Deadly Fallout (Detective Zoe Finch Book 6)

by Rachel McLean

  He eyed her. “No.”

  “The chutney’s in the fridge, if you’re looking.”

  “OK.” He shuffled to the fridge – it wasn’t far, their kitchen was tiny – and grabbed a jar. He held it up. “You want me to put it on, or you?”

  “Let me do it.” She shoved past him and spooned the condiment onto her curry. Her mouth watered.

  “Thanks for this, Nicholas. It’s just what I needed.”

  The doorbell rang. Nicholas’s face lit up. “That’ll be Zaf. Can you turn the hob off?” He tossed the tea towel he’d been holding onto the worktop and ran towards the front door.

  Zoe wandered into the dining room and put her plate on the table. Nicholas and Zaf entered, arms around each other. She smiled at Zaf. He was Connie’s brother, a good kid. If kid was the right word for an eighteen-year-old.

  “Hi, Zaf. How’s things?”

  “Good, thanks.”

  “Mum’s nagging me about my revision,” Nicholas told him.

  “I’m not nagging,” she said as she forked curry into her mouth. “I’m just concerned.”

  Zaf laughed. “I bet you’re nothing compared to my mum.”

  “Don’t knock mums. We care, that’s why we’re a pain in the arse.”

  “Curry looks good.” Zaf raised his eyebrows at Nicholas.

  “Oh, yeah.” Nicholas extricated himself from Zaf’s embrace and headed into the kitchen. Zaf sat down opposite Zoe. She waved her hand in front of her mouth; the curry was hot, in both senses.

  “You got plans for tonight?” she asked him.

  “There’s a new film on Netflix Nicholas wants to watch.”

  “Don’t tell me. A documentary about marmosets.”

  “Nah. It’s some kind of arthouse movie.”

  “Nice.” She was glad she’d already committed to going out.

  Nicholas came in with two plates and put one in front of Zaf.

  “You got any beer?” Zaf asked.

  “You don’t have to ask,” Zoe told him. “I want you to feel you can make yourself at home here.”

  “He does.” Nicholas winked at his boyfriend, who blushed. “Just not when you’re around.”

  She held up her hands. “Alright, alright. I know when I’m not wanted.” She grabbed her plate and made for the living room. It was knocked through to the dining room but it gave them a bit of privacy at least.

  When she’d finished eating, Zoe went back through the dining room towards the kitchen. “You didn’t tell me what happened with your gran,” she said to Nicholas as she passed the table.

  “The battery had died in her thermostat.”

  “I didn’t know thermostats had batteries.”

  “This one does. Easy fix.”

  “She’s going to be lost, when you go to university.”

  He gave her a look. “You can do this stuff. You always have here.”

  She looked down. “Just not for your gran.”

  Zoe’s relationship with Annette was complicated. Sometimes she wished Nicholas would understand just how hard Annette’s drinking had made her life. But at other times, she wanted to protect him from all that.

  She put a hand on his arm. “Anyway, thanks for helping her out.”

  “She was asking when she might see you again. It’s been two months, she said.”

  “It’s been a lot less than that.” Zoe rolled her eyes. “OK, I’ll go round at the weekend. As long as I don’t have to work.”

  “She’d like that.”

  “Yeah.” Zoe went into the kitchen and washed her plate. Since when was Nicholas managing her relationship with Annette? Normal mums nagged their kids to spend more time with granny, not the other way round. But she’d barely seen Annette until recently, seventeen years with no more than a handful of contacts. Pretending to be a normal family wasn’t something you just did overnight.

  “I’ll see you later, boys.”

  Nicholas grimaced and Zaf threw him a smirk. Not boys, she thought. Not anymore.

  “See you, Mum.”

  She closed the door and let out a long breath. She needed to talk to Carl, but she knew he wasn’t going to appreciate it.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  There were three men in Zoe’s life who she really cared about. Nicholas, Mo, and Carl.

