I both enjoy our privacy.’ Dunlow took a sip of his drink, supremely unconcerned that he had an uncorroborated alibi on the night a young woman was murdered on his land. It was either the arrogance of the untouchably rich, or something more sinister.
‘I see.’ I made a show of writing a note. ‘When did you hear about the body?’
‘The groundskeeper called me this morning, before I left for work.’
‘And you didn’t wait for the police?’
Dunlow placed his drink on the coaster, fine beads of moisture forming on the lower half of the glass. ‘I didn’t see any reason to stay.’
‘Okay.’ Next time I thought Juliet was heartless, I needed to remember this guy. ‘You may already be aware, but the victim was shot three times. Did you hear gunshots in the night?’
‘I sleep with the window closed.’ Dunlow gave no reaction to hearing an unknown person had been shot. He either already knew or didn’t care. ‘I heard nothing.’
‘Right. We’re aware there are several guns on the property. When was the last time you used one?’
Dunlow’s resting expression of a deep frown remained unchanged. ‘Weeks ago.’
‘Good.’ I made a note as Juliet shifted beside me. I didn’t think that meant anything. Dunlow was impressively shut down, even she wouldn’t have gotten any more from him. ‘We haven’t been able to formally identify the body yet, but we can confirm it is that of a young Black woman. Is there anyone who matches that description who would have had reason to come onto your property?’
‘No.’
I tapped my pencil, holding Dunlow’s gaze. ‘How old are your sons?’
The lines on his face lengthened, the first sign that he felt anything other than aggrieved tolerance for my questioning. ‘Terence is twenty-four and Leo is eighteen.’
‘Would Leo have had a girl over?’ I asked.
‘No, he would not.’ Dunlow’s hand flexed on his knee. ‘Leo doesn’t mingle with many girls as he goes to an all-boys school. Besides, he knows my views on dating while he’s in education.’
‘Which are?’
‘It’s an unwanted distraction.’ Dunlow hadn’t raised his voice, but there was a ring of authority to his words.
Juliet leant back beside me, folding one leg over the other. She raised her eyebrows; not antagonising, but clearly disbelieving.
Dunlow’s expression soured. His hand shot out and he grabbed his drink, taking a gulp of the doubtless expensive and well-aged liquor.
‘Would you mind if we had a chat with Leo?’ I asked.
Dunlow was a strong suspect, made no less so by his lack of alibi and disdainful attitude, but his son was also on the property last night. Since Leo was a similar age to Melanie, it wasn’t too much of a stretch to assume he was the reason why she was on the estate, no matter what his father might insist to the contrary.
Dunlow pulled a phone out of his jacket pocket. He thumbed at it, then tossed it onto the table beside his chair.
‘He’ll be down in a minute.’
‘Great.’
I noted the phone make and model. Not because I needed to, but because some interviewees found excessive notetaking uncomfortable. When I looked up, Dunlow’s eyes were directed at the pad on my knee. He wasn’t as untouchable as he wanted us to believe.
‘What is it you do for a living, Mr Dunlow?’ asked Juliet.
He glared at her. The pressure of his attention was lessened once his focus was removed. Perhaps that was Juliet’s intention.
‘I run a company. We manage mergers.’ Dunlow’s tone implied he’d reached heady new heights of boredom. ‘We work as an independent third party, getting the best deal for all involved.’
That explained his reputation. Dunlow might claim to advocate fairly but in every business transaction, and especially ones of this nature, someone was going to get shafted. It wouldn’t be whoever wrote the larger pay cheque.
‘You do well from it?’ Juliet asked.
‘I do well,’ Dunlow parroted.
He looked like he’d smelt something unpleasant. Juliet wouldn’t have forgotten the wealthy’s distaste for discussing money, but apparently Dunlow was having the same effect on her as he was on me. We wanted to rattle him, make him feel uncomfortable.
I twisted when the varnished wooden door opened behind us and a young man entered the room. Leo looked nothing like his father. Unruly hair fell over his forehead in auburn waves and his skin was a smooth olive tan. His eyes were a muddy brown behind glasses made to look like old NHS prescription frames. I doubted they cost under a hundred quid. Where his father fully inhabited his broad frame, Leo was lanky and coltish.
Juliet and I stood as he hurried around to the front of the sofa. He shook our hands in turn, his long-fingered grip loose. His other hand was held close to his stomach, wrapped in a bandage. He’d changed from whatever preppy uniform his school deemed appropriate into a faded green hoodie and jeans.
‘Hello, Leo. I’m Gabe Martin and this is Juliet Stern.’ I didn’t use our full titles as Leo looked terrified enough, his eyes wide as he sat down in a chair beside his father’s. ‘We’re detectives, and we have a few questions about an incident on the estate last night.’
‘Okay.’ Leo fidgeted in his seat, his uninjured hand playing around his mouth. His lips were chapped, like he’d been biting them. ‘I don’t know anything, though. Dad hasn’t told me what’s going on.’
