For Death Comes Softly by Hilary Bonner Page A

accusing me, aren’t you?’ he said suddenly.
    â€˜No, Dr Jeffries, we don’t go around making accusations of this kind of gravity,’ I told him levelly. ‘We need to talk to everyone who would have had even the opportunity to abuse Stephen. And as his father you obviously have the maximum opportunity.’
    Richard Jeffries glanced at his wife again. For just a few seconds he looked quite frightened. Then his anger erupted.
    â€˜What the hell is going on?’ he asked suddenly. ‘This is a disgrace, Detective Chief Inspector. Look at my children, come on, see for yourself if they look abused.’
    One side of the sitting room took the form of big sliding doors. He flung them open to reveal his two children playing contentedly in a playroom which seemed to contain everything conceivable for their entertainment ranging from a Victorian rocking horse to a state-of-the-art computer.
    Stephen and Anna were sitting on the floor in the middle of a toy railway track. The boy was wearing jeans, trainers and a bright red Thomas The Tank Engine tee shirt while his younger sister was dressed ready for bed in snug-looking pink pyjamas. They both looked up and beamed at their father who introduced me and Mellor without mentioning that we were police officers.
    â€˜Come and say hello,’ said Richard Jeffries.
    Both children obediently got up from the floor and came towards us. I studied Stephen Jeffries carefully. He had the typical features of Down’s Syndrome children and, it appeared, just as Claudia Smith had told us, the typical affectionate nature.
    The boy stared at Mellor and I nervously and after taking a few uncertain steps towards us went straight to his father, took his hand, and, his shyness now overcoming him, half hid behind Dr Jeffries who spoke to him soothingly and ruffled his spiky fair hair. The little girl, as if unwilling to let her brother have all the attention, also then went to her father and grasped him by the leg.
    Jeffries, his face still pink from shock and anger, looked down at them both with fondness, and in turn the children looked up at him with what appeared to be complete adoration. Certainly it seemed to me that neither child showed any sign of awkwardness or unease with their father.
    Abruptly Richard Jeffries crouched down and put an arm around each child hugging them to him. A gesture to which they responded eagerly.
    â€˜Is this the problem, Detective Chief Inspector?’ he asked me. ‘Physical contact is particularly important to Down’s Syndrome children, perhaps you know that. I like to cuddle my children. Have we got to the stage where a man cannot do that any more? If so then I reckon we live in a pretty sick place.’
    He was obviously very distressed. To be honest, at that stage I found his reactions to be quite understandable, and also almost exactly what I would expect from an innocent man accused of something so abhorrent. But you don’t take risks with child abuse.
    â€˜It’s a little bit more than that, I’m afraid, Dr Jeffries,’ I said. Although I wasn’t entirely convinced.
    He knew the ropes of course, knew as well as I did that the next stage was for his children to be interviewed by a police officer and a social worker on video in the victim suite at Lockleaze. I had never before dealt with a suspect accused of a crime which it was part of his job to try to prevent, and I rather hoped I wouldn’t have to do so again. Certainly I had no idea whether or not he would choose to co-operate. Fortunately he did, which I suppose I might have expected. After all Richard Jeffries would be well aware how lack of co-operation could rebound and possibly result in children being judged at risk and even taken into care at a much earlier stage than would otherwise happen during an investigation. He also knew the lengths which were gone to, even if sometimes this jeopardised the construction of a case, not to upset