There was no sign of his wife or child.
No message. Why hadn’t she left a note? An accident? It had to be, he thought. There must have been some kind of accident and she’d gone to hospital. She wouldn’t have had the time to write a note. She’d been alone in the house with little Paul; she would have had to take the boy with her.
That had to be it. There was no other way to explain it. Especially as her mobile phone was still plugged into the charger. She must have been in a hurry to leave that behind.
Colin Lovell couldn’t help thinking about the spate of recent burglaries in the area and it worried him. The thoughts had prompted him to hurry home from his friends, driving through the light drizzle. He hadn’t been too happy about leaving Dorothy and Paul alone after dark in the first place. He parked in the driveway and hurried into the semi-detached house.
But they were not there.
Calling upstairs got no answer. He checked the bedroom in case she’d gone to bed early with a headache or something, but no, neither his wife nor his son were in their beds.
He went back downstairs, glancing at the bathroom door as he passed. No light shone from under it. She definitely wasn’t in the house. He knew she hadn’t planned on going anywhere. Besides it was too late for Paul to be out.
He telephoned Dorothy’s mother.
“Hello, Colin,” she said on hearing the familiar voice.
“Are Dorothy and Paul there with you?”
“No. Why, what’s the matter?”
“She isn’t here.”
“She must be. I phoned her.”
“What! When?”
“About seven-thirty.”
“Did she say anything was wrong?”
“No.”
“Okay, I’ll find her.”
He hung up the receiver, now even more worried. She’d been all right at seven-thirty, so where was she now? It was ten-thirty; Paul was always in bed by eight-thirty - except tonight he wasn’t. If something had happened, it would have been logical for Dorothy to phone him at Reg’s house or, if for some reason she couldn’t reach him, to phone her mother.
Yet, she’d done neither. Why?
He paced the room and kept looking through the open floral curtains. Time went on and there was still no sign of his wife or son.
Since their marriage ten years ago, Colin had been completely devoted to Dorothy.
His eyes gazed at their wedding photograph as he thought back to that day. A day spoiled by his father’s attitude, but he had cared too much for Dorothy to worry about that.
After Paul was born just over eight years ago Colin had rarely left Dorothy on her own, except when he needed to go to work at the factory where he earned a living as a process worker. A dirty job he didn’t enjoy - but it helped to pay the rent, run the car, and kept them fairly comfortable.
Dorothy, he knew, worried about him. She thought he had no life of his own beyond his work and family. She didn’t think it right for a man still only in his early thirties. It was her idea for him to get out and socialise more. It was Dorothy who had persuaded him to go and visit his friend, Reg Mann, tonight. He only agreed to please her.
Neither Reg nor Colin were teetotal, but neither of them were big drinkers either, so they stayed at Reg’s house, drinking coffee and playing chess. Colin had just started learning the game. In between matches they watched sports programmes on Reg’s recently installed, plasma screen, digital television - Reg was one of the first people in the neighbourhood to advance to digital and no one else yet had a plasma.
An accident! The thought sprang again into Colin’s mind. Yes, she’d had an accident of some kind and gone to hospital, she hadn’t had time to phone. Perhaps she’d left Paul with a neighbour. If that were the case, though, why hadn’t the neighbour returned the child and explained? Only then did Colin realise the possibility of Paul himself having the accident.
A telephone inquiry to the local hospitals brought only a negative reply from each of them, as did inquiries from the neighbours, though one of them, Mrs Hill, did mention she’d seen a blue van outside Colin’s house earlier that evening.
“What time was this?” Colin asked.
“I didn’t really notice, somewhere around eight o’ clock, I’d think.”
“And you can’t say what kind it was?”
“Sorry, to me a car’s a car. It was a little ‘un, that’s all I can say. They can’t have gone very far, I’m sure they’ll turn up,” Mrs Hill consoled.
He thanked her. He didn’t know anyone with a small blue van. Anyway, it might have been parked outside his house while the driver was somewhere else. Plenty of people parked in this street.
By now, Colin was getting desperate and he thought of telephoning the police but knew how silly he would look if Dorothy had just gone out somewhere and been delayed. Then why didn’t she phone? Besides, he knew she definitely hadn’t planned to go out tonight.
He decided to wait until midnight. If she hadn’t returned by then, he would feel quite justified in calling the police.
The thought of her taking Paul and going off with another man never entered his head for an instant. Their marriage had always been happy. There’d been the odd argument, of course, but she would never think of leaving him, nor would he ever leave her. Despite his certainty about this, he checked her side of the double wardrobe. None of her clothing appeared to be missing. He felt a twinge of relief, even though he’d known all along he wouldn’t find her clothes gone.
