An Eye for an Eye (Detective Kate Young)

by Carol Wyer

  The doorbell chimed again, announcing the arrival of another customer, and Fiona walked in. Kate slid the cake into her large handbag absent-mindedly.

  ‘Just a tea, please,’ said Fiona to the café owner, before facing Kate and asking, ‘Where do you want to sit?’

  ‘I’ll bring the drinks over to you,’ said Annette-Hannah, leaving the women to select a table.

  Kate chose the one the furthest away from the counter and door and sat down. Fiona slung her bag over the back of the chair opposite and faced her.

  ‘Thank you for meeting me, especially at such a difficult time,’ said Kate.

  Fiona rested her elbows on the table and leant in closer to speak, her voice low. ‘You have no idea how difficult it is. You haven’t helped matters by taking Dad into the station. Mum’s been out of her mind today. I can’t cope with her. It’s bad enough having to deal with everything else; the boys don’t understand what’s going on and are moping about the house, and we can’t go back home or return to normality because it’s never going to be normal again! It’s like somebody’s tipped my life upside down. And, on top of it all, I can’t get my head around what’s happened. I go through stages where I think none of this is real, and I have to remind myself why I’m staying at my parents’ house and why my youngest is sobbing in his bedroom, and then I remember my life is one huge, shitty, fucked-up mess.’

  Annette-Hannah arrived with a tray of drinks, interrupting the monologue, and set the cups up on the table.

  After she’d moved out of earshot, Kate spoke again. ‘You’ll need time to adjust, but you have support – a family who cares about you – and it will get easier.’

  ‘You think so, in time?’

  Kate slipped a hand into her pocket, felt for the pills and caressed the foil packet.

  Not waiting for a response to her question, Fiona picked up her cup and stared miserably at it. ‘What did you want to talk to me about?’

  There was no need to beat about the bush. ‘I wanted to ask you about the affair you’ve been having.’

  Fiona swallowed hard at this revelation. Her response was fast, but not quick enough to hide the unsettled look that crossed her features. Kate knew instantly she was lying when she said, ‘I’m not having an affair.’

  ‘Come on, Fiona. Don’t mess me about. It won’t take the tech department long to search through your mobile devices and establish you’ve been seeing somebody. We can access phone records, online activity, almost anything – even deleted stuff – and it won’t be long before we identify this person and then have to take you both in for questioning.’

  ‘How does me having an affair have any bearing on Alex’s murder?’

  Kate watched the steam rise from her coffee and let Fiona tie herself up in knots.

  ‘I wasn’t even in the country when Alex was killed, so why would you think I was involved?’

  ‘Fiona, it’s up to you to help me out here. I can only work on facts, and I know you signed a prenuptial agreement, so in the case of divorce you would receive nothing from Alex’s estate. However, in the case of Alex’s death, you stand to inherit his worldly possessions, which is a pretty strong motive for murder. At least, that’s how it would look to some people.’

  Fiona put down her cup and clamped her hands under her armpits. ‘I couldn’t. I didn’t.’

  Kate gave a light shrug. She didn’t need to push hard. Fiona was already cracking.

  The words came, hushed and breathy. ‘I was seeing somebody, but it wasn’t serious. What I told you about Alex not being able to get an erection was true. I got frustrated. It’s only natural. I’m not a dried-up old woman yet. I had some fun. Nothing more.’

  ‘Did you break up with this person?’

  ‘I fully intended to when I got back from France, then this happened.’

  ‘So the relationship isn’t over yet?’

  ‘It is for me.’

  ‘Who have you been seeing?’

  ‘Do I have to tell you? It’s so embarrassing. If anyone were to find out—’ She looked about again, but there was no sign of Annette-Hannah, who had disappeared into the kitchen. Music, a disco number from the seventies, was playing in the background. Nevertheless, Fiona dropped her voice. ‘I swear I didn’t have anything to do with Alex’s death.’

  Kate repeated her question. ‘Who were you seeing?’

  She counted to fifteen before Fiona answered. ‘Rory Winters.’

