Destruction of Evidence by Katherine John

ordinary that evening, it will be reported. Alun and Gillian Pitcher and their sons were popular. They had a lot of friends in this town.’
    ‘Any enemies?’ Trevor checked.
    ‘None known.’
    ‘Isn’t that odd for a businessman?’ Peter queried.
    ‘Not in this town. You won’t find anyone who’ll say a word against the Pitchers. Alun and Gillian worked tirelessly, fundraising for medical charities and the local hospice. They were also heavily involved in the community. Alun was a Freemason and chairman of the Rotary Club, Gillian was on the committee of the Amateur Dramatics Society and various Arts Clubs. Alun employed three people full-time in his business and up to a dozen part-time. Those are jobs this town can ill afford to lose. He attracted visitors from all over the country with his antique auctions. Well-heeled people who patronised the local hotels, B & Bs, pubs and restaurants. I’ve lived here two years and I’ve never heard anyone voice a complaint about Alun or the way he ran his business.’
    ‘Did this saint work for personal gain, or altruistic reasons?’ Peter asked.
    ‘As far as I and most people in this town know, Alun Pitcher was an honest hard-working businessman,’ Reggie shuffled the photographs of the cellar together and turned the page.
    ‘He could have had secrets,’ Peter persisted.
    ‘If he did, I’m not aware of them.’
    ‘They wouldn’t be secrets if you knew about them,’ Peter countered.
    Trevor frowned at him before studying a street map of the town pinned to the wall above the superintendent’s desk. He checked it against a photograph clipped to the back cover of the case file. It was a blown-up aerial shot of Main Street and the thoroughfares in the immediate vicinity. ‘Is the lane at the back of the terrace busy?’
    ‘No. It’s too narrow to be a short-cut even at peak traffic times,’ Reggie explained. ‘There are passing places but for most of its length it’s barely the width of one vehicle. In my experience it’s only used by those who have reason to call at the back of one of the houses.’
    ‘But delivery vans use it when they visit the pub. And the furniture in Alan Pitcher’s cellar must have been brought in by van,’ Trevor mused.
    ‘Alan’s van. The back lane isn’t one-way or little known if that’s what you’re implying,’ Reggie interposed. ‘Everyone in town knows about it as well as tradesmen, builders, delivery van drivers, window cleaners – the list is endless.’ Reggie turned to a plan of the ground floor of the Pitcher house. ‘We’ve a lot to cover in this briefing. The next plan is of the office floor. Front door opens from the street into a small hallway. Directly opposite the front door, as you step inside, is the staircase that leads up to the Pitchers’ family living quarters. The only door other than the front leads to an inside hall, office suite and staircase that connects down to the cellar. The first firemen on the scene went around the back because that’s where the fires had been sighted.’
    ‘Fires?’ Trevor checked.
    ‘The witness reported seeing flames in the attic windows and minutes later the kitchen, two floors below. The first tender to arrive went into the yard and the officers fought the fires at the back of the house. The officers in the second fire tender axed the front door so they could get their hoses inside the house. The ground floor was full of smoke that had come up from the cellar and down from the kitchen but nothing on that level was actually burning. The office door was locked with no signs of forced entry.’
    ‘Can we move on to the crime scene?’ Trevor set the photographs that had been taken of the cellar and office floor aside and turned to the plan of the floor above. Peter and Reggie followed suit.
    ‘The Pitchers’ kitchen is at the back of the house above the office suite, the drawing room at the front above the hall. There is a windowless cloakroom off the passage that