Darkest Night

by Jenny O'Brien

  There wasn’t anything of any interest except a reply from Amy.

  I see that your affair with the delectable doctor is progressing nicely. You’d better watch out, my friend. It will be smoochy phone calls next.

  Gaby laughed, her fingers flying over the keyboard. Amy with her hearts-and-flowers view on life needed a strong reality check – she was in the right mood to provide it.

  ‘Ha bloody ha. I’d have to be desperate to consider dating Dr Mulholland. The simple fact is that Rusty and I aren’t suited. I suggest you get on with your own relationship and stop interfering in mine.’ She clicked send before she could soften her tone and, grabbing her front door key from off the table, made for the door.

  It took her a good ten minutes to reach the sea-facing kiosk where she paused for breath, leaning against the railings to look across at the Welsh coastline and the changing light now the sun had started to rise. Apart from checking her emails she’d also phoned the station but there’d been no new developments, which didn’t bode well. Officers learnt from day one that the longer it took for a case to break, the less chance there was of it ever being solved and missing people followed that trajectory to the letter. In her heart of hearts, she knew that the likelihood of Tracy Price turning up alive was dwindling with every passing second and there didn’t seem to be a thing she, or the rest of the team, could do about it.

  Glancing at the bus shelter up in the distance, she shook her head, deciding to cut her run short and head for home. She had too much on her mind, the scenic vista, for once, distracting instead of inspiring. She had two cases to solve, possibly linked. There certainly seemed to be a surplus of redheads with Christine and Tracy and even Rusty Mulholland. Her mind switched back to that phone call and part of the reason for her poor night’s sleep.

  Gaby walked the rest of the way, making a mental line-up of key suspects as she went, a list that perhaps surprisingly didn’t feature Christine de Bertrand, simply because so far there wasn’t a single strand of evidence against her that wasn’t circumstantial. Any barrister worth his law degree would boot the case out on a technicality within seconds, not least because her system was floating to overflowing with booze and drugs – the deadliest of combinations. Gaby was still missing the man, the man Christine was meant to have slept with, but she did now have the knife.

  Her attention was captivated by an adorable pair of poodles trotting by the side of their owner. Throwing the woman a smile, she wondered how Jax was getting on. She’d know soon enough.

  At her front door, she withdrew the key from where she’d secured it in a zipped pouch around her waist and inserted it into the lock. She had lots to do today, starting with an impromptu visit to the Prices’ next-door neighbours. Malachy’s report was all very well but, over the years, she’d learnt to trust her instincts and they were telling her that she still hadn’t been given the full story with regards to Tracy and Barry’s relationship. Statistically, he was very much under the spotlight whether they found Tracy or not.

  She hurried into the kitchen and flicked on the kettle before popping a bowl of porridge into the microwave, keen now to leave for the station as soon as she’d showered, changed and breakfasted. Racing up the stairs to the bathroom, she aimed her grey leggings and sweat top in the direction of the white wicker laundry basket before climbing into the bath and turning the overhead shower on to full, taking the pain and punishment of icy cold water quickly followed by hot. Today was going to be a difficult day, she could almost taste it. Best to steal a march and get that interview with the Stevenses out of the way. She frowned, trying to decide which of the team to take. Jax would have already put a shift in with the dog walking while Marie … work was the least of her troubles right now. That only left Malachy. Her frown deepened.

  Mr and Mrs Stevens lived in a corner house just off Church Walk. The houses were all large and detached, built from the same shade of red-brick and with identical grey slate roofs. Gaby glanced at the Price house, but the curtains were pulled and, with no car in the driveway, she surmised that Barry and the twins must be staying elsewhere.

  Returning her gaze back to the Stevens’ property, she took time to note the well-kept front garden with its cut lawn and neatly clipped Elaeagnus hedge. It looked exactly like the Prices’ and yet it didn’t. Everything was better maintained and, with a family hatchback in the drive squashed between a Saab and a Fiesta, money was obviously no object. She turned in her seat, eyeing Malachy as he switched off the engine and gathered his notebook and warrant card from the dash.