  The first was happily ensconced with his boyfriend. The second she hoped was at home, putting his girls to bed or enjoying some peace after they were asleep.

  And the third…

  She got into her car and sat with her fingers curled around the steering wheel, considering. She wanted to talk to Mo. To tell him what Adi had told her, to find out if there was anything else he knew. But Mo wasn’t the sort to go digging around in a case when he’d been told to back off. And he had his family to think of.

  She’d speak to Mo in the morning. And the rest of the team.

  She started the ignition and drove north, towards Carl’s flat. He lived in an Art Deco block set back off the Bristol Road, in the opposite direction from Mo.

  The streets were quiet, little traffic heading into the city at nine pm on a Monday night. Zoe was at Carl’s flat in under ten minutes. She looked up at the building as she approached. The airport bomb had driven a wedge between them, one they were only just chipping away at. When Ian had been arrested for planting evidence on a victim of the bomb, there’d been suspicions that she’d been working with him. Carl hadn’t been able to discount the idea she was bent. And she’d told him she couldn’t see him if he didn’t trust her.

  Two months ago, he’d told her he no longer believed she might be involved, and they’d reconciled.

  So why hadn’t he warned her about Professional Standards taking over the Starling murder? Why had he sent Layla Kaur instead of coming himself? It was unusual to send a sergeant to take over a case, even for PSD, and he must have made a conscious decision to do it.

  There could be an innocuous explanation, of course. He was preoccupied with Ian’s trial. He was the lead officer on the case, and he’d have a full workload ensuring that the CPS had everything they needed. Not to mention preparing for his own evidence.

  She reached the door to the building and a shiver ran over her. She still hadn’t been told if she was expected to give her own evidence tomorrow. In the absence of information to the contrary, she had to assume she was.

  She should go easy on him. She clenched her fists and stretched her arms. She knew she had a temper and could bulldoze her way into situations that needed to be treated with tact. Maybe this was one of those times.

  Right, she told herself. She still wanted to find out what was going on, and why PSD had taken over this case. But she’d use an indirect way.

  She pressed the buzzer for Carl’s flat.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s me.”

  “I thought we agreed not to see each other.”

  “This is work.”

  The door buzzed and she pushed inside. The hallway to the building was spacious, decorated with tiling that looked like it had been there for eighty years or more. She climbed the stairs to find him waiting in the doorway to his flat. He wore a crumpled grey t-shirt and a pair of joggers.

  “You were getting ready for bed,” she said.

  He shook his head. “No chance of that for a while. I wanted to relax my mind. Thought getting changed might help.”

  He stood back and she passed him to enter the flat. She turned to him. “And did it?”

  He brushed her arm with his fingertips. “No bloody chance.”

  She looked into his eyes. They were bloodshot, with grey circles beneath. Occupational hazard. “How did it go today?”

  “You know I can’t talk to you about it. Not till you’ve given your evidence.”

  “Yeah.” She went into the living room. Papers were strewn across the dining table and coffee table.

  “Hang on a minute, Zoe. I need to clear all this away. You can’t stay. We agreed…”

  “I’ve been wo
rking a new murder case. The victim was a DS Starling.”

  “I know the one.”

  “Why did you send DS Kaur?”

  “That wasn’t me. Superintendent Ro—”

  “You sure you just didn’t want to get mixed up with me and my team?”

  He took a step towards her. “You know that’s not true.”

  “It would have been nice to have been warned. That she was going to take over.”

  “Sorry, Zoe. I didn’t know myself.” He gestured around the room. “Too busy.”

  She followed his gaze. “You need to work.”

  “I can’t have you here while I do that.”

  “I’m not here to spy on you, you know.”

  “No, Zoe.” He grabbed her hand. “I know that. But it won’t look good, if my boss gets wind that you were here.”

  She sighed. Bloody Detective Superintendent Rogers. “I’ll leave you to it.”

  “Thanks. I’ll call you in a couple of days, maybe I’ll be able to spare an hour or so.”

