Death's Privilege

by Darryl Donaghue

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hello, is that Mr Semples?’ A young male voice was on the other end of the line.

  ‘Speaking.’

  ‘Hi, Mr Semples. We spoke the other day?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I remember.’ Semples choked on his words and wiped his eyes.

  ‘Are you okay? Is this a bad time?’

  ‘No, no go on. Were you happy with the inspection?’

  ‘Very much so, sir. The house is more than perfect for our needs. Your phone call caused quite a stir in the office. We’re all very excited and extremely grateful for your generosity. We’ll need the amount confirmed in writing and then our accountant will contact you to manage the donation process.’

  ‘Where do I send it?’ Semples flicked open the ring-bound notepad on the table and prepared to write down the address.

  ‘The address is, ready? The address is The Association for Depression and Mental Health, Trilbys Road, Osbasten, XR23 3YJ.’

  ‘Thank you, I’ll send it out in the morning.’

  ‘There’s no rush, sir. We’re happy you decided to choose us for your overwhelming donation.’ The callers smile could be heard over the phone.

  ‘I’d like it, if you don’t mind, if you could name the new building after someone that was very dear to me.’

  ‘We’d be happy to. Your gift will help so many people, it’s only right you get to leave your mark on it.’

  ‘If you could please call it, The Valerie Goddard Centre.’

  Dales stood next to Sarah’s Yaris, cigarette in one hand and a Costa coffee cup in the other.

  ‘So, I guess this is goodbye?’

  ‘Glad to see the back of you, Gladstone.’ He looked off into the distance and smiled.

  She flicked his Costa cup. ‘Slipping back into bad habits already?’

  ‘That’s base to brim green tea in there, I’ll have you know.’

  Sarah turned the cup in his hand and looked at the tick boxes. ‘Green tea, with whipped cream, chocolate syrup and sprinkles?’

  ‘Part of a new range. You know, last time we were up here, you were worried about keeping your job. Now you’re leaving with a shiny new certificate. You’ve already decided exactly where it’s going to hang, haven’t you?’

  ‘Not quite yet.’ Totally have.

  ‘You’re part of the club now. The DCI give you the driving test speech? They were doling that one out back when I qualified. Sound analogy, though.’ Dales took the top off his coffee cup and slurped on his drink, before wiping off the whipped cream moustache it left behind.

  ‘Believe me, I’m very aware of how much I’ve got to learn.’

  He stamped his cigarette out on the floor. ‘I spoke to Bosden about your interview.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘A little unorthodox, wasn’t it?’

  ‘That plan was never going to work. Sticking to it just reinforced the fact I was a cop and she was a suspect. It may have been unorthodox for an interview room, but it was the only way I was going to get an emotional connection, get her to open up.’

  Dales thought for a moment. She wondered how many different ways of saying don’t be so naive in the future he ran through before he responded. ‘That’s a nice idea, Sarah. And it’s going to work, most of the time. You’re going to make a connection on some level and get the result you’re after. But it won’t every time. Some people are shut off. They don’t care for your emotional connections or your feelings.’

  ‘There’s a reason for why everyone behaves the way they do. If we find what that is, we can help them change.’ She believed that, even if it wasn't the popular view amongst her colleagues. There were only so many times the door could be slammed, and the keys thrown away, before it was clear that method didn't work.

  ‘Yeah, and sometimes it’s because they’re born arseholes and need to be stopped the old-fashioned way. Be sure you’re ready when you meet one.’

  ‘I don’t believe that.’

  ‘Give it a few years. Connections work both ways. These people are toxic. The closer we get to them, the closer they get to us. Practice keeping your distance. Don’t forget, Leilani had you at the start.’

  ‘If never being fooled means never being able to trust, then I’m happy to be strung along from time to time.’ She knew she sounded naive to him—he'd told her that much. They agreed on many levels, but on this fundamental point, she knew they'd always differ.

  ‘How are things at home?’

  ‘Not great. We’ve cleared the air, but it’ll take a while before it’s back to what it was. If it ever can be again. I guess all marriages go through this kind of thing.’

  ‘You’ll understand marriage one day, this is your first one after all,' said Dales.

  ‘Very funny.’

  ‘Sure you can trust him?’

  Sarah paused. ‘Yeah. I’m sure. So, what’s next for you?’

  Dales looked at her. Sarah got the feeling he’d once been on her side of a conversation just like this one and had wanted to change subject as eagerly as she did. ‘I’ve been given an interim assignment. DS jobs are thin across the force. With the cuts on the way, no one is making any big career moves, so I’m on the waiting list for a permanent post.’

  ‘Interim assignment?’

  ‘Dibbles has gone missing.’

  ‘Surely that’s a good thing?’

