Before I Wake

by Clare Revell

  “Thought it was just me,” she said just as quietly. “He was treating me like a rookie the whole time. Don’t touch this. Don’t do that.”

  “Actually, he’s got to be ultra-careful. The mate I had lunch with is PSD. Apparently one of the squad is under investigation. He can’t say who although I did my best to get it out of him.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.” Isabel swallowed. She had to keep her responses natural, even though she already knew PSD were involved and who they were investigating. She imagined it was her as well, seeing as how she was Zander’s partner. “He has a theory as to who?”

  “He knows all right. All he’d say was a senior officer.”

  “But why now?”

  Zander shrugged. “Eight murders. No real leads. Anyway. Let’s go get the bad news out of the way and see what we can learn to crack this case.”

  ~*~

  Forty Deerwood Estate was just as large as the other houses, Zander decided as he parked. Tall columns, palatial and pretentious. And he hated it. He mounted the steps and rang the bell.

  A plump teenager opened the door, oversized jumper pulled down over a dress. A jumper in this weather? “Can I help you?”

  “DS Ellery. This is DC York. We’d like to talk to someone about Orla Arkwright.”

  The teenager turned. “Mum, door for you! You’d better come in.” She shut the door as soon as they were inside.

  A woman in a wheelchair appeared from another part of the house. “Can I help?”

  “DS Ellery, DC York. We’re here about Orla.”

  “She’s my live-in carer,” the woman replied. “Please come through to the front room. We can talk there.”

  “Thank you,” Zander said. “What’s your name, ma’am?”

  “Karen Darley. My husband is at work right now.” She led them into the front room and angled her chair to face the couch. “Please sit. Is Orla all right?”

  “I’m afraid Orla’s dead. I’m really sorry.”

  Mrs. Darley appeared to shrink into her chair. “Oh. No. She—” Colour drained from her face.

  “Can we call anyone for you? Your husband?”

  “His number’s in the phone. Fredrick.”

  Isabel grabbed the phone and searched. She left the room as she made the call.

  “I really am very sorry. When did you last see Orla?” Zander asked.

  “Two days ago. She’s on holiday for a fortnight now with a friend in Dorset somewhere. Her replacement, Melanie, is good, but not as chatty.”

  “How long has Orla been with you?”

  “Six months. I know about her record, but grief does terrible things to a person. This was a fresh start for her. We met at church.”

  “Which one?”

  “Moor Street. She used to go to St. Crispin’s, but the pastor there threw her out. She said it was because of her record, but if you look at his congregation, it’s all white. Not a single black person.”

  Zander raised an eyebrow.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Sergeant. If I had a problem, do you think she’d be living here? She’s more than a carer, she’s a friend.”

  Isabel came back in. “Your husband is on his way home.”

  “Thank you.” Mrs. Darley turned back to Zander. “We have a very mixed congregation at Moor Street. It’s St. Crispin’s that has the problem. Orla is a lovely girl. I’ve never had any issues with her.”

  “Could we take a look at her room?” he asked.

  “Sure.” Mrs. Darley raised her voice. “Doris?”

  The teenager appeared. “Yes, mum?”

  “Can you show the officers up to Orla’s room, please?” She looked at Zander. “Fredrick and I have a room on the ground floor as I can’t use the stairs. He sees to my needs overnight. There really wasn’t a need for Orla to move in at all, except she was homeless, so we offered.”

  “This way,” Doris said.

  Zander and Isabel followed her up the stairs then up a second set of stairs to a tiny attic room.

  “Did you get on with Orla?” he asked.

  “She was all right. Kept to herself when she wasn’t working. Stayed in her room. It’s this one. The one next to it is set up with Dad’s gym equipment.”

  Isabel smiled. “Thank you. We’ll let you know if we need anything else.”

  Zander shut the door. “So Mrs. Darley doesn’t have an issue, but they put Orla up in the attic like a servant?”

  “Maybe it’s not her who has the problem. Nice tidy room.”

