Road Closed E-Book

Leigh Russell

• Herausgeber: No Exit Press
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Serie: A DI Geraldine Steel Thriller
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2010

Seitenzahl: 456

Beschreibung

The second in the detective series featuring DI Geraldine Steel ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 'I really enjoy this author, once you start reading you can't put down' Amazon customer ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 'Leigh always writes books I get lost in and the Geraldine Steel series is just fabulous!' Beyond The Books 'A well-written, soundly plotted, psychologically acute story'Marcel Berlins, The Times When a man dies in a gas explosion, the police suspect arson. The Murder Investigation Team are called in to investigate. The case takes on a new and terrible twist when a local villain is viciously attacked. As the police enquiries lead from the expensive Harchester Hill estate to the local brothel, a witness dies in a hit-and-run. Was it coincidence - or cold-blooded murder?

Leseprobe

Contents

Title PageDedicationAcknowledgementsGlossary of acronymsPART 11: Intruders2: Funeral3: Sophie4: Dubrovnik5: Market6: Brenda7: Second Attempt8: Night9: Summons10: DCI11: Mortuary12: Widow13: Interviews14: Plan15: HangoverPART 216: Security17: Market Trader18: Pretence19: Papers20: Candle Sticks21: Mother-In-Law22: Son23: Glass Cutter24: Alibi25: Witness26: Suspect27: News28: Recognition29: Bronxy30: Careless Talk31: DisappointmentPART 332: Update33: Shock34: Saturday Night35: Attack36: Passerby37: Briefing38: Ray39: Victims40: Curry House41: Visitor42: Supper43: FirePART 444: Arson45: Hotel46: Sandmouth47: Panic48: Hit And Run49: Body50: Scene Of Crime51: Gossip52: Injured53: Car54: HospitalPART 555: Lagoon56: Excelsior57: Suspicion58: Moving On59: Danger60: Home61: Arrest62: Realisation63: Candles64: Life65: FriendsAlso by the same authorCopyright

CRITICAL ACCLAIM FOR LEIGH RUSSELL

'taut and compelling' - Peter James

'Leigh Russell is one to watch' - Lee Child

'Leigh Russell has become one of the most impressively dependable purveyors of the English police procedural' - Marcel Berlins, Times

'A brilliant talent in the thriller field.' - Jeffery Deaver

ROAD CLOSED

LEIGH RUSSELL

Dedicated to

Michael, Jo and Phill

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank Dr Leonard Russell for his medical advice, Derrick Pounder, Professor of Forensic Medicine at the University of Dundee, for his expert help, Robert Dobbie of the British Transport Police for his support, the Red Watch team at Harrow Fire Station for their time, Keshini Naidoo for her guidance, my agent, David Marshall, for his invaluable assistance, Annette Crossland for her inspiring enthusiasm, and all the team at No Exit Press.

Glossary of acronyms

DCI-Detective Chief Inspector (senior officer on case)DI-Detective InspectorDS-Detective SergeantDC-Detective ConstablePC-Police Constable (in uniform)SIO-Senior Investigating Officer (here the DCI)SOCO-Scene of Crime Officers (collect forensic evidence at scene)PM-Post-Mortem or Autopsy (examination of dead body to establish cause of death)MO-Medical OfficerCCTV-Closed Circuit Television (security cameras)

PART 1

‘All things that we clasp and cherish,Pass like dreams we may not keep.’

Heinrich Heine

1

Intruders

The glass cutter made a soft scratching sound. Slowly Cal dislodged the panel with the tips of his gloved fingers and reached in to undo the window catch. His companion’s lanky frame hovered awkwardly on the sill as he swung his legs over. A flash of torchlight revealed they were in a kitchen.

‘Hungry?’ Ray grinned and nodded at a packet of chocolate Hobnobs beside the kettle. Cal put his finger to his lips. Ray instantly froze, his eyes wary. The distant hum of a car was carried in on the breeze from the open window. Inside the house all was quiet. They made their way into a broad hallway. Cal squinted up at his companion, then turned and led the way up the stairs.

Silence.

They went into a study. The beam from Cal’s torch hovered over a desk. Ray seized a digital camera and shoved it into a khaki bag slung across his shoulder. The top drawer of the desk was locked. Cal bent down and picked at the catch with practised fingers. It slid open with a click.

‘Jackpot,’ he whispered with barely concealed excitement. He drew out a leather jewellery case and opened the lid. They caught a glimpse of stones, glittering red and green and white.

‘Is it the real thing?’ Ray’s hood had fallen back to reveal a mess of sandy coloured hair above bulging watery eyes.

‘Let’s get it home for a closer look.’

As they made their way back to the stairs, Ray grabbed Cal’s arm.

‘What?’

‘Thought I heard footsteps.’ They stared at one another, straining to hear. The house was quiet. They edged forwards. The bag jingled softly on Ray’s back. They reached a bend on the landing, and a voice startled them.

‘Elliot? Is that you, Elliot?’

At the same time, the overhead light flicked on, making them blink. An old lady was standing in front of them, her figure silhouetted in an open doorway. She gasped audibly as she took in the two figures staring at her across the landing. ‘Who are you?’ she rasped. Her eyes glared wildly at them. One hand was pressed against her chest, the other pushed at the door. Cal leapt forward and seized the old woman by the arm. ‘I’m calling the police,’ she faltered, but her legs buckled.

‘Shit,’ Ray cried out. ‘She’s seen us. Let’s get out of here.’

‘First things first.’ Cal lifted the woman off her feet. Shouldering Ray to one side, he strode past, and hurled his burden with a grunt. They watched her crumple and disappear backwards down the stairs.

A few muffled thumps.

Silence.

‘What did you do that for?’ Ray’s face was rigid with terror.

‘Stupid cow shouldn’t have put the light on. Don’t worry,’ Cal grinned. ‘She can’t identify us now. Come on, retard, let’s get out of here.’

