The Dead Wife. Sue FortinЧитать онлайн книгу.
and fuller investigation. Despite countless requests to Cumbria Police to reopen my daughter’s case, and letters from my solicitor, Cumbria Police have refused to do so, citing not enough new evidence to warrant the case being reopened.
As a mother, I cannot let this matter rest until it has been fully investigated again and I would urge you to sign this petition to help me gain the publicity I need to apply enough pressure on the police to reopen the case.
Thank you.
Sonia Lomas
Steph’s stomach gave another roll of anticipation. This Sonia Lomas was serious; she wasn’t a crank at all. She was a mother fighting for her daughter’s memory. Steph couldn’t help comparing her own mother to Sonia Lomas and instantly wished she hadn’t. It struck a painful chord – Wendy was so out of tune with motherhood. Steph pushed the comparison away and typed ‘Elizabeth Sinclair’ in the search bar.
The story of Elizabeth’s death was towards the end of the page and it gave a few more details. Steph picked up her pen and notebook from the coffee table and made some notes.
Elizabeth Sinclair
30
Married to Harry Sinclair
No children
Born in London. Mother – Sonia Lomas, Care Assistant, Hackney
No siblings
Father? Not mentioned
2 years ago – found unconscious – died later in hospital
She then searched the name Harry Sinclair. Steph knew the Sinclair family had a large estate in the north-west of England which was a holiday resort centre, and was aware of the backstory, how their great-great-grandfather had won another man’s estate during a game of poker back in the early 1900s. The family had managed to hold on to their position, wealth and prosperity through two world wars and several recessions. The younger generation of the Sinclair family consisted of three brothers who had managed to turn what had become a failing business into a highly successful company. Max Sinclair had inherited the home, which had been in disrepair after years of financial pressure. He had turned the fortunes of the Sinclairs around by developing the 150-acre site into a commercial high-end woodland-activity-type business. Max’s vision had been much more upmarket, and the log cabins inspired by his time working on a ranch in Texas where he’d met his wife-to-be, Prudence Cutchins. When his sons had come on board their vision had broadened the estate further and encompassed not only all things outdoors but water sports, rock climbing, mountain-bike trails, hiking and a health spa.
This was as much as Steph knew from her time living in the Kendalton area and from her briefing with her boss, Tim, about her assignment. Now she needed to dig deeper with her research. The next person to check out was the husband himself, Harry Sinclair.
This proved harder than she expected. There was next to nothing on the internet about Harry Sinclair. There were a few photographs of him and his brothers, sometimes with his mother in shot, standing outside a stately-looking home which would be worthy of Downton Abbey status. The three brothers looked very striking, all sharing their mother’s dark hair; the older two had theirs cut short, while Owen, the youngest brother, wore his a little longer, which reminded Steph of some sort of art-student type. Dominic and Owen were smiling, whereas Harry’s expression was sombre. Steph checked the date of the photograph. It was six months ago, so that also made it a little over eighteen months since his wife had died, in which case he was excused for looking pretty miserable. Although, as she looked at the photograph again, she wasn’t sure if miserable was the right word. He looked more … serious … moody even.
Steph read some of the articles about the resort the family had opened, but there was very little personal information.
Eventually, she came across an online local newspaper which had reported the death of Elizabeth Sinclair. It wasn’t much, but it did give a little more information. It would seem Elizabeth had taken the family dog for a walk which was later found wet and covered in mud. It was assumed that the dog had gone into the water and Elizabeth had taken it upon herself to rescue the much-loved pooch but had become entangled in the weeds just below the surface.
After another half an hour of searching, Steph surveyed her notes.
Harry Sinclair
Middle brother – 35
Widower
Stays out of the limelight
No comments found concerning the death of his wife
Dominic Sinclair – named after GGG
Older brother – 37
Director
Driving force of the company
Attends lots of business and social functions
Divorced – 1 child – 15, boy – with former wife
Another child – 7 – with current partner – Lisa – together 10 years
Property in South of France
Lives in private lodge in the grounds of resort
Comment re death of SIL – Very much missed by us all. We are all in shock.
Owen Sinclair
Youngest of three brothers – 32
Director
Married – Natalie (27)
3 children – twin boys aged 3 and daughter aged 5
Pru Sinclair
Mother
Director – 68 years old
Widow. Husband died 2014
Formidable. Public speaking
Involved with lots of charities and local businesses
Comment re death of DIL – Deeply saddened. Elizabeth the daughter I never had.
It didn’t scream murder to Steph but she knew she wouldn’t be able to leave this alone now. Something was urging her on – journalistic gut instinct? She wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t going to ignore it.
She was about to close the article when the bottom paragraph caught her attention. The air was knocked from her lungs and her heart thudded against her chest wall.
‘Bloody hell.’
She peered closer to the screen as if to make certain she was reading it correctly. She read each word with precision.
There had been speculation that Elizabeth Sinclair had been having an affair but police dismissed this notion. DCI Wendy Lynch of Cumbria Police issued a statement that there was no suggestion whatsoever that these rumours were in fact anything other than local tittle-tattle, which was completely insensitive to the family’s current circumstances and in particular to Mr Harry Sinclair himself. Lynch went on to request that the family’s privacy was respected at this difficult time.
Steph picked up the phone and called her mother – DCI Wendy Lynch.
Brighton, Monday, 6 May, 8.30 p.m.
Frustratingly, Steph’s call to her mother went to answerphone. She left a brief message, asking her mother to ring her in connection with the death of Elizabeth at Conmere. Steph had decided to keep it brief; she didn’t feel the need to elaborate, as her mother would, no doubt, recall the case.
She picked up the tub of ice cream, which had defrosted to the point that calling it ice cream was almost criminal, but nevertheless she managed to secure a spoonful of the cookie-dough mixture on the spoon. It struck Steph as strange that Wendy had never mentioned