Page 8 of Glasshouses

Lachy tipped back on his chair, really testing the quality of furniture the police force could afford. “Amanda Goodhew?”

“Correct. Amanda Goodhew. So there’s a certain something about Amanda Goodhew now being found dead in a house fire.” Wrigley settled himself on a chair, again testing the quality.

“We need to speak with Lily Goodhew.” I eyed Lachy and nodded to the board. “Although we know that Amanda was dead before the fire started.”

Wrigley nodded. “Fire’s a good way to cover your tracks. Lily Goodhew will know that better than anyone, so I expect. She needs to know her mother’s dead anyway.”

“Is she still using the same name?” I asked. “There’s every chance she’s changed it when she was released so she could have a fresh start.” Children who committed crimes and received intervention did not necessarily go on to commit further crimes as adults; in fact it was unlikely they would, so I was immediately sceptical of Wrigley’s suspicions that this could easily be pinned on Lily.

Wrigley shrugged. “You’ll need to get in touch with her probation officer and see what the next steps are. But, from what I remember, she never admitted she’d killed her father and brothers, but she said numerous times she was glad they were dead and she was only sorry that her mother was still alive. She was said to be an odd child; the sort other kids avoided.”

My degree and masters afterwards had focused on criminology. It’d fast tracked me to my current rank, making older officers wary, questioning my reasoning, but it had got me results.

“She could’ve been being abused.” I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to defend her.

“The investigation found nothing to suggest that.” Wrigley shrugged. “DCI Terry Jones was the lead. He retired ten years ago and still lives locally. I’ll give him a call and you can go and see him tomorrow.” He pushed himself up off the chair. “These are a bit shit, aren’t they?”

The chances of getting hold of Lily Goodhew’s probation officer from when she was released were the same as me landing on the moon before the next day. There was nothing on any of our systems under her name and date of birth since she was charged and sentenced sixteen years ago, when she would’ve been fifteen. There had been no time specified on her sentence so, if there’d been no further incidents while she was inside, she could well be out now. Her defence had played diminished responsibility, with a forensic psychiatrist supporting that, presenting enough of a case that the jury agreed to a Section Thirty-Seven hospital order with a Section Forty-One, restricting some of her liberty. While she looked like she’d changed her name to give her some sort of fresh start, she’d still have tabs kept on her.

I was just about to leave the office to head to the morgue as the remains of the second body had been recovered and sent there, when a call came through on my desk phone.

“DS Mia McAllister.” I didn’t recognise the number.

“Oh hi, I’m Tabitha Smithson from the probation service. I think you’ve been looking for me.” The voice was cheery but tired.

I checked the time; just after six. She was working late. “I’m trying to locate Lily Goodhew in connection with a suspicious death. The victim is her mother.” I didn’t remind Tabitha Smithson about confidentiality; she’d know all that already, and it wouldn’t take long before the press got hold of the finer details anyway.

“Ah, Lily. I can let her know about her mother, if that helps.”

“I’d rather pass the information on myself, and ideally tonight before it comes out in the media. Do you have an address for her?”

Silence greeted me.

“Ms Smithson, I really do need to contact her as soon as possible. Is she still local?” I had run out of patience a couple of hours ago and that was my allocated quota for the week.

“She’s local. She’s been doing really well; has her own business, her own house – she’s not the person you might think she is, given what happened and what she was accused of.” The defensive tone didn’t surprise me. “If you must see her yourself, I ask that I join you. I can provide support afterwards.”

“That’s fine with me. Did Lily have anything to do with her mother? Had she seen her recently, would you know?”

More silence, but I didn’t need to ask another question.

“Lily hasn’t seen her mother since she was arrested, as far as I am aware. She declined visits from her, giving a multitude of reasons, and it was assessed at the time that it wasn’t in Lily’s best interests to have contact with her going forward because the idea caused her so much distress. I will tell you now, she won’t be sorry that her mother has passed.” I had an image in my head of Tabitha Smithson; maybe sixty, dedicated to her job and an advocate for the successful rehabilitation of offenders. I pictured her in a twin set and wondered how I’d be disappointed when I actually met her.

“Could she have been involved in her mother’s death?”

I heard a sigh at the other end of the phone. “I’ve learned during my career to never be surprised, Detective. But if Lily was involved, I would be very surprised. Shall you pick me up, or shall I meet you at her address?”

“Where does she live?”

“She has a small house in Ancoats, a shared equity property. Her business is garden design, something she learned while she was incarcerated, and she’s very, very talented. Her own garden is something of her unique selling point as she specialises in city gardens. She’s won awards for her designs and worked for some quite notable people, and yes, she has a new surname.”

“What is it?”

“Mayhew. She chose it because she’d caused mayhem. I’ve worked with her since she was twenty and she’s part of the reason I haven’t retired yet. I’m determined to do what I can to help her. Shall I meet you there?” Tiredness was now the most prominent tone to her voice.

“If you will. But please don’t go into the house until I’m there. I will have a colleague with me also.” I wanted a second pair of eyes on Lily Mayhew’s reaction to her mother’s murder. I was also debating allocating a family liaison officer for a multitude of reasons.

“Of course, Detective. I know the score.”