by Helen Cox
‘Just checking, these trifles can slip our mind.’
‘Right,’ said Halloran, returning to the circle. ‘Every copper in the city is looking for this guy, and for Ritchie. If he’s still out there and is going to commit a crime tonight, we’ve got a good chance of catching him. Anything else to report here?’
‘Kitt was just breaking the news that this incident probably means the killer is stalking me,’ said Evie. ‘She wants to know if I can get police protection.’
‘We don’t have the resources to have someone on guard 24/7, but I could move you to a safe location where you could stay until we catch them,’ said Halloran.
‘You mean . . . go into hiding?’ Evie said, wrapping her arms around herself.
Halloran nodded. ‘Just until we catch the murderers.’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘Evie,’ said Jazz. ‘At least think about it. I’ve read a lot of true crime in my time. You don’t know what these people are capable of.’
‘I don’t want to hide. Even if I’m scared, I don’t want to give the killer the satisfaction of thinking they’ve won.’
A broad smile stretched across Heather’s lips. ‘That’s very brave.’
‘It is,’ said Halloran. ‘But if you insist on staying in plain view, you at least need to be vigilant.’
‘In what way?’
‘Like we said about the incident at the funeral, whoever it was couldn’t show up in person as they’d be recognized as out of place. Whoever it is, you know them, but not well. You’re going to need to watch the people around you, carefully. Look for any suspicious behaviour.’
Evie looked slowly from Heather to Jazz and then to Kitt as though one of them might be the killer. Kitt sighed and shook her head. Her friend had been through enough without having to suspect the people who were supposed to care for her had a hand in this.
‘We’d better get you to A&E,’ Halloran said to Heather.
‘Oh, no. I don’t think we need to. The bleeding has pretty much stopped and the NHS is stretched as it is.’
‘You should still have someone take a look at it.’
‘Honestly, it’s fine. It’s not deep, it was just a shock.’
‘Well, if you’re sure?’
‘I’m sure, I’m more concerned about how we’re all getting home safely,’ said Heather. ‘Shall we share a taxi?’
‘No need,’ said Halloran. ‘My car’s just around the corner, I’ll drop you all where you need to be. Just in case the killer puts in another appearance.’
Kitt was about to say that there was hardly any need for the inspector to go out of his way when it was unlikely the killer would risk returning tonight, and there were taxis available just around the corner at Bootham Bar, but before she could get a word out the whole table had thanked Halloran and told him how relieved they were to have a police escort.
‘Don’t look so glum, Ms Hartley,’ Halloran said. ‘I know you were hoping it would just be the two of us this evening, but I’ll let you ride up front.’
Kitt scowled at Halloran and then, as she heard Evie giggling, immediately regretted rising to the bait.
‘I’m sorry, inspector,’ she said, trying to recover some dignity. ‘The stress of this case has clearly left you quite delusional. Nobody in this room fancies you half as much as you fancy yourself.’
More giggling from the table, this time Heather and Jazz pitched in.
Halloran took a step closer to Kitt. ‘You underestimate how much I fancy myself if you think that’s a cutting remark. If anyone in this room likes me half as much as I like myself I’m still chalking that up as a win.’
In spite of the dramatic turn the evening had taken, Kitt couldn’t help but chuckle at this. Arrogance itself was an abhorrent quality, but mocking your own narcissism turned out to be somewhat charming. Kitt noticed a gleam in Halloran’s eyes as she laughed, which made laughing all the more worthwhile.
‘Oh, do give over,’ she said, straightening her face. ‘We’ve got damsels in distress to get safely home.’
‘I hadn’t forgotten,’ said Halloran, before gesturing for the ladies at the table to follow him. Kitt, still determined not to show any enthusiasm at the prospect of being driven home by Halloran, followed on last. She wondered whether the inspector would insist she took the front passenger seat when they got to his car. Whether she would have an excuse for sitting by his side, thigh-by-thigh, his hand on the gear stick, begging to be covered with hers.
