We Don't Speak About Mollie: Book 2 in the DI Rachel Morrison series

by Vicky Jones

  “Hi, Tina. It’s rare anyone stays later than I do. Busy?”

  Tina Saunders looked up from her screen. “No, not really. I’m just catching up with some case files and typing them up. I’ve got a fundraiser tonight at my church and it’s closer to here than it is home, so I thought I’d use my time productively. I’ve got my supplies.” Tina tipped her head towards a little red travel mug and a bread roll wrapped in cellophane.

  “That’s a nice cushion,” Rachel said, noticing it tucked between the back of the chair and Tina’s ample behind.

  “Oh, I had it made from my late husband’s favourite shirt. I can still smell him on it, even though he’s been gone over two years now.” Tina’s wide grin faded. “I like to think he’s still with me when I have this cushion near me.”

  “And are those your grandchildren?” Rachel nodded towards a cluster of photographs pinned to the dividing wall between Tina’s cubicle and the one next to it.

  “Yes, they’re my little monkeys. I can’t wait to go down to two days a week soon. I can spend more time with them then. Oh, I love my job and all that, but there’s more to life, don’t you think? And the kids at that great age where they like to do everything, you know? They’re my world. Especially since Donald passed. Do you have children?” Rachel shook her head. “Oh, well, you’re still young. There’s time for you yet.”

  “Do you need a lift to the church or anything, Tina? I can hang on half an hour or so,” Rachel said.

  “Oh, no, thank you. I like the walk. Especially at this lovely time of year. It’s only ten minutes away. You get yourself home. Like you say, you’re always staying here late. But it’s more than a lot do around here, if you don’t mind my saying. You’re showing the other detectives up with your dedication.”

  Chapter 11

  The drive up to Liverpool had been a long one. Finally, after six long hours, stopping at services for breaks every few hours, and hitting heavy rush hour traffic on the M6, even though she’d set off at 4 a.m., Katie pulled up outside the Travelodge in Aigburth she’d booked for the night. Remembering she couldn’t check in until 12 p.m., she pulled back onto the leafy, tree-lined dual carriageway and followed the road into Liverpool City centre.

  Everything she passed seemed unfamiliar to her. There were shiny new retail parks, which understandably were different, but even when she got nearer to the city centre, the high rises and listed buildings, ones that had been there for centuries, let alone the decades Katie had been away for, looked as alien to her as if she had landed on another planet, let alone her home town. The enormous reddish-brown bricked Anglican cathedral on a hill in the distance was so gigantic it seemed to scrape the clear, blue sky with the crown of long, stone thorns on its square-topped central tower. But it wasn’t just the feeling of strangeness that hit Katie, it was also the lack of emotion she felt for her home city. She pulled over outside the cathedral, set her sat nav for Jenny’s house and carried on her way.

  Outside Jenny’s semi-detached house in the leafy suburb of Woolton, Katie saw no cars on the drive. The driveway gate was pulled shut and there seemed to be no signs of life. She decided to pull away and drive around a bit, to see if anything she passed triggered even the vaguest memory. Driving back down Beaconsfield Road, she passed a large, gated school on the right, with a high sandstone perimeter wall, but it looked as nondescript as any. On the left, further down the road, even the bright red wrought iron gate of Strawberry Field, and the various colours in the graffiti on the sandstone gate posts, stirred not even a flicker of a memory to her. Nor did Calderstones Park—which she came to next after crossing Menlove Avenue—despite the enormous boating lake within its expansive grounds. Finally, she turned back on herself, making the decision to sit outside Jenny’s house and wait for her to return home.

  Stopping at a corner shop in Allerton on the way, to pick up a newspaper to read while she waited, Katie had a first heart-pounding memory flood back to her. I’ve been here, she thought. Stepping out of her car, she walked into the corner shop and browsed while she waited for the shopkeeper to finish with his customer. When he did so, Katie walked up to him, her face creased into a frown of recognition when she saw up close the dark red port wine stain birthmark on his cheek she’d remembered seeing when she was little.

  “Hi. Um… Can I ask you something?” She waited for the shopkeeper to imply his permission. “Are you Liam Porter’s dad?”