  ‘Intel’s heard he’s left town to find and exact revenge on someone. They want me to find him, seeing as we’re old friends and all.’ Dales sipped on his drink, and an uncontrollable smile spread across his face.

  ‘You look thoroughly upset at the thought. Moretti?’

  ‘Moretti. Gladstone, I take absolutely no joy at the thought of hunting down Dibbles.’ He laughed, a hearty, happy laugh.

  ‘Hmm...for some reason, I don't believe you. Leilani had Moretti believing Dibbles poisoned the cocaine.’

  ‘And, it turns out, she tried to have Dibbles killed for it. At least now we know why he kept that little gem from me. He plans on returning the favour.’

  ‘There’s no end to the misery Leilani’s caused.’

  ‘Something tells me she enjoys the chaos. I'd best be going. There’s a briefing with the DI at half past.’ He opened his arms and Sarah hugged him.

  ‘Thanks. For everything.’

  ‘You were very easy to tutor, Gladstone. Stay in touch.’

  Mark had been making a special effort around the house. The lounge was spotless, without a sandwich crumb in sight. The laundry basket, once regularly left to overflow until Sarah took care of it, was emptied daily and, when the wash cycle ended, the laundry was hung to dry. Hung to dry neatly too, not left in the machine until it gathered that musty smell and then tossed on the clotheshorse. He washed the windows down, made plans to redo the kitchen, something Sarah had wanted doing for a while, but they hadn’t yet managed. It was his way of apologising, showing intent to make amends beyond his words of regret and promises to change.

  Sarah was sitting on the sofa browsing her Etsy page on her laptop when Mark came home. He put his bag by the sofa and kissed her before slumping down next to her.

  ‘We had a meeting today. Decided on the future of the business. It’s not the same without Ricky. His funeral brought a lot of things home and got us thinking about what’s important in life.’

  ‘So, what’s the plan?’ Sarah checked her sales—zero—logged out and closed the laptop. Vague thoughts of setting up a marketing plan and increasing her social media presence came to mind, before she realised she was beginning to sound like a self-help drone and stopped. Her screen prints would remain a hobby for a long while yet, despite her dreams of being an artistic genius.

  ‘We’re going to take a break for a little while. He wouldn’t want us to close the company, that’s for sure, but slowing things down a little will do us all some good. After that, if the team is still game for moving forward, who knows. Advertise for a replacement I imagine…well, replacement isn’t the word, you know wh
at I mean. Someone to do his job. Then the next step is the same as the last step—look for investors.’

  Just don’t go looking on dating sites. She stopped herself saying it. By standing by him, she’d accepted that thoughts like that—thoughts she could no longer verbalise—were a part of who they were now. When Mark had cheated on her, cheated on their family, he’d not only broken her heart, but had left a lasting impact on the way they communicated. Words and phrases that were once casual digs to be dismissed, were now like guns loaded by his infidelity. Sarah was confident that she still loved him, however irrational that made her sound. She was also confident she hated what he’d done and how his actions had censored the way she thought and spoke around him.

  ‘I’m sure you’ll find someone soon enough.’

  ‘How’s work been?’

  ‘Slow. Being on MCT is a good experience, but we’re limited as to what we can do. Feels more like work shadowing than anything else. The DS has promised we can get stuck into the next big case, so fingers crossed that comes soon. Joel’s been pulling his hair out.’

  ‘Joel? That’s the other fast-track guy, right?’

  ‘Yeah.’ When they'd cleared the air, Sarah hadn't quite cleared up everything.

  ‘See, I do listen. Sometimes. We should have him over for dinner. It’ll be nice to meet some of your work crowd.’

  ‘He’s very busy. Young too, I don’t think dinner parties are really his thing.’

  ‘He married? We could double-date out somewhere?’ Mark turned the TV on and began channel hopping.

  ‘No, single. I’d prefer to keep home and work life separate. Cops can be an obsessive bunch, always talking about work even when we’re away from the office. It’s important to get away from it and de-stress.’

  ‘Okay, just one night out. I’m not suggesting he moves in.’

  Sarah wondered if she oversold her refusal. Guilt still lingered from that night at The Candy Club. Telling Mark wouldn’t help, she’d convinced herself of that. It had only been a drunken kiss, she hadn’t intended to stray and had no intention of following it up, and the fact they were still working together only compounded the issue. Part of her wanted to tell him. Wanted to act as if their relationship was still like it used to be and just admit she did something stupid, kiss and make up, but things were different now.

  Mark leant in and they hugged. It felt a little forced and unnatural, and she wondered if he picked up on anything untoward in her awkward refusal of his simple offer to get together with Joel. She wondered how long suspicion would remain a part of their relationship. The hurt she felt at his betrayal would linger a while; forgiveness was just a promise to start the healing process, not a sign that it was over and all was well again. Sarah had no intention of letting her guard slip again and telling Mark would do more harm than good. She was certain of that, and she was also certain that some things were left unsaid.

