Page 58 of Glasshouses

“We could’ve been looking at another murder.”

“We still could. It’s touch and go with the boy. We’ve managed to identify him: Cade Cauldwell, thirteen, from Hadfield, lives with his grandma. She reported him missing at eleven pm and a local group were out looking for him. She’s in bits.” His face showed that he was too.

“What’s the prognosis?”

“Next twenty-four hours are critical. He managed to get the window open and then must’ve gotten higher up, hanging his head outside. At some point, he’d fallen and then lost consciousness, or vice versa. He was in the second room in the building, which kept him further away from where the fire started.” I could see the sergeant’s jaw clenching.

The firefighter I didn’t recognise headed towards us. “Tim Norwood, I’m a fire investigation officer, so you’ll both have a report from me in due course. Is it DS McAllister?”

I nodded, feeling strangely relieved it wasn’t Ste.

“The fire starter’s used white spirit to start it, the place stinks of it, and that’s also the reason for all the smoke. It was bad when we got here; the smoke was worse than the fire. It’s not helped the victim’s lungs, but white spirit’s a slower burner and would’ve taken its time getting to him.” Tim Norwood paused for breath.

“Where did the fire start?” I asked.

“Right at the door, so there was no way to get out of it. It was definitely intentional, unless the perp didn’t know that there was anyone inside. The only window is about ten centimetres high and a metre and a half long, no way for even a kid to fit though.” He sniffed loudly. “It bleeding stinks.”

I couldn’t smell much, which made me wonder whether the dust storm we’d created in the bathroom had damaged my nose. Or maybe Tim Norwood had a very sensitive sense of smell.

“Have forensics found anything?” I asked PS Hussein.

“The boy’s bike and rucksack were in there. He’d gone home after school and had tea, then his gran had agreed he could go back out as she had friends round and they tended to fuss over him, which he didn’t like. She said, when she reported him missing, that he liked to explore abandoned buildings and take videos of them, which he edited. Apparently he was good at it, although she warned him about trespassing.” The sergeant checked his watch. “I’m going to head back to the station and get this written up. My boss is Inspector Mahmood. He’s waiting to find out if this is being transferred over to you.”

“I imagine it will be. It’s too much of a coincidence. There was evidence of two different people having recently been in the house when forensics were in yesterday.” What was the betting that Cade wore a size seven?

A familiar face appeared, one that looked like it’d experienced more sleep than me.

“Morning,” I smiled at Verity, introducing her to PS Hussein. She would take over here now, working with CSI and checking around the garden area.

“I’m glad you didn’t add ‘good’ in front of that. I was looking forward to going to town.” She sniffed. “It stinks.”

“Of smoke?”

“No, a chemical smell.” She acted like a bloodhound again.

“That’s white spirit,” Tim Norwood said, clearly pleased. He went through exactly what he’d told me and I didn’t need to hear it twice.

“Has anyone sent forensics down to the phone box that was used?” I doubted we’d get any prints; any one with half a brain would’ve made sure to wear gloves, or wipe it down, but sometimes people with half a brain were rare, so we could be in luck.

I didn’t think our fire starter would make that mistake though. Petrol, paraffin, white spirit. It was easy to set a fire, easy to get hold of all of those.

“Tim, was there any sign of any accelerant inside the outhouse?” I asked, suddenly curious.

I could feel his enthusiasm spilling over. “No, completely clear. The old mower in there had been drained. It’s where it would’ve been stored though; there were a couple of old petrol cans for the lawn mower.”

“No sign of any white spirit inside?”

“None whatsoever. But there are other places it could’ve been stored. This place is full of hidden spaces. There’s an old shed at the end of the garden; that’s worth checking.” He pointed past the glasshouses. “It’s through the hedges at the bottom, you’ll see a bit of a path, just push your way through them, and a bit further on there’s some overgrown raised beds and a shed. I haven’t been in it but I wanted to check that everything was okay down there. A fire in that area could spread easily onto the moorland and that could be a problem this time of year.”

“Verity, shall we go and have a look?” My head was starting to ache along with the rest of me, lack of sleep and tiles from the eighties my current downfall.

“Definitely.” She shot off, probably to get away from Talky Tim, and I followed her down past the glasshouses.

“This has been walked down recently, and not just by Tim,” she said. “What do you reckon we’re going to find?”

“I’m not sure. Through here.” I found the gap in the bushes, slightly thinner than elsewhere, and like the path, it had been used recently.

The raised beds were high with weeds, the movement in them not coming from any breeze. Surrounding them was grass that had long since gone wild, an area probably teeming with rodents and insects and other wildlife.