Before I Wake

by Clare Revell

  “Umm, you’re driving,” Sgt. King told her. “Nate said you’d driven before.”

  “Years ago. I don’t remember much.”

  “Like riding a bike. It’ll come back. Get in and adjust the seat so it’s right for you. Then do the rest of your cockpit drill.” He rounded the car and got in the other side. “Why’d you give up the lessons?”

  “That’s direct.”

  “I need to know.”

  Isabel glanced in the driving mirror at Harry. He mimed zipping his mouth shut. Taking a deep breath, Isabel turned to Sgt. King. “OK. My driving instructor couldn’t keep his hands to himself. I didn’t know where they’d go next.”

  “Then my hands will stay on my lap the whole time. And that explains the request for a backseat driver for the first lesson or so.”

  Isabel finished adjusting the mirrors.

  “I know you would have preferred a female instructor, but I can’t guarantee your partners will be female or your driving examiner. Best get used to it now.” He paused. “All right. Start her up and go when you’re ready.”

  Isabel did so. She put the car in gear, brought the engine to the biting point, but nothing happened.

  Sgt. King grinned. “Handbrake.”

  Her cheeks heated. “Oh. Yeah. I guess it goes better without that on.”

  “Don’t worry. I had someone last week, an officer who’d been driving twenty-odd years, who burnt out the handbrake cable because he didn’t take it off properly.” He glanced at her. “Want me to pray first?”

  She nodded. When he’d finished, she felt slightly less nervous and drove cautiously out of the nick onto the main road.

  ~*~

  Zander slunk into the squad room, feeling worse than he had this morning. Isabel was nowhere in sight. He threw his jacket on the back of his chair and rubbed the back of his neck. His head was thumping. He pulled open the desk drawer and pulled out the packet of Isabel’s painkillers. She wouldn’t miss a couple. He chugged them down with water from the bottle he’d bought on the way in.

  “Headache?” DI Holmes voice was as sharp as it had been on the phone. And way too loud.

  “Lack of sleep, Guv.”

  “My office. Now.”

  Knowing that wasn’t a request, Zander trudged after him. He was in for a lecture.

  DI Holmes shut the door firmly. “Don’t bother to sit down. I want an explanation.”

  “It’s a headache,” he began.

  “Zander, you’re a sergeant now. That comes with responsibilities and a certain code of behaviour. I shouldn’t have to explain that. Or be hauling you over the coals before your first week is done!” DI Holmes produced a breathalyser. “Here.”

  Shocked, Zander just stood there. Astonishment ran rampant. “Seriously?”

  His boss didn’t say a word, just stood there in silence, glowering and holding out the piece of equipment.

  Zander sighed. “Fine.” He took a deep breath and took the test.

  “You’re clear.”

  “I wasn’t drinking. I told you that.”

  “You were in a strip club until the wee hours of the morning. Now, I don’t care what you do off duty, within reason. However, you’re on camera. In a strip club where we knew a murder would happen. I don’t have to tell you how wrong that is on two levels, as a police officer and a Christian.”

  “And I went home at two in the morning. The cameras would have shown that.”

  “Isabel said she heard your car at three.”

  “So, it was another car, not mine.” Exasperated, it was all he could do not to yell. “I wasn’t there to watch the girls. I actually spent all evening facing the other way.”

  “Then your car, or an identical one to yours, turns up at two fifteen. Just before the outside cameras had their cables cut.”

  “Guv, I went straight home. I was in bed then. Mike crashed on the sofa. I wasn’t going to let him drive home because he’s the one who was plastered.”

  “What time did you get in?”

  “Ten past two. I remember because I got a text from my sister. Mary was up with the baby. I rang her back, and we chatted whilst she fed him.”

  “And your sister can verify this?”

  “Yes. So can my call log.”

  “You didn’t go out again, at all?”

  “No! What is this? Am I under suspicion or something?”

  DI Holmes picked up two photos. “This is a still taken from the CCTV outside the club of your car leaving at two. This is the car back again at two fifteen.”

