‘Stay back, Mr Neal,’ Roy commands. ‘This is a crime scene. You’ll be kept informed.’
Neal obeys, stepping away from the front door.
I suit up in protective gear and wait for Roy’s signal. ‘Who else has a key to the house?’ I ask.
‘Jo had one,’ Neal says. ‘She met regularly with the interior designer. I have one, too.’
Roy narrows his eyes. ‘The builders?’
‘All keys were returned,’ Neal insists.
‘Anyone can duplicate a key.’
‘We changed the locks once they’d finished. Jo was paranoid that someone might have copied one. There was this incident at the hospital… An abused child she operated on died. Not her fault, but she had to testify in court. She feared the family might come after her.’
Roy glares. ‘You’re only telling us this now?’
Neal shrugs. ‘Didn’t seem relevant.’
‘Everything is relevant,’ Roy snaps. ‘No matter how small.’
‘I was on that case,’ I add quickly. ‘The parents were given long sentences. I’ll look into it again.’
Roy shoots me a sharp glance. ‘Nothing should be overlooked, DS Blackford.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Shit. Why didn’t I make that connection sooner?
Roy looks back at the house. ‘No security cameras?’
‘Just the alarm. Jo thought cameras would make it look like a prison,’ says Neal.
‘When were you last here?’
‘Not since Jo disappeared. We never moved in.’
‘I’ll need your key.’
Neal hands it over, Roy unlocks the door and shouts, ‘Police! Coming in.’
Inside, the scent of polish is strong and the floor gleams like glass. The house is open plan, with a living room, dining area and kitchen all flowing into each other. A staircase curves gracefully upstairs. Everything smells new. Surprisingly, the place is warm.
My gaze falls upon a stunning Moroccan carpet.
‘Blackford, check upstairs,’ Roy barks.
I head up the hallway, carpet soft beneath my feet. The master bedroom is pristine. The mahogany furniture gleams; the canopy bed looks untouched. A rose-and-ivy quilt is spread across it.
‘Blimey, I should have such a home,’ I mutter, thinking of my poky mid-terrace.
At the dressing table, I catch my reflection in a gilded mirror. I look pale and exhausted. I turn away and sweep the other rooms. All empty.
I head back down.
‘Bloody waste of time,’ Roy says, clearly disappointed.
‘Bloodstains in the kitchen,’ Dario calls out.