Twenty-nine
Halloran pulled up outside Kitt’s cottage and put the handbrake on. The detective looked over at the librarian, and she tried to put out of her mind the funny look Evie had given her when they had dropped her off ten minutes ago. It was most peculiar. At a guess, Evie was trying to insinuate by expression alone that Halloran was going to make a move on her. Kitt had shaken her head at her friend and waved her into her house. The last thing she needed was more taunting about Halloran, particularly now that she was starting to admit to herself that she was attracted to him, which was really just miserable news.
When she first broke up with Theo she thought she was going to have to put in a lot of hard work into not being attracted to people. Over the years, however, she had come to realize how much it took for a person to turn her head. Something about Halloran was different . . .
His blue eyes glimmered in the yellow light cast by a nearby lamp post. The white T-shirt he was wearing – in October as though the cold meant nothing to him – fitted tight against his toned chest. Lower down it clung to a small paunch, which wasn’t visible when he was standing. Kitt imagined running her hand across it. Thought about how soft it would feel in contrast to his muscular arms clinching around her. Catching herself staring at him, she cleared her throat.
‘It’s getting late.’
Halloran ran his thumb and forefinger over his eyebrows. ‘Yeah, sometimes I forget why I signed up for these late nights in the first place.’
‘Why did you?’ asked Kitt. If Evie’s relationship radar was anything to go by, every extra minute Kitt stayed in the car the likelihood of Halloran making a move on her increased, but the question was out of her mouth before she could stop it.
Halloran chuckled. ‘For all the wrong reasons.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
Halloran studied Kitt’s face. ‘There was a lot about my upbringing I couldn’t control. I didn’t much like that.’
‘I don’t think any of us do,’ Kitt said.
‘Being a copper, I knew it’d be a lot of responsibility, but I also knew if I climbed the ranks I’d get to control my own investigations.’
‘Looks like you’re exactly where you want to be.’
Halloran sighed and rested both hands on the steering wheel. ‘Looks can be deceiving.’
The smile that had been on Kitt’s lips faded. ‘How do you mean?’
‘I mean, there are costs to this life. There’s a cost to everything.’
‘Like what?’ Kitt knew this was prying, but Halloran had started this line of conversation, so she didn’t see why she shouldn’t have her curiosity satisfied.
Halloran pressed his lips together, thinking. ‘I had a wife.’
This piece of information sliced right through Kitt, and it was all she could do not to wince. Why did this surprise her? Did she really think a man who looked like Halloran was likely to have much experience of being single? Especially given his age. They hadn’t discussed it outright, but given the smattering of grey in his dark hair, Kitt had guessed he was somewhere in his forties.
‘And . . . the job took its toll on your relationship?’
‘You could say that.’ All of a sudden, Halloran’s voice was weak to the point of breaking.
Kitt didn’t dare say anything else. She stayed quiet and waited for him to change the subject.
&nbs
p; But he didn’t.
‘My wife . . . was murdered. About five years ago.’
Involuntarily, Kitt rubbed the palm of her hand against her heart. She wanted to reach out to Halloran, to put her arms around him, but it wasn’t appropriate to push herself on him when he was confiding in her. ‘I don’t know what to say,’ she admitted. ‘I can’t imagine what that must have been like. I’m so very sorry.’
‘Nobody’s fault but mine.’
‘I can’t think that’s true.’
‘Feels it,’ Halloran said, his words clipped. ‘She died . . . because of a case I was working on. The guy who killed her, he was a suspect in a serial case, but I didn’t get the evidence together in time to make an arrest before it was too late.’
‘None of this makes it your fault that your wife is no longer with us,’ said Kitt. ‘The responsibility rests with the person who committed the act, you know that.’
‘I know,’ he said, ‘but part of me doesn’t believe it. I don’t usually talk about it . . . but I wanted you to understand why I had to take you and Evie in as soon as the evidence pointed at your involvement.’
