Web of Lies

by Sally Rigby

  Web of Lies

  Sally Rigby

  Copyright © 2021 by Sally Rigby

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This story is a work of fiction. All names, characters, organisations or places, events and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any persons, alive or dead, events or locals is almost entirely coincidental.

  Edited by Emma Mitchell of @ Creating Perfection.

  Cover Design by Stuart Bache of Books Covered

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Read more about Sebastian Clifford

  Also by Sally Rigby

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  GET ANOTHER BOOK FOR FREE!

  To instantly receive Nowhere to Hide, a free novella from the Detective Sebastian Clifford series, featuring DC Lucinda Bird when she first joined CID, sign up here for Sally Rigby’s free author newsletter.

  Chapter 1

  11 April

  ‘For goodness’ sake,’ Jenny Johnson said, turning to look in the back seat of the car where her two sons were squabbling, as usual, this time over a toy truck. ‘The plan was for a nice day out, so stop arguing.’ Her body tensed. Was it going to be like this for the entire day? If so, she’d sooner go back home and get on with the pile of ironing waiting for her.

  It was late Sunday morning on a beautiful spring day, with the sky a soft pale blue and an array of yellows and oranges from the wild daffodils in bloom growing on the side of the lane as they drove through the countryside. She loved this time of year. It was perfect for a trip to Foxton Locks, their favourite place to visit. Though she suspected lots of other people would be there, too. Weather could be so hit-and-miss it was best to take advantage of it when you could.

  ‘Are we there yet?’ Lucas, the younger of her two boys, asked, fidgeting excitedly in his seat. ‘I hope we see a boat coming through.’

  ‘Yeah, that would be great, wouldn’t it?’ Tyler said.

  At least it had stopped their latest argument.

  She’d wanted the day to be special because it was the first time in ages since her husband, Kyle, had a day off. He’d been working seven days a week to get a big order shipped out. They were glad of the overtime, but it meant she’d had sole responsibility for the boys, who could be a handful, and that was putting it mildly.

  ‘Boys, I’ve got a surprise for you,’ Kyle said. ‘But only if you’re good.’

  ‘We’re good, aren’t we, Tyler?’ Lucas said. ‘What is it, Dad?’

  ‘Do you promise?’

  ‘Yes,’ Lucas said.

  ‘Me, too,’ Tyler agreed.

  ‘Okay. I’ve booked us on a narrowboat for a trip down the canal after lunch. But if you keep fighting, I’m going to cancel it.’

  ‘Yay. We’re going on a boat. Thanks, Dad,’ Tyler said. ‘We’ll be nice to each other. You can have the truck, Lucas,’ he said handing it over to his younger brother.

  Jenny smiled to herself and turned back to face the front of the car. ‘Nice one,’ she whispered to her husband.

  He glanced at her and winked. Even though the boat trip had been her idea, she didn’t resent him taking the credit if it gave her some peace and quiet. There were times when she could cheerfully take herself off and never come back. But those moments were few and far between. She loved her kids. And her life. It wasn’t like every other family didn’t have their share of problems. She saw the state of some of her friends’ marriages and knew that she was luckier than most.

  ‘There’s the prison,’ Tyler said, as they drove past it on the left. ‘Do prisoners escape from there?’

  ‘No. It’s perfectly safe,’ his mother said.

  ‘If they do, I’ll smash myself into them and knock ’em over. Then I’ll kick and …’

  ‘Tyler, no one’s going to escape from the prison.’

  ‘But what if they did?’ Lucas, who wasn’t as fearless as his older brother, asked.

  ‘They won’t. Look out the window, boys. We’re nearly there. There’s the signpost for the Foxton Locks top car park,’ Kyle said.

  ‘Can’t we get any closer? Let’s try the lower car park, especially as we’ve got the picnic and blankets to carry,’ Jenny said, not fancying the fifteen-minute walk with the boys in tow.

  She’d been looking forward to having lunch at the picnic tables close to the lock and the gift shop, which she loved to look around.

