Page 84 of Glasshouses

Jenna walked over, camera in hand. “There are definitely two different footprints at the top,” she said. The soil’s fairly loose, so we don’t have clear prints as such, but I can see two different sizes of print, and I’d say one’s a woman’s. They also could be from someone unrelated.”

“Anything else been found?’

“A hair bobble. It looks clean still, so I’d say it’s been recently dropped. We’re just in the process of taking photos and bagging it. If we’re lucky, we’ll have a hair follicle on a hair tied round it and we’ll get DNA back in a few weeks.” Her excitement was chocolate dipped in sarcasm.

“I’ll go and have a look round.” Vinny was already on the top, hands in pockets, surveying the land. The early sun cast him as a silhouette, dark and menacing, nothing like I usually saw him. The forensics team had cordoned off the area around the tree and at the top of the slope, photographs being taken from all angles. One of Jenna’s team was heading out to the tree with a laser, looking at angles and trajectories; a full report with diagrams would be sent over later, the science nerds at their finest.

From the top of the slope, it was a steep drop down. The branch from which the rope was hanging was sturdy and a good six foot higher than the top of the slope. The rope had been doubled over and hung over the branch, then threaded through. It looked as if the rope had then been tied around Smith’s neck with some complex knot.

It looked problematic.

“What do you make of this?” I said to Vinny, who was completely still, the only movement the way the wind was blowing his hair and his jacket.

“I think the postmortem will be interesting. Is it suicide or staged to look like suicide? It’ll be convenient for certain people if it’s a suicide.” Vinny took a step back, heading back down the slope and away from the crime scene.

It would be convenient. I doubted Andrew Smith was responsible for the deaths of Amanda and Micky, and the fire that harmed Cade, but he had no alibi that we’d found so far and he did have motive.

I looked around the spot, seeing the flattened soil where his feet would’ve been as he’d left the planet for the last time then a drop and a swing and life would’ve left him. I couldn’t imagine being that desperate to end my life that way. I felt impossibly sad for the man who’d borne a level of guilt that would’ve been intolerable, even more so because it was of his own making.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. Wrigley, again, which meant he wanted an update.

“Mac,” I answered, just to be polite.

“Is it a suicide?”

“We don’t know yet. There are questions. There were definitely easier ways to do it if it was.”

“When’s the PM being done?” Wrigley was acidic this morning.

“This afternoon. Forensics are here doing their maths stuff and taking photos.” I tried to appease him that things were happening and we weren’t just standing round doing nothing. “We’ve found no belongings here.”

“Check his pockets. See if he had his house keys on him. If he’s already in the van, get one of the morgue assistants to do it as soon as they can, then we’ll need someone to do an official ID.”

“Who identified him this morning?”

“Local cop who was called to the scene. He’s gone home after throwing his guts up on the road. He lives in Wethersett and one of the kids who found the body ran to his house and got him. We’ll still need a formal ID.” He covered the phone while he shouted something at someone with him in the Fishbowl. “You saw him yesterday evening, Mia. What did you think of his state of mind?”

“Resigned. It felt like he was accepting his fate, but I wouldn’t have said he was suicidal. Have we found his son yet?” I watched Vinny talking to my brother, both of them looking at the rope that was now being taken down from the tree.

“No sign of a Stefan Smith. We’ve found Steven Smiths, spelt with a vee and a tee aitch ess, but no Stefan.”

“Smith won’t be his last name,” I remembered what Andrew Smith had said. “He wasn’t married to Stefan’s mum and didn’t play a huge part in his life. I bet Stefan had his mum’s surname.” Why hadn’t I asked for his full name yesterday, instead of just assuming?

“Jesus, Mia. Get yourself in Andrew Smith’s house and see if you can find anything that has Stefan’s name on it. He’s a member of The Holding, he’ll have paperwork.” He sounded tired. “Especially if he’s left a suicide note, preferably one that confesses to the other murders.”

“With a financial motive. Look, Boss, there’s fishy stuff with the original investigation; I spoke to Terry Jones again - ”

“I know. He phoned the Super.” Wrigley cut me off.

“I think Andrew Smith was paying for his son not to be investigated. There were cash amounts withdrawn every month from The Holding account. We can’t link them to anyone or any company, but I think he might’ve been being blackmailed.”

“By who, Mia?”

“Graham Mercer. He oversaw the area; he knew about The Holding. I also suspect that there were financial irregularities with The Holding as well; something doesn’t sit right with their accounts, which would implicate Amanda.” I’d thrown the grenade; now I needed to see how it would explode.

“Which gives Smith motive to kill Amanda and Micky, if they were about to draw attention to it, but there’s no evidence to say Smith was paying off the police.” Wrigley sounded less affronted than I’d predicted.

And he was right. There wasn’t any evidence, just suspicion.