by Carol Wyer
‘I don’t suppose you’ve got any wine to go with it, have you?’
‘I certainly have. Here, take this.’ She handed Kate the pizza box, warm to the touch. Kate flung open the lid, and breathed in the aroma of herbs and cheese before tearing away a piece and biting into it.
‘Mmm!’ She kept her gaze on Daniel, who emulated her, and together they filled the room with appreciative noises, each louder than the preceding one. Tilly laughed.
‘Okay, that’ll do, you two. Here you go, Kate.’
Kate reached for the glass and winked at Daniel. It was nice to have a modicum of normality in her life.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Kate rested her forearms on Chris’s desk and stared at the corkboard on his wall, fingers wrapped around a smiley-faced stress ball – a joke present for Chris that she’d found in his top drawer. There were several notes pinned to the board, each containing names and dates, and green string stretched between push pins. What she had in front of her was an ever-growing spider diagram that would eventually lead to one name written in red – Dickson.
‘If a second post-mortem shows Cooper didn’t commit suicide, I’ll know I’m getting closer. It’ll prove he was silenced and the only reason for that would be to stop him talking to me,’ she said.
Although Chris didn’t reply, she guessed his answer would have been along the same lines as her own thoughts. Not only would the coroner have to okay the request, but there were also strict guidelines concerning such matters. On top of which was the question of corruption within the force. How far had the rot set in and did Dickson’s reach extend far enough to prevent a second autopsy from taking place?
‘If you have any better ideas, now would be a good time to share, because I’m fresh out.’
Kate hurled the rubber stress ball at the board. It hit the side of the desk and landed on the carpet, grinning face upwards. She knew her plan was flawed, yet what else could she suggest? It wasn’t as if she had any criminal contacts or snitches inside Thamesbury Prison who could throw any light on the matter. The names on the board were connected: Farai, Cooper, Dickson and Chris. She stooped and reached for the ball, curled her fingers around it and squeezed it tightly. ‘Well?’ She chucked the ball into the drawer, slamming it shut. There was still no answer.
‘I’m going to ring Bradley. Hopefully, he’ll be more amenable after speaking to Sierra. I’d better have played this right because if I haven’t, he’ll tell me exactly where to get off and I’ll have nobody else left to ask.’
Bradley had been a suspect during the murder investigation and she hadn’t gone lightly on him. She wasn’t sure he’d open up to her.
‘Trust your gut, Kate.’ She heaved a sigh of relief at hearing the whispered words.
Bradley was a driving instructor, so it was easy enough to uncover his contact details with a quick Google search. She ambled through to the kitchen and stared out onto the garden. Crimson leaves had blown from next door’s acer and were heaped on her patio and on the garden furniture. It ought to be covered in preparation for winter or it would turn mossy. An empty bird feeder, hanging from the branch of an ornamental cherry tree in the corner of their plot, swung in the breeze. Chris had kept it replenished, but since January it had remained empty. She locked onto it.
‘You should top it up,’ Chris’s voice said. ‘No point in it being there if you don’t keep it filled. There’s some seed under the kitchen sink.’
‘I shall.’ She dialled the number and waited for a response.
‘Hello?’ Bradley sounded half asleep.
‘Morning, Mr Chapman. It’s DI Kate Young. I’m sorry to ring you so early. I wondered if we could meet for a quick chat about a mutual acquaintance.’ She hoped she was being sufficiently cryptic for him to work out she didn’t wish to mention Cooper’s name over the phone. She’d played it right. His tone became instantly alert.
‘I think I can arrange that.’
‘Would it be possible in, say, thirty-five minutes?’ She needed to speak to him before she was due to start work. She couldn’t afford to be missing during the investigation. She held her breath and willed him to agree.
‘Where?’
‘The reservoir car park.’
‘Okay. I’ll see you there.’
The phone went dead and Kate gave a small nod of satisfaction. He neither refused her request nor questioned her phone call. It was a positive. She glanced at her watch. Time was tight but there was sufficient for a quick shower before the meeting. She had to keep up appearances and not give away any signs that she was working two cases: one unofficial. She was breaking rules and, if caught out, would most certainly lose her job.
