Make You Sorry

by Christine Rae-Jones

  ‘My wife and I would like regular progress reports, please. Nobody is telling us anything... except the journalists.’

  Morgan accepted the rebuke. Slater was right. He should have made contact, even with nothing to report. ‘Of course, Mr Slater. I’ll be in touch.’

  The call ended with polite goodbyes, but Morgan felt bad. He put himself in the Slaters’ shoes. God only knew what they were going through.

  Earlier, he had returned to the office leaving Spence to oversee the despatch of Wyatt’s body to the mortuary and to attend the PM. He wanted to tell Johnson about Wyatt’s death in person but found his office empty and dark. He collected a paper cup of water from the cooler and took it to his desk where he jotted down a few lines of enquiry in the new decision log. He hadn’t received a name for the Operation, but was confident it would be another murder enquiry. It was never too early to start the log.

  Spence rang in and outlined the initial findings from the postmortem. ‘I wasn’t sure if I’d catch you, sir. Aren’t you supposed to be moving in today?’

  ‘No. We’re spending one last night at the park home while our stuff comes to a temperature which satisfies my wife.’

  Spence must have noticed his testy tone as he hesitated before continuing. ‘Okay. Are you doing a briefing this evening? I suppose what I’m asking is, do you need me to come back in?’

  Morgan looked at his watch and saw that it was half past six. ‘No, it’s fine. You go home. I’ll schedule a briefing for eight o’clock tomorrow. Can you let the team know?’

  ‘Which team?’

  ‘It’s getting a bit like that, isn’t it? Let’s get everyone in the same room and see if we can unravel some of this mess. I’ll speak to DI Patel before I leave.’

  ‘Right, I’ll ring round and I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  Morgan piled his case logs on the desk then scooped them into his briefcase. He dialled Patel’s mobile and waited, expecting to leave a message. When she answered, she was breathing heavily and he heard that wherever she was, it was windy.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘Am I interrupting you?’

  ‘I’ve come out for a run to try and clear my head. I’m getting these cases mixed up. And I hear you dug up another one today?’

  ‘In the interests of accuracy, I’d have to say we cut down another one. Councillor Wyatt.’

  ‘The online guy? Wasn’t he going to string up all burglars?’

  ‘The very same.’

  Patel whistled and Morgan moved the phone further from his ear.

  ‘Now what?’ she asked.

  ‘Now we wait to see who Johnson will appoint SIO and the lucky winner gets the decision log I’ve already started.’

  ‘It’s going to be you. “Multimedia Morgan” we’re calling you. TV crews will be on your doorstep first thing so make sure you wash behind your ears and wear your lucky pants.’

  ‘I’m going to tell Johnston that you requested it specially,’ he said.

  ‘Piss off. Have you seen my caseload?’

  ‘I’m organising a cross team briefing for tomorrow at eight. Can we meet up at seven and try to collate some of the information that’s coming in? I’m struggling to believe that there isn’t some sort of link although I can’t see it yet.’

  ‘Seven is good. I’ll come to your office and you’d better have a flat white waiting for me. See you then. Bye.’ She hung up before he could reply.

  He made one more call from his personal phone before setting off for his last night in the park home.

  Morgan was tired when he walked into the reception building. He’d been stuck in a tail back caused by a collision on the by-pass. Maisie was seated on a stool at the desk and when she glanced up, she looked surprised.

  ‘Oh my God, are you okay? Is eh... everything okay?’ He looked over to the CCTV camera and then back at her, hoping she would receive the message that he wanted to hold and kiss her, but didn’t want there to be a record of him doing it.

  ‘All is well,’ he said. ‘I’m just tired. There’s a lot going on at work, and I’m not sleeping very well.’

  ‘I know you didn’t sleep well on Monday, but you’ve surely had a chance to catch up by now?’ She was being flirty again. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings but he wasn’t in the mood.

  Maisie seemed to sense that something had changed and she reached under the desk. ‘I asked for you to come to the office because I wanted to give you this.’ She produced an itemised invoice for their stay, ‘And also to tell you how much I enjoyed Monday. I haven’t stopped smiling all week. Thank you. Now go and help your wife pack.’

