by D. S. Butler
Sophie shook her head. ‘Not yet. I’ve been flicking through pictures of cases all afternoon.’
She still looked miserable, and Karen thought she’d better have a private word with Sophie tomorrow to find out what was bothering her.
‘Any luck?’ DI Morgan asked, looking up at Karen.
‘Rick says he’s still not talking. He’s pretty sure the old man is pretending to be asleep. The medical staff told him Albert is not sedated.’
‘Suspicious,’ DI Morgan said.
‘Yes. Rick needs to get home, so I said I’d head down to the hospital.’ She pulled up a chair and sat beside Sophie. ‘Though if Albert Johnson is pretending to sleep that means he probably hasn’t eaten all day. That can’t be good for him in his condition. Perhaps we should leave him alone tonight so he actually eats something.’
‘Maybe,’ DI Morgan said, but he looked doubtful. ‘Although, right now, he’s the only one who can tell us why he had a body hidden in his home.’
‘It’s not like he’s going anywhere in a hurry. Maybe he’ll be more responsive tomorrow.’
DI Morgan agreed. ‘All right. I’ll ask Rick to go to the hospital again tomorrow. If Albert does wake up this evening, the nursing staff can tell us, then we’ll know for sure if he’s faking sleep to avoid questioning.’
Karen nodded. But if Albert Johnson was faking sleep, she didn’t know what they could do about it. It wasn’t like they could shake the old boy awake.
If they weren’t able to get the answers they needed from Albert or the Fox family, they were going to have to look elsewhere. Perhaps questioning Oliver Fox’s old colleagues should be their next step.
Investigating old cases could be complicated. It was hard to track witnesses down, as people tended to move away from the area over time.
Karen stood up, intending to grab her coat and bag, when Superintendent Murray marched into the office area. DI Morgan and Sophie looked up as she approached.
‘I’ve had the assistant commissioner on the phone,’ she said. ‘Apparently, the only decent thing to do is keep DSI Fox updated with every latest development in the case. He’s got a handicap of four, don’t you know?’ She gritted her teeth. ‘I’ve always disliked golf.’
Karen had never seen the superintendent so angry. Two bright red spots burned in the centres of her cheeks as she paced in front of them, shaking with rage.
‘So what do you want us to do, ma’am?’ Karen asked. ‘How much should we tell him?’
The superintendent turned her intense eyes on Karen. ‘How long have you known me, DS Hart?’
Karen was taken aback at the question. ‘Um, seven years, I think.’
‘And do you think I’m the type of officer to bow to the pressure of the old boys’ network?’
‘No, ma’am, I don’t.’
‘So my original instructions remain. Don’t give anything away. Ex-Detective Superintendent Fox may be friends with the assistant commissioner, but we don’t know who we’re dealing with. Be polite, make him feel like he’s involved, but keep your cards close to your chest. Don’t tell him any details about the body’s condition or where it was found. Is that understood?’
DI Morgan, Sophie and Karen all nodded, and said in unison, ‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Good. I thought I’d better let you know that Robert Fox will be coming by for a chat tomorrow morning.’
DI Morgan and Karen exchanged a look.
‘I know what you’re thinking. You could do without this sort of thing getting in the way of your work, but you just need to give him ten minutes of your time. Give him a tour around the labs, make him feel important.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ DI Morgan said.
‘Good. I’ll see you all tomorrow.’ Then Superintendent Murray turned on her heel and marched out of the office.
Sophie leaned back in her chair. ‘I’m not getting anywhere with this search for the suitcase. I’m just going to go home. It’s seven thirty, and it’s not going to make any difference if I finish this tonight. He’s already been dead for thirty years.’
Karen was too shocked to say anything. But DI Morgan wasn’t. ‘That’s not a good attitude to have when you’re investigating a death, Sophie.’
Oliver Fox had been dead for thirty years, but the note found at Albert Johnson’s house was a threat – a very immediate one. Karen frowned. Sophie was struggling with her motivation on this case, which was very unlike her.
