came up with a brilliant idea; she wanted me to test the surviving girl to see if she had traces of GHB in her system. Apparently, she checked her notes and nothing showed. She’s been down here to see if I could take a sample of her hair for analysis.’
‘And can you?’
‘I can’t, but your CSI can. Just thought you should know she’s pretty good for a newbie, so don’t be too hard on her.’
‘Why do you think I’m hard on her?’
‘Because you’re a self-serving miserable git and sometimes you can’t see what’s in front of your face for looking. She’s not bad on the eyes, either, is she?’
‘Morgan?’
‘Who else?’
‘I didn’t really notice.’
‘Get away with you, even you must have noticed.’ He stopped himself. ‘Sorry, not very professional. She’s clever, smart and pretty – not a bad combination. Maybe you should smarten yourself up a little, have a shave, cut down on the takeaways, buy yourself some new threads.’
‘Cheers, are you saying I look like a slob?’
‘Your words, not mine. See you.’
The line went dead and Ben tried to look at his reflection in the glass window. He had let himself go. Maybe it was time to make an effort, not because of Morgan but because he felt like life was beginning to be worth living again.
Forty-One
Morgan glanced down at her notebook to check Gregory Barker’s address. She knew the area where he lived, and it wasn’t too far from Easdale Road. As she drove along the quiet country roads, the late afternoon sun felt warm on her face, and with both front passenger windows open the breeze flowing through was lovely. She parked outside the huge double gates at the entrance to Gregory Barker’s home and realised he must have more money than she’d imagined.
She got out of the car and pressed the intercom; it crackled to life.
‘Hi, I’m Morgan Brookes from the police, I’m here to speak with Mr Barker.’
There was a slight pause. ‘Drive through.’
She got in the car and watched as the gates slid seamlessly open. The drive up to the house was tree lined and long. When the house came into view she sighed. If she’d thought the Potters’ house was her dream house then this was her ultimate fantasy. It was the size of a small hotel, built in the grey slate of a lot of Lake District properties. A tall, grey-haired man was waiting for her on the front steps, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coral-coloured chinos. The smile on his lips didn’t reach his eyes. She parked the car and got out, crossing the gravel and admiring the huge stone lions which flanked either side of his front door.
‘Mr Barker?’
He stretched out his hand. ‘Indeed. You’re Officer Brookes? If you don’t mind me saying you look awfully young. Or am I just getting old?’
He laughed at his own joke, and Morgan found herself taking an instant dislike to him. She shook his hand, gripping it firmly.
‘I’m here to ask you a few questions relating to the murders on Easdale Road, if that’s all right?’
He nodded. ‘Of course, come inside. It’s a terrible tragedy, such a lovely family.’
He led her inside the grand entrance, down the hallway and into the biggest kitchen she’d ever seen. It was beautiful, everything was pristine; pale grey hand-painted cabinets filled the room with a huge island in the middle. The sparkling white granite worktops were clear of any kitchen appliances; it didn’t look as if anyone used them to prepare food. He pointed to a row of stools one side of the island.
‘Please, take a seat.’
‘Thanks, do you live here alone?’
‘For the time being I do, my ex left me some time ago. Can I offer you a drink?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m good, thanks.’
He didn’t sit down but stood across from her. ‘Those kids were so lovely, it’s just terrible what’s happened. So were Olivia and Saul. You couldn’t have met a nicer couple. It’s so hard to believe it.’
‘I believe they were and yes, it’s beyond tragic. Did you know the Potters well?’
‘Yes, quite. We met through the mayor’s charity fundraising ball; they were very supportive.’
Morgan smiled. ‘Actually, I wanted to talk about the previous family that were murdered there.’
He stared at her, his lips parting slightly.
‘Why the O’Briens? That was a very long time ago. I don’t understand.’
‘I’ve been tasked with looking into their cold case. No one was ever brought to justice for the slaughter of the O’Briens. You have