Preface to Murder, M Morris [best selling autobiographies TXT] 📗

team had drifted in and the incident room was thick with the mingled scents of freshly brewed coffee, sweet and tangy bacon rolls and greasy jam doughnuts. Bridget took her place in front of the whiteboard, ignoring the smell of food, and quickly outlined her theory that Daniel Dunn might not be Ian’s son.

She passed the Italian photograph around for everyone to see for themselves, hoping that it wouldn’t come back to her covered in sticky fingerprints. ‘The physical similarities between Daniel Dunn and John Caldecott,’ she explained, ‘suggest that John is actually Daniel’s father.’

‘It makes sense now you say it,’ said Jake. ‘Have you noticed how clumsy Daniel can be? When we interviewed him he spilled his tea not once, but twice. Could he have inherited Huntington’s disease from his father?’

Bridget recalled the occasion when she had visited Ian Dunn’s house in Headington and Daniel had dropped his leather document folder. Clumsiness didn’t prove anything, but it was consistent with what Annabel had told her about the early stage of the degenerative disease. ‘That’s a very real possibility. Now, Diane and Annabel travelled to Italy with Ian and John during April of 1983. Daniel was born in January of 1984, nine months later. So, how does this change our view of the situation?’

‘Temptation beneath the hot Italian sun?’ said Ryan. ‘Well, it gives Ian Dunn a strong motive. If Diane cheated on him during this Italian holiday, and Daniel is really John’s son, then what might he do if he found out the truth?’

‘Even though he and Diane had been divorced for ten years?’

‘That wouldn’t necessarily soften the blow of discovery. A lie is a lie. And it’s not just about Diane’s infidelity. The son he thought was his, turns out to be another man’s. It would rock his entire world.’

‘How might he have guessed the truth, though?’ asked Bridget.

‘The same way you did, ma’am’ said Andy. ‘You only have to look at the faces of the two men to spot the similarities.’

‘I don’t know,’ said Bridget. ‘If that was the case, surely Ian would have worked it out years ago.’

‘Perhaps he had his suspicions,’ said Ffion, ‘but the first symptoms of Huntington’s disease typically don’t become apparent until your early thirties. So if Daniel’s clumsiness is only just beginning to show itself, Ian might only recently have become certain of the facts.’

‘And that would give him a strong motive for murder,’ said Jake. ‘Especially since he and Louise have been unable to have children of their own. Perhaps it isn’t Louise who suffers from infertility, but Ian. That realisation would have fuelled his resentment.’

‘Plus he’s a doctor,’ said Andy, ‘so he would certainly recognise the symptoms of Huntington’s.’

‘And,’ said Harry, looking chuffed to make a contribution, ‘as a doctor, he would have easy access to hypodermic syringes and the chemicals he needed to poison her.’

‘It’s quite possible that he still has a set of keys to Diane’s house,’ said Ffion, ‘given that he used to live there. Or he might have taken Annabel’s set.’

Bridget put up her hands to stem the flow of information. ‘I think that’s more than enough to be going on with,’ she said. ‘It’s time for another visit to Headington.’

32

When Bridget rang the bell of the ivy-clad Georgian house this time, the door was opened by Ian’s new wife, Louise Morton. Ian’s Lexus Coupé was not parked outside. Neither, for that matter, was Daniel’s Golf.

Louise didn’t look particularly pleased to see Bridget. ‘Is there something I can help you with? Only, I don’t have much time. I’m just on my way to the gym.’

Louise was clad in tight-fitting gym shorts and a cropped top that did a great job of showing off her toned physique. Bridget had often been told by Chloe that the right clothing could make flab miraculously vanish. It never seemed to work for Bridget, but in Louise’s case there didn’t seem to be any spare fat for the clothing to hide.

‘Actually, it was Ian I wanted to speak to,’ said Bridget.

‘I’m afraid he isn’t here. He took a whole week off work to support Daniel, but he thought it was time he went back. After all, it wasn’t as if he’d lost someone very close to him. He and Diane had been divorced for years.’

But married for twenty-five, thought Bridget. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I’ll find him at the hospital.’

At the John Radcliffe’s main reception desk, Bridget flashed her warrant card and was given directions to the cardiology department. She followed the signs through the corridors and up various flights of stairs. The woman at the department’s entrance desk informed her that Dr Dunn was currently with a patient but would be free to speak to her in about twenty minutes. Bridget took a seat in the waiting area and checked her phone for messages.

Inevitably there was a missed call from Vanessa. Bridget hadn’t spoken to her since they had argued about their parents. Vanessa had driven down to Lyme Regis on her own on Wednesday and had stayed for a couple of nights, firing off a stream of rebukes to Bridget by text message – ‘James is having to work from home so he can see to the children’ – ‘Mum could really use your support right now’ and so on. Vanessa had been planning to return today, and no doubt she would be full of self-righteous indignation at the sacrifices she had made on Bridget’s behalf. Bridget accessed her voicemail, bracing herself for the full impact of Vanessa’s wrath.

‘Bridget, I’ve just got back from Lyme Regis. Things are not good with Mum and Dad. Call me as soon as you get this. We need to talk urgently.’

Bridget’s heart sank. Was Vanessa exaggerating, or had the situation really deteriorated that much? When she’d spoken to her father the previous night, he’d