'It extends under the yard at the back as well as the building.' David had studied the architect's plans.
'There have to be fifty vans here, as well as the cars.' Ben eyed the Rolls-Royce, Mercedes, Alfa Romeos and BMWs lined up in front of the door that connected with Barnes Building.
'Sixty-two vans and eighteen cars.' David consulted the list a junior officer had drawn up. 'The Rolls and three other cars belong to Jack Barnes. Zee drove the gold BMW. The rest belong to the other residents. Michael Barnes also owns a van.'
'And the twelve-year-old Astra?' Ben asked. The battered, rust-spotted car was parked some distance from the Barnes's cars.
'Belongs to the night porter, Damian. Ted Levett doesn't have a car.' David waved to an officer. 'The van with the plates painted with photo-blocker is over there, ma'am.'
'The darkest corner,' Amy observed. The wall lights were low illumination and set more than five metres apart.
They headed for the van, which was parked in the furthest corner from the street exit. Spotlights had been set up around it. The bodywork glistened with fingerprint powder. Two officers suited, booted with gloves and hats were waiting, skeleton keys in hand.
'Prints?' Amy asked.
'Only smudges, ma'am.' The officer handed out sheets of paper. 'Information on the van.'
'It was reported stolen?' Ben said.
'Over a week ago.'
'But it was owned by Jack Barnes?' Ben checked.
'His company, sir.'
'Anyone notice it here before today?' Amy moved close to a spotlight and scanned the sheet.
'No one we've spoken to, ma'am.'
Amy went to the box of protective clothing and handed one suit to Ben and another to David. When they'd finished covering their clothes, she nodded to the officer holding the keys.
'The cab first, ma'am?'
'Yes.'
The officer opened the door and shone a torch inside. 'Street maps of London.' He pushed the bundle aside with his gloved hand. 'Plug in satnav, newspaper. Brown paper bag ...'
'Careful,' David warned.
'It contains a half-eaten sausage roll covered in mould, sir.'
'Anything on the floor?' Amy asked.
'Footprints, ma'am.'
'Leave them for now, we'll check the back. Dust the entire cab for prints finger, foot and swab for DNA.'
'Yes, ma'am.' The officer slammed the door and walked to the side door. He opened it and reeled back into Ben.
Ben picked up the torch the officer had dropped. He shone it into the van.
Amy had been a police officer for four years. She thought she'd seen all the horrors of life. But she'd never been faced with anything like the interior of that van.
'It's a slaughterhouse.'
Amy heard Ben but was too stunned to reply.
David Reece walked a few steps and vomited. He slumped against the wall. Tears were running down his cheeks. 'Did you see her face?' he whispered hoarsely. 'Her eyes. I've never seen such terror in a corpse's eyes.'
The barrier lifted at the entrance to the car park. The constable manning it stepped in front of the incoming car.
Ben whispered to Amy. 'Jack Barnes has arrived.'
Amy assumed command. 'Sergeant Reece, close the van. Call the pathologist and forensic teams and order them here.'
'What about formally identifying the body?' David Reece was pale, still trembling.
'The DNA of the heart delivered to Jack Barnes has been identified. The corpse in that van is female, dressed in a similar outfit to the one Zee Barnes was wearing on CCTV. The corpse's chest is open, the heart missing. All the evidence points to the body being Zee Barnes, Sergeant Reece.' Amy knew she was being unfair to David but, after seeing what was left of Zee Barnes, she was struggling to maintain her self-control.
Jack got out of the car, accompanied by his secretary, Alice, and by the police family liaison officer, Irene Conway. His face was drained of colour. His shoulders stooped. He had aged twenty years in the few hours since Amy and Ben had seen him at midday.
'Inspector Stuart?'
'You have your orders,' Ben barked at the assembled officers. They all left, including David Reece.
Amy waited until the officers were out of earshot. 'We've found your wife's body, Mr Barnes. I'm sorry ...'
'You told me you'd keep me informed of developments,' he reproached her.
'We only discovered her a few minutes ago.'
'Where?' Jack's voice was harsh.
'In this van. It's one of yours, reported stolen a week ago.'
Jack reached for the door handle. Ben caught his hand before he touched it. 'The crime scene has to be preserved for the forensic teams, sir.'
'You opened the van?' Jack challenged.
'We're wearing protective clothing and we didn't step inside,' Amy informed him.
'Have you got a suit I can wear?'
'Please, Mr Barnes, believe me, you don't want to see inside that van,' Amy pleaded.
'I have a right to see my wife.' He glared at her.
Amy realised that Jack Barnes was a powerful man who was used to getting his own way. She was sure that if she offered a platitude like 'remembering his wife the way she'd been when he'd said goodbye to her that morning', he would brush it aside, but she persisted. 'The pathologist will have to do a post mortem. The scene can't be disturbed ...'