A shudder ran through Ray’s long frame. He leapt forward and bounded down the stairs. His boot accidentally kicked the woman who lay, motionless, at the foot of the stairs. Her body jolted at the impact. Charging down behind Ray, Cal almost tripped over her inert figure. Struggling to regain his balance, he knocked into Ray. The bag slipped from Ray’s shoulder. It fell with a clatter that seemed to reverberate around the walls. Gold chains and coloured jewels spewed out of it.

Their feet thumped on the carpet. Ray reached the front door first. He twisted the handle. The door didn’t budge. It was double locked. He kicked at it and swore aloud. They turned and ran back along the hall, across the kitchen and out of the open window into the cool of the night air.

When they reached home Brenda was awake, shaking, in her chair.

‘Make us a mug of tea,’ Cal grunted. Brenda scurried to the kitchen, head lowered, shoulders hunched. Cal turned to Ray and held out a hand. Cal’s face darkened and seemed to swell.

‘I don’t know what happened, Cal. I was scared. It must’ve slipped off my shoulder back in the house, when we were doing a runner. I reckon I dropped it in the hall, when… the old woman…’

‘You left it behind? All that gear?’

‘I’d have gone back for it if I’d known.’

Cal’s voice was low, measured. ‘You retard,’ he said. ‘Was there anything in the bag could be traced back to you?’

‘No.’ Ray’s face shone, sweaty. ‘I swear it, Cal. I picked it up at the market like you said and I never touched it, only with gloves on. I did everything just like you said, Cal.’

‘Like I said?’ Cal was yelling now. ‘If you’d listened to me, you wouldn’t have just lost us a small bleeding fortune.’

Brenda came in and set two steaming mugs down on the table. ‘Give it a rest, Cal,’ she said.

Cal spun round. ‘Or what?’ he roared. Brenda cowered away and sat down. ‘You still here?’ Cal turned his attention back to Ray. ‘We’re finished.’

‘Give us another chance,’ Ray pleaded. ‘Just one more chance.’

‘Another chance?’ Cal mimicked. ‘He wants another chance, Bren.’

‘He can piss off,’ she replied. Ray’s eyes met hers in a cold stare. Her head drooped. She stared down at her fingers, picking uncontrollably at her sleeves.

Cal turned back to Ray. ‘You want another chance,’ he sneered. ‘Who do you think you are? I’ll tell you. You’re a fucking retard. That’s what you are. Ray the retard.’

Ray stepped forward, fists clenched, then subsided, muttering.

‘What’s that you said?’ Cal asked.

‘I said you can leave it out.’ Ray flinched as Cal lit a cigarette.

‘Supposing I was to give you another chance,’ Cal said slowly. ‘How do I know you’re going to keep your head this time?’ Ray kept his eyes fixed on Cal who flicked the lighted match at Ray’s face. Ray jerked his head to one side. The match fell harmlessly to the floor. ‘The thing is,’ Cal went on, ‘that was a balls up. What was it?’

‘A balls up,’ Ray repeated, scowling at the floor.

‘Right. And do you know why?’ Ray shrugged, staring at his large scuffed shoes. ‘Panic,’ Cal answered his own question. ‘You panicked. You forgot the exit plan. The first rule. The first thing we do next time, soon as we’re in, we find the back door. That was your job, retard.’ He stood up and pointed his cigarette at Ray who took a step back. He stared at the dusting of dandruff on Cal’s shoulders. ‘First we unlock the back door, then we look about us and see what we can find. That way, we can split, no sweat. No flapping about. Next time we might not be so lucky. We’ve got to be careful. Got it?’

Ray nodded in relief. ‘I’ll make it up to you, Cal. I promise I’ll make it up to you.’

‘We were lucky to get out in time,’ Cal went on.

‘Yeah,’ Ray agreed. ‘We were lucky.’

‘But we’ve been clever too,’ Cal added.

‘Yeah, we’ve been clever.’

‘We’re going to do one of the big properties up on the top of the hill,’ Cal was suddenly brisk. ‘You with me then, retard?’ Ray nodded. ‘Those big white houses at the top of the hill.’

‘Must be loaded,’ Ray said slowly. His bulging eyes lit up. ‘Let’s do it.’

‘Do you think you ought?’ Brenda asked. ‘They might have a dog. What if they’ve got a dog, Cal?’

‘What are you on about, you stupid cow? We’re just going to relieve those rich bastards of some of their dosh. They’re so loaded, they don’t know what to spend it on next.’ Cal laughed loudly. He turned on Brenda. ‘Why don’t you keep your nose out of this, you stupid bitch? Go to bed.’ He cuffed her on the side of the head as she walked past. She stumbled at the blow but recovered her balance and continued on her way without demur.

Ray laughed nervously. ‘What’s she on about, what dogs?’

Cal turned. ‘You got a problem?’

‘No, nothing Cal,’ Ray muttered. His ears went bright red. ‘I wonder why she stays with you, that’s all. You’re a vicious bastard.’ The words burst out of him. He stood, mouth slack, his long legs tensed for flight.

To Ray’s relief, Cal sat down and took a long drag of his cigarette. ‘I’ll never understand it myself,’ he agreed. He leaned back and blew ragged smoke rings at the ceiling. ‘A looker like Bren. She could have anyone.’ He squinted sourly up at Ray. ‘Don’t you go getting any funny ideas.’ Ray shook his head. There was no need to explain what he thought of Brenda. He had seen the filthy smack head naked, walked in on her in the bathroom by mistake and recoiled at the sight of her scraggy tits and white belly. She hadn’t even known he was there. Cal was barking if he thought Ray fancied Brenda. Might as well shag a dead fish.

‘She’s out of my league, Cal,’ he lied with inspired cunning. ‘Too good for me,’ he added, making sure.

Cal grunted and tossed his cigarette on the floor. ‘We’re agreed then,’ he said treading the stub into the carpet.

‘It won’t happen again. I won’t let you down again,’ Ray babbled. ‘It was only a bag. I’ll get another one.’

‘It’s only a bag,’ Cal mimicked him. ‘Retard.’

‘I’ll make it up to you,’ Ray muttered, under his breath. He had a plan. He was going to surprise Cal by pulling off a job all by himself.

‘What are you grinning at?’