  He saw the threat of tears in her eyes and wanted even more to hold her and cry with her. ‘Thank you, Maisie... for everything,’ he said, taking the invoice and leaving without looking back.

  Chapter 53

  Friday 21st February

  On his way to work the next morning, Morgan stopped for fuel, coffees and the local paper. The headline read “Sex pest found dead at home” and he noted the byline attributed the article to Natalia Kowalowski, Assistant Crime Correspondent. His last call yesterday had been to confirm the identification of Wyatt’s hanging body and to give her the go-ahead for submission of the story to her editor. He imagined that the lawyers worked late into the night to agree wording which would get the story published. Natalia must have negotiated hard to get on to the crime team with only one scoop and he was glad for her. It never harmed to have a good relationship with local journalists however much the Press Office tried to discourage it. Excluding the Mackenzie pathologists, she was his first non-police contact in his new post and it helped him feel settled.

  When he approached his office he could see that the lights were already on. Maggy Patel had made herself comfortable in one of his visitor chairs and was reading through paperwork. He balanced both coffees precariously in his left palm and opened the door. Without looking up, Patel held out her right hand as if she were already holding a cup. ‘Put it there,’ she said, ‘I’m gasping.’ She took a sip and nodded her approval. ‘Thanks for this.’ Another sip. ‘I’ve had the tox screen back for Carl Raynor.’ Patel held out the A4 document. ‘You’ll never guess.’

  ‘I can’t guess, and if it’s Raynor we’re talking about, I’m not even supposed to guess, but go on.’

  ‘He was snorting a mixture of cocaine and ketamine.’

  ‘He got his wish then.’ She looked puzzled. ‘I mean... anyone who snorts a cocktail of cocaine and ketamine has got a death wish. And it was granted.’

  ‘It explains the lengths someone had to go to... to kill him, I mean. It must have been like wrestling an amorous gorilla.’

  Morgan pointed at the pile of papers he had put on his desk. ‘I went through the Slater, Crook and Wyatt cases last night and I’m like you. I see common threads, but nothing that gets us any further. And the HOLMES analysis hasn’t thrown up anything we weren’t seeing for ourselves. Not yet, anyway.’

  ‘Johnson’s not going to be happy,’ said Patel.

  ‘He’s not been happy since I got here.’

  The briefing room was full when Morgan and Patel arrived. Johnson was standing at the back of the room and he beckoned them across. ‘What’s the progress on the Wyatt case?’ he spoke quietly, looking downwards.

  Patel looked to Morgan who responded. ‘Large laceration to back of the head and found hanging in his garage. Crime scene team have confirmed blood and hair on the edge of a marble hearth so they’re pretty confident he fell and hit his head. The wound was too serious for him to have got to the garage by himself, and he was alive when he was strung up. Asphyxia and venous congestion, so whoever put the noose round his neck murdered him.’

  Johnson looked nervous. ‘Are you linking it to the on-line material?’

  ‘I’m keeping an open mind, sir.’ Morgan was enjoying the man’s discomfort and pushed to capitalise on it. ‘DI Patel and I are holding a joint briefing this morning. Some of these recent deaths have similari
ties. We’ve decided to make everyone aware of all the cases, even if they aren’t specifically investigating them. Cross team communication will ensure that nothing is overlooked,’ he paused before adding, ‘sir.’

  ‘I can’t see how you can throw Councillor Wyatt in with a couple of dead drug addicts and a solicitor with questionable morals,’ hissed Johnson.

  ‘The asphyxiation, sir,’ Morgan butted in. ‘Each of the deaths has involved asphyxiation, in one form or another.’

  Johnson wasn’t giving up. ‘As I understand it, there’s no cardboard sign round his neck, so that should exclude him from the other operations.’

  ‘No cardboard round the neck of Carl Raynor either, sir,’ said Patel.

  Johnson’s jaw clenched. ‘Listen... both of you. I don’t care which Operation you put Wesley Crook in, but I want Wyatt’s death investigated as a stand-alone. Apply for an Operation name as soon as this briefing is over.’ Morgan agreed and started to follow Patel who was walking to the front of the room. ‘And DI Morgan... we’ll discuss later how the local paper got on to Wyatt’s death so quickly.’