  Kate wasn’t surprised. Rory was a striking young man with smouldering good looks and a superb physique. If he was as charming as his escort profile claimed, he’d be a suitable love interest for Fiona.

  ‘Please don’t breathe a word of this to my parents. I couldn’t bear them to find out. They’d be so disappointed in me. And my boys – what if they find out?’ It was the whiny, pleading voice again.

  ‘I’m going to have to speak to Rory.’

  ‘I suppose you must. Is that everything?’

  ‘For the moment. We removed the computer from your house. Forensics are examining it. I’d like your mobile, please, and permission to access your emails, social media accounts and texts. I’m going to examine the conversation history between you and Rory.’

  ‘And if I refuse?’

  ‘I can make you a suspect and seize it anyway. I’d rather do it the civilised way.’

  Fiona slid her smartphone across the table. ‘When can I have it back?’

  ‘As soon as we finish with it.’

  ‘I’m letting you have this information to help prove I had nothing whatsoever to do with Alex’s death.’ She pulled out a diary, ripped out a back page and scribbled down some passwords. ‘That’s the security code to my phone and those are the passwords to my social media and email accounts, although, once activated, the phone is set to automatically log in to them.’

  ‘Weren’t you worried Alex might look at your phone and find out about Rory?’

  Fiona shook her head. ‘He either trusted me or didn’t mind me seeing someone else. He never challenged me. I wish he had. It might have proved he cared more about me than I suspect he did.’ Tears began to well. She pushed the teacup aside, the milky liquid undrunk, then pulled out a ten-pound note and left it on the table. ‘The drinks are on me. I must go. The children will be asking where I’ve got to.’

  Kate accompanied her outside, where she noticed the white Mini parked behind her own car. It had a red, white and blue flash down the side.

  ‘You came in the driving-school car?’

  ‘One of them. This one’s not used for business any more.’

  ‘Your father owns two identical Minis?’

  Fiona picked up the keys. ‘He bought a new one last year to replace this because it had begun to throw up a few problems. He was going to sell it but couldn’t get the price he wanted, so he repaired it himself and kept it as a runaround for Mum.’

  ‘I thought your mother drove a Range Rover?’ Kate had seen it parked outside the garage on her last visit.

  ‘It glugs fuel. The Mini is more economical for shorter runs. Mum prefers driving the Range Rover so this car doesn’t often leave the garage.’

  Kate made a mental note of the number plate as Fiona pulled away. She rang Emma to tell her the latest development and was answered by an excited voice.

  ‘I’ve been checking through footage from the safety camera on the B5014 to make sure it wasn’t faulty, and guess what I spotted at twelve thirty, one hour later than we thought.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Bradley’s car, travelling along the road towards Lichfield. I ran a check on the DVLA database to make sure it was his vehicle and found out there are two white Minis registered in his name.’

  ‘If Bradley left Yeatsall Road in Abbots Bromley at around eleven, as both he and his pupil Sierra claim, why didn’t his car pass through the camera point sooner? He still has to account for one hour.’

  ‘One hour in which he would have time to murder Alex, then drive to Lichfield.’


  ‘Granted, but I just had an interesting conversation with Fiona. Apparently, one of those cars is no longer used for business purposes and Gwen uses it from time to time. Can you double-check Gwen Chapman’s whereabouts for Thursday? She was supposedly out with friends. It might be an idea to see if she was actually with them. Good work, by the way.’

  Kate found herself on the causeway and deafened by a vast flock of Canada geese that rose from the silvery waters honking triumphantly in unison as they traversed the reservoir. As she pushed on below the scores of flapping wings, she pondered the relevance of the second Mini.

  Instinct told her it was important, but she did not dare allow herself to believe the answer would lead her to Alex’s killer. ‘Facts, Kate. The facts never let you down.’ Chris’s mantra. She’d keep following the trail. What else could she do?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  SATURDAY, 5 JUNE – LATE AFTERNOON

  Rory Winters lived six miles away from Abbots Bromley in a modern semi-detached house on an estate in Rugeley.

