Nine:
Decimation

She was running late; Daisy had woken up with a fever (but it had gone down with medicine), one of the cats had left a trail of mouse bits across the kitchen, the car had decided not to start, and just as she was finally making it through the pods, Ruth's phone rang. "Hello?" she snapped after she fumbled for the phone.

"Hello, Mrs. Evershed, this is DCI Jameson from Cheltenham North…"

"Uh, yes, what can I help you with, sir?" Ruth asked, settling in at her desk.

"We received a report of a foul odor emanating from the house that you and your husband own in Cheltenham from one of the neighbors," Jameson said cautiously.

"Oh, was it Mrs. Randolph? She's a right snoop," Ruth sighed, starting in on the pile of files.

"We found a body in the house; it is your husband, based on dental records, but I need you to come identify the corpse."

Ruth said, "Are you – I just – I spoke to him on the phone a couple of days ago. Can you send me photos? I'm in London and I –"

"Mrs. Evershed, the manner of death is quite…"

"I just got to work," she said. "I'll… I'll get there somehow. Thank you for calling." She hung up and just sat there, staring at the pile of things in front of her.

"Ruth, briefing," Zoe said.

Ruth looked up at her and nodded, picking up the files and following her mutely into the conference room. She organized her files and made no comment when Harry said, "I'm thrilled you decided to join us, Ruth –"

The briefing was almost over when Ruth realized she hadn't heard a word of it, and everyone was looking at her. Her face flushed and she murmured, "I'm sorry, I – my mind is somewhere else. What were you saying?"

"Ruth, you haven't heard a thing?" Danny asked.

Harry was looking at her with some concern, and she shoved the files into the center of the table. "I'm sure you can find something in there," she said, "to answer your questions. I – I need to go." She stood up.

"You can't just leave," Tom said. "Sit down."

She heard the implied threat in his tone and did just as he ordered. She tried to focus, but it was nearly impossible. Everyone took a file from her pile and began skimming. Her hands were shaking so hard she dropped hers, with a loud curse of, "THING!" And when she tried to fix things, she cut her finger wide open on the file binder itself.

She got up and raced out of the room, to her desk, grabbing her coat and her purse. Harry was right behind her, and he said, "RUTH –"

"I have to go, Harry – I have to go now," she said.

"Ruth, tell me what's going on," he implored. Tom and Zoe appeared behind him, followed by Danny. "Please – what's wrong?"

"Everything," Ruth whispered. "Everything's wrong – I have to go. I have to get to Cheltenham." She didn't mean to be deliberately misleading, or deliberately oblique, but she couldn't use her words at the moment. Everything was a jumble in her head and everything she might have said kept coming to her in Greek, then resolved itself in French.

"Ruth, what happened?" Danny asked.

She began hesitantly, her words tumbling over themselves in French, faster and faster as she spat them out, her voice raising and her heart breaking a thousand times as the others looked at her with blank expressions. Sam came out of nowhere and said, "Her husband is dead. They need her to ID the body. She's had the bloody worst morning and her car won't start, so she's got to take a train and she doesn't know if she's got enough money on her for a ticket."

Ruth's shoulders slumped in defeat and she shrugged her coat on. "Harry, I'm sorry, but I've got to go," she insisted, her voice low and hoarse after her outburst. "I'm of no use to you right now."

"How are you going to get there?" Tom asked.

"I don't know," Ruth sighed. "I just – I have to –"

Harry sighed. "You have to go," he supplied.

"Yes. I'm sorry."

"What about your children?" Zoe spoke up. "Aren't they in school?"

Ruth blanched, feeling suddenly ill and upset and not knowing how she could possibly break it to the girls that their father was dead. "Yes – I – I don't know."

Malcolm spoke up softly, "Ruth, I can pick them up from school and they can spend the night at mine with Mother and I if you don't make it back on time."

She looked at him gratefully. "Oh, Malcolm, they would love that –"

Harry said, "Tom, do you think you can manage without me for a day?"

"Harry, no, you can't," Ruth protested. "You're needed here."

"We'll manage," Tom said. "I'll take your meetings today."

"Harry," Ruth said. "No –"

He shook his head and said, "Ruth, you need a ride and there's no reason to fret about a train when I have a perfectly good saloon in the car park."

"Yes, but –"

Zoe interjected, "Harry just doesn't think you should be driving when you're upset. I can't say I blame him. I wouldn't want to go that far by myself after someone close to me died –"

Ruth nodded stiffly, seeing her point. "All right," she finally said.

Harry went to his office and got his things, then met her by the pods. "Ruth, I'm sorry," Danny spoke up. "For your loss, I mean."

"Don't be," she said. "He was a bastard."


She looked at the body, frowning for a long time. There was a hole through his head and she regarded it dispassionately. It was definitely Gareth, and she felt the urge to kick him. "Yes," she said, her tone clipped. "This is Gareth Patrick Evershed." She paused. "How did he die?"

"Self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head," the coroner said simply. "Jameson wants to ask you some questions if you feel able."