  “Yes, it looks like my car, but I don’t have a broken number plate.” He pulled out his phone and unlocked it. “Check my call history. Call Mary.”

  “I intend to. Go and write me a detailed report of everything you did and said at the club last night. What you drank. What Mike drank. Whose idea it was and so on. When you’re done you can have your phone back.”

  “Yes, Guv.” He knew when not to argue and now was one of those times. “Where’s Isabel?”

  “Driving lesson. She should be back around half past one.” DI Holmes waggled his fingers. “Go, write.”

  Zander trudged back to his desk and slumped into the chair. He ran his hands over his face. The phone on his desk rang and he reached out for it. “Ellery.”

  “Hi, it’s Arend. Is Isabel there?”

  “No. Can I take a message?”

  “OK. Can you let her know the autopsy is at three?”

  “Sure. We’ll be there.” He hung up. Picking up his pen, he started writing slowly. His head still pounded, but what bothered him the most was not being believed. Time was when his word stood and was enough.

  Isabel tossed her bag onto the desk beside him. “Hello. Wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

  “Here I am. How was the driving lesson?”

  She shrugged. “Harry is totally grey, but we survived.”

  “She only hit the kerb once.” Harry grinned at him. “And she’s a darn site less scary than Frank’s driving.”

  Isabel pulled her phone from her bag. “Two missed calls from Arend.”

  “He rang here. The postmortem is at three. That’s probably what it’s about.”

  “Maybe. I’ll give him a call back in case it’s something else.”

  “You’ll see him at three. Ask him then.” He paused. “Have you eaten yet?”

  She shook her head. “Haven’t had time.”

  “Then you ought to. Maybe we can go grab something quickly.”

  DI Holmes opened his office door. “Isabel, can I have a word?”

  “Zander and I were about to—”

  “Now.” He tossed Zander back his phone. “You done that report yet?”

  “Almost, Guv.”

  Isabel headed into the DI’s office. The door shut firmly.

  Zander shook his head as an animated conversation began. He wished he could lip read. Turning back to the paper in front of him, he finished scrawling a list of what he and Mike had done the previous evening. As he finished his phone beeped.

  Your boss rang me. Wanted to know what time we spoke last night. What’s going on?

  Sorry Mary. Just work stuff. Thanks for covering.

  Isabel came back over to her desk.

  Zander glanced up. “What did he want?”

  “Nothing important. Just asked about the driving lesson and how it went.”

  He wasn’t convinced. “You would tell me if it was anything else?”

  “Are we having lunch or not?”

  “Yeah.” Zander rose, knowing something was bothering his partner. Her eyes were too bright and her voice off kilter. Whatever the DI said, it was something she didn’t like.

  His phone beeped with a reply from his sister.

  Not making a habit of it.

  I wouldn't ask if it weren't important.

  Then don't erase your call history, Zed. It makes you look guilty of something.

  Zander frowned at the handset. He never deleted his call histor
y. Why on earth would she say he had?

  “Are you coming?” Isabel asked.

  His mind whirling, Zander shoved the phone into his pocket. “Yeah, I’m coming. But we’d better make it the canteen. I don’t have my car.”

  Isabel nodded. “The Guv is taking us to the postmortem later. In his car.”

  Zander scowled. “He doesn’t trust me right now.”

  Isabel muttered something under her breath.

  To Zander it sounded suspiciously like ‘do you blame him?’, but he wasn’t going to ask her to repeat it, just in case it was.

  13

  Isabel scribbled notes rapidly as Arend performed the postmortem. Zander and DI Holmes stood on either side of her, the Guv taking his own notes. As promised, he’d insisted on driving both her and Zander in his service car.

  Zander was still in a dreadful mood.

  She just hoped he’d snap out of it before evening came, or she’d be sitting in her room all night.

  “Same towelling gown. Same red underwear,” Arend said. “There are blue fibres in her hair and on the dress. Also under her fingernails.”

  “Did you get a make and model of the car for those fibres?” DI Holmes asked. “And yes, I’m well aware of the fact it was probably in the missing reports.”