  Number 14 Bay Road wasn’t especially remarkable or distinctive. In truth, it was no more than a brick box with plastic window frames and brown roof tiles. However, unlike most other properties, the front lawn had been replaced with dark red block paving on which stood three pots containing cone-shaped topiary Buxus. Kate, walking around a midnight-blue pickup truck parked on the driveway, trailed fingers across the nearest of the trio, the tiny waxy leaves leaving her fingers slightly sticky. The bushes would look lovely in her and Chris’s garden.

  Her arrival had been observed from behind slatted blinds, and Rory answered the door before she had a chance to knock. She lifted the ID hanging on a lanyard around her neck.

  ‘DI Young. Would it be okay to come in and ask a few questions?’

  The young man glanced at the card and flashed perfectly white teeth at her. ‘What about?’

  ‘Alex Corby.’

  The smile vanished. ‘He hasn’t complained about me, has he?’

  ‘Can we go inside, sir?’

  She found herself ushered into a sitting room – a small but functional space. A remote-control unit lay on the pale-blue settee and a picture was frozen in time on the flat-screen television screwed to the wall.

  ‘Binge-watching,’ he said, flicking off the television. ‘Better Call Saul. You seen it?’

  Kate shook her head.

  ‘It’s better than Breaking Bad. I’ve been glued to it all day.’ He stretched languidly. ‘What’s this about? What’s Alex been saying?’

  ‘You haven’t heard?’

  ‘Heard what?’

  If he knew about Alex’s death, he was doing a good job of pretending otherwise.

  ‘Mr Corby was found dead at his home on Thursday.’ Kate waited for a typical response – an ‘Oh no,’ or ‘How awful!’ or even ‘How did he die?’ – but Rory said nothing. Instead he dropped on to the settee and gave her a measured look.

  Eventually, he spoke. ‘And what do you want from me?’

  ‘I’d like to ask you about Fiona Corby.’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘You’ve been having an affair with her.’

  ‘You say “affair”, I say “liaison”.’

  ‘The difference being?’

  ‘A liaison is a romantic tryst, an illicit sexual relationship that’s sensual and amorous in nature. “Affair” is a colder word. It doesn’t quite explain our relationship.’

  Kate was unprepared for Rory’s eloquent response. She tried never to prejudge a person or form a biased opinion of them, but she was surprised by his words and his cut-glass tones, far removed from the local accent, suggesting a wealthy upbringing or a public-school education.

  ‘How long have you been in a relationship with Fiona Corby?’

  The corners of his mouth turned up. ‘Almost three months. Since March the tenth.’

  ‘Is it serious?’ Kate asked.

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘How serious?’

  ‘I asked her to move in with me.’

  ‘And did she agree?’

  ‘She wanted time to think about it while she was away in France.’

  ‘When was the last time you spoke to her?’

  ‘The day before she went to France.’

  ‘Friday the twenty-eighth of May?’

  ‘If you say so. It was definitely Friday. She was leaving the following morning.’

  ‘Has she contacted you at all this last week?’

  ‘No, and I didn’t expect her to. She wanted some space and time to think through what she really wanted to do. She was sick of Alex’s moods and she was fed up with her life, but she was anxious about the children. I didn’t pester her. She had to figure it out for herself.’

  ‘Did you do any work at the Corby house while she was away?’

  ‘No. I was pretty busy all week because I got a sudden request to clear a large plot for a house sale. I decided the lawns at Lea Lane could wait another week.’

  ‘So you didn’t visit Alex Corby any day last week?’

  ‘Why would I?’

  ‘When I introduced myself to you and explained I wanted to talk about Alex, you immediately asked if he’d complained about you. Why would you ask me that?’

  ‘I thought he might have found out about Fiona and me.’

  ‘It’s unlikely he’d have phoned the police about such a matter,’ Kate said.

  Rory chuckled softly and broke eye contact with her. ‘Okay, you caught me out. In actual fact, I borrowed his sit-on mower to work on another job. I thought he might have launched a complaint.’

  ‘And why wouldn’t he have confronted you directly about that? You’re not very good at lying, Mr Winters.’