Sophie’s cheeks flushed, and she straightened up in her chair. ‘I know, I’m sorry. It’s just been a hell of a day.’
But DI Morgan wasn’t about to let it rest there. ‘Just because he’s been dead a long time doesn’t mean that we don’t need to take this case seriously. It gets investigated just like any other case. Do you understand?’
Sophie lowered her head and muttered, ‘Yes, sir.’
Karen decided to walk with Sophie as she left and have a quick word. But before she could leave, DI Morgan asked if she could locate the file from the original Senior Investigating Officer.
It took a few minutes to do so, and by the time she’d made it downstairs, Sophie was long gone.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sophie walked up Steep Hill, wishing she’d worn flat shoes. She’d picked the spiky red heels because she wanted to look good tonight. Her friend, Angela, who she’d known since school, had a way of making her feel competitive.
Sophie had always been top of the class. She’d excelled in every subject. They’d met up frequently in the years since they’d left sixth form, and Sophie usually enjoyed going out with Angela. But tonight she was nervous, uncertain. For the first time in her life, Sophie felt like a failure, and she didn’t like that feeling at all.
She entered the tapas restaurant, which was heaving with people. The air was thick with the smell of onions and sizzling garlic, and every table was full. The noise of the chatter was quite overwhelming after the relative quiet of Steep Hill.
Sophie took a moment to get her bearings and then spotted Angela sitting at a corner table by the window. She hadn’t looked up or spotted Sophie. Staring intently at her phone, she was tapping away at the screen.
Sophie took a moment to study her friend. Angela had changed since their school days. In fact, she’d undergone a pretty dramatic transformation. Her hair used to be brown and rather frizzy. Angela had joked that she kept Frizz-Ease afloat, but now she’d had her hair dyed blonde and professionally straightened, and it hung glossily around her shoulders.
She’d had a nose job a couple of years ago too, and that had really changed her appearance. It was amazing the difference it had made. She looked like a new woman.
Finally, Angela raised her head and saw Sophie. She smiled widely and waved.
Sophie took a deep breath and tried to wind her way past the tables without nudging any of the patrons. She knocked a handbag to the floor. It had been hanging on the back of a chair. Not a good idea, Sophie thought, as she picked it up and apologised to the owner. The restaurant was popular, and they really liked to pack them in. Didn’t people realise how many opportunistic thefts occurred in Lincoln every day?
Finally through the obstacle course, she sat down opposite Angela with a sinking feeling in her stomach. Angela was a success, and Sophie was not. If people were being kind, they might say Sophie was a work in progress. The trouble was, the progress wasn’t quick enough for Sophie’s liking.
‘What are you having to drink?’ Angela asked. ‘I ordered a glass of red because I wasn’t sure if you were drinking.’
‘Oh, I am definitely drinking,’ Sophie said. ‘Let’s get a bottle.’
The waiter magically appeared at their table and offered the wine list. Sophie was about to opt for the house red when Angela picked out one of the most expensive wines on the menu.
Sophie blanched. That was a ridiculous amount of money for one bottle. When the waiter left, Sophie said, ‘Angela, that was a bit pricey.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about it. I�
��m getting dinner tonight. My treat.’ Her phone buzzed. ‘Sorry, Soph, I just need to get this. It’s work. You don’t mind, do you?’
Sophie smiled and shook her head as Angela got up from the table and took her phone outside. She’d left her handbag perched on the chair, and Sophie studied it. Prada, she realised enviously. Typical.
She tapped her fingers on the table and stared out of the window at the cobbled street outside.
She was still smarting from not getting her mortgage. And the fact she’d been tracking down suitcase suppliers who’d been operating in 1988 and photocopying all afternoon hadn’t exactly put her in a better mood.
She knew she wasn’t being fair. Her job could be exciting and it was important, and the team had achieved some good results in the last couple of months. But she wondered whether she’d played much of a role in their successful cases. Would it have made a difference if she hadn’t been on the team?