  “A sedan,” Arend replied, telling them the make and model. “It’s the same type of carpet in all of them, so all I can tell you is that it’s only found in cars with the new licence plates.”

  “They really all have blue carpets?” Isabel asked. “I’d have thought black would have been more practical.”

  “Whatever colour it is, it still gets dirty and needs cleaning,” Zander grumped. “Especially after a trip to the landfill with all the rubbish.”

  “Or a day at the beach with the kids.” DI Holmes grinned. “Sand gets everywhere.”

  Isabel glanced up from her notes. “Haven’t been to the beach in a long time. Actually, thinking about it, I’ve only been once.”

  “Really?” Zander quirked an eyebrow.

  She nodded. “Even then we didn’t stay long. Only an hour as William was sick and we all had to go home. I do want to go back at some point.”

  “And we will. I promised I’d take you once this case is over.” Zander nudged her. “Chips, deckchairs, and knotted hankies all included.”

  “She was wearing a necklace,” Arend said, dragging her attention back to the room below them. “There’s a mark on her neck where he ripped it loose.”

  “I asked Harry about that,” Isabel said, checking her notebook. “He said her husband was less than forthcoming. He didn’t seem to care she was dead. Muttered something about her deserving it. We need to go back and speak to him again.”

  “For now I’d rather you simply ring him when we get back to the nick and ask for a photo of her in the necklace.”

  “Yes Guv. Harry also said Yasmin and her husband were going to week two of New Wine.”

  DI Holmes glanced at Isabel. “Call Rev. Eke. Perhaps there’s a church group going.”

  Isabel scribbled a to-do list on her notepaper. While she was at it, she’d ring the other churches and ask the same question.

  Arend spoke again. “I have the painting ready for you to take and copies of those reports.”

  “Thank you.” Isabel glanced up. She was getting better at this autopsy thing. “Did you get a chance to run the tox screens on those reports we sent over?”

  Arend looked up at her. “The ones from the vet?”

  “Yeah.” She held her breath, not sure if she wanted it confirmed.

  “The report is in the pile as well. It didn’t take long, because we knew what we were looking for. Poison hemlock.”

  Tears burned her eyes and fell before she could stop them. A desire to flee filled her, but she fought it. She was done running. Whoever was doing this had a reason. She was going to work out what that was and why the bloke was picking on her. Because it was obvious now, at least to her, that he was.

  Realising that everyone was looking at her, colour touched her cheeks as she furiously wiped away the tears. “I was miles away, Guv. Did you say something?”

  “I asked if you were all right. If you need a minute, we don’t mind.”

  “I’m fine,” she answered. “Just confirms what we already know, right? The Slayer did it. Same way he killed Gran. He’s trying to get to me, undermine what I’m doing here. Well, it won’t work.”

  Her phone rang and she welcomed the distraction. “DC York.”

  “Hi, it’s Sara Nemec. Your office gave me your number. I need to speak to you. Alone if possible. Can we meet?”

  “Sure.” She thought quickly. “The Three Sixteen café on the High Street is probably the easiest place. About twenty minutes?”

  “Thank you. See you soon.”

  Isabel ended the call. “I have to meet someone. I’ll see you both back at the station.”

  “Where are you going?” Zander demanded.

  “Sara Nemec wants to talk. I guess she remembered something about the painting.”

  “I’ll come with you.” Zander glanced at DI Holmes.

  “I’ve got this,” Isabel objected. “I can get the bus back to the station afterwards.”

  “Zander will go with you. And before you say anything, you’re on the list, Isabel. You’re not going anywhere alone.”

  She rolled her eyes, a dozen rude responses running through her mind in quick succession before she decided on one. “Well, let’s just hope the bathroom doesn’t count,” she muttered, “because I ain’t going there with company. And we ought to go. I said twenty minutes, and it’s a fifteen-minute walk from here.”

