‘Five days.’ Small sighed his answer. ‘And then another two days before it was acted upon.’
‘The daughter had been in here a week?’
‘I know, I know.’ Small held up his hands in abject surrender, nothing ‘mock’ about it. ‘She came down the day after he was found and stayed here for six nights. Then, when we broke the news to her, she went to the Victoria Hotel on the seafront.’
‘Not an easy conversation.’
‘I’ve had better days. She even got the bloody chief constable involved, and the PCC.’
That was going some. Complaints about Dixon had got as far as the chief con, but not the police and crime commissioner. Not yet, anyway.
‘He was sitting in this chair,’ said Small, trying a change of subject. ‘It’s one of those electric recliners. There was a blanket over the back and a waterproof liner on the seat cover in case he . . .’
A nod from Dixon assured Small he needn’t explain further.
‘Of course, he’d been dead for two days before he was found, so—’
‘That explains the air fresheners,’ said Louise.
There were several around the room – one on the mantelpiece, one by the television and another two plugged into electrical sockets.
Lavender.
‘There are some photographs attached to the post mortem report,’ said Small. ‘The old boy just looked as if he was asleep. He had one of those alarm things, but it’s already gone back. He never rang it, though.’
‘Where’s the phone?’ asked Dixon.
‘The landline is in the bedroom, but he had the handset next to him on the little table,’ replied Small.
‘He had a mobile too, Guv,’ said Wevill. ‘It was on a charging cradle on the table in the hall. We checked it and the SIM was a pay-as-you-go one that had expired; battery was dead too.’
It was the first time Wevill had spoken; he just seemed to follow Small around like a lost puppy.
‘No router?’ asked Dixon.
‘He didn’t have the internet, Sir,’ replied Wevill. ‘His daughter didn’t want him getting scammed.’
It hadn’t taken the daughter long to declutter the whole flat – Dixon winced to himself, grateful he hadn’t said that word out loud, declutter; Louise would think he’d been watching daytime TV.
Even her late father’s books had been boxed up and were sitting on the bed in the spare room, waiting to go to the charity shop, presumably. Medieval English and military history, mainly, with a few crime novels thrown in for good measure.
‘He taught history, in case you were wondering,’ said Small.
The master bedroom had been cleared, the wardrobe empty; drawers too, except for new drawer liners – lavender scented. Even in the en-suite, not so much as a towel on the rail, let alone a toothbrush.
‘Seen enough?’ asked Small.
‘Not yet.’
‘Oh, right.’ Small made no effort to hide his disappointment. ‘What else is there? There’s nothing here.’
‘Has there been any local press coverage?’ asked Dixon.
‘We kept it out of the press, for obvious reasons.’
Can’t blame them for that, thought Dixon. Charlesworth would have done exactly the same.
Small was getting impatient, motioning towards the front door. ‘Look, I’ll brief my team and then they’ll be up to Bridgwater tomorrow to join your task force.’
‘Sergeant Winter is running the incident room and will be able to help with local B&Bs,’ replied Dixon. He had followed Small out into the corridor and was staring at the bin liners.
‘She’s the pregnant one, Deano,’ said Small to Wevill, with a grin. ‘So don’t you go getting any ideas.’
‘I wouldn’t recommend it.’ Louise only just managed to stifle a chuckle.
‘Husband-to-be a bit of a handful, is he?’
‘I can be.’ Dixon leaned over and picked up a bin liner in each hand. ‘Bring the other two, will you, Lou.’
The bags had been tied loosely. Dixon undid the first one and upended it on the double bed in the master bedroom. Then he began sifting through the contents.
‘This one’s dry food, tins, stuff like that, Sir,’ said Louise. She had opened a bag and was shining the torch on her phone at the contents.
‘That can go to the food bank, in that case,’ he said.
Junk mail, freebie local newspapers, a couple of crossword books, old copies of The Times.
‘That’s what she’d bunged in the recycling,’ said Wevill. ‘Scientific went through the grey bin too, but there was nothing, just food waste.’