There was that business before they were married - but no, that was before...
He boiled a kettle of water, and made a strong cup of tea. Other than the noise of kettle boiling and the humming of the fridge, the house was silent. He braced himself with the tea, settling into his easy chair, He switched on the TV and tried to concentrate on the television programme. It was impossible, though he did note subconsciously how much inferior the TV picture was after watching Reg’s set. They would have to get one of those. Reg was a moderately successful writer of children’s books; he could afford such luxuries easily. Colin knew it would take much longer to save enough from his factory wage to buy an expensive plasma TV. There was always credit, but he didn’t want to get into debt, not again.
He snapped out of the daydream, rose from his seat, peered again through the window into the darkness, wondering what could have happened. The street was quiet. He could see by the light of the street-lamp outside the house that, for now, the drizzle was over. He closed the curtains as though shutting off the outside world would make his problems go away.
He picked up his teacup again and sank into the armchair. She would be back soon and she’d better have a damn good explanation.
The tea he was drinking combined with the coffee he’d drunk at Reg’s house forced him to answer the call of nature.
On entering the bathroom, he stopped in his tracks. There, fully clothed in the dry bath, lay Dorothy.
“No!” He bent down and touched her still form. Dead. There was no doubt. He saw no blood, but a large bruise creased her forehead. Dazed, Colin screamed and stumbled out of the room. Where was Paul? He frantically looked under the beds and in every possible hiding place searching for his child. He called the police almost unconsciously, then he broke down.
He was shaking and felt his chest tightening. Who had done this and why? Where was Paul? He was definitely not in the house. If they’d killed him too, where was his body? That was inconceivable. If Paul was dead then there was nothing left for him to live for. Even as his head continued to swim with confusion, he swore he would find his wife and son’s killers and avenge his family before joining them himself, in whatever place one went to after death.
Soon the house was taken over by uniformed police officers and other investigators. Colin submitted to having his fingerprints taken for elimination purposes but everything seemed as if he was in a dream. A dream from which he hoped he would soon awaken. He was vaguely aware of his hands sweating and knew this was no dream.
The crowd gathering outside, attracted by the police cars, did nothing to help his peace of mind. What were all these people doing up at this time of night? Why didn’t they mind their own business? He wished the rain had continued and kept them all indoors.
Two plain-clothes detectives seemed to materialise from somewhere, though Colin had no recollection of letting them in - perhaps one of the other officers had done so.
* * *
One of the detectives introduced himself as Inspector Tom Jackson and told Colin he would be taking charge of the case. Then he introduced his assistant, Sergeant Rigby.
Jackson had acquired Rigby as his assistant a year ago, in preparation for local authority re-organisation when his County Police Force would be reduced in size and a metropolitan force would be created in the north west of England. He was fortunate, he knew, in being able to stay based in the small suburban town of Billington, not too far from the convenience of Manchester, yet situated close enough to the countryside for family outings and picnics. Not that there was much time for many of those recently. Not since his promotion to Inspector.
Before being transferred to his division, Jackson knew Rigby had almost left the police altogether after a traumatic experience involving the death of a teenager - he seemed to have recovered now and the two men had become quite good friends as well as colleagues.
Rigby didn’t like to talk about the teenager’s death so Jackson never pressed him for details. Whatever had happened in Rigby’s past was no concern of his.
Rigby was a tall, slim, smartly dressed man about the same age as Colin. He didn’t say much, confining himself to taking notes. Jackson, who was a little older, stood a tiny bit shorter with a broad chest and greying hair. He was the one who asked the questions.
“I’m very sorry about your wife, Mr Lovell, I know you won’t be feeling up to answering questions at present,” he said, “but I do need to ask you what happened.”
“I understand,” Colin answered, and told Jackson how he discovered the body after returning from his friend’s home.
“And you have no idea where the boy might be?”
“No. You don’t think -”
“I don’t know, Colin. It’s all right if I call you Colin?”
Colin nodded. Still dazed, he stared at the photograph of Paul and Dorothy together, hanging above the mantelpiece.
“Can you prove where you were tonight?”
“My friend will confirm it, but why, surely you can’t suspect me?”
“We have to consider everything I’m afraid - you wouldn’t be the first to kill for insurance money. Sorry I’m being so blunt at a time like this, but we do have to think about these things - I take it Dorothy and Paul are insured?”
“What! Yes, but I love my wife and child. I’d never do anything like that, not for all the money in the world.”
“Calm down, I didn’t mean to imply you did it. We just have to think of every possibility. Perhaps this isn’t the time - we’ll talk more later. Are there any relatives you could stay with for now?”
