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Wendy Higgins continued. “I was talking to Mary Fellows about it, one of my neighbours. She reckons she’s had some inside information.”
“From where?” asked Braithwaite.
“She never said, but her husband is quite high up in one of the newspapers, I think. Anyway from what he heard, it was something nasty. They think it’s to do with the military.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure, but there was mention of dangerous chemicals involved. She didn’t tell me what. I hope it’s not catching. Anyway, I’m not going into Leeds until it’s all sorted. You’ve no idea what goes on. Could be terrorists… could be anything.”
“I think you might be letting your imagination run away with you, Wendy.”
“Well I think he’s right. It has all the hallmarks of the military.”
“What does?”
“Whatever happened,” she replied. “Keeping it all secret, like the army always do. You should know.”
Pouch and Spike returned. Wendy Higgins placed the lead around the dog’s neck. “Anyway, I’ll have to get on.”
She bade Braithwaite and Spike goodbye but turned before they had moved ten yards. “You mark my words, when it all comes out you’ll see I’m right.”
Braithwaite nodded.
“What was it you did in the army?”
Braithwaite hesitated but finally answered. “Medical corp. Anyway, Wendy, must dash.”
All the way home, Wendy Higgins thought about that conversation.
Once inside the house, with fresh tea made, she studied the newspapers and whatever Google had to offer about the incident involving Michael Foreman, becoming increasingly concerned.
It really did sound as if someone with military experience had been up to no good. Furthermore, she thought, there was mention of chemical warfare. And she simply could not remove the idea of the large green 4x4 from her mind. The newspaper did ask for anyone with any information whatsoever to come forward.
Wendy Higgins was torn in two but she still reached for her phone.
Chapter Forty-nine
Gardener and Reilly met Rosie and her friend, Michelle, inside the hospital corridor that led to the mortuary.
“Thank you for coming, Mrs Henshaw,” said Gardener. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
Rosie was dressed in black: jumper and jeans and an outer coat, as if she was ready for the funeral. She held a handkerchief to her eyes, which were red rimmed. Gardener figured she couldn’t have had much sleep. Neither had he.
“I don’t have much choice, do I?”
“I’m really sorry,” he replied, “if there was any other way.”
Rosie nodded, introducing Michelle. She was also dressed in dark colours, blue instead of black. Gardener was struck by how alike they were. They could have passed for sisters.
He led the way. Reilly walked ahead and opened the doors into the room. Michelle supported Rosie, as if she was going to crumble at any moment, and Gardener wouldn’t blame her.
On the inside, the room was spotlessly clean, smelled fresh. A small table and chairs stood to the left, with a vase of flowers. The glass window in front of Rosie revealed a gurney on the other side, with a body underneath a sheet. Rosie stepped up to the glass, sobbing, shaking. She was fragile – nothing like he’d seen the previous evening, or the fiery woman his officers had described.
Death had a way of doing that.
“My sergeant and I feel it best if we show you his right thigh, the one with the birthmark.”
“Why?” Rosie asked. “What have they done to him?”