'I have no intention of disturbing the crime scene. I only want to look at my wife.' He continued to stare at her.
After a full minute of strained tension, during which Jack didn't blink, Ben handed Jack Barnes a suit, hat, gloves, overshoes and a mask before donning a mask himself. He gave one to Amy.
Amy tried one last warning. 'Experienced officers have been affected by the sight of your wife's corpse, Mr Barnes. Are you sure you want me to open this door?'
'Get on with it.'
Chapter Twenty-one.
Alice and Irene stepped back behind Jack.
Amy tugged the handle and slid the door open.
Jack stared, wide-eyed above the white paper mask.
'Catch him, Ben,' Amy cried as Jack crumpled to his knees.
'The doctor's with Mr Barnes. His family are in the apartment with him, ma'am. Oh, and the South Wales police are on the line,' a constable informed Amy when she and Ben returned to the incident room after leaving Patrick and the forensic team in the garage.
'Put the call through to the small office,' Ben ordered.
'And ask Michael Barnes to come down here. We need to interview him again,' Amy added before following Ben.
The phone was ringing when Ben walked in. The male voice on the end of the line had a heavy Welsh accent. 'Am I talking to Sergeant Ben Miller?'
'Speaking.'
'Constable Tom Edwards. You wanted to know about the fire at Castle Owens.'
'Jack Barnes's house,' Ben checked.
'That's the one. It happened two years ago?'
'Yes. Was it caused by faulty electrical wiring?'
'The wiring that connected the pump to the boiler was the wrong grade. Suitable for lighting, not power circuits.'
'The builder was responsible?'
'Jack Barnes called Tad Moore in to renovate the place. Tad swore he'd used the right cable, but the jury didn't believe him. He was found guilty and fined.'
Ben thought he detected scepticism in Tom's voice. 'Did you believe him?'
'I've known Tad twenty years. I trusted him to rewire my mam's house, but Mam's wiring was inspected after completion. A small repair like the one in Castle Owens wasn't. Then again, Tad admitted he'd only done a temporary job. He said he intended to return the next day to finish it. That's what settled it for the jury. They decided he'd botched it. He paid his fine but was ruined. Went bankrupt. No one would employ him to tie up their roses afterwards, let alone rewire a house.'
'Jack Barnes's wife-'
'Jodie. Nice girl. Grew up in the village. She went to school with my daughter.'
'What was the cause of death?'
'Fire. Pathologist couldn't determine more. Wasn't enough left for a post mortem. They identified her from dental records. She was found on the living-room sofa. Pathologist thought she'd fallen asleep, which would explain why she didn't hear the fire alarms. It was a tragedy. She was six months pregnant. If you don't mind me asking, why are you looking into this now?'
'Jack Barnes's second wife has been murdered. She was five months pregnant.'
'I don't like coincidences. But Jack Barnes was out of the country in America when Jodie died.'
Ben thought it an odd remark for a police officer to make. 'Were there rumours?'
'There are always rumours when someone young dies unexpectedly. Jodie had just moved into the castle by herself. Some people thought it strange, given she was six months pregnant. They thought a man would want to be with his wife, especially as there was work to be done and builders to contend with. Jodie said that Jack was on a business trip but would join her later.'
'He didn't?'
'He came quickly enough after he was told she was dead. You know what gossips are.'
'Tell me,' Ben prompted.
'They thought a rich, important man like Jack Barnes, used to getting his own way, wanted to dump pregnant Jodie in the country near her family somewhere she wouldn't be able to see him playing around.'
'Castle Owens was supposed to be a weekend place, wasn't it?'
'Weekend place? It was a castle, and Jack Barnes was throwing money at it.'
Ben recalled Leila talking about Jack's wandering eye, but he also remembered the look of anguish on Jack's face when he'd seen Zee's body. That grief was real. He'd stake his career on it.
'Who reported the fire?'
'A farmer who lived a mile away. He went to check on a calf before going to bed, saw the flames and called the fire brigade. They got there too late for Jodie. There were only the stone walls of the place left. I was surprised they found her body. I would never have recognised it as human.'
'Thank you.' Ben tried to end the call.
'Before you go, Jack Barnes never rebuilt the castle. It was insured. He took the money but left the ruins. I heard the council asked him to clear the site. There's no sign of any work starting. You know anything about it?'
'Nothing.'
'If you have suspicions about Jodie Barnes's death I could call the pathologist. Old Howell wrote the report. He's retired. In fact, they brought him out to look at poor Jodie because Evans, the regular pathologist was on holiday-'
'I have no suspicions,' Ben interrupted. 'Just wanted to confirm that Jack Barnes's first wife's death was an accident.'
'Had to be. No one else was around. Lonely spot, Castle Owens.'
'Thank you for your help, Constable Edwards.'