Page 82 of The Other Side

The women looked at each other. “Good for her age,” Billie said. “She had a temper on her if things weren’t done the way she liked.”

Drum slipped his shoes back on while Tricia made the calls.

“I’ll stay here,” Drum said. “Try to keep this quiet for the time being.”

They nodded and left. Drum took a deep breath, then called it in himself.

DI Purbeck arrived with Myers before the ambulance or doctor.

“Again?” he said to Drum. “You’re making a habit of this. Good thing we were in the neighbourhood. What have you touched this time?”

Drum didn’t say anything.

“That was a fucking question,” Purbeck hissed. “And why isn’t this taped off?”

Drum had already started his log, but hadn’t been back for the police tape. “I thought it was more important to maintain the scene than go for the tape. There are a lot of elderly residents who might have tried to get in to see her. The door was open when I reached it. Billie Lennard, who works here, had opened it with her key when Joan failed to respond to a call on the intercom. She said she didn’t touch anything else. She said Joan didn’t sleep in her false teeth but they were still in. She said she looked wrong. I took my shoes off before I went inside. Joan was lying in exactly the same pose as Sonita Sharma. And her hair had been cut, just like Sonita’s. Sir.”

“Did you touch her?”

“I looked in one eye. If she’d died in her sleep, there was no point calling it in, sir.”

Purbeck clenched his teeth. “And what did you see?”

“Petechial haemorrhages.”

“Fucking hell,” Myers whispered. “Another one?”

“Go and get the tape,” Purbeck said to Drum. “Tape off the main entrance too. You’re the recording officer for the time being until I get someone more capable.”

Bastard. Drum didn’t react. He went back to his vehicle, taped off the main doors to the building, then taped off the door to Joan’s apartment. The ambulance and doctor arrived just as he finished.

“Again?” Dr Cameron raised his eyebrows.

Drum shrugged and made a note of the names and times.

Thirty minutes later, he spotted Stan Motson storming towards him with Tricia on his heels. Drum joined the dots. Was Joan his mother?

“Get out of my way, Drummond!” Motson roared, his face a mottled, furious purple.

Tricia was half-running behind him, “Mr Motson, please! Stop! Let them do their jobs!”

Drum stepped into the centre of the doorway, shoulders squared, though his stomach did an uncomfortable flip. He kept his hands open and visible, trying to project a calm he definitely didn’t feel. “Mr Motson, you can’t go in there. It’s a sealed scene.”

“Sealed scene? Don’t you give me that police procedural bullshit!”

Motson lunged forward, planting a heavy hand on Drum’s chest and shoving him hard against the doorframe. The plastic crime scene tape caught against Drum’s shoulder, stretching taut.

“That’s my mother in there! What’s happened? I want to see her!”

“Please back away!” Drum stood his ground, wedging his boot against the base of the door to keep Motson from forcing his way past. “The doctor is with her now. You crossing that threshold isn’t going to help her, sir, and it sure as hell isn’t going to help you.”

“Help me? You think I give a toss about myself?” Motson’s voice cracked, a devastating sliver of raw, unadulterated grief cutting through his belligerence. His eyes were bloodshot and wild, darting from Drum to the room beyond. “First Sonita Sharma, now my mother. You’re supposed to be protecting us! You’re just standing there writing in your little notebook while we get picked off one by one!”

“Mr Motson, please,” Tricia said. “Let the police do their job.”

“If they were doing their bloody job, this wouldn’t have happened!” Motson leaned his entire weight into Drum. “Let me in.”

“Take your hands off my officer,” Purbeck said at Drum’s back.