  He glanced out of the window. “How the other half live. They have a pool. She left two days ago to stay with a friend for two weeks. We need to get in touch with that friend.”

  Isabel searched the room. “Well there’s no nail varnish. Never mind bright red.”

  “Maybe she took it with her.”

  “I wouldn’t take everything on a two-week holiday.” She flung open doors and drawers. “There is nothing here. No clothes, no books, no nothing.” She ran her finger along the shelving unit. “And no dust either.”

  “Maybe they have a cleaner as well.”

  “Maybe.” She moved to the window as a car door slammed. “Husband’s home.”

  “We should talk to him as well,” Zander said. He headed out onto the landing to find Doris standing there.

  “Is she really dead?” the teenager asked.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “She and Dad had a blazing row over Mum’s care. That’s why she left. He wanted her gone. She took all her stuff.”

  “I assume your mum doesn’t know,” Zander said.

  Doris shook her head and bit her lip. “No. There’s other stuff she doesn’t know…” her voice tailed off.

  “Zander, you go and speak to Mr. Darley. I’ll catch you up,” Isabel said.

  Zander nodded. Isabel would be better with a teenager than he would. Trotting down the stairs he found both the Darleys in the lounge. “Mr. Darley, I’m DS Ellery. I’m sorry for your loss. I need to ask you a couple of questions.”

  “Of course.” Mr. Darley shook his hand. “Is it the same man who killed the other women from here?”

  “We believe so.” Actually, he knew for a fact it was, but he wouldn’t say so right now.

  “She should never have gone away,” Mrs. Darley said.

  “Well, she did,” her husband snapped. “She has a life outside of you.”

  “Not now. She died because she left. Maybe if you’d put her in the room next to Doris, rather than up in the attic…and stopped treating her like a servant when she isn’t one.”

  Zander noted the rise in tension and wasn’t having any of it. “Mr. Darley, could we have a word in the hall?”

  “Willingly.” He followed Zander out and shut the door firmly. “Ignore her.”

  “I understand from your daughter that Orla was leaving and not coming back.”

  “My wife doesn’t know that, and I don’t want her to either. There’s no point now.”

  “Why did you want her gone?”

  “She has a record. She’s not meant to be anywhere near children.”

  “Your daughter is what? Seventeen?”

  “Seventeen and pregnant!” Mr. Darley hissed. “I can’t have a child killer near a baby.”

  “Orla didn’t kill her baby,” Zander told him firmly.

  “Child snatcher, then. And no, my wife doesn’t know this either. Whatever. Orla had to go.”

  “Does she have any other family that you know of?”

  The man shook his head. “No.”

  “When did you last see her?”

  “Two days ago, when I threw her out. She was going to Dorset, to stay with her friend. I don’t know who or where, and I don’t want to know either.”

  Isabel came down the stairs. She waved her phone. “Zander, we need to go.”

  Zander nodded. “If we need anything else, we’ll be in touch.” He headed to the front door. Then he paused. “Actually, Mr. Darley, can you come down to the stat
ion later, and we can finish this conversation without fear of being overheard? Say in an hour?”

  “Very well.”

  As they got to the car Isabel glanced at him. “What’s that in aid of?”

  “He threw her out. They had a row the day she left. I need no other reason. What’s so important we need to leave now?”

  “Orla’s parole officer rang and wants to meet immediately. I suggested her office.”

  ~*~

  The parole officer was nothing like Isabel expected. She’d imagined someone tall, broad, almost beefy. But Ms. Bayliss was the opposite. Short, wiry, and looked like a puff of wind would knock her sideways. She shut the door and pointed to the chairs by her desk. “Thank you for coming. It’s quite a shock.”

  Isabel nodded. She pulled her notebook from her bag. “What can you tell us?”

  “Orla Arkwright got seven years for kidnapping, concealing a death, lying to the police, and obstructing the course of justice. She was released on parole early on good behaviour. Actually, she was a model prisoner. She began attending chapel services and claimed she’d found God. She’d gone to church each week since her release.”

  “Who does the prison services?” Zander asked.