‘Nothing, Cal. I was just thinking about those houses on Harchester Hill.’ Ray hung his head, hugging his secret to himself. He would show Cal. He could be clever too. He didn’t know how he was going to do it, but he’d think of something.

Elliot Green checked on his mother three times a week. Mrs Green was mobile, but it had become a major excursion for her to leave the house. Elliot tried to be a good son. He always brought her food and small toiletries so she didn’t have to go out if she was feeling tired. It was heartbreaking when she was housebound, worse when she went out. Several times neighbours had found her wandering in the street, unable to remember where she lived. There wouldn’t always be responsible people around when she got lost. But if Elliot was anxious about his mother going out, he was also concerned about her being alone in the house.

‘It’s a nightmare,’ he confided in his business partner. ‘I have to take care of everything. Pay the bills, the cleaner, the gardener, everything.’

‘You ought to move her into a home.’

‘I know. I’ve tried, but she refuses to leave the house. She’s lived there over sixty years.’

His partner whistled. ‘Bloody hell. Even so, you ought to move her. For her own good.’

Elliot sighed. ‘I wish I could, but… you don’t know my mother. You can’t tell her anything. God knows, I’ve tried.’

On Friday morning, Elliot was late. He barely had time to call on his mother and almost gave it a miss. He cursed when she didn’t answer the door. He had to fish in his wallet for the key. It turned stiffly in the lock.

His mother lay sprawled in a heap at the foot of the stairs. Strings of fake pearls and diamonds were tangled together across her torso, a gold chain straddled her face.

Elliot felt his legs trembling as he approached and stared down at her.

‘Mother?’ he whispered. ‘Mother?’ He crouched down. He didn’t want to touch her. She lay, rigid, her legs splayed, her head twisted at an awkward angle so her glassy eyes appeared to be staring straight at him in blind accusation. There was nothing he could do. Nothing anyone could do. He reached out and touched his mother’s eyelid. No response. He wondered if medical attention might help but sat on his heels for what felt like hours, unable to move.

When he finally stood up, he noticed a blood stain on the carpet. A wave of nausea hit him. He turned and hurried back down the hall, and threw up over the front step.

2

Funeral

Geraldine glanced around the kitchen.

Hannah bridled, misunderstanding the expression on her friend’s face. ‘There’s no need to look so disapproving,’ she snapped. ‘Not everyone’s as anal as you.’ Geraldine smiled as Hannah seized a damp rag and swiped at a patch of butter on the table, smearing crumbs. ‘Oh sod it. Let’s go in the other room.’ As though that would be any better.

Over the years Geraldine had grown used to the chaos that surrounded Hannah. Looking around at the jumble of clothes, children’s books, toys and women’s magazines, Geraldine remembered her surprise the first time she had walked into Hannah’s bedroom after school.

‘No wonder you keep losing your homework,’ she had said, staring primly at the clutter that covered every surface of her friend’s room.

‘I know, I’m hopeless.’ Hannah had shaken her head until her ponytail wiggled. ‘My mum goes spare.’ That was how their friendship had begun. Geraldine lost count of the number of times she saved Hannah from detention by lending her friend books, PE kit, or homework to copy.

‘So what’s the problem this time?’ Hannah asked. She swept a pile of towels off a chair so Geraldine could sit down. ‘I thought you were going to Dubrovnik with Craig. I thought you said it was all booked.’

‘It was. It is.’

‘So…?’

Geraldine shrugged. ‘I’m not sure I want to go away right now.’

Her friend let out an exaggerated sigh. ‘It’s a bit late to be having second thoughts, isn’t it? I thought you liked this boyfriend. Why did you agree to go away with him if you don’t like him?’

‘Of course I like him. I really like him. But –’

‘But what?’

‘I’ve already had to take time off –’

‘For your mother’s funeral. That’s hardly a holiday. And in any case, one thing’s got nothing to do with the other. If anything, it’s even more reason for you to go away. Look, you’ve booked this trip to Dubrovnik, haven’t you? You’ve paid for it. For goodness’ sake, give yourself a break. You’re entitled to a holiday. We’re not getting any younger. And it’s not healthy to be so obsessed with your work.’

‘I’m not obsessed with my work. I happen to believe it’s important, that’s all.’

‘Self-important more like.’

‘That’s not fair. Police murder enquiries protect everyone.’

‘Oh cut the pompous crap. So you’re a detective inspector. Well, good for you. You work on a Murder Investigation Team. You make a difference to people’s lives and help to make society better for everyone. I’m not saying you don’t. But what about your life? You’ve finally met someone you like. At least give him a chance. It’ll be a break if nothing else. You need to get away. You look terrible. Understandably. You have just lost your mother.’ She patted Geraldine’s hand sympathetically and Geraldine sighed. She couldn’t even tell her oldest friend how she felt about her mother’s death.

From an early age Geraldine had been aware that her sister, Celia, was very close to their mother. As they grew up, her sister’s life followed a similar pattern to their mother’s. Geraldine, independent, ambitious, hadn’t married or produced precious grandchildren. Her mother had never openly criticised the life choices Geraldine made, but nothing Geraldine achieved ever seemed to please her. Her mother had greeted the news of Geraldine’s promotion to detective inspector with congratulations but she was more interested in hearing about her granddaughter.

‘I’m a detective inspector, mum,’ Geraldine had wanted to shout. ‘I’ve worked hard for this. It means something. It matters.’

But her mother was speaking to Chloe. ‘You’re going to learn the flute? How wonderful!’

‘How wonderful,’ Geraldine had echoed, smiling at her young niece.

When Geraldine’s mother died unexpectedly, Geraldine felt crushed by regret that she had never tried to improve their relationship. Now it was too late. The funeral passed in a blur. A chill wind gusted across the cemetery making Geraldine’s eyes water. She glanced around the drab assembly of mourners. Celia, black coated, leaned on her husband, shaking with grief. Unmoved, Geraldine watched the wooden casket disappear from view. Her sadness had given way to a dull anger. Her mother had never really cared for her.

The ceremony over, the mourners went to Celia’s house. Time gathered dust while Geraldine engaged in small talk with vaguely familiar relatives.

