you want to go with it and get it booked in?’
Morgan nodded, feeling sad that the woman who had been a living, breathing soul a couple of hours ago had now been reduced to an ‘it’. She knew Ben wasn’t being rude or impersonal; it was just the way it was. To him this was just another suicide, another body. He’d been doing it long enough that it didn’t affect him; she hoped that the job would never become so matter-of-fact for her.
‘Oh, I said someone might drive Harrison home.’
She turned and walked towards the house, Dan following behind.
Opening the door, she stepped inside, calling, ‘Hello, this is the police. Is anyone home?’
They were greeted by silence. Inside the open-plan living area, she pulled out her torch and turned it on, shining it around. Nothing looked out of place and it smelt of fresh linen: no nasty, lingering smells to arouse their suspicion. Dan found the light switch and flicked it on, lighting up the whole downstairs.
‘Wow, nice digs,’ he said out loud.
She nodded. ‘Nice indeed.’ It was all very modern. No clutter. The entire lounge, kitchen, and diner was painted white, with different tones of grey picked out on feature walls. A set of keys dangled from a small hook behind the front door and Morgan wondered if they were Olivia’s.
Dan headed for the kitchen. ‘I’ll do down here.’
Morgan made her way to the stairs tucked away at the back of the room. She turned on the light and went up the steps, calling out again, ‘Hello, is anyone home? It’s the police.’
There was no reply. She reached the first floor and admired the clean lines and clutter-free landing. Five doors came off it and she checked each room in turn. The master bedroom was as spotless and tidy as the rest of the house, with an en suite that sparkled. Morgan wondered if Olivia kept the house this clean or whether the family had a cleaner. She was almost afraid to touch anything for fear of leaving a mark. The next two rooms seemed to be spares. They were empty and decorated in the same style as the rest of the house. Morgan pushed open the fourth door and breathed a sigh of relief; this room looked as if it had been ransacked. The duvet was strewn across one side of the bed and there were piles of clothes on the floor. Make-up littered every available surface. She was glad the girls got to be typical messy teenagers in this immaculate show home. Walking towards the heart-shaped picture above the bed, she smiled to see a myriad of family photos in the frame. There were several of a dark-haired girl with her arm around Harrison; this must be Bronte. Other photos were of Olivia, a man she assumed was Saul and two girls in different locations. Morgan recognised New York, the Grand Canyon, Paris and Rome. They looked like the perfect, happy family and she felt her heart tear in two. Their lovely life was about to be torn to shreds. She felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach for the girls who were about to find out their mum had taken her own life and left them alone.
‘Morgan?’
Dan’s voice echoed up the stairs.
‘Coming.’
She tore herself away from the pictures and checked the last room, not quite as messy as Bronte’s. Instead of bottles of expensive perfume and make-up this one was full of books. They covered every available surface and were stacked in piles by the side of the bed. She nodded in approval; Beatrix was a bookworm like her. At least she’d have the luxury of stealing herself away from the horror of her life into someone else’s when it all got too much for her.
‘Morgan.’
The voice was more demanding this time and irritated her.
‘I’m coming, Dan. I had to check each room.’
‘And?’
‘Well they’re all empty, obviously. What about down here? Did you find anything?’
He held up an address book and waved it in front of her.
‘Guess who’s getting the brownie points off Sergeant Moody?’
They went back outside where Ben was now sitting in the van talking to Harrison. Dan shut the door behind him, pushing it to make sure the door was secure. The body was being zipped into a black body bag and lifted onto the steel gurney. Morgan watched as the undertakers slammed the door of the private ambulance. The driver turned and waved.
‘See you at the hospital.’
She waved back.
They