  His brows furrowed momentarily. ‘Seriously, it’s the truth. He did speak to me about it, but I stupidly lied to him because I didn’t want to lose the contract at his place. You must excuse me. My mind’s a bit fuzzy after watching telly all day, and when you told me you were a detective, I automatically jumped to the wrong conclusion and imagined he’d involved the police.’

  Kate had heard some feeble excuses in her time but, to date, this was one of the worst she’d come across. ‘I’d like to know your movements last Thursday.’

  ‘All day?’

  ‘Why not?’ Kate was tiring of the cocky arrogance.

  ‘I was working in the garden I mentioned.’

  ‘Whereabouts?’

  ‘Holly Bush Road, Newborough. I was at one of the converted barns there – The Stables.’

  ‘And who were you working for?’

  He sighed. ‘Mrs Lancaster. She’s an elderly widow. She’ll vouch for me.’

  ‘What time did you arrive there?’

  ‘Eight o’clock on the dot, and I was there all day. I cleared the whole garden. It was choked with weeds. I had to cut everything back with a strimmer before I could use the lawnmower. Then I weeded the borders and cut the paddock. I finished about seven.’

  ‘You didn’t go to the Corbys’ house at any point?’

  ‘As I said, I was at Mrs Lancaster’s house all day.’

  ‘Tell me, what did you think of Alex Corby?’

  Rory’s lips twitched briefly. ‘I didn’t like or dislike him. He was an okay bloke. I can’t say a lot else about him – after all, I’m involved with his wife.’

  ‘Did you know Fiona signed a prenuptial agreement which meant if she divorced Alex, she’d walk away with nothing – no money, no rights to the house – nothing?’

  His lips twitched again. ‘I didn’t know, but it wouldn’t have mattered either way. I’m not a gold-digger. I have a house and I earn enough to support a family.’

  ‘About that. How did she feel knowing you are a male escort?’

  Unperturbed by the change of tack, Rory continued, ‘She didn’t object to it.’

  ‘She didn’t mind you going out with other women?’

  ‘There’s nothing seedy about what I do. I provide companionship
for people who otherwise would feel ill at ease or be unable to attend social engagements. Fiona understood.’

  ‘People? Don’t you mean women?’

  ‘Occasionally a gentleman might require a companion. I don’t discriminate. I offer a service and I’m a professional. I’ve accompanied people to celebrity galas, operas and even been to a political function where I met the prime minister. Fiona was fascinated by some of the people I’ve rubbed shoulders with. I’m an escort, not a prostitute, DI Young.’

  ‘It seems at odds with your choice of career.’

  ‘You mean gardening? I’m my own boss. I can earn decent money at it. It keeps me fit and in shape, and I can work the hours I want to suit both my social life and my other occupation, and it pays for the mortgage on this house.’ He shifted his legs into a figure-four position and, resting a hand on an ankle, stared openly at her.

  It was interesting body language, reflecting confidence and youth but also revealing an aggressive or competitive nature. Rory to a T, Kate thought. ‘Did you speak to Alex about your relationship with Fiona?’

  ‘Of course I didn’t! As far as I know, he had no idea what was going on.’

  ‘He didn’t confront you about it?’

  ‘Do you imagine I’d still be working for them if he had?’

  Kate had to concede it was unlikely Alex knew about the affair. ‘Thank you. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a DNA sample and your fingerprints for elimination purposes.’ She removed the necessary kits from her bag.

  ‘I guess I don’t have a great deal of choice in the matter.’

  ‘Not really.’ She set about the tasks, keeping the conversation to a series of instructions.

  ‘That’ll be all for now. I’ll leave you my number and if you can think of anything else, call me.’

  She placed a business card on the coffee table and followed him to the front door. He saw her out without speaking. The door shut behind her with a firm click.

  Although he had an alibi, she’d check it out and talk to Mrs Lancaster. Rory certainly seemed sure she’d back him up, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have arranged the murder. But then there was the torture. Kate frowned. Rory didn’t seem the type.