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He phoned the station and requested a number of operational support officers to help with the house-to-house inquiries. From what Gardener could see, it would be no easy task. The area was littered with council houses, not to mention a number of shops and an industrial estate within walking distance. Depending on what time it happened, there could be a number of witnesses. But it would all depend on how long Fisher had been dead. Before cutting the call, Gardener requested Fitz’s presence immediately, hoping he could catch the man before he made it to the abbey.
Gardener asked Anderson and Thornton if they would concentrate on setting up a cordon around the house. He had no doubt the scene had already been contaminated, but he wanted to contain as much as he could.
“We’ll go and talk to Quarry and the medics. Hopefully, by that time, Fitz will have arrived.”
Gardener and Reilly approached, display
ing their warrant cards. The two medics were middle-aged, one male, the other female. Both were sipping tea from a flask. Robert Quarry was standing to one side. He was slim with dark hair, cut short. He wore a suit and carried an air of authority. As usual, a number of nearby residents were out on their doorsteps, spectating.
“Can you take me through what happened?” Gardener asked Quarry.
“I’m afraid we were too late.”
“For what?”
“I’d made arrangements yesterday for Frank to go into a clinic to receive treatment. These two were coming to collect him.”
At the mention of the clinic, Gardener’s back bristled.
Reilly beat him to the question. “Which one?”
“The St James hospital.”
Gardener was relieved. At least it wasn’t the clinic in Bond Street. But Fisher was connected to Billy Morrison’s car lot, which didn’t put the owner in a good position.
“Why were you visiting him yesterday?”
“A couple of his neighbours were extremely anxious about him.”
Robert Quarry went on to explain the problems Frank Fisher had faced over the years: the loss of his livelihood because of the accident; the court case with the builder, which he hadn’t wanted to continue with, but had only done so on the advice of a friend. His wife’s affair was also mentioned, and the fact that she had left him, and that Fisher had never recovered.
“I spent a couple of hours with him yesterday, and it was obvious he’d had another relapse. Despite what she’d done to him, he would still have taken her back like a shot.”
“Some men are like that,” said Reilly.
“You mentioned he’d worked for a builder. Can you remember the name?” asked Gardener.
“I’ve not been his case officer that long. I can only recall his first name. Sean.”
“Where was the yard?”
“Rodley.”
“Do you know where he lives now?” Reilly asked.
“He went bust pretty much after the court case. I’m afraid he committed suicide as well.”
“Why didn’t he want to sue the builder, especially if it was negligence?”
“They were partners, and very good friends from what I heard.”
“Wasn’t the builder insured?”
“Apparently not. He’d let the policy lapse. From what I can gather, he needed the money for something else.”
“I see,” said Gardener, making a mental note. All the information Robert Quarry was coming out with was worth checking. “And did Frank Fisher know this? Is that why he didn’t want to sue?”
“I don’t think so,” replied Quarry. “As I said, he’d only gone ahead because a friend had pushed him into it.”