  The shopkeeper looked her in the eye and waited a moment before nodding. “I am. Who are you?”

  Katie beamed, relieved she’d remembered something accurately. “I’m Katie. Katie Spencer. Me and your Liam were mates in class. We were only six or seven. I remember you picking him up after school while I waited for my dad. And I used to come in here for—.”

  Katie had been wittering on so long that she hadn’t noticed the darkness that had crossed Mr. Porter’s unshaven chubby face. His features folded into a fierce glare.

  “I know who you are. I remember. Get the fuck out of my shop. Get out of my shop, now!” he yelled, banging his palms down hard on the counter, making the bottles in the fridge next to him rattle together.

  Katie’s whole body froze in shock. After he screamed in her face again, she finally snapped into action, running out of the door and over to the safety of her car. Once inside, she pressed the central locking button and sat in stunned silence for the next ten minutes.

  “Morning, boss,” Chloe Sharp called out from behind Rachel as she followed her into the office. Rachel looked round and saw her beaming smile. “You cycled in again today?” Chloe nodded down to the helmet Rachel was carrying in her hand.

  “Yeah. Seemed such a nice morning for it,” Rachel replied.

  “I go out most weekends on my bike. It’s a really nice ride around Sefton Park. We could meet there at the Palm House one Saturday, if you’re interested?” Chloe’s bright blue eyes looked hopeful of a yes. Rachel flashed a polite smile and nodded her ‘maybe’. She looked past Chloe and saw Mags approaching, laden with paperwork, with two coffee cups rested precariously on top. Mags stopped and looked down at the cups.

  “Oh, Christ, Steve. I think I’ve put milk in your coffee again. And it was two sugars, wasn’t it, Mark?”

  The two grey-suited DCs that lifted their heads up from their computers when their names were called flashed weary smiles at Mags. One, with black short hair and a stubble beard, reached up to take his coffee.

  “Thanks, Mags. I’m sure it’ll be fine with the sugar in.” He whispered to Steve next to him, “Swap you?”

  Mags held out Steve’s incorrect order, and as she turned to walk away both men switched cups, took a swig and gave Mags a thumbs up when she turned back around to sit down at her desk.

  “She always gets it wrong,” Chloe said out of the corner of her mouth to Rachel. “I don’t know how; she makes them a brew every morning. They reckon she’s going senile.”

  Jenkins swept past Rachel on his way over to his office in the corner. “Morning, Rachel,” he said as he walked past. By the time Rachel looked back at the scene in front of her, Chloe was looking down at her phone.

  “What do you think?” Chloe said showing Rachel her phone and watching her reaction closely. “Swipe right or left?”

  “Um…he looks a bit weedy. You’d kick his arse with all that kickboxing you do,” Rachel replied, remembering back to their conversations over their Chinese when they stayed late last week. “No, Sharp. You need someone with a bit more about them than Mr. Bean there,” she said, pointing at the guy on the screen.

  Chloe blushed. “I guess so. I’m like you in that way. Like someone to look after me, but keep me on my toes as well. Is your husband like that?” The words tumbled out of Chloe’s mouth before she registered where she was and who she was talking to. “Oh, sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. That was way too personal. And we’re at work. Shit.” Chloe floundered, until Rachel laid a hand on her shoulder.

  “Don’t worry. Things with
me and Adam are…strange at the moment. But what will be, will be. If it’s worth having, it can’t be rushed.”

  Chloe nodded.

  “But let’s keep the private conversations for after work, shall we?” Rachel added. Chloe nodded again, her cheeks still a little pink.

  “Morning, ladies,” Tina Saunders said as she walked up behind Rachel and Chloe. “Now, who’s for a nice bit of shortbread?”

  “Lovely,” Chloe said, dipping her fingers into the open tin Tina was offering out. She took a bite and licked the crumbs off her lips, catching the others in her hand.

  “Thanks, Tina. Glad I cycled in now. It makes this guilt-free,” Rachel said, also taking a piece of crumbly shortbread. “You’re terrible for my figure with all these treats you bring in.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly,” Tina said. “I’d kill for your figure at my age. Don’t you think so, Chloe?”