‘You remember me, don’t you, Geraldine?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Geraldine lied.

‘Your poor mother.’

Geraldine circulated, clutching a glass of wine.

‘Wasn’t it a lovely funeral?’

‘Didn’t Celia do everything beautifully?’

‘Those lilies.’

‘You know she saw to everything herself?’

‘Well, you couldn’t expect Geraldine to –’ catching sight of Geraldine, the speaker pressed thin lips together. Geraldine turned away, pretending she hadn’t heard.

‘Thank God they’ve all gone,’ Geraldine exclaimed when she finally fell into an armchair and kicked her shoes off.

Celia burst into tears. ‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled, dropping her face into her hands. ‘I miss her so much.’

Geraldine wondered if working with other people’s anguish had dulled her capacity to experience it first hand. While Celia was inconsolable, Geraldine felt only a guilty impatience to return to work. ‘When’s Chloe coming back? I’m –’ She almost said she was dying to see her niece. Celia had decided that her daughter was too young to attend the funeral. ‘I can’t wait to see her.’

Celia blew her nose. ‘Yes, it’s been a while since you were here. You won’t believe how much she’s grown. Seven going on seventeen. You will stay here tonight, won’t you? I know you’re busy, but it would be nice to see more of you, and I’m not saying it just for my sake. I know Chloe would like to spend more time with you. She’s growing up so fast’.

‘Yes, I’d like that. I know I’ve been preoccupied with work lately, but I will make more of an effort.’ She studied her sister. Other than their pale complexions, they weren’t alike. Geraldine had always envied Celia her ash blonde hair, fine and naturally wavy. Geraldine’s hair was coarse and straight, so dark it was almost black.

‘We’ve only got each other now,’ Celia said.

‘I’ll change.’ Geraldine promised out loud. ‘I want to spend more time with you.’

‘Yes, this makes you think, doesn’t it? None of us know how much more time we’ve got.’ Celia sniffed.

Chloe’s return lightened the mood. She came running in, pigtails bouncing, and flung herself at Geraldine. ‘Are we going shopping, Aunty Geraldine?’

Geraldine smiled. ‘Not this time, Chloe. But soon, I promise.’

‘Don’t pester Aunty Geraldine or she won’t buy you any more presents,’ Celia scolded.

Chloe snuggled down on the sofa beside Geraldine and prattled about her best friend. She kept up her chatter throughout supper. When Chloe finally went to bed Celia broke down in tears again. Geraldine reached for another bottle of wine.

‘You’ll regret it in the morning,’ her sister warned her. ‘Haven’t you had enough?’

‘I’m not driving, and it’s not as if I’m on duty.’

‘Your all important duty.’

‘Here, let me,’ Geraldine’s brother-in-law seized the corkscrew from Geraldine.

‘You need some coffee,’ Celia snapped. ‘For God’s sake, Geraldine, we buried our mother today. Show some respect.’

‘Respect the dead.’ For the first time that day, Geraldine felt like weeping. ‘That’s all I ever bloody do. I spend my whole life respecting the dead.’

‘Coffee,’ her brother-in-law said firmly. He stood up and took the bottle from Geraldine.

‘You’ll feel terrible in the morning,’ Celia said. She was crying again.

‘I feel terrible anyway.’ Geraldine felt queasy, yearning for a grief she didn’t feel.

‘Your mother’s dead, you unnatural bitch,’ she muttered to herself as she climbed into bed. In her mind, a small voice answered. So what?

When Geraldine opened her eyes the next morning, her head felt as though someone was thumping it with a bottle. Groaning, she rolled out of bed and kept her eyes shut as she felt around for her clothes.

‘So I did suffer when my mother died, after all,’ she thought sourly.

3

Sophie

‘Slow down. You’re making me nervous,’ Tom said. Sophie jammed her foot on the accelerator. ‘Slow down.’ The car jerked forward.

‘She can’t even be civil,’ Sophie fumed. ‘From the first moment she set eyes on me, she’s resented me. Well, the feeling’s mutual.’

‘It’s me you married, not her. And I love you.’

‘I’ve never been good enough for you, as far as she’s concerned. Who does she think she is, speaking to me like that?’

‘I appreciate your keeping your temper with her,’ Tom said humbly. He stared at the streetlights zipping past and waited for his wife’s temper to cool. Sophie was never angry for long.

‘She’s never liked me. I don’t know why we have to go and see her every week. Every bloody Sunday. And she’s still not satisfied. What more does she want?’ They both knew the answer.

Whenever they visited her, Tom’s mother harped on about how she had been twenty-one when her son was born. ‘It doesn’t do to leave it too late. It’s not natural. It causes all sorts of problems. And I’m here to take care of the baby whenever you want to go back to work. I know some women prefer not to look after their own children these days. Best leave the upbringing in capable hands. All these new ideas they have nowadays, they don’t do a child any good. Look at how the youngsters behave these days. It’s not surprising, left to train themselves. It’s a wonder they’re ever toilet trained. I had my Thomas on the potty at six months. More tea, Tom?’

Sophie wasn’t thinking about starting a family. When she did, she would be back at work within six months, with a nanny at home. She would swing before she let her mother-in-law care for her children.

‘She’s on her own. She’s lonely,’ Tom murmured, lighting up a cigarette.

‘That’s no excuse for being rude.’ Sophie eased her foot off the accelerator and glanced across at her husband. It wasn’t his fault. ‘It’s hard for you, being stuck in the middle,’ she apologised. ‘She is your mother. I shouldn’t go on about her like that.’

Tom shrugged. ‘She brings it on herself. I’m with you now. If you want to stop going to see her… Well, you’re the only one I want. You know that.’

Sophie smiled. ‘And you’re the only person who matters in my life,’ she said fiercely, ‘the only one.’

Absorbed in computers, Sophie had never considered herself lonely. When a girl at the office had issued a blanket invitation to a Christmas party, Sophie hadn’t even replied. Parties held no appeal for her. The other girl paused when she happened to walk past Sophie’s workstation the afternoon of the party.

