‘Okay, if you could start from—’
‘Do I need my lawyer here?’ she interrupted.
‘Della, unless you’ve committed some type of crime or you’re planning to obstruct our investigation, I’m pretty sure we’re okay to just have a chat.’
‘Okay, but let me just call my husband.’
Kim tried to hide her irritation as Della rushed out of the room. At this rate they’d be lucky if they were out of here by lunchtime. And yet she’d been more than happy to talk to the press.
‘This is my husband, Alec. He’s retired recently so we get to spend lots more time together now.’
Alec’s expression as he offered his hand said that his wife was much more excited about that than he was.
‘And what did you do, Mr Porter?’ Kim asked as Bryant shook his hand.
‘Social care, vulnerable adults,’ he replied, reaching for his wrists. Kim recognised the gesture. He was reaching for shirt cuffs that would have been pulled back down after extending his arm. Here was a man who had clearly worn formal clothes for most of his working life. His plain blue sweater was well made and fitted perfectly, but it wasn’t a shirt and tie.
‘I’m not sure exactly what I can tell you. I didn’t see or hear a thing,’ he admitted.
‘Della?’ Kim asked as the woman retook her seat.
‘I was getting myself a glass of water. He snores. I prodded him. He wouldn’t turn,’ she said, nodding towards her husband. ‘I was getting annoyed, so I went downstairs,’ she said, offering her husband a withering look. He rolled his eyes slightly, and Bryant offered him a sympathetic glance.
‘I heard the first shot at around 3a.m.’
The first shot – son, Lewis Daynes.
‘The second shot came soon afterwards.’
Second shot – daughter, Rosalind Daynes.
‘The third was a minute or so after that.’
Third shot – husband, William Daynes.
‘And an even longer pause before the fourth shot. Five minutes at least, maybe more. Long enough that I thought they’d gone.’
Fourth shot – Helen Daynes herself.
‘Did you call the police at that time?’ Kim asked, confused. Her understanding was that the call had come much later.
‘No, I took my water and went back to bed.’
Kim could barely contain her surprise. ‘Hearing four gunshots in the middle of the night wasn’t suspicious?’
Della coloured as though it should have been.
‘Not round here, Inspector. We have a residential travellers’ site at the bottom of the lane. They come up here with lurchers and shotguns rabbiting at all hours of the night. We’ve reported it to the police many times, but they’re a law unto themselves.’
Kim’s mind was racing. Why had there been a long pause between Helen shooting her husband and shooting herself? Had she hesitated in the final part of the plan? Had she wondered if she really wanted to die despite killing most of her family? Had she struggled with positioning the gun? Had she broken down with remorse for what she’d done before taking her own life?
‘And you reported a fire at 7a.m.?’
‘Yes. I didn’t see anything, but Reece had seen it on his morning run.’
‘Reece?’
‘Our boy. He’d noticed it and told me to call the police.’