Kitt half smiled. ‘I knew you were just doing your job.’
‘Yeah, but you hated the way we did it.’
‘Wish I could deny that. Not sure that anything you could say would make it OK that you read my journal.’
‘Perhaps now you know more about my story, you understand why I had to do that.’
‘Did you . . . really read it all?’
‘It was my job to.’
‘Even, you know, the sex stuff?’
‘That’s what I meant when I confirmed I’d read all of it.’
‘I see. Well, if you think I’m sorry I wrote any of it, I’m not. Don’t get me started on the injustice that women are simultaneously criticized for being prudes and for daring to enjoy sex.’
Halloran stared at her and his brow dipped. ‘Let me say on record that I’m in no way criticizing anything I read in those pages, and could be considered a person in favour of women enjoying sex.’
Kitt was, at that moment, intensely grateful for how dark it was in the car as she could feel her cheeks burning. The temptation was to lower her head so she didn’t have to look directly at Halloran, but pure cussedness made her hold his gaze. How had the conversation veered in this direction? She reminded herself of Theo’s friend request, and consequently how easy it was for curiosity to lead somewhere dangerous and disorientating.
‘It really is late now. I should say goodnight.’
‘And how does a Middlesbrough lass say goodnight?’
Kitt unbuckled her seat belt, determined not to give the inspector even a moment to capitalize on the intimate conversation they’d shared. ‘We say, “’night”.’
Swinging open the car door, Kitt stepped out of the car and leaned into the footwell to pick up her handbag.
‘Kitt,’ Halloran said, putting a hand on her arm.
She raised both eyebrows at him in expectation, but didn’t speak.
‘When I read your journal, I learned how much Theo hurt you.’
Kitt’s body drooped and she shook her head, not knowing what to say.
‘If you want me to, I can make life difficult for him.’
‘Of course I don’t want you to . . . How, exactly?’
Halloran rubbed his beard, and Kitt was reminded again how much she wanted to do that herself. ‘Once this case is over, I could become very interested in how vigilantly he pays his taxes.’
Kitt, unable to help herself, started to laugh and held her hands against her ribs. Halloran joined in for a minute, but then had to ask, ‘Is it really that funny?’
‘It’s just the idea of punishing a person for bad relationship choices via tax evasion. Makes Theo sound like the Al Capone of broken hearts.’
Halloran started laughing again. He had a deep, loud laugh that filled the car. ‘Well, my offer stands if you change your mind, but in all seriousness, I meant what I said about everything coming with a price. Even loving people. But most of us wouldn’t give up the time we had with those people to escape the pain of losing them.’
Kitt tilted her head to the left in a sort of sideways nod. ‘You’re right, of course, which is very annoying.’
‘I hope that one day you can share yourself as openly with another person as you do with your journal. You’ve got a lot to give.’
Kitt’s eyes lowered. ‘I don’t know if I can.’
‘If you don’t know for sure that you can’t, then there’s hope,’ said Halloran.
Smiling, Kitt gently closed the car door, began fishing in her handbag for her door keys and made for the entrance of her cottage, which, save for a less-than-welcoming feline, was dark and empty.
If she didn’t want to be alone tonight, she knew all she had to do was turn and invite Halloran in. He had started the car engine, but was waiting, probably to see that she got inside OK. He knew, just as she did, what it was like to go back to an empty house, night after night. She could turn back to face him, flash him a knowing smile, and beckon him seductively with one finger the way a brave, carefree woman would in the books she read. If she had their courage, she would already know the weight of Halloran’s body on top of hers, how tightly his hands could grip her wrists against the headboard, what kind of man he became when he was not bound by the badge or public duty. But Kitt was not a brave, carefree woman, at least not when it came to love, and she wasn’t quite sure how to become one. She could only think to do the sensible thing: turn the key in the lock, switch on the living-room light, and close the door behind her without looking back at the handsome face that, if only she’d had the courage, could have been the face she woke up to in the morning.