‘You coming tonight?’ she asked. Flattered by her colleague’s interest, Sophie accepted the invitation.

She regretted her impulse as soon as she arrived. Everyone in the room seemed to be talking. No one acknowledged Sophie’s arrival. She didn’t understand why she had been invited. She stood in a corner, pressing her back against the wall, uncomfortable with the noise and smell of so many people crammed into one small room. It was a complete waste of her time. There was a new update waiting for her to install at the office, where she could have been working uninterrupted. She turned to leave, and bumped into a stranger.

‘Sorry,’ she muttered.

‘I don’t know anyone here,’ he blurted out. She heard the panic in his voice and hesitated.

‘I don’t know why I came,’ she replied.

With music thumping, conversation was difficult. ‘It’s so stuffy in here,’ she complained. She would have gone home but didn’t want to be rude.

‘We could go somewhere else?’ he suggested. She felt an unfamiliar thrill and wondered if he was coming on to her. ‘I mean, for a coffee or something. Or a drink. There’s a pub round the corner. I mean, if you don’t mind. My name’s Tom Cliff.’ He held out his hand, oddly formal. Over his shoulder Sophie could see a couple in a passionate clinch.

They left the party together and went for a drink. ‘Funny we’ve never met before,’ they agreed.

‘I don’t really leave my desk,’ he admitted.

‘Me neither.’

‘We’re there to work,’ Tom said. Sophie nodded seriously.

After a couple of months Tom took her home to meet his widowed mother. Sophie wasn’t clever at reading people, but she recognised the other woman’s hostility straight away.

‘You’re imagining it,’ Tom insisted. ‘Mum’s not like that.’

‘You’re a substitute for your father,’ Sophie told him, with rare insight. ‘You live in the same house, you eat together every night, you even go on holiday together. She’ll never let you go.’

‘That’s nonsense,’ he replied, ‘because I intend to live with you, as my wife.’

‘Do I have a say in this?’ Sophie asked, smiling.

When Sophie announced her promotion, Tom’s mother was shocked. ‘What do you mean, you might have to go to work on Sundays? You always come and see me on Sundays. It’s the weekend. No one works on Sundays.’

‘I’m only on call. Chances are they’ll never need me on a Sunday. I’m only on call every other night and it’s only on alternate weekends.’

‘Can’t someone else do it?’ her mother-in-law asked. Her grey curls bounced as she handed Tom a cup of tea. ‘Tell them you’re engaged on Sundays. I’m sure they can manage without you. It’s not as if you’re a brain surgeon, Sophie. It’s hardly life and death, is it? It’s only computers.’

Sophie explained that the printers had to be kept working round the clock churning out bank statements, pay slips and other essential documents.

‘Nonsense,’ her mother-in-law interrupted. ‘It’s nothing that can’t wait till Monday morning. What if there was a power cut?’ Her eyes gleamed as she slid a slice of pie on to her son’s plate. He lit another cigarette and waved the glowing tip in the air in protest. ‘You’ll have to come here later on, when your office is closed.’

‘I may be called out at night,’ Sophie said, irritated by her mother-in-law’s interference. ‘I may have to work all night.’

Tom’s mother stared at her, dumbstruck, cake slice in hand. ‘You’re a married woman.’

4

Dubrovnik

The heat in Dubrovnik was debilitating. Beneath the heavy scent of oleanders a stench of drains lingered. Pink flowering bushes and purple boughs of bougainvillea hung bright against white washed walls. Geraldine followed Craig gratefully into the shade of an arch at the side of a square where tourists gathered to drink from a central fountain. Geraldine screwed her eyes up against the glare of sunlight and watched pigeons perch on top of the fountain. She was aware of Craig’s presence at her side. She could feel the warmth of his arm almost touching hers and breathed in the scent of his aftershave.

‘I don’t think I’ll risk that,’ she screwed her nose up at the fountain. ‘Like drinking pigeon piss.’ Tiny lines around his eyes crinkled as Craig smiled down at her. The heat of the day softened slightly as the afternoon strolled towards evening and they climbed up on to the ramparts to view the city of terracotta roofs spread out beneath them in the soft heat haze. Geraldine turned and gazed down at the sea. Flecks of sunlight flickered on the water like fairy lights, winking up at her.

‘It’s beautiful, Mark,’ she murmured.

Words once spoken couldn’t be unsaid.

‘What?’ She didn’t answer. ‘Did you just call me Mark?’

Geraldine hesitated. Craig knew that she had lived with someone for six years, but she couldn’t remember if she had told him her ex was called Mark.

‘A mark,’ she stammered stupidly. ‘There’s a mark.’ Flustered, she rubbed at Craig’s shoulder. He shrugged and turned away from her feeble lie. The moment was tainted.

Staying in Dubrovnik felt like stepping back in time, a world away from the stresses of her normal day’s work: studying crime scenes, reading post mortem reports, observing bodies laid on cold slabs, interviewing suspects, reading witness statements and the endless paperwork that accumulated at every step of the process. Geraldine revelled in the sense of purpose her job on the Murder Investigation Team gave her but, along with her colleagues, deplored the pointless paperwork demanded by bureaucrats who had probably never seen a cadaver, let alone felt a thrill of adrenaline at the start of a case. If they had, they wouldn’t care whether officers filled in forms or not, only about putting the killers behind bars.

Geraldine smiled at the feel of Craig’s hand on her shoulder. He had suggested a city break when her last case had finished and booked a flight as soon as she could escape.

‘Surely you’re entitled to a break before they throw you into your next case? You’ve been working twenty four seven for weeks.’

‘It’s not as simple as that.’ Geraldine had tried to explain the importance of the paperwork that followed a successful arrest. ‘We have to make sure he doesn’t get off on a technicality.’

‘How can he possibly get off? He’s locked up. But you’re not.’ Eventually the case was tied up and they booked their holiday.

‘You look better already,’ Craig told her as she rolled out of bed after their first night in Dubrobnik.