  ‘Okay, but at this time of day it’s bound to be full. So don’t blame me if we end up having to turn around and come back.’ Kyle took a right turn and after driving for a few minutes, they came to the lower car park. It was full. People were milling around, heading straight to the canal staircase lock and the museum. And, of course, the pub.

  ‘Sorry. Should have listened to you,’ Jenny said, hoping it wouldn’t set the boys off again, although judging by their shrieks of glee in the back they were so excited about the boat trip she suspected they wouldn’t much care.

  Kyle turned the car around and headed back along Gumley Road towards the top car park, joining a steady flow of traffic. ‘Let’s hope there’s still somewhere in the overspill section.’

  She sensed the frustration in his voice.

  Luckily, there were still some spaces, although Kyle had to drive right to the far side where it backed onto some overgrown wasteland.

  ‘Can we have lunch at the pub?’ Tyler asked. ‘I want some beer.’

  Jenny laughed. ‘First of all, no. We’ve brought a picnic. And second of all, you’re only eleven and much too young for beer.’

  ‘Henry’s dad lets him have some.’

  ‘Well, we’re not Henry’s parents and the answer’s still no. It’s a lovely day and we’ll enjoy having our lunch outside watching the boats go by.’

  ‘Can we get out now?’ Lucas asked as the car came to a standstill.

  ‘Yes, but stay close while we’re sorting everything out.’

  ‘Can I take the football?’

  ‘Okay, but don’t kick it close to the cars or you might do some damage. Go over there and stay where we can see you.’ Jenny pointed at the piece of wasteland directly in front of them. ‘And make sure to come back when I call, or there’ll be no boat trip.’

  For once it would be nice not to be
the disciplinarian, but that seemed to be the role she’d adopted. Kyle was much more laid-back than she was. It made a good balance, though. It would be no good if they were both the same.

  ‘Yes, Mum,’ they both said in unison.

  ‘Come on, Tyler, I’ll race you,’ Lucas said to his older brother, holding the ball and running off.

  Jenny leant against the car and watched them. ‘That’s far enough,’ she called. ‘We’re not going to be long, and I don’t want to waste time waiting for you.’

  The sun’s rays beat down on her back and she breathed in the fresh country air. Market Harborough, where they lived, was a lovely small town, and they were happy there, but escaping to the country was still a perfect way to relax.

  ‘You mollycoddle them too much,’ Kyle said, cutting into her thoughts, as he came around the front of the car, stopping beside her. ‘You know, they’re ten and eleven and need to find their feet so they can manage on their own. You’ve got to stop being so protective. You’re not going to be there for them all the time and it’s not like they’re going to run away or do anything stupid over there. Let them enjoy themselves. They’re in no danger.’

  She sighed. ‘It’s easy for you to say because you grew up in a rough and tumble house with three brothers. I was an only child, and only had to catch my breath and my parents would whisk me off to the doctor. But you’re right. What harm can they come to over there?’

  She headed to the back of the car, determined to relax a little, and pulled out the two cool bags which contained their lunch, and placed them on the ground. She then took hold of two blankets and closed the boot. She listened. There was silence. ‘I can’t hear anything. Where have they gone? I’m going to have a look.’

  ‘I keep telling you, they’ll be fine,’ Kyle said. ‘Leave them to play.’

  Ignoring her husband, she headed to the spot where the boys had run in to the wasteland. The grass was overgrown, but not so much that they’d be hidden. ‘Tyler. Lucas,’ she called, scanning the area, willing them to appear. There was no reply.

  ‘Kyle, they’re not here and they’re not answering,’ she called out, swallowing back the panic.

  Her husband strolled over. ‘They’re probably hiding in the bushes. Or one of them kicked the ball too far. They’ll be back soon, you’ll—’

  ‘Daaaaaad.’