  ‘Tell me again about the Stevens?’

  ‘Not a huge amount to tell, ma’am,’ he said, resting his head back against the seat and speaking from memory. ‘He runs a small chemist near the Post Office. He’s a pharmacist while his wife is a solicitor. They have three kids, one in his late teens, one about to go into secondary school and the youngest, a boy, the same age as the twins. They appear to be well-to-do, owning the property mortgage-free. Mr and Mrs Average, although I’ve yet to meet him.’

  ‘Okay, let’s do this.’ She put her fingers on the handle and opened the door, smoothing her jacket before climbing out of the car. ‘If we finish in time, I’d also like a quick word with the other neighbour, the retired lady,’ she said over her shoulder before heading up the drive and pressing the bell.

  The door opened after one ring and Gaby looked the brown-haired teenager over in amusement as he stuffed the last piece of toast into his mouth before swallowing. She could almost forgive him his wide-eyed-stare when she introduced herself, flipping open her warrant card with a brief smile.

  Shutting the door behind them, he hollered, ‘Mum, the police are here to see you,’ before promptly disappearing up the stairs.

  She walked into the hallway, making a mental note of the décor, loving the dark-wood laminate flooring teamed with pastel blue walls and tasteful artwork.

  Redecorating wasn’t something she could think about anytime soon except perhaps the paint, but it was still okay to collect ideas and file them away for future reference. There’d come a time when she’d be able to do what she liked with her home but, for now, all she could afford was to keep a mental note of what she’d like to change if she had both the time and the money.

  Mrs Stevens, hurrying out of the kitchen where breakfast appeared to be in full swing, was nothing like she’d been expecting. Tracy, also the mum of a six-year old, appeared youthful in the photos scattered over her desk, her vivid hair complementing the clearness of her skin and the brightness of her smile. Gaby had never been any good at guessing ages, so she rarely attempted it. But the woman in front of her, dressed in a conservative grey shift dress, was much older than she’d been expecting, her face littered with wrinkles, her skin paler than skimmed milk. She looked smart, professional … and tired, her pixie cut an uncompromising iron-grey.

  ‘Come on, Jacob, eat your cereal as quick as you can. I’ll be in the lounge for a few minutes,’ she said, her voice ringing out over the sound of the radio. ‘Daddy’s driving you all today and you know there’ll be ructions if you make him late.’ She headed through the archway and back into the hall, shouting up the stairs on her way past. ‘Casper, the police are here for a word and can you make sure Ronan is up while you’re at it.’

  Gaby’s inspection of the lounge was fleeting just as it was comprehensive, her decorating file full to overflowing. The room was an exercise in good taste, a place for everything and everything in its place, unlike the disorganised chaos of the kitchen. The dark wooden flooring continued throughout the ground floor, the pale blue walls echoed here but with a feature wall papered in vivid blues and greens. The twin sofas were covered in rich cream brocade and looked as if they’d never been sat in, certainly not by the jam-covered Jacob down the corridor.

  After a second, she chose to sit on the nearest settee, indicating with a tilt of her head for Malachy to join her while they waited for the husband.

  She’d been expecting a male ve
rsion of Mrs Stevens, perhaps a little older but that wasn’t what she got. Mr Stevens was both tall and handsome but in a distinguished way. There was a trace of grey at his temples and lines etched around his mouth, but these only added to the air of intelligence and charm as did the conservative grey trousers, crisp white shirt and grey-and-pink striped tie. In the same way she’d compared Mrs Stevens with Tracy, now she found herself comparing Mr Stevens with Barry Price – there was no comparison. Mr Stevens won by a mile.

  She was in the process of standing up to introduce herself only to settle back in her seat at his words.

  ‘Please don’t get up, Officer. I’m sure you spend long enough on your feet as it is,’ he said, his eyes twinkling. He made for the mantelpiece, resting his arm against the high wooden plinth. ‘I take it this is about poor Tracy Price? A terrible business.’