‘Better than what?’ she asked, grinning. Craig was right. Three days in Dubrovnik with Craig was just the tonic she needed. She hoped it would give them a chance to establish the terms of their relationship, but they didn’t seem to be making much progress with that. There never seemed to be time to broach the subject at home. They had been seeing each other on and off for a year, but she still wasn’t sure how serious their relationship was. Going away together had offered them an opportunity to talk. She had ruined it by calling him Mark.

‘You’ll be home before it arrives,’ Craig told her when she wrote a postcard to Hannah. He read it upside down. ‘All well. Beautiful city. Lunch in restaurant overlooking bay. Hot enough. Flowers everywhere. Love Geraldine.’ Craig gave a mock frown. ‘No mention of the wonderful company?’ Geraldine remembered to post the card at the hotel desk as they were leaving.

‘Here’s hoping you’ll have a few days’ grace before they whisk you off on another case,’ Craig said on the flight home. He sounded tetchy.

Geraldine gave him a rueful smile and went back to studying her passport. ‘You can hardly see it.’ She pointed to a faint imprint of a stamp with the name ‘Dubrovnik’ barely legible.

‘Write over it,’ Craig suggested.

‘I can’t do that.’

‘You can’t, but I could,’ he replied, laughing. ‘All you need is a fine black biro.’ He grabbed her passport. Geraldine snatched it back and turned away, irritated.

The next day she downloaded the photos from her phone and trawled through them with a smile that wavered only when her own face appeared. She studied her image on the screen and tried to be objective about her dark hair, unruly when it wasn’t pinned back with slides, her large black eyes that always seemed to glow with health, and her small crooked nose that spoiled her looks.

The phone rang. Geraldine hung back for a moment before answering it. She didn’t want Craig to think she had been waiting for his call.

‘Well? How was it?’ Hannah asked.

Geraldine swallowed her disappointment. ‘Lovely,’ she replied. She knew what her friend meant. ‘It’s a beautiful city. I’d recommend it. And the weather was perfect. Not too hot.’

‘I’m not interested in Dubrovnik,’ Hannah interrupted impatiently, ‘How did it go with Craig?’

Geraldine hesitated. ‘Probably too well,’ she admitted.

‘When are you seeing him again?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know? How can you not know? You’ve been seeing each other for nearly a year, and you’ve just been on holiday together.’

Geraldine sighed. It was all right for Hannah. Married for eight years, she had no reason to feel insecure about her relationship. Geraldine felt like a love struck teenager waiting by the phone. She kept herself busy with chores, but the days passed and he didn’t call. On Thursday evening she caved in and dialled his number.

‘Craig Hudson.’

Geraldine felt her breath quicken at the sound of his voice. ‘Don’t make a fool of yourself,’ she thought. ‘Hi, it’s me,’ she answered breezily. ‘Geraldine. I wondered if you’d like to come over for dinner one evening? If you’re free, that is.’ Intending to appear casual, she sounded apologetic.

To her relief Craig answered straight away. ‘Sounds great. When did you have in mind?’

‘How about Saturday? Around seven thirty?’

‘Saturday? No, I can’t make this Saturday. Tell you what, let’s make it Sunday.’

‘Fine. See you Sunday.’

Geraldine gazed round her tidy flat and wondered how Craig was planning to spend his Saturday evening – and whether he would be spending it alone. He was charming and attentive when they were together but then weeks would pass without her hearing from him. When he did want to see her, the chances were she would be preoccupied with a case. Her relationship with Mark had been straightforward. With Craig, everything was so complicated. But Mark had met someone else. Geraldine had no idea how long he had been seeing the other woman before he left. Perhaps life had only seemed simple then. She remembered how hot it had been in Dubrovnik and shivered.

5

Market

‘It’s bloody hard work,’ Alice said, ‘and it’s getting harder. I don’t know how you manage, with your kids. You’re a bloody marvel.’

‘A martyr more like,’ Maggie grunted.

‘I mean,’ Alice warmed to her protest, ‘I suppose we do better than some I could mention, who haven’t even got a licence. But even so, working the market all weathers, it’s no picnic, is it?’ She ran a hand through her iron grey hair before repeating, ‘I don’t know how you manage.’

Maggie grimaced. ‘It’s bloody hard work. You’re right there. But needs must. No point complaining when we haven’t got a choice.’

Friday was generally busy. Maggie liked to arrive early and set up without having to rush but she had to get the kids’ breakfast ready before she set off. As her battered van rattled along the street, it began to rain. Maggie swore. Her windscreen wipers weren’t aligned properly but she couldn’t afford to get the van seen to. Worse, the market was always slow in wet weather. She drove carefully, screwing up her eyes to peer through the veil of fine rain, and screeched to a halt beside the inadequate parking area closest to her stall. A dirty black van was straddling two spaces, leaving no room for her. She had to park at the other end of the market, furthest from her pitch. Fuming, she hauled banana boxes out of the van and lugged them across to her stall. She set up as quickly as she could, unpacking her stock in the shelter of the tattered awning. New bags went up last, in the front.

‘That’s nice.’ Alice pointed at a pink and purple bag as Maggie finished. ‘Is it new?’ Maggie shrugged. Her mind wasn’t on the job that morning. It was a dull day. The rain cleared but there weren’t many people around. Maggie stood idle, fretting. After a while she wandered over to Alice on the neighbouring stall.

‘Keep an eye out, will you, Alice? I’m going to speak to Geoffrey.’

‘What’s the fat bastard done now?’

Maggie described how she had been unable to park near her stall because Geoffrey had blocked her space. ‘Selfish bastard.’ She tugged at the zip on her anorak, squared her shoulders, and strode off.

‘Geoffrey!’

‘Hello, Maggie. Take a look at this, will you? It’s perfect for you.’ He held up a small fake gold watch hanging from a thin black strap.

‘I’m not looking for a watch. And if I was, this would be the last place I’d go. You know why I’m here.’ Geoffrey leaned his hands flat on his trestle table and met her gaze, a smile on his rubbery lips. ‘And you can take that bloody grin off your face.’

‘No need to be abusive, Maggie.’ He turned away and began fiddling with his stock.