“I have a brother who lives locally but he’s a taxi driver so he works all hours. I’ll give my friend a call and see if he can put me up.”
“The one you were with tonight? I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Why?”
“Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but he is your alibi. I’d rather you wait until we’ve questioned him. Try to get your brother.”
Colin was just about to argue this then decided against it.
Jackson continued. “We’ll do everything we need to do tonight so you should be able to use the house from tomorrow.”
* * *
Reluctantly, Colin tried to call his brother but had no success and gave up. Brian would hear about the murder soon enough.
“We have no choice but to seal off the house as a scene of crime,” Jackson said, when Colin told him he couldn’t contact his brother. “We’ll have to put you up in a bed and breakfast, at least for tonight.”
“What if Paul comes back and I’m not here?”
“If that happens, we’ll make sure he’s looked after.”
Seeing he had no choice, Colin allowed himself to be escorted to a police car to take him to his temporary new accommodation. It was only once he was seated in the car that Jackson’s words hit him. ‘We’ll make sure he’s looked after’. Not ‘we’ll bring him to you’. They weren’t going to let him look after his own child! That could only mean they thought he’d done it!
* * *
Next day after Colin was back in his own house, Reg Mann called to see him.
Reg was a short man in his early forties. A sedentary life style had put on the pounds. He still had a good head of hair, which had once been dark brown, though now prematurely turning grey.
“Colin,” he said, “I came as soon as I could. The police as good as accused me of murdering Dorothy myself.”
“Me too.”
“What! That’s impossible, you were with me - oh, now I see, they think we collaborated.”
“That’s about it.”
Guessing Colin wouldn't have bothered to make breakfast or lunch in the circumstances, Reg made coffee for them both and persuaded his friend to eat a slice of toast.
“Have you had any news about Paul?”
“No. Nor of his body.”
“Colin, you mustn’t think like that.”
There was quietness for a minute. The aroma of the coffee drifted round the room creating what, in any other situation, would have been a cosy atmosphere. Then Colin broke the uncomfortable silence.
“He’s dead. It’s obvious isn’t it? They wouldn’t dare leave him alive. He’d be a witness.”
“There’s always hope if a body hasn’t been found. They'd no reason to take his body away, they left Dorothy’s here to be found, didn’t they?”
“I know you’re trying to help, Reg, but it’s no good. I just know that Paul’s dead. They might have taken him away from the house alive but they’ve definitely killed him since.”
“Why wouldn’t they just kill him here like they did his mother?”
“I don’t know, perhaps he struggled or screamed too much for them or something and they took him away before anyone heard the noise. I just know he’s dead.”
* * *
The next few days were a nightmare for Colin. Jackson and Rigby constantly questioned him as if he himself was their chief suspect, which he was sure he was.
The pressure became so great he was glad he had an alibi, though even this seemed to be doubtful in the minds of the police for they had questioned Reg Mann too several times.
They kept bringing up insurance as a possible motive, just like Jackson did on that first night.
“Ridiculous! I loved Dorothy,” he protested, though there was no denying he did have a considerable policy on the lives of both his wife and child.
“Your alibi stands up so far,” Jackson told him.
“What do you mean, so far?”
“We only have your word she was alive when you left the house.
“The pathologist says your wife was hit over the head with a solid object, there was just one blow, which is why there was no blood. He can’t give us the exact time of death. Apart from that, your friend, Reg Mann, could be an accomplice. No one saw you leave his house. Besides, even if you did go there, how do we know you didn’t kill your family first?
“We know your wife spoke to her mother on the phone at seven thirty, but we don’t know for certain you weren’t in the house yourself then. Or you could have killed them later, after you got home from your friends.”
“You mean you actually believe that -”
“On the face of it, it seems your wife might have disturbed a burglar or burglars who killed her, then dumped her body in the bath. What we can’t explain yet, is where the boy is.”
“You think they’ve killed him too?”
“Hopefully not, they’d have no reason to take the body and if it were hidden anywhere near here I’m sure we’d have found it by now, but I’m sorry, Colin, we have to face facts.”
“If they have, I’ll -”
“Now, Colin, I know how you feel, but we can’t have you taking the law into your own hands, y’know.”
“Supposing it had been your son?”
Jackson didn’t answer that. He did have a son not much older than Paul as well as a twelve-year-old daughter. He knew he couldn’t give Colin an honest answer.
“I’m sorry, Colin.”
Tom Jackson had continued to call Colin by his first name since the first evening. His sergeant, Charles Rigby, stuck to the more formal address of Mr Lovell.
* * *
Colin thought back to the day of the murder and couldn’t help thinking if he’d stayed home that night, none of this would have happened. If only he hadn’t been so engrossed in learning to play chess.