  She looked into his eyes, aware of the warmth of his hand on her cheek. “This is keeping you busy?”

  “It’s a big case.”

  “So you’re not involved in the Starling case?”

  “You know what it’s like, Zoe.” He stepped back into the hallway. “We can’t tell other departments what we’re doing, or why. We never know who knows who, or who might be involved.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “For Christ’s sake, Zoe. I’m not saying you’re involved. But this is protocol. I can’t tell you about the Starling case, and I can’t tell you what happened at the Osman trial today.”

  “You shared plenty with me when you wanted me to babysit Ian while he spied on Randle for you.”

  “That was different.”

  Zoe dug her fingernails into her palm. She wanted to challenge him, to ask how it was different. But it would change nothing.

  She leaned forward and kissed his nose. “I didn’t mean to piss you off, Carl. Let’s talk later this week.”

  “Let’s.” He opened the flat’s front door.

  She brushed past him, smelling his aftershave mixed with the faint smell of chocolate.

  “See you soon, Carl.”

  “When you’ve given your evidence.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hey.” He smiled.

  “What?”

  “Come here.”

  He grabbed her round the waist, pulling her back into the apartment. He kissed her lightly on the mouth.

  “Still friends,” he said, letting go.

  “Still friends,” she replied.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Zoe was the first person in the office next day. She’d struggled to sleep, thoughts of Carl, the trial and the murder investigation running round her head. She’d had a dream about a bull jumping through rings of fire.

  She yawned as the door to the outer office opened: Connie. Zoe walked out of her own office.

  “Morning, Connie.”

  “Morning, boss. You look tired.”

  Zoe rubbed her eyes. “That bad?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean…”

  “It’s OK. Can I get you a coffee?”

  “Herbal tea for me, please. My mum’s got me on a health kick.”

  Zoe took the teabag Connie held out and left the office, wondering if Connie would ever move out of the family home. She was twenty-seven and becoming established in her career. Or maybe having someone to cook and clean up after her made it easier to focus on that. Zoe knew she’d be no good if she had to cook for herself instead of Nicholas doing it. And as for cleaning…

  By the time she got back Mo had arrived. She handed him the coffee she’d made for herself and headed for the door.

  “Might as well make one for Rhodri while you’re at it,” Mo said. “I saw his car pulling in.”

  “Right.” She went back to the kitchen: black coffee for herself, tea with two sugars for Rhodri.

  She returned to the office. The three team members were at their desks. Zoe put the mug of tea in front of Rhodri.

  “Ah, thanks, boss. That’s fab.” He slurped noisily.

  Zoe grimaced. “No problem. Before you guys start working, I want to have a conflab.”

  Mo gave her a warning look which she chose to ignore. She perched on the edge of Connie’s desk. The board was behind her, notes and photographs from the murder case still there.

  “OK,” she said. “How much have you all heard about what happened yesterday?”

  “PSD have taken over the case,” said Connie.

  “And they won’t tell us why,” added Rhodri.

  “So you’re up to speed on that.”

  “Frees us up to work on our other cases,” said Rhodri. “Bit of a relief, to be honest.”

  Zoe tapped her foot against the desk. “No, Rhod. What cases have you got on right now?”

  “Well, there’s this ongoing spate of robberies in Chelmsley Wood. Connie’s been helping me try and identify links between the crimes. And there’s the assault allegation in Kingstanding…”

  “And the drugs local CID found in that lockup in Perry Barr,” added Connie. “We’ve been asked to identify links to other cases.”

  “None of it particularly exciting,” Zoe said.

  Connie shrugged. “Nature of the job, I s’pose.”

  Mo was watching all this in silence.

  “Come on,” said Zoe. “Aren’t you just a little bit intrigued? A suspended copper gets himself murdered, and you aren’t itching to know more?”

  “We’ve been told to back off,” said Mo. “It’s PSD’s case now.”

  Zoe looked across at him. “Dawson says otherwise.”