The water was as dark as coal. A figure in a black leather jacket, jeans and boots was leaning on the wall, staring over the reservoir. Bradley Chapman turned as she drew into the car park and immediately strode in her direction. She unlocked the doors and he dropped into the passenger seat, bringing cold air with him. Bradley hadn’t changed one bit since she’d last seen him. He wore his experience on his strong face and carried himself with a confidence that only came with the most assured of people.
‘DI Young. I can’t say I’m surprised to hear from you. I spoke to Sierra last night.’
‘I asked her not to mention my involvement.’
‘She didn’t, but after you rang this morning, I put two and two together. I won’t waste your time. Firstly, I don’t think you stand a hope in hell of getting a second autopsy, which is what I also told Sierra; however, I’ve agreed to support her request. She needs to know what really happened to her father and, for what it’s worth, so do I. Cooper would never have taken his own life. I know that. Secondly, let’s say it transpires Cooper was murdered; how would you go about finding his killer?’
‘I couldn’t. There would have to be an internal investigation.’
His nostrils flared slightly. ‘Then why are we having this conversation? I thought you wanted to seek justice for Cooper.’
‘You’re right and I do. Unfortunately, I can’t go about it the way I’d like to. Did you know Cooper asked to see me?’
‘No.’
‘Then you don’t know what he wanted to speak to me about?’
His brow furrowed. ‘I’ve no idea.’
It was disappointing news. ‘But you’ve visited him since he was imprisoned?’
‘Yes.’
‘And did he, at any time, tell you anything more about the train attack in January? The one in which my husband was murdered.’
‘Is that what this is about?’
She gave an imperceptible nod. ‘I suspect Cooper was killed because of information he wanted to pass on about that attack. He asked Sierra to contact me, saying it was urgent he speak to me, and yet, the very morning we were due to meet, he died. That’s surely no coincidence. The two things are connected, and if we can establish he was murdered, my suspicions will be confirmed.’
‘And then what will you do about it?’
‘I haven’t got that far yet. I only know I need to follow this up. Cooper was mentally fit and healthy, with a daughter he adored. If he’d harboured any dark thoughts, Sierra, or you, would have picked up on them. His death was made to look like suicide and somebody is covering it up.’
‘I see.’ He pursed his lips, then said, ‘One thing I learned is if you want to get inside information, you need somebody on the inside.’ He continued to look ahead at the tiny waves sailing across the surface of the water. ‘I might be able to help you.’
‘How?’
‘My brother, Jack, is serving time for GBH. It so happens, two months ago, he was transferred from Winson Green to Thamesbury. I haven’t had a great deal to do with him since he was convicted, but I could speak to him to find out what he knows. He liked Cooper. Cooper had a soft spot for my wayward brother back in the day. They used to go clay pigeon shooting together.’
‘I’d appreciate that, Mr Chapman.’
‘Can I make one thing c
lear? I’m doing this for Cooper and Sierra. Not you. I don’t think there’s any need for either of us to pretend we like each other. I’ll help you because I want to get to the bottom of this, find the answers Sierra needs, and I want my best friend to be remembered for the good he did in his life, not for his mistakes. I don’t want him falsely accused of being a coward who took his own life because, DI Young, he was not. He had more courage in his little finger than most people have in their entire bodies.’ He flung the door open, allowing a blast of air to enter, and he was gone in a flash. Ignoring the wind tugging at his scarf, he marched towards a Range Rover and clambered inside without a backward glance.
She watched the red tail lights disappear to the right before she fired up the engine. ‘Chris, do you think I can trust him?’
His voice seemed distant, as if he were outside the vehicle. Was she losing him? She repeated the question, trying hard to conjure up his face as he answered, ‘Yes. He’ll make sure he gets answers.’ She detected the little note of rebuke in his voice, adding to her fears about whether she was really pursuing all of this as much as she could.