  “We have a chaplain on site—Rev. Phelps. But Rev. Eke comes in once a fortnight. He’s the vicar at St—”

  “St. Crispin’s,” Zander interrupted. “Yeah, we know him.”

  “Anyway, Orla was released six months ago on licence. We helped her find employment. She kept up her appointments with me, kept her nose clean.”

  “What were the terms of her licence?”

  “No contact with small children. She had to be inside between 11:00 PM and 6:00 AM. But as she lived at work, that wasn’t an issue.”

  “Did you know she was away?” Zander asked. “Visiting a friend in Dorset. She left two days ago.”

  “I had no idea.” Ms. Bayliss checked the file in front of her. “There’s nothing here.”

  “Only Mr. Darley had actually fired Orla because his seventeen-year-old daughter is pregnant.”

  “I didn’t know that either.” The parole officer at least had the dignity to look shocked.

  “What about Orla’s family?”

  “She was divorced and had no contact with her ex-husband since her arrest. As far as I’m aware there was no one else. Do you need a copy of her file?”

  “Please. Have it sent over to us.”

  Isabel followed Zander back to the car. “So that’s how Rev. Eke knew Orla had a record. Most people try to hide it from everyone, apart from their employer.”

  Zander snorted. “Sometimes even them.”

  “Still, it must have been quite a shock when she showed up at Sunday services.”

  “Maybe it was deliberate on her part. After all, she knew him, and she probably figured that a vicar who visits the prison must be sympathetic to ex-cons.”

  “We need to talk to him again.” Isabel stretched as they reached the car. “But first, Mr. Darley.”

  Zander studied her. “Guess this rules out George Harmon.”

  “For this one,” she muttered. “Could do with a drink.”

  “Then we get coffee on the way back.”

  Her phone beeped and she groaned. “No time,” she said, holding it up. “Mr. Darley is waiting for us. As is the Chief Super.”

  18

  Isabel headed up to the squad room as soon as they arrived back, to grab the file and her notepaper. Everyone scoffed at her multi-coloured paper system, but it worked, and that was all that mattered.

  Chief Superintendent Clydesdale sat by her desk.

  Nerves pinched her stomach. She still hadn’t thought about his bombshell. Half of her was thrilled at the idea of family, and the other half, well, less enthusiastic at it being him. “Sir…”

  “Isabel. I’ve been thinking.”

  She leaned over her desk, grabbing what she needed. “Zander and I are about to interview someone in connection with the death of victim number eight.”

  “I won’t keep you long. I’d like to do a DNA test, just so both of us know where we stand.”

  She looked at him. “O—K.”

  “I’ve actually done mine. The police surgeon is willing to do yours before she heads off today and she’ll send both tests off. It’s a simple swab inside your cheek. Well, you probably know that.”

  Isabel nodded.

  “Well, I won’t hold you up. She’ll give you a shout when she’s ready for you.”

  “OK. As I said, I have to dash.” She strode quickly from the room. At least this would provide a definitive answer. Then she could process and move on. In whatever direction that proved to be. The snarky side of her promptly chimed in. Wouldn’t it be amusing if he turned out to be the Slayer and not your father? Or both.

  Zander waited outside the interview room. “Everything OK?”

  “Not really.” She moved to the side of the corridor. “I have to do a DNA test.”

  Her partner’s eyes narrowed. “Have to?”

  “Well, the Chief Super asked me to. He’s done one. I guess it’ll solve this whole mess one way or the other.”

  “You all right with this whole thing?”

  She chewed her lip. “Honestly? Pretending it’s not happening for now. So, Mr. Darley?”

  Zander grinned. “Shall we use the ‘let’s make him coffee to get his DNA’ trick?”

  She half smiled. “Why not? It seems to work.”

  Three minutes later, she eased into the chair the other side of the desk from Mr. Darley. The tension between him and Zander was almost palpable. “Thank you for coming in,” she began.

  Zander shoved a tape into the machine and hit record. “Just routine,” he said. “Interview with Frederick Darley. Officers present DS Ellery and DC York.”

