We expected a phone call. We expected the funeral directors. We didn’t expect DI Bradley to show up at the door. I’m not naive enough to think that a senior police officer calls out to a home at night without good reason or simply to pass on ‘good’ news.
DI Bradley follows Alex into the living room, asks if it’s okay to sit down. I follow them in. The woman in the room is DC Eve King who came out earlier. I don’t recognise the third colleague, but watch as he awkwardly sits down on one of the dining chairs we have moved into the room. He’s at least six foot four and looks as if he is made of right angles, his legs too long and gangly. I stare at his feet, which seem inordinately big.
DI Bradley introduces the big-footed man as DC Mark Black, who in turn takes out a notebook and pen, his large hands dwarfing the pencil in them. None of us speak, and we are joined by Kathleen and Ciara.
‘Is Ms Brown here?’ DI Bradley asks.
‘Stella’s running a few errands. She’ll be back in about an hour or so,’ Ciara says.
‘Okay,’ DI Bradley nods as if he is giving himself time to think.
I wish he’d just spit it out. I can’t breathe with fear.
‘I’m afraid I have some distressing news for you, and in light of this we will need to speak to each of you on an individual basis. We can speak to you all here, or if you would prefer, we can talk at the station.’
I see Ciara glance to Kathleen. There is panic on her face. Ciara never usually shows anything but cold coolness in her expression. That she is rattled makes me feel worse. I press my fingernails into the palm of my hand, hoping the sharpness will stop me from spiralling into a panic.
‘What is it, Officer?’ Kathleen asks, her voice thin and reedy. She is twisting her hands together, pulling the skin tight against her bones.
‘We have the preliminary results from the postmortem examination that took place this afternoon on Mr Joe McKee. These are, as I stated, preliminary results and we are awaiting further findings.’ He cleared his throat and continued. ‘It would appear from examination there is evidence to support the hypothesis that Mr McKee’s death may not have been natural or indeed accidental.’
Kathleen blinks. ‘What? Sorry? I don’t … Can you speak in plain English?’
‘What do you mean, not natural or accidental?’ Ciara asks, cutting across her aunt.
I just sit and try to take in how this has all shifted again. How Joe has become the victim for once.
‘There are early indications that Mr McKee, your father, died as a result of asphyxiation, most likely suffocation. There are further injuries on his body, which the pathologist believes are of a non-accidental nature.’
Ciara’s mouth hangs open. Her eyes are fixed uncomfortably on me before she staggers to her feet and gasps that she needs air.
DC Black is quick to stand, too, indicating to Kathleen that she should remain seated as he guides Ciara by the arm out into the hall, where the cold night air is whistling through the still open front door.
I hear muttering. Kathleen is blessing herself and whispering what I think are the prayers of the rosary. It’s hard to tell through the buzzing in my ears. Lily starts to fuss and Alex tries his hand at settling her, but I can see he is thrown, too.
‘What indications?’ I ask. ‘He looked very peaceful when Alex found him.’
And he had. When Alex had called us up, Joe had been lying in his bed as if he was merely asleep. One hand was under the covers and the other arm curled across his chest. He was flat on his back, his mouth just slightly open as if he were about to snore. His head turned just a fraction to the left. The bed was tidy. The room was tidy. I can still see it now.
‘The pathologist will provide more information in due course,’ DI Bradley said. ‘Suffice to say, the pathologist is a very experienced professional. I believe there may be some unexplained bruising, to the torso and one of his hands. Some internal markings also.’
‘But couldn’t whatever marks you found just be down to the surgery, or bruising afterwards, or him bumping into something or falling or any number of things?’ I note there is more than a hint of hysteria in my voice and yet I seem powerless to quell it.
I think of how Ciara stared at me. Does she think I did it? Did she think I was capable of killing someone? Maybe I need some air, too. Am I allowed to leave the room? Will DI Bradley have to escort me?
‘As I’ve said, the state pathologist is a very experienced professional. We expect that further results will corroborate his hypothesis.’
Big words with a big impact. I see Kathleen look up from her prayers. Her brow furrows. She looks at me and I wonder, is she thinking I’m responsible? Has Ciara been whispering in her ear? Am I being judged for the messed-up teenager I was?
‘We fully appreciate this must be a terrible shock,’ DI Bradley says.
It seems such a bizarre thing to say. So completely understated.
‘A terrible shock? You’re telling us one of us might be a killer and the best you can say is that “this must be a terrible shock”.’
I feel Alex’s arm on mine, steadying me. He is trying to ground me. I shake it off. I don’t want to be grounded. I’m scared. I’m scared that someone in this room might be a murderer and I’m terrified that most of the people in this room seem to think that the murderer is me.
‘What happens now?’ Alex asks. ‘Are we all under arrest? How does this work?’
Under arrest? No. That can’t be …
DI Bradley shakes his head. ‘No. We are still gathering evidence, which is why we need to speak to you all. There isn’t sufficient evidence to arrest anyone at this time. You may, if you wish, have a solicitor present while we talk, but I want to make it clear that we are examining all possibilities and no one person is under direct suspicion at this time. What we do need to do is have forensics come in and look around the house, in particular Mr McKee’s bedroom, where we believe he died. Can I ask, has anyone been in that room since this morning?’
‘We’ve all been in it,’ Kathleen says. ‘The girls tidied and stripped the bed. I’ve just put new bed sheets on. I was going to sleep there. Alex, you were in too, weren’t you?’
He nods. ‘I think so, earlier. Yes, I brought some laundry up, put it in his chest of drawers.’
‘Okay,’ DI Bradley says with a slight shake of his head. ‘We’ll still need SOCO to come in and look around, although the scene has been compromised. The bed linen? Has that been washed yet?’
Ciara comes back into the room, her face sheet-white, and answers, ‘Yes. Washed and dried. It’s still in the dryer, though.’
DI Bradley sucks in air through his teeth. ‘That’s unfortunate. We’ll take it anyway, just in case. Detective Constable Black will be staying here with you until SOCO arrive. We’ll appoint a family liaison officer. It might be less distressing for you all if you have somewhere else you can go while the team examine the house.’
‘I’ll be staying here, thank you,’ Ciara says. ‘I don’t want you rifling through my father’s belongings without a family member present.’
Kathleen has stopped praying and finally speaks. ‘This has to be a mistake,’ she says. ‘I don’t care how experienced your pathologist is, he or she is wrong. No one murdered my brother! That’s ridiculous. It makes no sense. Who in here would be so brutal as to hurt a frail old man?’
Her voice is getting louder. She looks at me while she spits out her last few words and I have all the confirmation I need that I am very much in the frame for Joe’s murder. In the eyes of his nearest and dearest, at least.