‘I hope you’re right.’ She checked her reflection in her rear-view mirror. Her hair was pinned back, her lipstick nude and her cheekbones subtly rouged. She looked the part, a DI in control of a murder investigation. What she needed though was evidence and suspects because no matter how tidy she looked, ultimately only results mattered.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Twenty-one-year-old Olivia Sandman bustled down the path, fumbling in her overlarge bag for her car key. She had to be at the residential care home in twenty minutes and she was running late. All she needed now was to get held up in traffic and she’d be completely screwed. She’d already had two warnings about her punctuality.
If she hadn’t stayed up late binge-watching Queer Eye, she might have remembered to set the alarm on her phone and not had to fly about the house in a state of panic. She hadn’t made her bed or tidied her room either, meaning she’d be in for another lecture from her mum later on when she got home, which was something else she could do without. Mum was certainly behaving like a right cow these days, accusing Olivia of treating the place like a hotel. Yeah, right. A one-star hotel. The property was a new-build but cramped and characterless: a far cry from the four-bedroomed, detached farmhouse they’d moved from. The divorce had taken its toll on her mother. Losing what had been her home for twenty-five years was only part of it. What had truly hurt her had been the betrayal. Olivia’s father had left her mother for a far younger woman, emptying her mother’s heart and draining her spirit. It was because she’d sided with her mother that Olivia now found herself living in Weston, meaning she had to drive every time she wanted to go out and see her old friends or go to work.
The house in Salt Lane hadn’t provided a fresh start for her mother, who, from the day they’d moved in, had sunk into an even greater depression, and seemed unable to do anything except knock back gin most nights and complain about her lot in life. Still, Olivia had no intention of living here for much longer. Now she had a steady income, she was saving every penny of her salary for a place of her own, even if it meant renting it. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life shacked up in Weston with a sad sack of a mother.
She swallowed to lubricate her dry throat. In the mad rush to get ready, she hadn’t even had time for her usual cup of tea and slice of toast. There’d be no chance of grabbing anything later at the care home. She had a busy schedule ahead. On top of her other duties, she was responsible for two residents in particular: assisting them with washing, dressing, personal hygiene and day-to-day stuff, like helping them to pay bills, or simply sitting and chatting to them. No two days were the same and today, she was also supposed to take one of them into town to help her choose a present for her daughter who was coming to visit this week. Maybe she’d be able to buy a sandwich while she was out shopping. Where on earth was the car key? She was sure it was in the bag. She remembered dropping it in there when she came in the night before. Her groping fingers couldn’t locate it. It’d got buried under the other paraphernalia in there. She really should give the bag a good sort-out. She tried shaking it, but no keys surfaced. Bloody hell! The day was going from bad to worse. She walked onto the empty street and towards her Kia, parked behind her mum’s car. Their house was one of several terraced properties, many still unoccupied, opposite a building site. When the next phase of housing was complete, they’d overlook houses identical to these; however, by then, Olivia would be long gone. It was eerily silent down this road, but in the distance the morning traffic was already humming along the main road to Stafford. Shit! Where was the damn key?
She crouched beside her car, tipped the bag’s contents onto the ground, eyes scanning over the packet of cigarettes, lip gloss, mirror, chewing gum, old receipts, pencil and notebook until she spied it. She grabbed it and, at the same time, a noise glued her to the spot. What was it? A cough. No, it wasn’t a cough. It was bird noise: a duck or some other wildfowl on the canal at the far end of the road. She unfroze and hurriedly swept her belongings back into the bag and jumped to her feet. As long as she didn’t get stuck in any hold-ups en route, she still could reach work in time.
The man appeared from nowhere and the blow came out of the blue, extinguishing all thoughts as she crashed to the ground.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Emma was already ensconced in front of her office computer when Kate arrived at seven thirty on the dot.
‘You alone?’ asked Kate.
‘Uh-huh. I couldn’t sleep. Went for a workout at five then sparred with Greg. Bugger put me through my paces.’ Greg was Emma’s oldest brother, who owned the training academy where she regularly worked out. ‘Has Tilly rung you?’
