Let the Dead Speak. Jane Casey

you can sweep them up.’ He winked at me. ‘Got to give her a reason to live, don’t I?’

      Mrs Turner sighed. ‘You’re terrible.’

      ‘You love it.’

      She squeezed the cloth in her hands, still watching him. It was as if I didn’t exist. I could see what William had meant when he said she didn’t notice anything that happened outside their home. DCI Gordon had been forthright about her. ‘She can’t imagine her boy doing anything wrong. She thought I was a bully and a liar. Little Willy never did anything to hurt anyone.’ A snort. In his opinion, Mr Turner had been fully justified in doing a runner before William was born. ‘She had money because her parents were very well off – they bought the house, for instance – but money isn’t everything, is it?’

      I had agreed that no, it was not and Gordon had laughed. ‘It helps though.’

      ‘Sometimes.’

      ‘Well, Turner didn’t stick around to see his son. Maybe the boy would have turned out better if he’d been around. He had too much attention, that was the problem. He thought he was the centre of the universe because, for his mum, he is.’

      ‘Do you know Kate Emery, Mrs Turner?’ I asked.

      ‘Who?’

      ‘The lady who lives at number twenty-seven. She has a daughter, Chloe, who’s almost the same age as William.’

      ‘Oh. I know her a bit. Not properly.’ She was folding the cloth over and over, mindlessly. ‘She used to be a nurse.’

      ‘Once upon a time.’

      ‘She helped me with William once, when he was younger. He had a bad attack and I ran out into the street in a panic. She helped me before the ambulance came. She was nice then. But I don’t know her.’ She blinked. Her eyelids and the end of her nose were pink and looked raw, as if she’d been crying. She had none of her son’s looks, and I couldn’t imagine that she’d ever been attractive. Mr Turner had to have been a stunner.

      ‘You still haven’t said what happened,’ William Turner said. ‘Is Chloe OK?’

      ‘Physically.’

      ‘So that leaves her mum.’ A muscle tightened in his jaw. ‘Let me guess. She was stabbed.’

      ‘Why would you say that?’

      ‘Because you’re asking me about something that happened four years ago, that was thoroughly investigated at the time, as if it’s suddenly important.’

      ‘Well, it might be.’ I stood up. ‘I can’t tell you what happened at number twenty-seven yet. At the moment we’re still investigating. But I can tell you that we’ll need a sample of your DNA and your fingerprints.’ And while they were at it, I was going to apply for a warrant to search his house.

      ‘Am I a suspect?’

      ‘You said yourself you couldn’t remember if you’d been in the house. We need to rule you out.’ Or in. ‘That’s why we need your prints and your DNA.’

      Turner nodded. ‘Then come back and get them. I have nothing to hide.’

      ‘We’ll see,’ I said, and left.