She nodded. "Yes, of course," she said. "But my boss stays in the room with me."

"Right," Harry agreed.

"Jameson is waiting outside," the coroner said, gesturing at the door.

Harry put his arm around her protectively as they walked through to the corridor. Ruth wanted to lean against him, but to do so was to invite speculation about their relationship and she knew she shouldn't so soon after Gareth's death.

"Mrs. Evershed, I'm DCI Richard Jameson," a man said. "I just need to ask you a few questions."

"Routine or specific?" Harry spoke up.

"Sir, I don't think –"

"Harry Pearce, Security Services," Harry said firmly. "Ruth Evershed is my employee and as such, I must be in her presence for all police inquiries due to the Official Secrets Act."

Ruth sighed. "Can I get a cup of tea, please? Or something?"

"Of course, Mrs. Evershed – Nancy, can you get a cup of tea for Mrs. Evershed, please? We'll be in my office."

Once she was settled in a comfortable chair, Jameson said, "As you've seen, your husband died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head sometime on Wednesday evening. Had you been in contact with him recently? Public records have your divorce finalized 17 days from today –"

"I spoke to him on Tuesday," Ruth said quietly. "He'd just gotten fired for losing over ten million pounds in one failed venture. He was, understandably, rather upset. We argued about whether or not we should go through with the divorce, and he made the comment that I'd be better off if he just died. I didn't realize he meant to do it."

"Had he made any plans to see you or your children?" Jameson asked.

She sighed. "He kept making plans and breaking them. The girls have stopped expecting him to appear."

"As a matter of formality, I have to enquire as to your whereabouts on Wednesday evening," Jameson said in an apologetic tone.

"I had choir practice," Ruth said automatically. "In London. About forty people can corroborate that, not including my daughters – they were in the pews, listening and playing Nintendo DS."

Jameson nodded, scribbled a few notes, and said, "In light of what looks to be a suicide, we're ready to close the file and release your husband's body to the funeral parlor of your choice."

"I… I don't know," Ruth said. "I'm sorry, I haven't ever had to plan a funeral –"

"How about we send him to Fellers?" Jameson suggested. "It's the one that we use for police and military funerals."

She nodded. "All right," she agreed.

Harry passed his card to Jameson. "Any other enquiries should be directed to me first," he said firmly. He led Ruth out of the police station into the sunshine, and said, "Are you all right?"

She shrugged and said, "I can't believe he'd just kill himself."

"It sounds like he had reason," Harry said with a sigh. "His marriage was ending, his job was gone –"

She frowned. "Don't defend him."

"I'm not defending anyone."

She reached over and held his hand. "It just seems… pointless and selfish. Like he couldn't think about his children or what it would do to them."

"Ruth, when you're in that dark place, nothing matters but making the darkness go away," Harry said softly. "He did what he thought he must."

"Maybe so," she murmured, "but what do I tell the girls? He's dead and he didn't care what happened to them? How it would hurt them?" She shook her head. "My father died when I was Rose's age."

"My mother died when I was about that age, too," Harry sighed. "I'm sorry, Ruth –"

"No, don't be," she said. "I just – I worry about them. They're my children and they've been all I've had to worry over for a long time. I love them and I want them happy and healthy," she added.

"You're the best mum I've ever seen," he said gently. "But every child must grow up sooner or later. You can't hide them from life, Ruth."

She nodded and closed her eyes for a moment. "I need to go by the house," she said quietly. "I'm sure we'll have to start packing things and cleaning and getting everything ready to be sold, but the girls will want some of their things."

"Of course," he said. "And then we can start back to London –"

"I need to go tell mum, too. So she can help with the funeral."

Harry stopped and she kept going, snapping back when she realized he'd stopped. "Ruth, he wasn't a good man, but he was your husband. You haven't shed a tear –"

She said, "He raped me. Do you think he's going to paradise for it? Because I'm glad he's dead. He can't hurt me again, Harry."

Harry sighed. "That isn't true – you live with the knowledge that you survived every day with him," he pointed out. "You'll never forget."

"No," she agreed. "I won't forget."


Harry followed her into the spacious front room, looking at the huge paintings and expensive pieces of art in the waning light. She flipped a switch and light flooded the room. She flinched, seeing blood and brains blown out all over a Ming vase and the white wall. "God," she breathed. "I need to get the cleaners in here – the rug needs to go and…"

"I'll make arrangements," Harry promised.

"You don't have to."

He sighed. "Ruth –"

"I'm going to go upstairs and get the things for the girls," she said. "And then we can go."

She whirled around the bedrooms, gathering things in plastic bin bags. She eventually sat down in the middle of Rose's bedroom and just cried. She cried for what had happened and what hadn't happened. She cried for what seemed like forever, but then it was over.

Ruth looked up and saw Harry in the doorway. She swiped at her eyes and murmured, "I'm ready to go now."

"Ruth, I am sorry –"

She nodded and sighed. "Me, too," she whispered. "For so many things, I am sorry."

END PART NINE