  ‘Yes.’ Gaby felt herself relaxing back, taking full advantage of the comfort offered, albeit for the few brief minutes she could afford. After all, she did have a very long day ahead of her and it was a very comfortable sofa. ‘DC Devine managed to have a brief word with your wife yesterday and the impression he got was that there might have been some problems with their relationship?’

  ‘Well, I didn’t know them as well as my wife but …’ Gaby watched him lift his hand and run it over the back of his neck, his head turned to the view out of the window and the garden beyond.

  ‘But anything you can add, sir. The longer she’s not found the more difficult it gets.’

  He swivelled back. ‘I take it you suspect that something untoward may have occurred?’

  ‘At this moment in time, I’m not at liberty to divulge any aspect of the investigation, but she’s still missing so any information you have that could help?’

  ‘I don’t have any—’

  ‘What about what you told me about Barry?’ Mrs Stevens said, her voice sharp. ‘Didn’t you say you thought he was playing around?’

  ‘Really?’ Gaby shifted forward in her seat. ‘Mr Stevens, if there’s any information that you might have to help with the investigation, it’s imperative you tell us. Obstructing the police is a serious crime and viewed in a very dim light by the courts.’

  ‘Look, I know all that Officer but truly, it was nothing.’ He pulled back his cuff to glance down at his watch before answering. ‘I was putting out the bins a couple of weeks ago and I overheard the tail-end of an argument, that’s all. I wouldn’t even have said anything to Janice about it except that—’

  ‘Except that he thought he heard the sound of something crashing and then what sounded like a whimper,’ his wife interrupted. ‘There’s no use trying to protect him, Casper, not now.’

  ‘But I wasn’t sure and I’m still not.’

  ‘You were sure enough to tell me.’

  ‘It could have been nothing,’ he continued, finally returning Gaby’s stare. ‘One of the twins falling – anything. It’s certainly not evidence that their marriage was in any difficulty or that he had anything to do with her disappearance. To be honest, I always thought her highly strung; she wasn’t past bellowing out orders on occasion. We lead very quiet lives, Detective, and the one thing we don’t need is antsy neighbours always on our doorstep borrowing cups of sugar.’ He moved away from the mantelpiece and collected his jacket from where it was draped across a spindle-backed chair in the corner. ‘While they were a nice enough couple and their boys were good company for Jacob that’s as far as our relationship went. Now is there anything else or …? I really do need to get to work.’

  ‘What do you think, Mal?’ Gaby said, sliding into the passenger seat while watching the top-of-the-range grey Saab.

  ‘I think for someone so keen to get to work he’s taking his time getting to his car, ma’am.’

  ‘Ha, you obviously don’t come from a large family. Even now he’s probably bellowing for them to remember their lunchboxes and sports kit, while he helps Jacob on with his coat.’ She turned, watching the procession of kids scrambling out in what looked like a race to bagsy the passenger seat. ‘Come on, start the car or they’ll get suspicious. It’s a shame we won’t have time to catch up with that retired schoolteacher but, with a bit of luck, all this will have been a complete waste of time. Tracy will turn up shortly, after a couple of days in a spa hotel with one of her girlfriends and wonder what all of the fuss is about.’ She caught Malachy’s look and pulled a grimace at the sight of his raised eyebrows. He knew as well as she did that, with over two days under their belt, the likelihood of Tracy turning up alive was now the stuff of fairy tales. She’d be found. It was all a matter of when – but the when would likely be too late.

  Chapter 29

  Gaby

  Wednesday 13 May, 9.30 a.m. St Asaph Police Station

  It was only a little after half nine, but Gaby already felt as if she’d done a day’s work, as she looked at the motley assortment that made up her team. Just like her, they all looked as if they hadn’t had much sleep, even Owen, despite his relatively normal finishing time. But that’s how it was. Even if they did manage to have what most people would view as a good day, they still spent half the night puzzling away on the cases that, no matter how hard they tried, defied solving. She couldn’t begin to list the number of coppers she’d worked with who had turned to drink in an attempt to forget the job once their shift was over, which was the very reason she always stopped herself after a couple of glasses when she was alone. Work was hard enough but with a hangover it was unbearable, as she only knew too well, her thoughts swinging back to yesterday’s thumper of a headache.