  Chloe nodded.

  Tina put the lid back on her tin. “But shhhh, don’t tell Mags about me playing mum. She’ll think I’m stepping on her toes.” She tapped her nose and returned to her desk.

  Mr. Porter’s tirade had caused Katie to sit in stunned silence in her car. Thoughts tumbled around in her head. He must have me confused with somebody else, she thought. What on Earth could he think I’ve done to deserve that reaction? It wasn’t his words as much as the look of wide-eyed horror on his face that freaked her out the most. She drove back down the only other road to Jenny’s that she could remember. Hancock Street. Moments later, she had pulled up outside her childhood home. As she looked at the Victorian semi-detached, with its black and white painted apex roof, solid red brick exterior and white-painted mullion windows with stained glass in the top portion, a shiver ran down her spine. She took off her seatbelt, got out of the car and walked up the long, angled driveway and past the shrubs that edged it.

  “Can I help you, love?” a voice called out from the front drive of next door.

  Katie looked over the hedge to see a grizzled, wild-haired old lady, looking back at her through inquisitive blue eyes. She was wearing a worn, brown cardigan, dark green wool skirt and brown fluffy slippers. An off-white and blue striped apron was wrapped around her waist, covered with what looked like flour. She stood poised for an answer, her forehead inclined.

  “Umm…hi. I used to live here. Years ago,” Katie replied, then focused her eyes more carefully on the nosy old lady. “It’s…Mrs. Parker, isn’t it?” Katie faintly remembered.

  “Who’s asking?” the old woman replied, folding her arms over her apron. Her loose permed white hair bobbed as she spoke.

  “My name’s Katie. Katie Spencer. Do you remember me? I lived here about twenty years ago.” Katie pointed behind her.

  Mrs. Parker recoiled. Across her face fell a shadow of pure shock. After a few seconds she spoke, her hostile voice more shaky now. “What? What the bleeding hell are you doing back here?” she said, her voice tapering out to a whisper.

  Katie spread her arms. “I’m not sure, really. I came back up here to visit my sister. You remember Jenny? She’s a couple of years older than me. And I thought I’d come and see my old house.”

  The haggard old lady continued to glare at Katie. “Does anyone else know you’re here?”

  “Not really. I left my sister a voicemail earlier to ask her if I could come round, or she could come to my hotel. I left it up to her to decide. Oh, I spoke to the father of some lad I used to know in the shop up the road.” Katie stopped. “But he looked at me like you’re looking at me now. Why did you ask who knew I was here? What’s going on here?”

  “Look, I think you should get back in your car and go back to wherever it is you came from. Things around here have only just got back to normal.” Mrs. Parker wrung her hands and fiddled with the cord of her apron as she spoke. She looked around at the houses along the street to see if anyone else had come out.

  “Normal?” Katie said, wrinkling her brow. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Her patience was running out, not able to get a straight answer from the old lady.

  “You don’t remember?” Mrs. Parker replied. Katie looked at her and shook her head.

  “No.” Katie’s eyes moistened and the old lady’s harsh exterior softened slightly.

  “Oh, bleeding hell. You’d better come in then. Quickly though, before anyone sees you loitering about the place. Last thing I want is you causing mither.”

  Rachel had been standing at the top of the steep concrete steps outside the police station for half an hour on the phone to her mum. Breathing the fresh air in, she leaned against the black metal railing listening while her mum told her all about her shopping trip to Newquay, before finally getting a word in edgewise.

  “Work’s fine, Mum. Really. Yes, I’m taking it easy. Well, as easy as you know I can. Everyone’s great. Apart from one of my DCs, who seems to be on the ‘I don’t give a crap’ train. But you can’t have it all perfect. OK, Mum, you just enjoy your afternoon tea. Say hi to Glynis for me. Love you. Bye.”

  “There you are,” Chloe said, appearing from the door behind her. Rachel pocketed her phone and turned around.

  “Everything OK in there?” Rachel asked.

