Indefensible (DI Sara Ramsey Book 12) M Comley (read dune .txt) 📖

Lorraine’s eyes. She shrugged and turned her attention back to walking through the bungalow, searching for clues.

Two white-suited SOCO techs were in the lounge, photographing the open drawers and the mess on the floor. “Tell me to do one if I get in the way, just having a nosy, if you don’t mind?”

“Feel free, we’re almost done here,” one of the men said, clicking away on his camera.

“Anything standing out to you?” Sara rooted around on the floor and examined a few bits of scrap paper with her gloved hand. Nothing to be seen there apart from a few shopping and a couple of to-do lists, in amongst other reminders the old lady had jotted down.

“Her handbag is over there, beside her chair, we’ve got to bag it up. I had a quick peek and her purse appears to be missing.”

“Figures, it wouldn’t be a burglary without some money going missing, would it?”

“Yeah, I suppose. In the bedroom, there’s a shoebox that’s been tampered with; it’s lying on the bed, its contents spilled on the quilt.”

“I’ll go take a look. Sickening, right, chaps?”

Both men agreed with a sharp nod of their hooded heads.

She stepped back into the hallway and went to the back of the house. Sara poked her head into one room. It was a small boxroom with a single bed and a dressing table off to the side. Nothing to see there. No sign of disruption, so she carried on to the room next door.

Shaking her head, she ventured into the room, disgusted that the woman’s personal belongings had been rummaged through. Had this happened before or after she was murdered?

She crossed the room to the bed and, using her phone, she took a photo of the spilled contents from the box, which contained Val’s personal paperwork, including her birth and marriage certificates. Had the burglar been interested in identity fraud, they would have snatched those without a moment’s hesitation. It was another significant piece of the puzzle in Sara’s eyes.

There was a small bundle of receipts, maybe from the gifts she’d bought for her family at Christmas in case any of them wanted to exchange them for something else. There was also a pretty beaded bracelet which had more than likely been a gift from her granddaughter when she was younger. Lovely to keep as a memento. Other than that, there was very little else left in the box. Sara couldn’t help wondering if the woman had kept money in there for any form of emergency, such as paying an extra heating bill in the sharpest of winters.

She glanced around the rest of the room and was drawn to the wardrobe on the far wall. Both doors were wide open and some of Val’s clothes were strewn across the floor. She searched the interior, hoping some form of clue would smack her in the face. It didn’t. By the look of things, the killer had taken all they needed and left only the victim’s clothes behind, having no use for the old woman’s taste in fashion.

Sara sighed. Why? Why kill a defenceless old lady nearing the end of her life? Why not take what you wanted, you bastard, and leave her alive?

Feeling sick to her stomach and with more questions than answers rattling around in her head, she said farewell to the SOCO techs and left the house. Carla was waiting in the car for her. Sara stripped off her suit and threw it in the black bag by the front door and then climbed in the car beside her partner. “Everything all right?”

“As right as it can be. I thought I’d leave you to it. Couldn’t stand going back in the house, knowing that the old lady suffered horribly before she died.”

“I get that. On the plus side, her purse is missing. Maybe the perp will slip up and use her bank card in the next few days.”

“If she had one. Is it likely, if she kept other funds at her house? Most old people have a distinct lack of trust for banks, in my experience.”

Sara started the engine and blew out a frustrated breath. “You could be right. You know what? I detest this killer so much already.”

“Me too. Attacking old women in their homes is the lowest of the low in my opinion. Scumbag!”

“I can probably conjure up a few worse names to call them, if I wasn’t so tired. I’m going to suggest we call it a day for now. We’ve both been putting in extra hours lately, the last thing I want to do is screw this case up through tiredness, especially when it involves one of our own.”

“I agree. It would have been different if the neighbours had seen anything for us to go on, but they didn’t. Right from the word go we’re up against it, aren’t we?”

“So it would seem.”

Sara dropped Carla back to her car at the station and drove home. She entered the house at ten-thirty to find only Misty, the cat, there to greet her. She swept her four-legged friend up into her arms for a cuddle. Misty rubbed her head under Sara’s chin and purred loudly. “I bet you’re hungry. Let’s see what we can find for you.”

She reflected on how sad her day had been as she carried Misty into the kitchen and opened the cupboard next to the sink. “Ah-ha, I spy with my little eye a tin of tuna with your name written on it, my little princess.” She popped Misty on the floor and opened the tin. After pouring the contents into the cat bowl, she watched contentedly as Misty tucked in.

“Now, I wonder what’s on the menu for us.” She pulled open the oven door to find it empty and then searched the fridge to find that almost bare. She lifted the egg box, and it was heavy. “Looks like it’ll be omelette for dinner then.” She withdrew the last of the mushrooms and the remainder of the peppers lying