  No, chocolate was her fix. Dark chocolate, the 70 per cent sort that made her tongue cleave to the roof of her mouth, was at least meant to be good for her and came without the morning headache. But it was also the main reason she was in this mess, her attention shifting from her colleagues and down to her sturdy ankles. The other reason was her second-generation Italian ancestry and a life brought up to know the full benefit of a bowl of carb-filled pasta. If she closed her lids and took a deep breath, she could almost taste her mother’s baked lasagne and, for a moment, wished herself back in her family home instead of having to present her miserable findings to the audience in front of her.

  ‘Morning everyone. Thank you for all getting here bright and early,’ she said, watching as Rusty pushed the door open with his elbow, a file clutched in one hand, a takeout cup in the other. She waited for him to take a seat, avoiding looking at his casual cream chinos and blue open-neck shirt, so very different from Casper Stevens’s designer suit and tie. It wasn’t the only difference, she thought, now concentrating on his red hair, which looked as if it hadn’t been brushed in a week or cut in months. But, knowing his work ethic, he’d fit in a trip to the barber in between his workload and that’s just how it should be.

  ‘Right, let’s get down to business.’ She strolled over to the first whiteboard and picking up a marker, started adding to the information about the murder weapon, her words and actions focusing her mind. ‘Things have moved on in the last twenty-four hours but not so you’d notice. We still have a killer on the loose, in addition to a missing woman. But we at least have some good news on the knife. A diving knife so I’m told, one that Christine de Bertrand kept in the garage along with her wetsuit and tanks. How it managed to get lodged in Nikki Jones’s heart is a question yet to be answered.’ She put the lid back on the pen and placed it on the desk before turning towards Rusty. ‘I’m hoping that Dr Mulholland has some insights for us.’

  He joined her at the front, dropping his empty cup in the bin on the way past. ‘Insights are for amateurs, Detective Darin. I only deal in facts,’ he said, darting her a look laced with dislike and something else she wasn’t able to read. ‘However, the idea of a double-sided blade such as this one—’ he tapped the photo she was holding out ‘—is a good one. It will be interesting to hear what Jason, the CSI, finds.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ She forced a brief smile onto her lips when she’d muc
h rather gouge out his eyes with the tip of her nails. It was as if last night’s conversation had never happened which, in a way, made his current attitude all the more disappointing. She’d show him just how far from amateurish she really was but not yet. She’d bide her time until the opportunity arose to make him swallow those words. ‘I believe you may have other news?’

  ‘Yes, indeed. The rest of the lab results are back, and it makes for interesting reading.’ He flipped open the folder and stared down at the first page, his square hand flat against the desk. ‘As you know, the prison doctor examined Christine de Bertrand the morning of the discovery. There is evidence that intercourse had taken place but only from the presence of a silicone-based lubricant commonly found following condom use. With this lack of biological evidence, it’s impossible to drill down further. But her toxicology screen does support the view that she might not have had any memory as to what took place when she got back to the flat—’

  ‘So, she got pissed on her birthday, hooking up with person or persons unknown for the night and then what?’ Gaby interrupted, the effort causing her head to pound. ‘I’m afraid I don’t buy that it’s a case of a simple pick-up, no matter how neatly it fits with the facts. What about a date-rape scenario? You said initially there was Temazepam in her system – would that work along with the alcohol?’ she said, suddenly on a roll. ‘Maybe it was opportunist sex and he used what he had to hand, especially as Temazepam was found in the bathroom cabinet.’

  Owen inclined his head towards Rusty, who’d taken up residence on the corner of the table. ‘I take it there was no such drug in Nikki’s system?’

  ‘Now that is an interesting question, Officer,’ he said, a smile flickering. ‘Why incapacitate one victim only to murder the other? There was no Temazepam and nothing like the alcohol consumption. Apart from Sertraline, a well-known antidepressant, her toxicology report was clear.’