Next was the preparatory act, the meeting with Greg Tandy, a man out on licence after serving a sentence for firearms offences. That still begged many questions, not least what the meeting had been about. While the police suspected Tandy of supplying the gun to the brothers, it was only a suspicion, no hard evidence to support it.
Much stronger was the forensic evidence: gunshot residue on the clothing of both suspects indicated the use of a firearm. No time could categorically be given as to when the gun had been fired but Gill was sure that they would be able to secure expert opinion that, taking into account the amount of particles found, the incident had been recent, a matter of days rather than weeks or months.
The presence of petrol traces, in significant amounts, on the jeans and trainers of the brothers, petrol containing the same additives as in that used to start the fire, while not conclusive was persuasive evidence. They shared everything, she thought, the gunshots, one each, taking turns, chucking the petrol about. In it together.
What was still missing was motive. No known link between the parties. Could it be a stranger murder? They often occurred as a result of fights, fuelled by booze, testosterone and rampant stupidity. Men were twice as likely to be the victims. Or predator killings. Was this one of those? She would talk to Lee again about the psychology of the crime. He could do the next interview with Noel if Janet was still off. Focus on that line of questioning for a while.
Gill stretched her arms, reaching up towards the ceiling, flexing her fingers. She checked the time, texted Sammy that she wasn’t sure when she’d be home and not to save her any casserole, then she began to type up her report.
Rachel was on the doorstep, looking slightly sheepish.
‘I wasn’t sure whether to come,’ she said. ‘If now is not good-’
‘No, come in,’ Janet said, glad to see her.
‘Sure?’
‘Yes.’
Taisie bobbed out from the kitchen. ‘Hi, Rachel.’
‘All right. How you doing?’ Rachel said.
Taisie adored Rachel, had a girl crush on her, and clung like a limpet whenever Rachel called round.
‘I’m good.’ Taisie nodded. ‘I’m in the school play. And I got on the football team.’
‘Get you!’ Rachel said and Taisie beamed and blushed; all the mardy, awkward, bolshie side of her had disappeared.
‘Who is it?’ Janet’s mum came into the hall from the lounge. ‘Oh,’ her voice fell with disappointment. If Taisie thought Rachel was the bee’s knees, Dorothy thought she was a walking disaster.
‘It’s Rachel, Mum.’ Dorothy just didn’t get the friendship. Not that Janet did all the time. She and Rachel didn’t always see eye to eye on things. They were at different stages of life, different backgrounds, but something just clicked.