  Chloe smiled and breathed in the air. On the ground at the bottom of the steps, a pair of seagulls squared up to each other, squawking and screeching as they fought over a small pile of squashed chips. “Yeah. Just thought I’d get some fresh air too. Felt a bit cabin fever-y in there this morning. My mum always used to say stagnant air breeds stagnant thoughts. Not what we need when we’ve got cases to solve. And Bradley’s aftershave was giving me a headache.” She laughed, as did Rachel.

  “I know. He has laid the old Paco Rabanne on a bit thick, hasn’t he? I think he’s got a bit of a crush on you. Mags thinks so too. She was banging on about it before.”

  Chloe blushed. “You think? Hmm…I’m not really interested in him.”

  Rachel rocked on her heels and combed her hair back with her fingers. “Oh, I don’t know. He seems nice enough. It gets you off those dating sites? You should give him a chance.”

  “No,” Chloe replied. Rachel snapped her head back at the bluntness of Chloe’s response. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to sound harsh. I just…I know when I’m not interested in someone.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Anyway, I’ve decided to stay after work for the next few nights to get on with sorting out the timelines for the Davies case.”

  “How have you got on so far? Anything new caught your eye? Nobody else on the team had any thoughts at all?” Rachel quipped.

  “Well, there are four possibilities as to what happened to Callum. I narrowed it down from all the other red herrings, so that’s what I’ll be doing this afternoon and tonight.”

  “Nice one, good effort.”

  They walked back into the police station and headed back up to the incident room. When they got there, Mags was chatting animatedly to Bradley, who laughed loudly at her punchline.

  “Right, everyone, let’s go into my office and have a catch up on what we’ve discovered over the course of this morning.” She looked at Chloe. “I’ll get you to start if that’s OK, Sharp?”

  “Of course,” Chloe replied, the sense of pride swelling in her chest.

  Once inside Rachel’s office, and seated around her briefing table, Chloe opened her notebook and began to list off the four possibilities she’d deduced from the evidence she’d gone through with a fine-toothed comb. Once she’d finished, she looked at Rachel who gave her a nod of approval. But Mags gave her a slow hand clap.

  “Well, get you, Chloe Sharp, showing us all how it’s done,” Mags said with a smile. “I definitely won’t be missed around here, will I?”

  Chloe laughed, then looked at Mags, sensing the edge in her voice and a cold look in her eyes she hadn’t ever seen before.

  After Bradley had gone through his telephone conversations and door-to-door enquiries, Rachel called the meeting to a close. Mags and Bradley stood
up and collected their notes and headed back to their desks. Chloe remained seated, her expression blank as she stared at the wall.

  “Everything OK, Sharp?” Rachel asked.

  “Yeah. It’s just what Mags said before. I don’t know whether to take it as a compliment or not.”

  “Who knows with Mags? She’s a funny one, that’s for sure. I sometimes don’t quite know where I stand. But if you feel she’s being funny with you, you come and tell me. OK?” Rachel perched on the corner of her desk and folded her arms.

  Chloe looked up from the briefing table and smiled. “Thank you. I appreciate that. I know I’m only young, and I’ve got a hell of a lot to learn about this job. But I’m not still some trainee detective just waiting to be signed off as substantive. I studied hard and passed that exam after two years’ hard graft. I don’t want to be taken the piss out of. You know? It’s bad enough when your own father thinks you’re too blonde and stupid to be a copper, without me taking it from Mags too.”

  “You’re overthinking.” Rachel said. “And sod what your dad thinks. And Mags, for that matter. I happen to think you’re doing a sterling job. And I’ve passed that on to Jenkins, and Clifford as well. So you just put all negative thoughts out of your head, OK?”

  Chloe replied with a half-smile of appreciation at the pep talk. “You’re right. I mean, I like Mags, but I won’t let her make me feel stupid. Not when I’m working so bloody hard.” Chloe’s meek demeanour had switched back now into the feisty, take-no-shit woman Rachel had come to really like.

  “Right then. Now get back out there, hold your head up and crack on.”

  “I will.” Chloe stood up and walked over to the door. She turned back and flashed Rachel a warm smile.

  Outside the office, Tina was standing talking to Bradley.

  “How’s the church fundraising going, Tina?” Rachel asked as she stood in the doorway.

  “Oh, it’s going great. We raised £250 last week just on the cake sale alone,” Tina gushed.