  Johnson left without closing the door and Patel, now in position to present to the assembled team, pointed to DC Smart who was nearest. ‘If you would, Jenny, please.’ The rest of the group took the hint and the room became still.

  There were four whiteboards at the front, one for each case, with pictures of the deceased in life and in death. Patel stood on the left of the room beside the Operation Heartwood board and she ran through her information uninterrupted. Carl Raynor; known shoplifter and drug addict; found dead in a bedroom in DI Morgan’s house. When she added the results of the toxicology screen, there was a murmur around her audience.

  ‘I thought ketamine wasn’t supposed to kill you.’ It was one of Patel’s DCs from the Heartwood team. Morgan hadn’t seen him before. Another voice suggested he should stop using it, just in case.

  ‘That’s enough,’ said Patel, reaching an open palm across to Morgan, inviting him to continue.

  Morgan ran through the cases of Abi Slater and Wesley Crook, highlighting the facts that both had been strangled and also that they may both have had notices left with their bodies. He accepted the possibility that the card in the solicitor’s lap may be spurious but told his audience that he did not want it to be overlooked.

  DC Jenson caught Morgan’s eye before he moved across to the fourth board. ‘Yes, Leo. Something to add?’

  Jenson looked across to Jenny Smart who nodded. ‘Jen and I went to the solicitors’ office yesterday.’ Morgan closed his eyes as a picture of Graham Fletcher with Sam flashed into his mind. ‘They were reluctant to help us, but Jen hinted that she’d have no trouble getting a search warrant, so they came up with the goods. Abigail Slater was duty solicitor the day Crook appeared at the mags court for the burglary. The partners were still discussing whether she was going to defend him at the trial because of his extensive previous. They thought that one of the more experienced solicitors might have to do it. So, it’s another link, isn’t it?’

  ‘Good work, both of you,’ Morgan smiled at each of them. ‘I’m leaning towards including Wesley Crook in Operation Siren. Any thoughts?’

  DS Dave Spence had been standing at the side of the room and took a pace forwards. ‘Should we wait for the ink comparison analysis from the wedding dress, sir?’

  Morgan glanced across to include Patel whose response was a shrug.

  ‘Okay, let’s keep it in mind,’ he said and crossed to the fourth board. He wrote “Operation X” at the top. ‘And now for Councillor Kenneth Wyatt, our internet star, who was found in his garage yesterday. We’re getting an Operation name for this one.’

  ‘Operation Pervert.’

  ‘Operation Groper.’

  ‘Operation Hashtag Me Too.’ Everyone seemed to have an idea.

  ‘Okay, okay. Whatever we may think of him, he has still been murdered and we mustn’t let our emotions stand in the way of catching who did it. Now, let’s start with cause of death.’

  Chapter 54

  Friday 21st February

  After she dropped the twins off at school Samantha Morgan drove back to their park home and packed the last of their belongings into her car. She ran the vacuum cleaner round and cleaned the shower and sinks in the bathroom and kitchen. Standing there, she remembered Nick’s fury when she’d returned from the charity dinner. He had been distant ever since. She thought he believed her, but couldn’t be sure. She buttoned her coat and locked up for the last time. Her new life was at Cliffside House. She hoped that once the police had found whoever was responsible for these deaths, Nick would have time to get on with the renovations. He was so much happier when he was doing hard, physical stuff. All this cerebral detecting depressed him.

  When she parked on the drive at Cliffside she took a moment to look at her new home. It looked dark and unloved under the threatening sky. Rummaging through her handbag, she found the key and headed for the front door. The lock was stiff and reluctant and the door creaked when she pushed it. Some junk mail lay on the floor tiles and as she bent to pick it up, she heard the noise of tyres on the drive. For a moment, she thought that Nick must have made time to help and her spirits lifted. She heard the car door slam and footsteps on the shingle and was smiling as she straightened up and turned.

