Chapters (51)
- Cover
- Dead in Devon
- DEDICATION
- CONTENTS
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- PROLOGUE
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
- CHAPTER NINETEEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
- CHAPTER THIRTY
- CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
- CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FORTY
- CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- By Stephanie Austin
- COPYRIGHT
Anyway, during all these deliberations, I had a phone call from a Mr Young, from the firm of Young, Young, Grantham and Young, Solicitors, based in Exeter. I wondered if Mr Grantham felt outnumbered but I didn’t ask.
‘It is rather a delicate matter.’ Mr Young sounded awkward. ‘I understand that you were the late Mr Nickolai’s cleaning lady?’
‘I worked for him, yes.’
‘Well, now that Mr Nickolai’s body has been released for burial—’
‘Has it? But … surely, the case isn’t closed?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t say that any murder case is closed until the perpetrator is apprehended,’ Mr Young replied pedantically, ‘but the police are satisfied that all … er … necessary forensic evidence is safely in their possession … and nothing more can be got from the crime scene. Therefore, there is no reason why poor Mr Nickolai cannot be laid to rest.’
‘I see.’ It seemed very odd to me, when his murderers were not only still at large but still murdering, but I suppose poor Nick’s body couldn’t tell the police any more than they already knew.
‘The funeral is next Thursday,’ Mr Young went on. ‘His family will be coming down before—’
‘His family,’ I repeated. ‘You mean, his children?’
‘That’s right. His daughter, Mrs Helena Burgoyne and her husband, and his son, Mr Richard …’
‘Nice of them to turn up for his funeral!’ I blurted out. ‘Pity they couldn’t visit him when he was alive.’
Mr Young made shocked harrumphing noises at the end of the phone. ‘I … er … understand that family relations were strained.’
‘They were non-existent as far as I can see.’ They hadn’t even turned up for the inquest. Their father had been murdered, didn’t they care what had happened to him? Weren’t they even curious?
‘Indeed. However,’ he went on hastily, ‘we are hardly in a position to judge.’
I didn’t agree but didn’t argue.
Mr Young coughed uncomfortably. ‘I understand they will be putting up at The Dartmoor Lodge, but of course they will wish to visit Mr Nickolai’s home. And as his death was in such extremely distressing circumstances, Mr Young − old Mr Young, that is − thought the experience would be less unpleasant for the family if the flat had already been … er … cleaned up.’
‘Cleaned up?’ I repeated.
‘We have a key to the property and we wondered if you might be prevailed upon to clean up the relevant … er … for a fee, of course.’
‘You mean, clean up the scene of the murder?’
‘To spare the family any suffering …’
‘But surely, the police …?’
‘No, no, a common misapprehension, apparently. Once the police have removed the forensic materials that they consider crucial, from an evidence point of view, any … er … residual … cleaning … is left to the victim’s family, or a neighbour … or someone like yourself.’