She smiled up at the waiter as he arrived at the table with the bottle and poured her a small amount of wine to taste. She took a quick sip, even though she wouldn’t know the difference between an amazing vintage wine and one stocked by the local Co-op. She gave him an approving nod, and he filled the rest of her glass.
Angela was working in PR. She had been since she left school, and at first Sophie had thought it was an odd career. She had to attend parties and clubs and advertising events. Cosying up to people, laughing at boring jokes and making sure people’s parties went off without a hitch was her job.
But Sophie had to give credit where it was due – Angela had worked hard and suddenly appeared to have the world at her feet. She was always jetting off on business trips to exotic places that Sophie had only ever seen in magazines or on the TV.
When Angela arrived back at the table, Sophie raised her glass. Angela slid into her seat and chinked her glass against Sophie’s. ‘Here’s to us. It’s been ages since we last met up. What have you been up to? How’s work?’
Sophie didn’t really feel like talking about work at the moment. She shrugged. ‘Work’s just work. Okay, I suppose.’
‘I was always so envious of you, Soph. You knew exactly what you wanted to do when you left school, but I didn’t have a clue. You’re happy with your job, aren’t you?’
If she’d been asked that question a week ago, Sophie would have said yes, but today she just wasn’t feeling very positive. She reminded herself that her job wasn’t terrible. She had monotonous tasks to do, but that was the same with most careers. She was just having a tough day because her mortgage application had failed.
She struggled to raise a smile. ‘Yes, it’s great. I’ll be applying for a promotion next year if all goes well.’
‘That’s brilliant. I’m really pleased for you.’
‘I’m feeling a bit sorry for myself today, though,’ Sophie said, taking a sip of her wine. ‘I found a house I really wanted to buy, but the bank wouldn’t give me a big enough mortgage.’
‘Oh, what a shame. I’ve got the opposite problem. I have the money to buy a property but keep missing out because it’s hard to find time for the viewings. The estate agent I’m using now is pretty good, though. I’ve been living in serviced apartments in Manchester for the past few months. It’s not ideal. It doesn’t feel like home, know what I mean?’
Sophie nodded, but she was actually thinking she’d prefer to live in a serviced apartment than stay in the same bedroom she’d had since childhood. ‘I’m starting to think I should have picked a different job – one that earned better money for a start.’
Angela raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, if you’re serious about a career change, you could always work with me. I could get you an interview. There’s loads of money in it. God, they’re just throwing bonuses at me these days. Do you want me to put in a word for you? I’m sure they’d snatch you up. You could make a killing, Soph.’
‘Thanks, but I don’t think I’m ready for a career change just yet. I do like my job. I just get . . .’ Sophie paused as the waiter stopped by their table, pad in hand, to take their orders.
They ordered a selection of tapas dishes to share – garlic mushrooms, chorizo and patatas bravas.
When the waiter left, Sophie smiled apologetically. ‘Sorry, I probably should have cancelled tonight. I’m just in a bad mood. I’ll be fine tomorrow.’
Angela’s phone beeped, and she looked down at the screen. ‘The estate agent must be working late.’
‘So you’re seriously looking?’
‘Yes, I’m sick of living in those apartments. I need a proper base, somewhere to call home. I wanted somewhere near Mum and Dad, so I was looking in Washingborough, and the estate agent says she has the perfect property for me. She said it needs some work, but I’m looking for a good investment.’
Sophie’s stomach lurched. Surely Angela couldn’t be talking about the same house Sophie had wanted to buy in Washingborough? Her fingers tightened around the stem of the wine glass.
‘At least I can hire decorators and fitters to work while I’m away,’ Angela continued, reading the message on her phone. ‘It sounds like most of the renovations have been done, but it needs a new kitchen. Shouldn’t cost too much, and I need to do something with this money I’m earning.’
‘Where’s the house?’ Sophie asked quietly.
‘It’s on St Clements Street. Near Washingborough Hall.’
Sophie’s jaw dropped open. After a moment, she said, ‘That’s a coincidence!’ She tried to laugh it off but couldn’t. ‘That’s the house I wanted to buy.’