‘You did it again, you selfish bastard, parked right across two spaces,’ Maggie burst out. Geoffrey appeared to ignore her, but she could see his fat lips twitch in annoyance. ‘Just keep away from me, or I’ll speak to the manager. You park anywhere near my stall again and you’ll be –’

‘Don’t you stand there and tell me where I can and can’t go,’ he interrupted her, suddenly red-faced. Spittle flew from his lips. Maggie stared in disgust. ‘I’ll park where the hell I like. I didn’t see your name written there. I was there first.’

With a curse, Maggie retreated. It was obvious she wasn’t going to get anywhere with Geoffrey. At least he knew she was on to him, and she meant what she had said. She would go to the market manager and complain if Geoffrey took up two parking spaces again.

‘How did you get on?’ Alice asked.

‘Was it busy?’

Alice shook her head. ‘You didn’t miss much.’ She gazed around the damp empty market place, and pushed her hair out of her eyes with the back of a gloved hand. ‘Some bloke took a bag, one of those khaki ones with the shoulder strap. Stupid sod tried to give me some cock and bull story about how he’d bought one off you and the strap broke. Tried telling me I should give him one for free. As if. Weird looking bloke, funny eyes.’

Maggie was still thinking about Geoffrey. ‘Bastard.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Nothing.’ Geoffrey had rattled her, but she wasn’t going to be intimidated. She knew why Geoffrey had it in for her. Maggie’s stall was in a prime position, on the corner opposite the station. A wintry sun broke through the clouds and she smiled. From now on, she would make sure she was in early enough to park where she wanted. Let that Geoffrey leave his van round the other side. ‘Serve him right,’ she said. ‘Stupid sod, thinks he can get one over on me, just because I wasn’t there. I’ll show him.’

‘Exactly,’ Alice agreed companionably, ‘but don’t worry. I made him pay for it, full price.’

6

Brenda

It was dark when Brenda woke up. She didn’t know what time it was. A streetlamp cast a dim light into the room. Although the television had been switched off she stared at the screen for a few moments. In the silence the house was making strange noises. She hauled herself stiffly out of her chair and made her way quietly upstairs. Cal didn’t like it when she woke him up.

She stole into the bedroom. The bed was empty. She patted the covers tentatively to make sure. If she woke him up, he’d be angry, but at least she wouldn’t be alone with the noises and the darkness. He wasn’t there. She turned the light on. A naked bulb threw stark shadows round the room. Her own face stared at her from the mirror, white and misty. She fumbled for a cigarette. It took several attempts to light a match; she was shaking by the time she finally inhaled.

The door to Ray’s bedroom creaked. Brenda peered inside. His bed was empty too. She took a few steps into the room and dropped ash on to the pillow. Serve him right. Before Ray came to live in the house, Cal used to take her out with him. Now it was all Ray, Ray, Ray. She dragged frantically at her cigarette and flicked more ash on to Ray’s pillow. She hoped it would choke him.

A blade of pain sliced through her head. Her legs shook. Her heart was pounding. Alone in the house, she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. She stood very still, not daring to breathe. The house was silent.

‘Silly,’ she mouthed. If she showed she didn’t care, the footsteps would go away.

Cal would have laughed at her. ‘There’s nothing there,’ he’d say. Brenda waited. It was all right for Cal, but you couldn’t be too careful when you were in the house on your own. Anything could happen. They came in through the walls.

‘Go away!’ she shouted suddenly, surprising herself. ‘I’m not frightened!’ They knew she was lying. Aching all over, she went back downstairs and fell into her chair. She couldn’t settle. Cal and Ray had gone out on a job. She hoped Cal wouldn’t come home in a temper again.

Brenda trembled as she thought of his rage. But if he was angry with Ray, that was good. She gave a wary smile.

Pressing herself into the safety of her chair she screwed up her eyes and looked round the room. A strand of dry hair clung to her face, scratching at her eye. That wasn’t what made her flinch. Something was lurking in the shadows. A voice whimpered nearby. Brenda pulled herself to her feet and limped over to Cal’s chair for a light. A moment later a flame shot from her fingers. She fought for control of her body. Her legs kept jerking which made it difficult to light her spliff.

At last she leaned back in her chair and watched as a thin trail of white smoke trickled out of her nose. It didn’t help. Dope might soften the pain but it couldn’t stop her shaking. Feeling nauseous she sat up without moving from her chair. When she threw up, Cal made her scrub the carpet until the stink of dettol made her sick all over again. Experience had taught her to know when she was only going to retch.

Craving wrenched at her guts but Cal had gone out. He never left anything in the house. Said he couldn’t trust her. Viciously she stubbed her spliff on the arm of the chair and watched it singe a ragged hole in the fabric. Glowing threads faded into grey.

With a soft fizzle, the naked light bulb above her head went out. The whimpering began again.

‘I know you’re there,’ she whispered. Her eyes flicked round the corners of the room. In the darkness, something stirred.

Cal dismissed her night terrors. ‘There’s nothing here.’ He would stamp his foot in the corner of the room. ‘So much for your snake. I’ve squashed it. Flat.’ Then he would throw his head back and laugh. Nothing frightened Cal. But Cal had gone out. She was alone in the darkness.

‘He’ll be back soon,’ she whispered, glaring into the darkness. Her voice was feeble. In the corner, the snake hissed. Brenda whimpered. She lit a cigarette and forced herself to think about Cal.

He had been complaining again. ‘If it weren’t for you, we’d be fine. As if I haven’t got enough to worry about with the rent due and the fucking TV, you’re always going on, never bloody satisfied.’ His face had been red and sweaty. She had waited, trembling. But afterwards he’d brought out the skag and everything had been all right. ‘You’re a lucky girl,’ he told her as he wiped a dribble of blood off her chin. ‘Don’t say I don’t take care of you.’ Brenda had nodded, too far gone to speak.

She trembled in the darkness. Salty tears stung her split lip. ‘Bastard,’ she muttered. She would never dare speak to him like that to his face. If only he had left her a fix. ‘It’s not so much to ask,’ she whined. She began to cry in earnest and the whimpering fell silent. As long as she was crying she was safe from the voices. Her eyes throbbed. They felt as though they would burst, but she couldn’t stop crying. ‘Let me sleep,’ she pleaded with the silence. ‘I want to sleep.’ Her eyes were sore. They hurt when she shut them. With shaking fingers she clutched at her cigarette and leaned back in her chair, inhaling deeply. She didn’t know when Cal would be back.

