He had picked up the search team and a Scientific Services van on the way, the convoy parking across the driveway, blocking in an estate car with the boot up.
Dixon was walking down the side of the property, a uniformed sergeant at his elbow, when a woman appeared carrying a suitcase.
‘Mrs Sally Hudson?’ he asked, warrant card at the ready.
‘Yes.’ She straightened up, seeing the uniform and the warrant at the same time. ‘Is it Will?’
‘Could we go inside?’
‘Er, yes, of course.’ She slammed the boot of the car.
The back of the property offered a very different perspective. Large bay windows overlooking a lawn and walled garden. Maybe there was money in hot tubs, after all? That was Dixon’s only real interest in property – what it could tell him about the people who lived there.
A child was sitting at the kitchen table, playing a game on an iPad.
‘Go to your room, Olivia.’
Dixon waited until Sally Hudson closed the door behind her daughter. ‘Mrs Hudson, I’m afraid I have some bad news. Your husband, William, is dead.’
She leaned back against the kitchen sink and folded her arms. ‘Did he kill himself?’
‘No,’ replied Dixon. ‘Perhaps you might like to sit down?’ he asked, gesturing to a kitchen chair.
‘I’m fine standing up.’
If that’s the way you want it.
‘He had taken two police officers hostage at gunpoint and was holding them in a cellar just south of Taunton. One of them was able to get free, and in the ensuing struggle, your husband was shot and killed.’
She nodded, slowly.
‘Had he not been killed, then I would have been arresting him for the murder of Sean Rodwell, whose body was found in the cellar. Is that a name known to you?’
‘I know who Sean Rodwell is, yes.’
‘It doesn’t seem to have come as much of a surprise that your husband is alleged to have murdered him.’
‘It isn’t. He talked about nothing else for years.’
‘I have a search team outside, and we’re going to be searching this property, as you might imagine. Is there somewhere you can go?’
‘I was going to my sister’s anyway,’ replied Sally. ‘I was just loading the car.’
‘Can I ask why?’
‘I’ve had enough. Enough of his lies, enough of Sean bloody Rodwell and that sodding fire. This place is on the market; one-point-five million, and it’ll just about cover his debts.’
‘He talked a lot about the fire?’
‘He talked about nothing else.’
‘Were you aware that a woman has confessed to the abduction of William’s son, Patrick, the night of the fire?’
‘No. Did Will know?’
‘He found out yesterday.’
‘And he knew where Patrick was?’
‘He did.’
‘He never said a thing to me. Bloody marvellous, after everything he put me through.’
A free-standing kitchen, quarry tiled floor, range. You could be forgiven for thinking there really was a lot of money in hot tubs. ‘Tell me about his business.’
‘You’d better speak to his accountant. All I know is he hadn’t made a profit for at least five years, but then he never made much of a profit before that. There was a family trust or something that bailed him out. Cost of living crisis, I suppose. People aren’t going to be spending out on luxury items like that, are they? I tried to tell him, but he wouldn’t listen. I think he sold six last year, he said. And that was all year. Then the rent on that fancy unit kicked in after the initial rent-free period, and we were borrowing against this place just to keep the business afloat – or stop it sinking so quickly, I should say.’
‘What about his rental properties?’
‘Bought them off plan, mortgaged up to the hilt, and look what’s happened to interest rates. The rent he gets doesn’t come close to covering it. Bankruptcy was inevitable, and he knew it.’ She was standing with her hands on her hips. ‘I’m going to have to go back to work. I had hoped to wait until the girls were a bit older, but needs must.’
‘What do you do?’
‘I’m an occupational therapist,’ replied Sally. ‘There’s a training course I’ll have to do when I go back, to get up to date, you know. I thought part-time would do, but it looks like I’m going to need the money.’
‘Do you still have your uniform?’
‘No, it’s gone. Somewhere. I don’t know. I was going to pack it, but it’s not there. Maybe Will chucked it out?’