The smile fell from Angela’s face. ‘Oh, really? I had no idea. I can tell the agent not to bother booking a viewing.’
Sophie shook her head. ‘No, don’t do that. It’s fine. It’s just a house. We always did have similar taste.’
She started babbling about the ideas she’d had for the house. Maybe Angela would benefit from the hours she’d spent poring over decorating ideas on the internet. Sophie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
To be still living at home with her parents in her mid-twenties was not how she’d imagined her future. She’d always been an overachiever, and yet Sophie had to sit in front of a computer, searching for suitcases, while Angela was jet-setting around the world. Is this really what she wanted out of her life? It wouldn’t be so bad if she felt she was making a difference, but anyone could do the boring admin tasks.
Angela leaned forward and met Sophie’s gaze. ‘Well, if you’re absolutely sure . . .’
Sophie gulped her wine. ‘I am. Honestly. It’s a bargain, and I’m sure the house will be lovely when you’re done fixing it up.’
The waiter arrived with their dishes. The garlic mushrooms sizzled. Normally, Sophie would have wolfed down the tapas, but today she just wasn’t feeling hungry.
Sophie spooned two mushrooms on to her plate as Angela said, ‘So, tell me more about your job. It must be so exciting.’
Sophie drained her wine glass and pointed at the bottle. ‘I think I’ll need another drink first.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
It was almost eight p.m. by the time Karen arrived at Lincoln County Hospital. The car park was nearly empty. She slid the parking ticket into her back pocket and walked quickly to the main entrance.
The bright lights in the hospital reception area made her squint. Rick told her they’d moved Albert Johnson to the cardiac care unit, so she headed straight there and spotted Rick sitting on an orange plastic chair near the nurses’ station.
When Rick saw her walking along the corridor, he got to his feet and massaged the small of his back. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever sat in such an uncomfortable chair,’ he grumbled.
‘Sorry to keep you waiting,’ Karen said.
One of the nurses, sitting at the nurses’ station, sent an angry look in their direction.
Rick gestured to the double doors at the end of the corridor. ‘Let’s talk out there.’
He yawned as they walked through the doors and paused on the other sid
e.
‘I take it Albert Johnson didn’t start singing like a canary in the last half an hour?’ Karen asked.
‘I’m afraid not, Sarge. He’s still asleep, or pretending to be. The nurses are a little concerned.’
Karen sighed. ‘I think it’s best if we leave it for tonight. Maybe he’ll wake up tomorrow. I’ve arranged for a uniform to guard his room overnight just in case. Do you still think he’s faking it to avoid talking to you?’
‘Maybe. He seems tense. It’s almost as if he’s screwing his eyes shut. He must know we’ve found the body and that, as soon as he opens his eyes, we’re going to have a lot of questions for him.’
‘All right. Let’s hope we have more luck tomorrow. You get off home now.’
‘Thanks, Sarge.’
After Rick left, Karen walked back into the cardiac care unit and looked through the glass door at Albert Johnson. Even from a few feet away, she could see what Rick meant. Albert’s face wasn’t as relaxed as it should be if he was asleep. It looked like they had a waiting game on their hands. He would have to wake up and face the music eventually. Surely he wouldn’t be able to fake sleep for more than a day or two.
She thanked the nurses on the ward and then headed back to her car. After she left the hospital building, she pulled out her mobile and saw she had a missed call from her sister, Emma. She hit redial, and her sister answered on the first ring.
‘Hey you,’ Emma said.
‘Hey yourself. I was thinking about you today.’
‘You were?’
‘Yes. I’m working a case where the subject of shell suits came up. Do you remember those? We used to have matching ones. We thought we were the business wearing those suits with our fancy white trainers. We got them the same Christmas we discovered Exclamation perfume.’
‘Oh God, yes. I remember that. Do you know they still sell that perfume? I smelled it in Boots the other day, and I was taken right back to 1990.’
Karen laughed.
‘I did have a reason for calling, Karen.’
‘What’s wrong? Is Mallory all right?’
