Chapter 50

Dawn opened her front door to find DI Terry Braithwaite standing on the doorstep with a bottle of wine in his hand.

‘The woman downstairs let me in. I've brought you this.' He held out the bottle.

‘Is this so you can get my fingerprints to set me up for something?'

‘Why do people have such a negative impression of the police?'

‘I'm not sure.' Her tone was laced with sarcasm. ‘Maybe it has something to do with you accusing them of murder while they're grieving for their father and grandfather.'

Terry sighed. ‘That's why I'm here. I'm sorry. Please. It's a peace offering.'

She stood back to let him in. She took the wine and looked at the label. ‘Very nice. Not cheap. You really must be sorry.'

‘Mind if I sit down?'

‘Go ahead.'

He sat on the sofa, looking at the large TV on the wall as he did so.

‘We've arrested someone for your father's murder.'

‘You have? Oh, that's wonderful,' she said, hands going to her chest. A satisfied smile appeared on her lips. She sat down at the table. ‘Who?'

‘Three men who worked at the supermarket with him.'

‘Three? Oh my God. He must have been so scared. How did they even… No.' She stopped herself. ‘I don't want to know. You've caught them. That's the main thing. Have they admitted it?'

‘They're admitting to beating him, but they claim they're not responsible for the fatal stab wounds. Forensic evidence and the autopsy results should work in our favour. I just wanted to come over and apologise for my behaviour towards you.'

‘You thought I'd killed my father, didn't you?'

It was a while before he answered. ‘I'm afraid I did, yes.'

‘You're lucky I don't hold grudges. This can't have been an easy case for you. It must have brought back some very unpleasant memories.'

‘It did. Still, whoever said life was easy obviously didn't work in the police service.' He gave a weak smile. ‘How are you doing after everything that's happened?'

She took a deep breath. ‘I'm not sure. I'm glad I got to know who my father was for myself. And it was lovely spending time with my grandfather.' She smiled. ‘But I don't feel like I've missed out on anything growing up. My mum was both parents to me.'

‘How is the relationship between you and your mum?'

‘It got a bit damaged when I said I wanted to get to know Dominic, but we repaired those bridges.'

‘That's good. I'm glad. Well, I'll not take up any more of your time,' he said, standing up. ‘I just wanted to let you know the latest developments.'

‘Thank you. I appreciate that.'

‘Erm, I know this is going to sound strange, but did Dominic do anything for Halloween last year?'

Dawn was taken aback by the random question. ‘Halloween? No. I don't think he did. Are you asking if he went out trick-or-treating?'

Terry smiled. ‘No, nothing like that. Did he attend a party, get dressed up at all?'

‘No. He didn't,' she said firmly. ‘Why?'

‘Just curious.'

When Terry told Harry and Barbara White about the arrest of three men for Dominic's murder, their relief was evident. Now they could start to put it behind them. Harry stood up and shook Terry's hand.

‘Well done, son,' Harry said. ‘I'm pleased for you. You've done a grand job.'

‘It's not been an easy case.'

‘What will happen to them?' Barbara asked. She was sitting in her usual armchair, a newspaper folded on her lap.

‘We've charged them with murder. Life in prison. Minimum term.'

She looked down, almost crestfallen.

‘Barbara, they're killers,' Harry said. ‘It doesn't matter who the victim is – they committed a crime, and they need to pay for it.'

‘Excuse me.'

Barbara stood up, left the room and walked quickly upstairs.

‘Is she all right?' Terry asked.

‘No. She's not. She's been a changed woman ever since Dominic came out of prison. Her head's all over the place.'

‘She's a smart, intelligent, law-abiding woman,' Terry said. ‘Suddenly, she finds herself wishing a man dead and hoping his killers get away with it. She's got hugely conflicting messages running around her mind. It can't be easy for her.'

‘No. I suppose not,' Harry agreed. ‘We've had a few rows.'

‘Well, hopefully things will calm down a bit now.'

