to do with media types. In contrast, Matthew looked as if he never left his office, smart, suited, closely shaved. His skin was pale as if it never saw sunlight. He could be a banker. Or an undertaker.
Oldham looked around the room. Jen thought she saw him wink at Ross. The son he’d never had. ‘I just wanted to let you know I’m with you on this. Matthew here will report to me and you’ll have all the resources you’ll need.’
Then he disappeared as quietly as he’d arrived. To get in a couple of pints at the club before closing, Jen suspected. Ross, who was the rugby club’s star fly half, would probably join him later and fill him in with all the details of the evening. Oldham didn’t need to eavesdrop when he had a mole like Ross in the ranks. Once, Oldham would have wanted to take over the investigation, but he was on the long slide to retirement and his red face and big belly were signs that he was getting in practice for when the day finally arrived. Ross gave him the confidence that he still had a finger on the pulse.
Matthew took Oldham’s place and waited until the DCI had left the room before speaking. He gave a brief summary of the discovery of the body and stuck photos of the locus on the board. ‘Dr Pengelly has confirmed cause of death as a stab wound to the chest. The killer was facing his victim. No weapon was found at the scene.’
Ross stuck up his hand. ‘Time of death?’
‘Impossible to say with any accuracy. Sometime today. We might have a little more information after the post-mortem tomorrow.’ Matthew paused. ‘There was no ID on our victim, but we found an address in his pocket and I hope that Ross and Jen can shed a little light. You’ve been to Ilfracombe to track it down?’
Ross was on his feet before Jen had a chance to answer. He’d printed out a photo and pinned it to the board. ‘Simon Andrew Walden. Date of birth thirty-first of May 1979.’ It was a classic mug-shot photo. Walden was looking directly at the camera. ‘Joined the forces straight from school. Left the army in 2010 and ran his own business – a restaurant in Bristol – until 2013 when he was convicted of causing death by careless driving. He drove from a junction straight into the side of a passing car and a child was killed. Alcohol in his system, but just under the legal limit.’
Jen stared at the face and understood the albatross, the guilt.
‘He served three months in prison. No contact with the police since that date as far as I can tell.’
‘And we are sure this is our man?’ Matthew looked at Jen and she answered immediately.
‘We saw a photo and the tattoo is clearly visible.’
‘Any more information?’
‘The house is owned by a young woman, Caroline Preece. She lets out rooms to cover the rent. To a friend of hers and to Walden. The remaining tenant is Gaby Henry. She works as something arty at the Woodyard.’ Jen paused because she understood that might be a complication for Matthew. Jonathan worked at the Woodyard; he ran the place. Maybe it would be seen as a conflict of interest. ‘No details but it seems Walden had mental health problems and Preece was his social worker. He also volunteered in the Woodyard.’
‘Have we checked out Henry and Preece? Either of them known to us?’
Jen shook her head. ‘Not even a parking ticket. Caroline Preece wasn’t there so I’m going back in the morning.’
Matthew nodded, but said nothing. Jen thought that was classic Matthew Venn. He was a man who never opened his mouth unless he had something useful to say.
Chapter Five
WHEN THE POLICE LEFT, GABY WENT back to the kitchen and poured herself another glass of wine. She needed to pull herself together, to get her story straight before Caroline came in. It was one thing talking to the police, who didn’t know her, quite another talking to Caroline, who knew her as well as anyone in the world, who behaved quite often as if she was Gaby’s big sister, her protector: indulgent, but somehow in charge of Gaby’s morals.
Gaby’s mother had never cared about her in that way. Linda, her mum, had been occasionally wayward herself. There’d never been a father on the scene. The two of them had lived in a council flat in north London and