triumphant look appeared on Gerry’s face. ‘The car’s also registered to a Keith Marsh – same Manchester
address. Looks like we’ve found our man. I’ve asked for the phone to be brought over and I gave the hospital a call first
thing and they said Marsh was stable.’
Wesley knew that was hospital-speak for ‘no change’. But if the patient had been in the dead woman’s house, they needed him
conscious and talkative.
So far Trish had had no luck contacting the two people who’d provided Tessa Trencham’s references. However, she felt a little
more hopeful about the other avenue she was about to explore. Tessa’s dentist didn’t work on a Saturday, but it had been easy
to get his home address.
It was a routine matter and Trish wasn’t particularly optimistic that she’d learn much about the dead woman. To him she had
probably been nothing more than a set of teeth.
The dentist, Steven Bowles, lived in the village of Belsham, halfway between Neston and Morbay, in the sort of thatched cottage
that had graced a thousand chocolate boxes in days gone by. It had fresh paintwork, fashionable blinds at the small windows
and a glossy black front door flanked by a pair of bay trees.
Before ringing the doorbell, she looked around and saw the church on the opposite side of the road behind an extensive graveyard.
She knew DI Peterson’s sister wasmarried to the Vicar of Belsham and she stared at the church for a few seconds out of simple curiosity. It was very old with
the sort of pinnacle-topped tower so common in the locality. Like the cottage it was pretty, but she knew she had no time
to admire the architecture.
The door was opened by a tall man in his late twenties or early thirties. He wore his dark hair fairly long, but what Trish
noticed most about him was his eyes, which were a striking cornflower-blue. As she produced her ID and asked whether she could
have a quick word, she found herself wishing she’d taken more care over her appearance that morning.
There was a slight worried frown on his face as he stood aside to let her in.
‘It’s just routine,’ Trish said. ‘I believe you have a patient called Tessa Trencham.’
‘I have a lot of patients. I can’t remember them all.’
‘A woman was found dead at Ms Trencham’s address in Morbay yesterday. We need her dental records to confirm her identity.’
‘That shouldn’t be a problem.’
‘If she’s a patient of yours, I wonder if you can tell me anything about her. Did she talk about her family or her job?’ She
took a copy of the E-fit picture out of her bag. ‘This might jog your memory.’
As he took the picture from her, his hand brushed hers. She stood quite still and waited for him to speak.
‘It’s not very good, is it?’
‘The body had been there a while so we couldn’t really use a photo of …’
He stared at the picture for a few moments before speaking again. ‘I think she said she ran her own jewellerybusiness in a converted barn near Stoke Raphael. I’m sure I remember her saying that she was from London originally and before
she started her business she’d worked in admin or accounts or something. When she was down in London I think she had quite
a high-flying job but she came here because she wanted to get away from the rat race. The old story, eh.’ He smiled again.
He had a lovely smile, warm and sympathetic, and Trish began to wonder how easy it was to change your dentist.
‘Is there anything else you can tell me? Her date of birth? Next of kin?’
‘All her details will be at the surgery. We can go there now if you like. I’m meeting someone at two but it’s on my way.’
Trish felt the pull of temptation but she knew that, in the interests of operational efficiency, she should decline. ‘Can
you call me with the information?’ She produced her card and handed it to him. ‘And when I get details of the deceased’s dental
work to compare …’
‘Yes,
address. Looks like we’ve found our man. I’ve asked for the phone to be brought over and I gave the hospital a call first
thing and they said Marsh was stable.’
Wesley knew that was hospital-speak for ‘no change’. But if the patient had been in the dead woman’s house, they needed him
conscious and talkative.
So far Trish had had no luck contacting the two people who’d provided Tessa Trencham’s references. However, she felt a little
more hopeful about the other avenue she was about to explore. Tessa’s dentist didn’t work on a Saturday, but it had been easy
to get his home address.
It was a routine matter and Trish wasn’t particularly optimistic that she’d learn much about the dead woman. To him she had
probably been nothing more than a set of teeth.
The dentist, Steven Bowles, lived in the village of Belsham, halfway between Neston and Morbay, in the sort of thatched cottage
that had graced a thousand chocolate boxes in days gone by. It had fresh paintwork, fashionable blinds at the small windows
and a glossy black front door flanked by a pair of bay trees.
Before ringing the doorbell, she looked around and saw the church on the opposite side of the road behind an extensive graveyard.
She knew DI Peterson’s sister wasmarried to the Vicar of Belsham and she stared at the church for a few seconds out of simple curiosity. It was very old with
the sort of pinnacle-topped tower so common in the locality. Like the cottage it was pretty, but she knew she had no time
to admire the architecture.
The door was opened by a tall man in his late twenties or early thirties. He wore his dark hair fairly long, but what Trish
noticed most about him was his eyes, which were a striking cornflower-blue. As she produced her ID and asked whether she could
have a quick word, she found herself wishing she’d taken more care over her appearance that morning.
There was a slight worried frown on his face as he stood aside to let her in.
‘It’s just routine,’ Trish said. ‘I believe you have a patient called Tessa Trencham.’
‘I have a lot of patients. I can’t remember them all.’
‘A woman was found dead at Ms Trencham’s address in Morbay yesterday. We need her dental records to confirm her identity.’
‘That shouldn’t be a problem.’
‘If she’s a patient of yours, I wonder if you can tell me anything about her. Did she talk about her family or her job?’ She
took a copy of the E-fit picture out of her bag. ‘This might jog your memory.’
As he took the picture from her, his hand brushed hers. She stood quite still and waited for him to speak.
‘It’s not very good, is it?’
‘The body had been there a while so we couldn’t really use a photo of …’
He stared at the picture for a few moments before speaking again. ‘I think she said she ran her own jewellerybusiness in a converted barn near Stoke Raphael. I’m sure I remember her saying that she was from London originally and before
she started her business she’d worked in admin or accounts or something. When she was down in London I think she had quite
a high-flying job but she came here because she wanted to get away from the rat race. The old story, eh.’ He smiled again.
He had a lovely smile, warm and sympathetic, and Trish began to wonder how easy it was to change your dentist.
‘Is there anything else you can tell me? Her date of birth? Next of kin?’
‘All her details will be at the surgery. We can go there now if you like. I’m meeting someone at two but it’s on my way.’
Trish felt the pull of temptation but she knew that, in the interests of operational efficiency, she should decline. ‘Can
you call me with the information?’ She produced her card and handed it to him. ‘And when I get details of the deceased’s dental
work to compare …’
‘Yes,
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