Thirty
‘Right, that’s it,’ said Grace. ‘I’m calling time on what must be the least eventful day in all of history.’
‘Things have been a bit slow today,’ said Kitt, trying not to let the note of disappointment sound in her voice. Kitt hadn’t heard a word from Halloran since last night. She had half-expected, or half-hoped for, a message of some sort after what he had shared with her. She would even have settled for a photo of Al Capone popping up in her emails as a wry little joke. But it was eight p.m. and her inbox was still sans Scarface. It wasn’t so surprising, Kitt told herself. The man was in the middle of solving a murder case. His priorities were rightly elsewhere. ‘On the plus side, we haven’t had any phone calls about dead bodies. For that at least we should be grateful.’
‘Aye, you’re right. That’s not the kind of excitement I’m in the market for. Oh, ey up. Suppose we’ve still got Cabbage for entertainment.’
Kitt looked up from her computer screen for the first time in the last half hour and squinted over at the bookshelves where she could see that now-familiar forest-green anorak.
‘For goodness’ sake, which feminist tome is he hiding behind this time?’
‘Looks like The Beauty Myth.’
‘What is his game?’ said Kitt, shaking her head. And then she paused. Various pieces of an incomplete jigsaw began to fall into place. ‘Halloran said we had to be vigilant.’ The words came out of her mouth almost on autopilot.
‘Kitt? You all right?’ said Grace.
Kitt looked at her assistant. ‘Halloran said the killer was likely to be someone in our lives, but someone who was on the outskirts. He told us to be vigilant, to look out for anyone acting suspiciously.’
Grace frowned. ‘Right . . .’ Then she looked over at Cabbage and made the connection. ‘You don’t think . . . Cabbage?’
‘The first time I encountered him was on the morning the police came to visit.’
‘Aye, I remember. You were hungover. I haven’t forgotten your rotten mood that day either.’
‘Since then, he’s been . . .’
�
�Lurking . . .’ said Grace.
‘That’s how I’d describe it,’ said Kitt. ‘He’s been watching us all along.’
‘But he doesn’t know Evie, does he?’
‘Doesn’t need to. Not if he followed her, and then that in turn led him to me.’
‘Why would he follow her?’
‘Dark minds don’t need much of a reason. Ever read Perfume?’
Grace put a hand on her hip. ‘Haven’t quite prioritized that one above all the other titles you’ve recommended in the past week.’
‘In that, the killer stalks and murders his first victim just because he really likes the way she smells.’
‘One reason not to shower every day,’ said Grace. ‘But Cabbage?’
‘Only one way to find out if he’s got something to hide,’ said Kitt, rising from her office chair and smoothing the creases out of her navy skirt.
‘What are you going to do?’
Kitt looked at her assistant, but didn’t respond. She didn’t really know the answer to that. Still, she strode over to where Cabbage was standing and tapped him on the shoulder. His brown eyes widened.
‘Anything in particular you’re looking for, sir?’ asked Kitt. ‘I think I explained to you that we don’t have a copy of Tess of the d’Urbervilles in this section of the library.’
‘I know that, I know, I – er.’
‘My colleague and I couldn’t help notice you’ve been hanging around this section quite a bit in the last week.’
Smart move, thought Kitt. Let it be known to him that it wasn’t just her who was onto him, that other people had noticed his behaviour.
‘Didn’t know there was a law against reading books in a library,’ said Cabbage.
‘There isn’t, but your behaviour has struck us as rather odd. You seem to divide your time between the books and watching us. Any explanation for that? It seems very peculiar.’
Cabbage shoved the Naomi Wolf volume back on the nearest shelf. ‘I don’t need to explain myself to you.’
He nudged Kitt’s shoulder as he bustled his way past.