‘What did you do last night, after you had dinner with your father?’ I asked.
‘I went over to the den above the garage.’ Leo’s gaze darted into the empty space between me and Juliet.
‘What did you do there?’
Leo’s eyes flicked to me before he bowed his head, his fingers catching a loose thread at the edge of his bandage. ‘I played on my Xbox, read a bit, then I went to sleep.’
‘Can anyone confirm this?’
‘No.’ Leo squirmed in his seat, displaying the correct response to not having an alibi during a murder investigation.
‘You didn’t play a game online with friends?’ I prompted.
‘No.’ Leo shook his head. Beside him, Dunlow picked up his drink and took a sip.
‘Did anyone visit you last night?’ I kept my eyes on Leo but saw Dunlow’s knuckles whiten around his glass.
‘No,’ Leo said.
‘A girl did not come to visit you?’
Blood crept up his neck and over his cheeks in uneven patches. ‘No.’
‘I’ve already told you this,’ Dunlow said.
I made a note of Leo’s lack of alibi, not quite ignoring Dunlow but not acknowledging him either. ‘Did you hear anything in the night?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Leo sucked his lower lip. ‘I went to sleep at about elevenish and I didn’t wake up until seven this morning.’
‘You didn’t hear gunshots?’ I asked.
Leo flinched, his hair falling into his eyes. He pushed his glasses up his nose and drew the hair back from his forehead in a careless tangle. ‘What?’ He looked between Juliet and me. ‘Someone was shot?’
‘Did you hear gunshots, Leo?’ I asked again.
He dropped his gaze and shook his head. ‘No. I didn’t hear anything.’
‘Okay.’ I turned the page in my notepad, the paper scraping as I pulled it over the binding.
‘Sorry, Leo. I didn’t catch that.’ Juliet leant forward.
I’d missed him mumbling something into his chest. His eyes darted over at his father.
‘Are they alright?’ Leo licked his lips. ‘The person who got shot?’
‘No, Leo,’ I said. ‘Unfortunately, they passed away.’
All colour drained from his face. He sat back in his chair, hands falling to his lap. Juliet straightened, her nails tapping on her knee. I didn’t have to ask if Leo’s reaction was as damning as it seemed. He knew something about what happened last night.
‘Any more questions?’ Dunlow placed his drink on the coaster. He didn’t quite judge the distance and the drink leant to one side, condensation running down onto the table.
‘A couple.’ I turned back to Leo. ‘What size shoe are you?’
‘Eleven.’ Leo blinked slowly. ‘Same as Dad.’
That was helpful oversharing. ‘And how did you hurt your hand?’
Leo looked down at the bandage. As if in a daze, he wiggled his fingers. ‘One of the dogs bit me.’
‘When was this?’
‘Days ago.’ Leo spoke in a monotone. Since I’d confirmed Melanie’s fate, he’d drifted away.
Dunlow had noticed too. He sat forward in his chair. ‘Anything else?’
‘We’d like to take DNA samples from both of you.’ I pulled the swabs and tubes from one of my voluminous coat pockets.
Leo straightened. ‘Why?’
‘It’s to eliminate you as suspects,’ I explained. ‘You can refuse, but we’ll have to note that you’re not willing to comply with our investigation.’
‘It’s fine.’ Dunlow snatched the sample kits from me and shoved one at Leo. ‘Let them do what they want. Then they’ll get out of here.’
Disconnected spots of blush stole across Leo’s face, either for his father’s rudeness or his disinclination to submit to DNA testing. He did as he was told though, awkwardly unscrewing the pot with one hand and dropping in the swab he’d passed around the inside of his cheeks.
Juliet and I stood as Dunlow passed back the kits. Leo stayed seated, his face downturned, but his father jumped up and led the way to the front door.
‘Thank you for your cooperation,’ I said as we walked out onto the gravel. ‘Once we have more details, we’ll be in touch.’
Without replying, Dunlow shut the door. A bolt thudded into place, and through the glass I could see him striding towards the room we’d just left. Leo would no doubt get a bollocking for being an open book. Dunlow was right about one thing; the windows didn’t let any sound in or out.
‘God, I hope it was him,’ Juliet said, as we walked over to the car.
Involuntarily, my face twitched into a smile. ‘Very professional.’
I couldn’t deny how satisfying it would be to smash through Dunlow’s smug demeanour. It was a shame Leo had thrown himself so firmly into the ring of suspects. There was no denying he knew something he wasn’t telling us.
‘We passed the groundskeeper’s cottage on the way in, right?’ I asked, as we climbed into the car. ‘Let’s hope Dunlow’s attitude hasn’t rubbed off on him too much.’
‘Karl was pleasant when I spoke to him earlier.’
I looked over at Juliet as I turned the key in the ignition. Her calling someone pleasant, and not in a derogatory way, was unusual. She didn’t offer anything more, already engrossed in her phone.
I turned the car in a wide circle across the gravel drive. The curtains in every room at the front of the manor had been drawn shut.