‘I hope so. Are you going to visit your dad?'

‘Yes. I'll pop round this evening and tell him.'

‘I really am proud of you, Terry,' Harry said, looking at his godson with a beaming smile. ‘Your dad is as well. I know his mind isn't what it was, but I know for a fact he's proud of how you've turned out.'

‘Thank you. That means a lot.'

‘Now, you need to concentrate on yourself, Terry. Find yourself a good woman and think about settling down.'

‘I've got a date arranged for next week, actually,' Terry said, blushing slightly.

‘Good. And remember, until you find yourself a good woman, there's no harm in going out with a few bad women.' Harry winked.

It started raining when Terry left the Whites' house. By the time he arrived at Lavender House Nursing Home, it was pouring down. He ran from the car park into the building where he signed in, had a chat with the receptionist, then made his way to his father's room.

‘I love the rain,' Ian said. He was by the window when Terry entered. ‘I could stand here and watch it for hours.'

‘Remember when I was a child, and I used to stand and watch thunderstorms?'

Ian turned to his son, a huge smile on his face. ‘I do. I do remember that. You always wanted to go outside in the back garden.'

‘Mum was terrified I'd get struck by lightning.'

Ian returned to looking out of the window. ‘We don't get good storms anymore, do we?'

‘No.'

‘Just a lot of rain.'

‘Are you all right, Dad? You look a bit down.'

‘I'm worried.'

‘What about?'

‘Barbara and Harry.'

‘They're all right. I've been to see them this afternoon.'

‘Terry, you'll go easy on them, won't you?' Ian asked, a desperate look on his face.

‘Dad, I don't know what you're talking about.'

‘Harry and Barbara. Stephanie's parents.'

‘I know who they are, Dad. Look, come and sit down. Talk to me.'

Ian went over to the bed and sat down on the edge. ‘Terry, I know you're a detective, and you have to arrest people when they've done wrong, but Harry and Barbara are my friends. They'd been abandoned by a greedy society. They saw no alternative.'

‘Dad? What are you trying to tell me?'

‘Harry and Barbara killed the bastard. They killed Dominic Griffiths.'

The visit to see his father didn't last much longer after that revelation. It didn't seem to matter what Terry said to Ian, the old man wouldn't calm down. When he started crying, Terry called for one of the nurses. She took him in hand, offered to make him a cup of tea and watch television with him for a while. Terry sank into the background. It distressed him to see his father in this state. Nobody knew what was going on in his mind, and he was unable to express himself competently. Could what he said be trusted? Dominic's killers had been arrested; the case was closed. Harry and Barbara couldn't possibly have done it, could they? He felt sick. After Ian had settled and was in the capable hands of the nurse, Terry left. He needed to get to the bottom of this, once and for all.

Terry sat in the car and listened to the sound of the rain lashing down on the roof. He didn't turn on the engine and didn't bother with the windscreen wipers. He wanted a few minutes alone with his thoughts.

Ian seemed adamant that Harry and Barbara had killed Dominic Griffiths. They both visited Ian often, sometimes together, sometimes alone. He guessed Barbara would be more outspoken when she visited alone, saying how she hated Dominic for being released and how much she wanted him dead. Had these conversations become convoluted in his mind, and he'd formed the conclusion that his best friends had indeed committed murder? Or was he telling the truth? Had they confessed to Ian that they had murdered Dominic to get it off their conscience, knowing, and hoping, he would forget as soon as they'd spoken the damning words?

The image of the couple walking down the garden path came to Terry's mind. Maybe John Wheatley had genuinely seen someone approaching the house. But he had said they were of a similar height, give or take. Harry was just over six foot, and Barbara wasn't much taller than five foot. It didn't make sense.

There were three men in custody, charged with Dominic's murder. Terry had never been one hundred per cent satisfied they were guilty, but the facts were there, and they had admitted to the beating. Was it possible someone had been waiting in the shadows to strike the final blow?