‘No.’
‘She dropped by with Daniel. By the way, he’s adorable. Greg took him off to the office and plied him with fizzy drinks and played games with him on his laptop while I gave her a quick run-through of some basic self-defence moves. She’s a fast learner.’
Kate was pleased her stepsister had taken up the challenge so readily. ‘Oh, that’s great. Thanks again.’
‘Yeah. It was nice to meet her. We’re going to have another session tomorrow. I actually enjoyed teaching her. She’s fun.’
Kate smiled. ‘Yes. She was always a laugh.’ Until the attack. Kate was not only pleased that Tilly would be armed with some skills to defend herself, but that she’d made an impression on Emma. Maybe, when she settled more permanently, she’d become even more interested in Taekwondo and join Emma in future sessions. Before the attack, Tilly had been hugely popular – a girl who knew no fear and who attracted boys like a magnet. The combination of her frail looks with her devil-may-care attitude had been an intoxicating combination for teenagers and Tilly had never been short of admirers or boyfriends. She would find love again. Of that, Kate was certain.
Emma cleared her throat. ‘Right. I spoke to the DS in charge of the investigation Heather was working on, regarding the local man and the threats she had afterwards. She uncovered CCTV footage that incriminated him, but it transpired he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time and wasn’t guilty. I got a name – Ollie Rankin. I ran some checks and his ex-wife has an injunction against him. I thought I’d follow it up. Might be worth a go.’
‘I don’t suppose you’ve established any link between this man and Laura Dean as well, have you?’
‘Nah. Maybe he’ll let something slip if I talk to him.’
The door flung open and Jamie sauntered in. ‘Morning!’
Emma replied with ‘You’re very bright and breezy. You been at the caffeinated drinks already?’
‘That’s very funny, Sarge. No, the missus stayed over at her sister’s last night with Zach, so I got a good night’s sleep. Guv, can I ask if we’ll be working overtime tonight?’
‘It’s a murder enquiry. There’s every chance we’ll be working late. Is that a problem?’
‘No. I r
eally could do with the money. Especially with another mouth to feed. It’s just that the missus asked if I’d be around to look after the lad. She’s been offered some cleaning work at a block of offices. Every penny, and all that.’ He maintained a cheery voice. ‘I’ll tell her to expect me when she sees me and to ask the mother-in-law to babysit Zach. What do you want me to tackle first?’
‘Christian’s whereabouts for Friday night.’
‘Sure thing.’ Within moments he was at his desk, notebook open. Kate picked up a file from her desk. Morgan had left information on Richard Dean’s partner, Steve, a jeweller by trade who owned Lichfield Jewellers. Morgan had also added an addendum:
Note: Christian Laurent was born in Lichfield and worked there for Bennett and Spillane Solicitors until 2019.
‘Anyone know where Morgan is?’ There were only headshakes. ‘Jamie, remind me where Heather lived?’
‘Longdon.’
Kate pulled up Google Maps. Lichfield was less than five miles away from Heather’s house. Her work records showed she’d moved to Longdon with her ex-husband in 2015, and following their divorce three years later, in 2018, she’d remained in the marital home.
Jamie ended a call and waved his mobile. ‘Geoffrey Tomkins can’t be sure of the exact time but confirmed Christian turned up at the Red Lion in Hopwas around nine thirty and stayed until they all left. About ten forty-five. Want me to check with his other colleagues?’
‘Yes. I think Morgan has requested CCTV to back up Christian’s story about working in the office both Friday and Saturday night, but double-check that’s happening,’ said Kate. ‘For the time being, I’m keeping Christian in the frame. From what his sister told us, we can assume he liked Laura far more than he admitted, and his whereabouts are still hazy. I can’t pin any definite connection between him and Heather, but if he worked in Lichfield until 2019, and Heather lived in Longdon, which isn’t far from the city, there’s a chance she bumped into him. But we also need to establish a link between Heather and Kevin.’
