‘Pretty big thing to come to terms with, don’t you think?’ Penn asked, taking another mouthful of pastry.
‘Not sure I’d even have survived it,’ Stacey answered, knowing exactly what he was talking about.
After uncovering the horrific murder of Celia’s mother and passing on the details to the boss, Stacey had shouted them both lunch from the canteen. She’d left half of her generously portioned spaghetti bolognese, but he was still working on his steak pie and gravy. The details were clearly still fresh in both of their minds.
‘I mean, we know the motive was robbery but, even so, four blows to the head was particularly brutal,’ Stacey noted. ‘Pathologist concluded that the first blow would likely have been enough to kill her but not immediately.’
‘She probably started making a noise and the burglar panicked and hit her a few more times to shut her up,’ Penn said, pushing his plate to the side. The memory of the post-mortem photos had wiped out the rest of his appetite. The injuries had been horrific, and her skull had been a smashed, bloodied mess.
‘Celia came home to that,’ Stacey said, shaking her head.
‘Yeah, investigation determined that it was probably done by a hammer which was brought to the scene, but I don’t know how you ever get that image out of your mind,’ Penn said, remembering when his mother had passed. Jasper had begged to go to the chapel of rest to keep her company, but Penn had talked him out of it, not wishing for that to be the image of their mum that stayed in his brother’s mind.
‘Police report said that Celia ran next door screaming and crying for the neighbour to call the police, and the burglar was never found. She must have been terrified that they were going to come back,’ Stacey said.
‘Probably a good job she moved away with her aunt,’ Penn said, rifling in the box of goodies that Percy had dropped off.
Stacey watched him as he took out an evidence bag.
‘I absolutely knew you’d go for the suicide letter first,’ Stacey said.
‘There’s something here, I just know it,’ Penn said as Stacey reached into the box and took out Liam’s phone.
‘Read it again,’ Stacey said, closing her eyes.
‘What are you doing?’ Penn asked.
‘I hear inconsistencies better if I switch off other senses.’
‘And folks around here call me weird,’ Penn mumbled.
Stacey opened one eye. ‘Get on with it.’
‘“My darling Monica, I am so sorry to do this to you. You don’t deserve this. You have been my devoted wife for six years now, but I cannot live with myself any longer.
‘“Inside me are urges that I just can’t control however much I try to ignore them. I am disgusted by myself and the thoughts that go through my mind. I cannot lie to you any longer, and I cannot put you or our child through the shame of what my indiscretions would bring as I am no longer able to keep these repulsive actions to myself. I am despicable for not being completely honest and for not having the willpower or determination to overcome the sickness inside me. You deserve much better than I can ever give you.
‘“Please know that my heart is yours forever.
‘“Goodbye, my love.”’
‘Sounds okay,’ Stacey said, opening her eyes. ‘Monica confirmed it was his writing.’
‘Absolutely, but if you were being forced to write a suicide note, wouldn’t you try and leave some kind of clue?’
‘Not if someone has a knife to your throat.’
‘We don’t know that he did have a knife to his throat.’
‘We don’t know that he didn’t. What I’m saying is the poor guy is terrified, knowing he’s gonna die and he’s being told what to write, how does he think to leave a clue? Are you thinking of what you might try and do in the same situation?’ she asked.
‘Maybe.’ He shrugged.
‘You sure there’s nothing on this?’ Stacey asked, waving the phone around.
‘Nothing obvious.’
‘Hmm…’ Stacey said, checking all the usual places. Penn was right, there was nothing. It was clean. Too clean.