  Mr. Darley shifted on the chair. “I’d rather my wife not find out about any of this. She thinks I’ve gone back to work. Which I will as soon as we’re done here.”

  “What don’t you want your wife to know?” Zander asked sharply. “That your daughter is pregnant? That you sacked the carer and threw her out of the house? Because neither will stay hidden for much longer.”

  “You have to understand how difficult things are right now. Karen’s sick. She has Huntington’s. It’s getting worse. I love her. I really do, but…” His voice tailed off.

  Isabel could guess what was coming next. It would be why he’d shoved Orla up in the attic, a long way from the room he shared with his wife. “But?”

  “Orla is, was, a beautiful woman. We didn’t intend for it to happen, but she was there and single and one night we bumped into each other in the kitchen. One thing led to another.”

  Oh, how she hated being right. Isabel stared at him. “How long did the affair last?”

  “Five months. I ended it two days ago when my daughter told me about the baby.”

  “Her baby?” Zander asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Doris’s baby, or Orla’s?” Isabel asked.

  Mr. Darley went bright red.

  Zander shoved away from the table, hissing loudly.

  Isabel ignored him. “If Orla was pregnant, we’ll find out from the postmortem. And it won’t take much doing to find out if it’s yours.”

  “Yes, it’s mine. Another reason she had to leave before Karen found out. Orla was about four months gone.”

  “I’ll let Arend know,” Isabel said. “And I’ll get the police surgeon to come in and do a DNA swab.” She stood.

  Zander stayed her arm. “Wait up. Mr. Darley, who’s the father of your daughter’s baby? Her boyfriend?”

  “She doesn’t have one!” The man looked at him belligerently. “I told you, you don’t know what it’s like for me.”

  “Answer the question. Are you the father of your daughter’s baby?”

  “Yes.”

  Zander swung around, fists clenching. “Isabel, do the honours.”

  Isabel moved around the desk. “Fredr
ick Darley, I’m arresting you on suspicion of incest…” She finished reading him his rights as she snapped on the cuffs.

  Once he was booked in and the paperwork signed, Zander glanced her way. “So, cakes…”

  “You brat. That’s why you wanted me to do it and not you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Cakes are a good diversion. I am sure that’s why American police eat doughnuts.” She said with mock seriousness and tucked the file under her arm. “How long will he get?”

  “For incest?” Zander walked with her to the stairs. “Seven years. But if she was under thirteen when it began, then life.” He paused. “If she consented to any of this, as she’s now over sixteen, we need to arrest her as well.”

  “You’re kidding me?”

  “Nope. She’d get seven years as well. We’d better go and talk to her.”

  “Send Austin and Harry. Then they have to buy cakes.”

  He shook his head. “Not this time. It’s our case. I’ll call the Guv on the way.”

  “DC York?”

  Isabel turned to see the police surgeon standing in the doorway behind them. “Yes?”

  “Do you have a moment?”

  She hesitated for a second. “Sure.”

  Zander nodded. “I’ll call the Guv while I wait for you.”

  ~*~

  Zander rang the doorbell at forty Deerwood Estate. “I was thinking, maybe we should just buy a place on the estate and live here.”

  “It would save a lot of time travelling back and forth,” Isabel replied. “Though I doubt we could even afford the rent on one of these places, never mind a mortgage, and that’s on both salaries.”

  A tall, red head in nurse’s uniform opened the door. “Can I help you?”

  Zander held out his ID. “DS Ellery and DC York to see Doris Darley.”

  The woman let them inside. “I’m the carer, Melanie. Mrs. Darley is rather upset, so I came in early. There’s been a death, but I’m guessing you know that already.”

  “Yes.”

  Melanie went to the bottom of the stairs. “Miss Doris, someone to see you.”

  Doris came down. “Oh, it’s you again.”

  “We need a word.” Zander stared at her.

  Mrs. Darley wheeled herself into the hallway. “What’s going on? Why are you back here?”

  “We need to talk to Doris about the baby,” he said, keeping his tone as stern as he could.