Cal took care of her. She pressed herself against the back of her chair, clutching a cushion to her chest. Cal put on a front, but Brenda knew better. He wasn’t so tough. When it came to it Cal was no worse than all the other men. Better, because he looked after her.

‘If it wasn’t for me, where would you be now?’ he asked her. ‘How would you live? And where? On the street, that’s where.’

‘Yes, Cal.’

‘Where would you be?’

‘On the street, Cal.’

‘Bronxy’s had enough of you.’

‘Yes, Cal.’

‘But I look after you.’

‘Yes, Cal. You look after me.’

Brenda had been happy at first, working for Bronxy. Bronxy was tough with the girls but fair. She looked after them.

‘We’re a team, girls,’ she used to say. ‘I make sure the punters are comfortable but you’re the ones who keep them happy.’ The trouble was, Brenda wasn’t keeping men happy any more. She still danced, but none of the customers wanted to pay to spend time with her. It wasn’t as if she was old. When Bronxy took her off the podium, Brenda was shocked.

‘What am I supposed to do for tips now?’ she complained to the other girls. They didn’t care.

‘All the more for us,’ one of them pointed out.

‘What can I do?’ she asked Bronxy in desperation.

‘Clean yourself up for fuck’s sake,’ Bronxy snapped. ‘You’re a disgrace.’

When Cal took her to live with him, Brenda couldn’t believe her luck.

Bronxy seemed pleased with the arrangement too. ‘He’ll put a roof over your head and take care of you. Don’t mess it up, Bren. And get yourself off the smack for fuck’s sake, before he gets tired of you. You’re being given a chance here. Don’t screw it up.’

Brenda tried to explain that the smack wasn’t the problem but Bronxy wasn’t listening. No one understood, except Cal. She wondered where he was. He could be gone for hours. She closed her eyes.

In the darkness a snake uncoiled, hissing.

7

Second Attempt

They waited until the road was clear. Cal turned the van lights out and was careful not to rev the engine as they crawled slowly up Harchester Hill. He parked in a side street. No one saw them hurry on foot past houses set back from the pavement behind tall bushes. Without a word, Cal vanished through a gap in a hedge. Ray followed close on his heels. They crept along under cover of evergreen shrubs. Somewhere a dog barked. Cal paused, one hand raised above his shoulder. Ray almost barged into him. He stopped himself just in time and hung his head, waiting for Cal to move. They listened. The dog went on yelping. It was nowhere near them. Cal tapped Ray on the arm. They resumed their cautious progress towards the house. In the darkness they made their way silently down the side of the front garden, trampling late autumn flowers into the earth.

‘Quick, make a dash for it,’ Cal whispered in Ray’s ear. They sprinted across a narrow strip of grass. Security lights came on. They reached the house and flattened themselves against the wall.

‘They’ll think it’s foxes,’ Cal whispered to Ray who nodded, hunching his shoulders and holding his breath. His heart was pounding beneath his jacket. He hoped Cal couldn’t hear it. They waited. As soon as the lights clicked off, Cal gave Ray a shove and a leg up over the side gate. Ray slid the bolt across. They were inside. The security lights came on again. No one looking out of the window would have seen two figures pressed against the side wall of the house in the shadow of the gate. After a moment the lights went out. They manoeuvred their way along the wall, avoiding setting off the lights, until they reached a low window.

Ray glanced around nervously while Cal worked. It was awkward cutting the glass while keeping himself pressed against the wall. The faint scratching seemed to go on forever. At one point, Ray sidled up and put his hand on the window.

Cal paused in his task. ‘What?’ he snarled under his breath.

‘Thought I heard a phone ring.’ They stood listening. There was no sound from inside the house. Cal shrugged and carried on, muttering softly.

‘It’s taking too long,’ Ray whispered. The security lights had made him nervous.

‘Nearly done,’ Cal insisted. He pressed harder against the glass. The cut out panel broke away with a soft snap. He reached in to release the window catch.

Cal and Ray were in a large kitchen. The wall to their right was covered in pristine white cupboards, a gleaming glass fronted oven stood in the corner, and in the middle of the floor stood a central island with a stainless steel gas hob. On the far side of the room an open door led into a dining area. They could dimly make out a table and chairs through the opening. To their left a back door led out on to the garden. Cal crossed the room and closed the door to the dining room. Then he tried the door to the garden. It was locked.

Ray put his bag down on the hob and waited as Cal picked at the lock, his eyes screwed up in concentration. There was a click when he gave the door handle a wrench and it responded. He straightened up with a grin. ‘Come on, let’s see what we can find.’ Their exit secure, they were ready to explore the house. Ray reached for his bag. Cal crossed the kitchen. He opened the door to the dining room.

And heard footsteps.

He closed the door.

In the light of his torch, Ray saw Cal’s eyes, white and angry. ‘What now?’ Ray whispered hoarsely.

‘Go!’

Ray grabbed his bag from the hob. There was nothing in it, but Ray wasn’t going to leave his bag behind again. He grabbed at the strap. It had caught on something. He jerked it free. There was a soft click and a faint hissing. Cal had disappeared. Ray ran after him, closing the back door behind him as he escaped into the night. They sped down the side passage, careless of the security lights. Cal forced his way through the hedge on to the next door drive and sprinted down on to the road. Ray raced across the front of the house and made for the safety of the street down the drive of the property they had just broken into. A car shot out of the driveway behind him just before he reached the pavement. He spun round, startled. For a second its lights shone straight at him before he slipped round the hedge and away.

‘Bugger!’ Cal snarled as the van started up. ‘Bloody waste of time.’

‘At least we got away,’ Ray mumbled. He was still shaking. ‘We’re safe and no harm done. And I got the bag, Cal.’ He held it up. The strap was broken. Cal scowled. He slammed his foot on the accelerator and they roared away into the night.

8

Night