Jane and Moran returned to the mortuary waiting room. Brenda Matthews and Mrs. Summers were sitting holding hands and consoling each other, unified in grief. Then Moran ushered the Summerses out with him, leaving Brenda Matthews staring disconsolately at the wall.
Jane took a deep breath. ‘I know this will be hard for you, Brenda, and you can spend as much time as you want with Helen. I will be with you, but if you want to be alone with her, that’s fine.’ From the distant look on Brenda Matthews’ face, Jane realized she hadn’t heard a word. She stepped into her line of sight. ‘Are you OK, Brenda? We can go and see Helen now, if you’re ready.’
Mrs. Matthews answered in a flat voice: ‘Mrs. Summers said her daughter had been raped and strangled. Did he do the same to Helen?’
Jane had planned to divulge this information after the viewing and now regretted it. ‘The pathologist couldn’t be certain about any sexual assault, but it’s possible she was.’
Brenda Matthews started to retch, but as she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, there was nothing in her stomach to come up. It was another five minutes before she was composed enough to go with Jane to the chapel of rest.
Helen Matthews’ body had been well prepared by the morgue attendant. He’d closed her eyes, washed her hair and face, and arranged the shroud neatly so it concealed the strangulation marks on her neck. Although her skin was pale, Helen Matthews looked as if she was in a peaceful sleep. Jane gave the attendant a nod of approval.
‘Is this your daughter, Helen?’ Jane asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
Mrs. Matthews nodded. Jane had expected her to break down, but she remained composed as she leant forward and kissed her daughter on the forehead. She then removed her wedding ring and lifted the shroud from Helen’s side, revealing her right hand.
‘I wanted her to have this when I died.’ She placed the ring on her daughter’s right ring finger and kissed her one last time.
After the identification, Jane took Mrs. Matthews to the bereaved interview room at the mortuary. It was sparsely furnished with just a desk, four chairs and white painted brick walls. The heat blasting from the large cast iron radiator made it stuffy. Jane opened an A4-size notebook, placed it on the table and took her pen from her jacket pocket.
Brenda Matthews watched her forlornly. ‘Will the statement take long? I should be with Simon.’
‘I’m just going to take some notes for now, then write your statement up later. I can bring it to you to read over and sign tomorrow.’
‘Thank you.’ Her voice was almost a whisper.
‘If you want, I can speak with the victim support organization, who can help you and Simon through this terrible ordeal,’ Jane offered.
‘I can’t afford anything like that, but thank you for offering.’
Jane smiled. ‘It won’t cost you anything, Brenda. They’re a new national organization, and have trained volunteers. They offer practical and emotional support to victims and witnesses of serious crime.’
‘If you think it would help me and Simon, then yes, I’d like to speak with them.’
Jane nodded. ‘I think it would be good to share your feelings with someone who’s not connected to the investigation.’
Sooner or later, Jane was going to have to tell Brenda Matthews that Simon might have been sexually abused. Her first instinct was to wait until Mrs. Matthews had recovered from the shock of seeing her daughter’s body, but she knew there was no ‘good’ time to deliver this disturbing news.
‘What I’m about to tell you is quite distressing. We have reason to believe Eileen Summers was concerned about one of her male pupils being abused. Obviously Helen and Eileen Summers are connected through Simon, so it’s possible—’
Grief turned to anger as Brenda Matthews interrupted her. ‘How dare you suggest my daughter abused her son! Helen was a good mother and worked hard to provide for Simon. She’d never even smacked him and hardly ever raised her voice. Now if you don’t mind, I want to see Simon.’ Brenda stood up and pushed past Jane. ‘I’ll make my own way to Mrs. Rowlands.’
A flustered Jane got up and followed her. ‘Brenda, please listen to me, I don’t believe for one minute it was Helen. I know it’s a difficult subject to discuss, and the last thing I want to do is upset you. My concern is if Simon was abused, it could be connected in some way to Helen’s murder.’
Mrs. Matthews turned around sharply. ‘If Simon was being abused, Helen would have told me.’
‘If Helen did know, or just suspected, she may not have wanted to upset you. Please... there’s just a few more things I need to ask. Then we’ll finish, and you can be with Simon.’
Reluctantly, Brenda returned to her seat and Jane sat down opposite her.
‘I wish to God I didn’t have to ask you such upsetting questions, Brenda. Unfortunately, we don’t know which boy Eileen Summers thought was being abused. It may not even be Simon, but we need to be sure either way.’
Brenda sighed. ‘I appreciate you’re only doing your job, but if Simon was being abused, I know he would have said something to Helen or me.’
Jane remembered what Moran had told her. ‘Sometimes children are threatened by their abusers and too frightened to say anything. Did Helen have a boyfriend or any friends who had regular contact with Simon?’
‘She dated a man about two years ago, but that’s all over. As far as I know, she hasn’t been seeing anyone since. She hasn’t any close friends — she’s always too busy working.’
‘I’d still like to interview Simon with a social services officer who specializes in child welfare.’
Mrs. Matthews looked worried. ‘They’ll take Simon away from me if he was abused!’
Jane shook her head. ‘That won’t happen.’ She pulled the photograph of Aiden Lang from her pocket. ‘Have you ever seen this man before? His hair may have been dyed blond since the photograph was taken.’
Mrs. Matthews looked closely at the photo. ‘No. Who is he?’
‘His name is Aiden Lang. He also uses the name Ben Smith. Eileen Summers’ body was found in his hostel room.’
Mrs. Matthews put her hand to her mouth. ‘Did he kill Helen as well?’
‘We don’t know for sure. We are doing everything we can to trace Aiden Lang and have released his picture to the press.’
‘I hope he rots in hell.’ Mrs. Matthews pushed Lang’s photograph back across the desk.
‘How did Helen seem when you saw her on the afternoon of Friday sixteenth of February?’ Jane asked.
‘A bit moody, as I recall. I thought it was because she was tired after taking on the extra cleaning work over the half-term break.’
Jane flicked back a couple of pages in her notebook. ‘You said before that Helen visited about three thirty p.m. Can you remember when she left?’
Mrs. Matthews thought for a moment. ‘It wasn’t long after... between four and four thirty, I think.’
‘Did Helen say where she was going when she left your flat on the Friday?’
Mrs. Matthews shook her head. ‘No. I just assumed she was going to do another cleaning job.’
‘Do you know where Helen did her cleaning work on Fridays?’
‘No. It was various places for cash-in-hand. I know she did some work for a dentist in Harley Street.’
‘Do you know the name or address of the dentist?’
‘No, but Helen said he was a nice man. He fitted Simon’s braces for him.’
‘That must have been expensive.’ Jane wondered how Helen had been able afford dental treatment in a posh Harley Street clinic.
‘He did the work for nothing because she was his cleaner. Simon had crooked front teeth and Helen had mentioned it to the dentist. Mind you, Simon wasn’t too happy, seeing as the braces gave him a lisp and some of the boys in his class started teasing him and calling him Jaws, after that big bloke with the scary teeth in the Bond films.’