Page 69 of Vengeance is Mine

‘Sorry, what?’

‘Since he was released from prison last spring, you’ve been calling him Dad. Now it’s Dominic again. What’s changed?’

Dawn held the hot mug in both hands. She was freezing, and it was slowly warming her up, fingers first, then hands and arms, as the warm blood started to flow through her veins. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. Her bottom lip began to wobble. ‘I suppose, if I call him by his name, then it gives me a bit of distance.’ A tear fell from her left eye. ‘It’s a lot to deal with.’

Rita put down her mug and went over to her daughter. She wrapped her arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to her chest. ‘Life is incredibly cruel at times, Dawn. We have to be on our guard, because if we take our eye off the ball for even a minute, something will come along to ruin everything.’

Dawn wiped her eyes with her coat sleeves. ‘You said something like this would happen, didn’t you? That it would all end in tears.’

‘I did.’ Rita nodded. ‘But I had no idea it would end in someone being murdered.’

Anthony Griffiths was sifting self-raising flour into a mixing bowl. He was wearing an old apron of his wife’s he hadn’t realised he’d saved. As he began to mix the ingredients, the doorbell rang.

‘Typical,’ he said to himself. He wiped his floured hands on his apron and limped to the door. His left leg had seized up slightly – the effects of the cold weather, he guessed.

‘Mr Griffiths?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m DI Braithwaite. This is DS Willis. We’re from Northumbria Police. Could we have a word?’ Terry asked.

Anthony looked at each of them in turn. They were dressed smartly in black trousers and similar overcoats. They shivered on the doorstep.

‘Oh. Yes. Of course. Come on in,’ he waffled, stepping back and letting them enter the warmth of the house. ‘Go on through to the living room, I shan’t be a moment,’ he said, as he began to untie the apron.

He went into the kitchen and turned off the oven that was pre-heating. He washed his hands and ran his bony fingers through his thinning hair before joining the police in the living room where he found them standing in the middle of the room like spare parts at a wedding reception.

‘Sit down. Please. I’m sorry, I forgot to ask if you’d like a tea or coffee or something.’

‘We’re fine, thank you,’ Terry answered for them both.

‘Are you sure? It’s very cold out.’

‘Honestly, we’re fine.’ Kyra smiled.

They both sat, and Anthony took his usual place on the armchair. ‘Sorry, I’m in a bit of a state,’ he said. ‘It would have been my wife’s birthday today. I’m making a cake. We’re having a bit of a tea later.’

‘We?’

‘Me and my granddaughter,’ he said, with a smile.

‘Mr Griffiths, I’m afraid we have some bad news,’ Kyra began.

‘Oh?’

‘Your son, Dominic, was found dead in his house this morning.’

Anthony’s mouth fell open. ‘Dead? Good grief. What happened?’

‘We think he might have disturbed a burglar,’ Kyra continued.

‘What does that mean? Did he have a heart attack or something?’

‘He was murdered, Mr Griffiths,’ Terry said. ‘He was found stabbed.’

‘Oh, good Lord,’ Anthony said, closing his eyes and sinking into his chair. Something suddenly came to him as he sat bolt upright. ‘Does Dawn know? His daughter.’

‘Ms Shepherd found him this morning,’ Kyra said.

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