  ~*~

  The Three Sixteen was busy as Zander pushed open the door for his partner. For someone with shorter legs than him, she could certainly walk fast when she put her mind to it. He glanced around, gaze falling on the Nemecs, along with a dark-haired man, sitting at a table on the far side of the café.

  Him? Every time he cropped up it brought nothing but trouble. Zander grasped Isabel’s arm. “I know the bloke with them, and I don’t much like him.”

  “That’s fine,” she replied. “You didn’t have to come with me. Technically, you weren’t invited.”

  He scowled. The day was bad enough without her picking on him as well. “Then I’ll just go sit in a corner ’til you need me, shall I? Or I could go sit by the door and watch your back.”

  “What is your problem?” she hissed. “Honestly, take your bad mood home, will you? So, you got bawled out by the DI for taking a sickie this morning. Just man up and get on with it.”

  “Man up?” He widened his eyes and looked at her. “OK. Who are you and what have you done with my mouse of a partner?”

  “She turned into a lion whilst you weren’t looking,” Isabel shot back.

  DI Nemec came over. “DC York, thank you for coming.”

  She smiled. “Welcome.”

  He turned to Zander. “DS Ellery, whilst my wife and your partner are talking, I wondered if you’d join me for coffee on another table.”

  “Of course.” Zander squirmed. He’d be polite, but he wanted, needed to be within ear shot of Isabel. “Is, do you want a drink?”

  “Ice water, please.”

  Zander nodded. “I’ll send it over.”

  She walked across the room to sit at the table with the others.

  Joining the queue at the counter, he realised DI Nemec was right beside him. “Scotland’s a fair way from the US, yet you have a UK rank.”

  “Came here for work and got asked to stay. They changed my Lieutenant to DI.” He smiled. “At least Sara can’t mispronounce that one. She insisted on calling me leftenant just to annoy me. It was kinda cute, but don’t tell her that.”

  “Do you still carry a gun?”

  “Sometimes. It was hard not to at first. Guess it’s simply what you’re used to.”

  Zander reached the head of the queue. “Hi, Lia. Can I get an ice water, large
caramel latte, and,” he glanced at DI Nemec, “what would you like?”

  “Regular black coffee, please.”

  “And a regular black coffee.” Zander handed over a twenty.

  “Is it true?” Lia asked. “About the seventh girl being killed?”

  “Afraid so.”

  Lia handed him his change. “Jordan doesn’t want me working anymore. He says I should stay home where it’s safe.”

  “There’s no need for that. Simply make sure you don’t go out alone or you always tell someone where you are and when you’ll be back. He can always pick you up when you finish work.”

  Paula put the drinks on the tray. “That’s what I keep telling her. But after Brit, we’re all a little jumpy.”

  “Understandable.”

  DI Nemec grabbed the glass of water. “I’ll give this to your partner if you grab a table.”

  Zander pursed his lips. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume the Nemecs were trying to keep him and Isabel apart. He carried the tray to a table by the door and sat facing Isabel. That way he could keep an eye on her. Because he didn’t like this set up, not one little bit.

  ~*~

  Isabel could almost feel Zander’s eyes burning into her from the other side of the room. She sipped the water DI Nemec had given her. She watched him cross over to Zander before giving her full attention to Sara Nemec and the man with her. “I’ve seen you in church, I think?”

  The man held out a hand. “Patrick Page, Sara’s brother-in-law.” He paused. “Well technically I’m married to Sara’s first husband’s sister, so no real relation. However, we’ve simplified things a little by just calling each other in-laws. I’m really sorry about Mrs. Kowalski. I know you two were close.”

  “Yeah, we were. And with her murder being tied so closely to…” She broke off.

  “Murdered?” Mr. Page asked. “I thought the fire was accidental.”

  “No. Arson. We have the bloke who set it in custody, but the fire was a botched attempt to hide her murder.” She sipped her water. “Sorry, that’s not why I’m here, is it? I’m guessing you want to talk about the painting.”

  Mrs. Nemec nodded. “I was talking to Patrick about it, and he had a thought.”

  “Oh? Are you a police officer, Mr. Page?”