  “He does?”

  She nodded. “He wants to know what’s happening. Told me as much on the phone last night.”

  Mo stood up. “You sure about this? You haven’t just interpreted what he said the way you want to, so you can—”

  “I don’t appreciate being accused of interpreting an order from a senior officer.”

  “I thought he wasn’t your—”

  Zoe put up a hand. “I’m not saying we go back to the scene. I’m not saying we continue the investigation in anything like the same form. But Adi is still the Forensic Scene Manager. You’ve got evidence sitting on your phone, Mo. I just want to know what that symbol is. And if it’s got any connection to the Ian Osman trial.”

  “You think it has, boss?” asked Rhodri.

  “I’ve got no reason to. Not directly. But, look. An officer accused of taking bribes turns up dead the day before the biggest corruption trial this force has seen for decades? It might be coincidence. But then again, it might not.”

  “You think he…” Mo tailed off.

  “I don’t know what I think. But the only way to clarify our thinking is to find more evidence.”

  “With all respect, boss, I think we should leave well alone,” said Connie. “If PSD are involved…”

  “Have you spoken to Carl?” Mo asked.

  Zoe gave him a look. It wasn’t like Mo to challenge her like this, not in front of the team. “No. I haven’t.” Not about this, anyway, she thought. Not successfully.

  The door opened: Dawson. Zoe felt her muscles tense.

  “The team’s all here, I see.” He sniffed as he approached Zoe. “And you haven’t wiped the board yet.”

  “Last night, you said you wanted me to—”

  Dawson shook his head. “Things have changed. We’ve got a suspected murder in Chelmsley Wood. I want you over there right away.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Anita hated mornings. Carly wasn’t so bad, at least not in terms of organisation. But Maria was a walking nightmare.

  “Is my Maths book in my bag, Mum?” she asked.

  “How should I know?” Anita checked the clock at the bottom of the stairs: 8:15 am. They should have been gone five minutes ago. “Go and check. And hurry!”

 
The girl ambled up the stairs, leaving Anita muttering under her breath. Carly shoved past her sister, prompting a yell.

  Don’t fight, Anita thought. Not now.

  “I can’t do PE,” said Carly.

  Anita cocked her head. “Why not?”

  “I hurt my leg. Can’t run.”

  “Maybe PE will help.”

  “It won’t. Can you write me a note?”

  Carly had been sent home from PE yesterday after allegedly biting that girl. And now here she was crying off today’s lesson. Perhaps it was for the best.

  “Give me a sheet of paper from your bag.”

  Carly ripped a sheet out of a notebook and handed it to Anita just as Maria tumbled back down the stairs.

  “Can’t find it,” she said.

  “Bloody hell!” Anita took the stairs two at a time and stood in Maria’s doorway, not surprised the Maths book was impossible to find. The room was strewn with books and clothes, magazines scattered on the bed and something Anita would rather not identify spilling off a plate on the floor. She picked her way past it and rummaged through the pile of junk on Maria’s desk. At last she found the Maths book.

  “Found it!” She brandished it as she ran down the stairs.

  Carly was holding out the sheet of paper. “My note?”

  “Sorry.” Anita was out of breath. She snatched the paper and placed it on the hall table, writing a scrawled excuse. The teacher would probably be relieved. She hoped.

  “Right.” She shoved the paper into her eldest daughter’s hand. “Out, now.” She squeezed past them and opened the front door. The school was a twenty minute walk away. Maria would go straight there, while Carly walked to a friend’s house first. The friend lived in the opposite direction, but the two of them would still arrive at school before Maria with the speed she walked at.

  Anita was amazed she’d never had a call from school asking why her daughters hadn’t arrived at school. That they made it there at all seemed like some kind of miracle.

  She gave Maria’s shoulder a squeeze – hugs were banned since she’d started secondary school – and eyed Carly.

  “Keep away from that girl,” she said.

  “I will,” Carly groaned. “She’s toxic.”