In the Light of Madness by In The Light Of Madness Page B

excused himself to join Dolby. Wednesday wasted no time.
“I couldn’t help but notice some carved scratches and letters in the arms of the chair you’re sitting in, as well as some dents in the doors. Did Tom do these?”
Emily shuffled forward and perched on the edge of her seat, her foot twitching rapidly. She looked towards the kitchen then back to Wednesday.
“He had the devil in him at times,” she said in a hushed voice.
Wednesday beckoned her to continue whilst she began scribbling in her notebook.
“He would have terrible fights with his father, and he was often disrespectful towards me.”
“What were the fights about?”
“Anything and everything. Times to be home by; where he could go and with whom.”
Thus far, it all sounded like normal parent and teenager issues, but Wednesday felt there was more to it. “Would the fights get physical between Tom and his father?”
Again, Emily’s gaze shifted to the kitchen then back to Wednesday.
“Only once, a couple of weeks ago. James slapped Tom and Tom retaliated by throwing the crystal fruit bowl, hence the dent in the door.”
“What happened afterwards?”
“Tom stormed out and James shut himself away in his study.”
“What did you do whilst all this was going on?”
Emily Dolby’s shoulders sagged further as she recollected. “I tried to intervene at first, but James pushed me away. They couldn’t hear me over their shouting.”
“Where did Tom go?”
“I don’t know, he never told us.”
Wednesday was just about to ask more probing questions when Lennox and James re-entered the room, armed with a cup of tea for Emily which he put on the table next to her.
Wednesday opened up the conversation again by asking James what his relationship was like with his son. James looked intently at his wife before he asked why she needed to know.
“Your wife was telling me about the tension between you and Tom.”
“We had our ups and downs.” He took a sip of tea then sat back in the armchair. The glow from the fire highlighted the crevices etched around his eyes and his mouth. Emily’s foot twitched more frantically and she had resorted to staring into her teacup; a self-imposed exile from the rest of the group.
“I’m not sure where this is leading, Detective. Are you implying that I had something to do with my son’s murder?”
“I’m merely gathering background information to piece together Tom’s movements and behaviour the last time you saw him.”
“He’d been at school then he said he’d got some project to work on with that Giles boy. He went there and we never saw him again.”
“That wasn’t mentioned before,” said Wednesday, flicking through her notes.
“Well excuse me for being distracted from the details by my son’s death, Detective.” His face flushed as he rose to his feet.
“No one is blaming you.” Lennox spoke calmly, remaining seated.
“She does. She blames me,” replied James, gesticulating in the direction of his wife. His eyes were bulging and he was sweating profusely.
Wednesday willed Emily to speak out to reassure her clearly distraught husband. Her silence had the disastrous affect of squeezing his heart until it pounded so hard it looked like he was on the verge of having a heart attack.
“Mrs Dolby, your husband looks unwell,” prompted Wednesday.
Finally, Emily Dolby found the words to say. “No one is to blame. It was God’s will. Tom wasn’t right for this world.”
“What the bloody hell are you babbling on about, woman?” James shouted as he paced up and down in front of the wood burner, holding a hand over his heart, as though preventing it from launching out of his chest.
“Please Mr and Mrs Dolby; this is a highly emotive time. You need to support one another, fighting is too destructive.” Wednesday had risen to her feet and was guiding James back to his chair. He was compliant but shrugged his shoulders to rid himself of her touch.
Lennox proceeded to ask questions about Tom’s life out of