  As he kissed her on the lips, picked up his bag and went upstairs, Dales’ words rang in her head.

  Marriages survive on secrets.

  Epilogue

  ‘You know these calls are recorded?’

  ‘No, petal. Calls from the prison phone system are recorded. Calls from a mobile are not.’ Leilani held the old-fashioned handset to her ear. Other inmates would have heard the call from her cell, so she made it in the laundry room, away from their ears. She hadn’t the influence to be so brazen just yet. But that time would come.

  ‘You’ve got a mobile?’

  ‘There’s a guard on the wing who likes to watch my hips shake. Likes it more than he likes enforcing the rules. The fastest way out of prison is through the amateurs in charge.’

  She heard the caller smile. ‘That is so cool.’

  ‘Did you get the cash? I had it left in the agreed place. Now all you have to do is keep your head down and wait till I call for you.'

  ‘I can do more. If you want, of course.’

  ‘That boy in the park give you a taste for it? Or do you just like the money?’

  ‘It’s not those things. You just make sense, you know. The things you say; I get them.’

  ‘Oh. I do, don’t I?’ Leilani giggled a little, liking the effect she was having. The ease with which some people bought her stories still surprised her.

  ‘I checked what you asked me to. That Moretti woman skipped town. There’s a warrant out for her arrest.’

  ‘Let the coward go. We don’t need her anyway. We’ve got each other.’

  ‘We do. Like sisters.’

  ‘That’s right, Alison, just like sisters.’

  The End.

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  About the author

  Darryl Donaghue is an former Detective from London, England. His short stories have been published in The Pygmy Giant, Spinetinglers and Dreamcatcher. His first novel, A Journal of Sin is available from all good online retailers. In 2014, he moved to Seoul to teach and write novels.

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  Dedication

  For Ewan

  Acknowledgements

  Writing a book is a long journey, but it’s not one that’s taken alone. I’d like to take a moment to thank a few of the people who came along for the ride this past year.

  Firstly, I’d like to thank Richard Rankin for his friendship and keen-eyed critiques. I first met Richard, as people often do these days, on Twitter. It was April 1st. I remember the date, as he sent me a tweet complimenting my first book, and given the date, and how bad I am at taking compliments, I first assumed it was a friend with a prank account. Thankfully, I was wrong. Since that tweet, Richard has provided sound writing advice, book recommendations and friendship. One day, we’ll talk about it all over bourbon and cake.

  I’d also like to thank Erin Wallis, Susan, Gwen, and Joe Parker for reading the book prior to its release. Your suggestions and tweaks made a difference to the finished novel and gave me some thoughts on the direction of the series, and I appreciate you taking the time to help out.

  Once again, two very talented editors have helped me along the way. I’d like to thank Jane Adams, of The Literary Consultancy, provided an insightful and succinct editorial review of the manuscript, which helped get the story back on track. Shannon Cook provided a copyedit, and made my fumbling prose shine. Shannon works especially hard copyediting my British English manuscripts, and the extra work is very much appreciated. Both editors were also a part of A Journal of Sin, and I hope I’ll have the privilege of working with them for many years to come.

  Sadly, Kit Foster, the cover designer for A Journal of Sin, was taken ill last year, so couldn’t work on the Death’s Privilege cover. Thankfully, he’s on the mend and will be back producing incredible covers in 2016. In his absence, Stuart Bache of Books Covered, stepped in and created the wonderful cover design for the book you’re reading. I’d like to thank him and his team for being very approachable, timely and professional.

  Becoming a successful independent author requires more than just being able to write. In between publishing the novels, I’ve spent a lot of time learning about ebook marketing and how to run the business side of being an author. I’d like to thank both Nick Stephenson and Mark Dawson, for their excellent courses. Being a part of both of their online communities has helped give m
e a fighting chance at carving out a career as an author.

  I’d also like to extend my deepest appreciation to everyone who read and reviewed A Journal of Sin. Starting out as an Indie author takes a big leap of faith, and each and every one of you has boosted my confidence as a writer.

  Author's Note

  Being a police officer is a little like being part of a big club. I’ve spoken to officers from America and all over Europe, and its never long before we’re swapping similar stories about our respective criminal fraternities, ridiculous policies we have to follow, or the special and unique Operations our senior officers dream up to keep us on our toes.

  With that said, despite the general experiences being familiar, policing policy and procedure can change from one town to the next. The procedures detailed in this book are based on the departments I worked in during my time as a serving police officer, so are not universally accurate.

  That being said, any liberties that may have been taken with procedures, timeframes and events are in the interests of the pace of the story. Sadly, turnaround times for forensic results, or computer examinations can sometimes be weeks or months, and that doesn’t make for very interesting fiction!

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve