Chapter Thirty-Nine
The tall electric gates parted to allow Jennifer and Will’s unmarked Ford Focus inside. Will gave a low whistle as they drove past the beautifully manicured garden bordering the long gravel driveway to Christian Bowe’s impressive six-bedroom home.
‘We’re in the wrong jobs,’ Will said as the three-storey house came into view. The large bay windows and solar panels fed from the generous morning sunlight, which beamed down on the English country home. Expansive green fields flanked the gravel driveway, maintaining the privacy of the residents within.
Jennifer glanced up at the old fashioned street lamps that disguised the CCTV domes discreetly hidden within. Several burglar alarms flashed on the outside of the building and all exits appeared to be securely fenced. Christian certainly wasn’t taking any chances with security. Their old Ford Focus appeared sorely out of place next to the red Jaguar as they parked in the driveway. Jennifer ran her fingertips over the shiny paintwork as she walked to the door, knowing it was the nearest she’d ever come to having one.
She was half expecting a butler to answer the glossy red wooden door, but instead she got Christian, red-eyed and gaunt, a sharp contrast to the publicity images splashed across the tabloid magazines.
‘Oh Jenny it’s awful, isn’t it,’ Christian said, before wrapping his arms around her and dropping his head into her shoulder.
Although taken aback by the sudden display of affection, she reciprocated by rubbing his back, allowing him time to catch his breath before breaking away.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘I’m a mess, I know. I … I just don’t know what to do with myself. Please, come inside.’
Jennifer ran her eyes over his baggy clothes. He had lost weight, and his shoulders appeared to have dropped a couple of inches since she had seen him last. His slow lifeless feet dragged across the oak floor as he led her through the double doors to the vast living room. Jennifer wondered if their visit would make things better or worse.
The delicate fragrance of white lilies greeted them as they entered the bright but stuffy room, and Jennifer’s eyes danced over the overflowing vases decorating the window ledge and mahogany sideboards. Her eyes drifted to a portrait hanging over the wide traditional fireplace. Felicity Baron looked stunning in a full-length white gown, her face framed by her wavy blonde hair. Christian was standing behind her, one hand around her slender waist, the other holding her left hand, which was showing off an engagement ring the queen mother would have been proud of.
‘Beautiful, wasn’t she,’ Christian said, his eyes misting over. ‘It was taken at our engagement party last year.’
‘I’m so very sorry,’ Jennifer said, usually one to shy from such acts of grandeur. ‘Thank you for seeing me, I understand your need for privacy at this time.’
Christian waved a hand over the leather sofa. ‘I could do with a friendly face. At the moment, all I get are paparazzi calling me day and night. I didn’t need friends when I had Felicity. But now …’ The words caught in his throat and he gestured towards the sofa. ‘Please, take a seat. I take it this is police business?’
Jennifer nodded solemnly. She glanced around the room as Will tinkered with framed photographs on the sideboard. ‘Are the children about?’
Christian stared into space for several seconds before responding. ‘The children? Oh … they’re with their mother. She’s been cleared by the police, but I expect you know that.’
Jennifer undid her jacket. The room was stifling, and she wondered when was the last time he had opened a window. ‘Yes I was aware. Right now we’re looking into every aspect of Felicity’s case. Part of the investigation involves interviewing family members.’
‘I was recording a live television show when Felicity …’
‘I know that, Christian, and this isn’t about you, so please don’t worry. I want to ask you about your cousin, Bert.’
Christian’s head snapped up, and he hastily daubed away the tears welling in his eyes. ‘Bert? Do you finally believe me that he had something to do with this?’
Jennifer squared her shoulders. ‘I’m afraid that’s a very distinct possibility, and he may be involved in a lot more.’
Christian gasped, cupping a hand to his mouth. ‘There was a murder on the news … a young woman, found dead in her bed. Was that him?’
‘I can’t say either way,’ Jennifer said, leaning her notebook on her crossed legs. ‘That’s why it’s important that we know everything there is about his background. The police are doing everything they can to find him. Teams of officers are scouring local areas, dog handlers are searching the woodlands, and the police helicopter has made several trips overhead to search for his van.’
Christian blew his nose and replaced his sodden tissue with a fresh one from the box on the coffee table. ‘Bert’s spent half his life in and out of mental institutions. Why do they keep letting him out? Don’t they ever learn?’
‘We’ve got your earlier statement, but can you tell me a bit more about the last time you saw him?’ Jennifer said, trying to obtain the information before he broke down. She felt like a vulture, feeding off him for answers when he was in so much pain. But that was often the way in the police. You saw people at their worst, and all you could do to help was apprehend the people responsible for their pain. Her eyes flicked to Will, who was now staring out the window. He was in his comfort zone when he was on foot chases, or struggling with suspects as he locked his cuffs in place. Grief unsettled him, and he was happy to leave such interviews to her.
Christian took a sip of water from a glass on the table and coughed to clear his throat. ‘Bert used to visit our house when I was young. He made mum nervous, so she told him to stay away. Then when I was on TV, he managed to get a hold of my mobile number and began calling me night and day. He even got to a phone when he was in the institution. It carried on long after he left. That’s when I reported him for harassment.’
‘Why the fascination with you?’
Christian shrugged. ‘He’s plagued me half my life. Mother thinks I remind him of his brother, the one that died when he was a child. Can I get you a drink?’
Will opened his mouth to respond but Jennifer cut him off. ‘No thanks. What sort of things would he say or do when he came to visit? Did he give any readings?’
‘Readings? No. Sometimes he’d talk about his mother as if she was still alive.’ Christian sighed, recalling the memory. ‘When I was young, he’d ramble on about his blackbirds and how he used to save them from traps. Sometimes the farmers would hang out dead jackdaws on their land to keep the birds from their crops. I remember Bert telling me once that he was up all night cutting them down. He’d save a few of their feathers as keepsakes then bury their bodies in the woods. In the early days, he used to tell me his stories. He’d sit there, scratching his arms and legs until they bled. He had terrible eczema, but I was young and I felt sorry for him. To me, he was a fragile old man.’