  ‘What a sight to be greeted by,’ the voice came from behind a large patio rose plant in a blue pot. ‘I turn into a drive with the expectation of a cup of coffee at best, and I’m rewarded by the magnificent spectacle of Sammy’s arse in tight jeans as she bends over to greet me.’

  ‘You can’t be here, Graham,’ she said, ‘I’ve got to pick the children up soon.’

  ‘School’s not out for at least four hours, Sammy, and I’ve brought you a house warming present. Don’t be ungrateful.’ He held out the pot and she took it. ‘It’s called “Sweet Memories,” and I have such sweet memories of you. I’m hoping to make some more. How about that coffee to start with?’

  ‘Nick could be here at any minute. He said he’d try to get here for lunch.’

  ‘Come on, Sammy don’t be so inhospitable. It’s a cup of coffee. Where’s the harm?’ He had one foot on the doorstep now and she made room for him to pass her. He pushed the door closed and glanced back when it creaked. ‘You need a handyman,’ he said before taking the plant back from her and placing it on a side table. ‘Right at this minute, I’m a very handy man.’ He put his hands on her hips and pulled her towards him kissing the tip of her nose before their lips met. He lifted her light frame and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She clung tightly to him and he carried her to the sofa where Nick Morgan had slept two weeks before. As he laid her down and started to unbuckle his trouser belt he said, ‘I’ve been dying to ask... Did we get away with it on Sunday or is DI Plod on the case?’

  Chapter 55

  Friday 21st February

  After another grinding day of dealing with information that got them no further, Morgan was glad of the shorter drive home to Cliffside House. When he got out of his car he was pleased to see welcoming light shining through windows which weren’t yet curtained. Sam opened the door as he got to it, her smile warm, her eyes sparkling. He saw that the lined, angry look which had masked her face for months had gone, and when he bent to kiss her he could smell peach shampoo and musky perfume.

  Sam was wearing black leggings and a red jumper with a plunging neckline, complimented by a black velvet choker. He loved this outfit. The shiny black stripper heels might have been overkill for a Friday evening family meal, but he appreciated the effort, especially since he’d not been the most supportive of husbands during the last week.

  ‘Welcome home,’ she said reaching out a hand for his briefcase. ‘I’ve roasted a chicken with all the trimmings. Once you’ve had a shower, we’ll have a glass of champagne - I’ve promised the kids they can have a thimbleful - and then we can start our new life in our new house sitting down in the dining room for a proper family
dinner.’ She closed the creaking front door. ‘Can you sort that out before you get involved in anything more complicated?’

  In their temporary bedroom, Nick Morgan hung up his suit and stripped off the rest of his clothes before turning on the shower in the en-suite. There were lime scale stains on the tiles and the water drained reluctantly. Everywhere he looked, something needed attention but, seeing Sam’s happiness, it would be worth it. The shower came to temperature and as he stepped in, he heard the front doorbell ring.

  ‘I’ve brought champagne and a special rose. Can you take them, dear, they’re quite heavy.’ Dorothy’s outstretched arms held two carrier bags. ‘You didn’t think I’d miss this special occasion, did you? In fact, I rather thought you would invite me.’

  Samantha took the gifts and kissed her mother’s offered cheek. Two roses in one day, she thought, but under very different circumstances. The memory of Graham’s visit this morning gave her butterflies. She imagined she could feel him inside her still. She felt her face flush. ‘Alex. Vicky. Grandma’s here,’ she called.

  The twins came from the direction of the kitchen and hurried towards Dorothy who opened her arms to embrace them. ‘Hello, both of you.’ After hugs and kisses were exchanged she turned her gaze back to her daughter. ‘You look well, dear.’ Samantha’s blush intensified. ‘Something in this new life by the seaside is definitely doing you good.’ As the four of them walked to the kitchen Dorothy stepped closer to her. ‘Don’t think I don’t know what, or rather, who, has got into you,’ she said quietly, ‘but you need to be careful not to overdo it. Whether I like it or not, you married a detective and he’s not completely stupid.’ She pointed to Samantha’s partially exposed breasts. ‘Now, put those away dear, your mother’s here.’