  Jenny’s heart pounded in her chest at the sound of the terrifying yell from Tyler. She ran in the direction of his voice and crashed into him. ‘Are you okay? Where’s Lucas? What’s happened?’ She wrapped her arms tightly around him.

  ‘He-he’s …’

  ‘Muuum,’ Lucas came charging through the bushes over to where they were standing, his face ashen and his body shaking.

  Kyle grabbed hold of him, picking him up and holding him close. ‘It’s okay, son. I’ve got you. Take some deep breaths and tell us what you saw. It was probably nothing.’

  Jenny glanced at him. How did he know that? The pair of them were clearly shaken. Sometimes Kyle’s attitude was too laid-back.

  ‘A b-body. Dead,’ Tyler said, pulling out of Jenny’s hold and trying to pull himself together.

  ‘You saw a body?’ Kyle asked, looking at Jenny and pulling a disbelieving face over the top of Lucas’s head.

  ‘A man lying on the ground. He’s dead,’ Tyler said.

  ‘It’s true,’ Lucas said, as Kyle placed him on the ground so he could stand on his own.

  ‘Are you sure he isn’t asleep?’ Jenny asked.

  ‘No, Mum. He’s dead. Half his head is missing,’ Tyler said. ‘The flies were …’ Tears rolled down his cheeks and Jenny pulled him back into her arms.

  She’d never even seen a dead body herself, and now her two little boys had … this could affect them forever.

  ‘Kyle, go and see and I’ll stay here with the boys.’

  Lucas ran over to her, and she stayed hugging the pair of them, while Kyle headed in the direction the boys had come from. Lucas was shaking, and Tyler was ramrod straight, although she could feel his tears seeping through her T-shirt.

  After a minute or two, Kyle came running back from through the trees, shaking his head. His face was devoid of colour.

  ‘It’s true. I’ve just seen the body.’ He pulled out a phone from the back pocket of his jeans. ‘Take the boys back to the car and I’ll call 999. We’ll have to wait for the police to arrive.’

  Chapter 2

  4 May

  Sebastian Clifford sat in his car and stared at the East Farndon church where the funeral of his cousin’s husband was due to take place at eleven o’clock. The vibrant blues and reds of the wild flowers scattering the gravestones were at odds with the sombre occasion. He reached over to the passenger seat and picked up his black tie, flicked up the collar on his white shirt, and wrapped it around his neck. He pulled down the mirror and fiddled with the knot until it was acceptable. If his father had seen it, he’d have insisted on him retying it, using a full Windsor knot. But Seb wasn’t there to make a statement.

  It was thanks to his father that he was attending the funeral. He’d never spent a lot of time in the company of his cousin, Sarah, as she was nearly twenty years older than him, although he liked her. Because of the circumstances of her husband Donald’s death, and the assumption that the media would be present, his father had decreed that Seb would represent the family. Being Viscount Worthington meant his father attended a number of royal occasions during the year, as did Seb’s older brother, Hubert, who was in line to inherit the title, and it wasn’t prudent to court the wrong sort of publicity.

  Seb, on the other hand, had already stepped away from the family’s confines by opting for a career in the police force, and so attending the funeral of a financier who had stolen millions of pounds from unsuspecting investors through his Ponzi scheme and then committed suicide, wasn’t an issue.

  What Seb had yet to discuss with his father was that he’d recently resigned from his position as a detective inspector in the City of London Police Fraud Squad. He’d actually been working at the Met Fraud Squad, where he’d been seconded, along with officers from other forces, to investigate a Singapore gambling syndicate that was responsible for match-fixing in sport. His particular focus had been on snooker, and he’d been closing in on them when the squad’s whole operation had been compromised.

  An undercover reporter had discovered that a detective sergeant in the special squad Seb belonged to had been feeding information to the syndicate. It had explained why they’d always been one step ahead of the squad’s investigations. The team had been disbanded and he’d returned to the City of London force. But the only role on offer to him was in uniform. After fourteen years’ service, the majority of which was as a CID officer, it wasn’t something he was prepared to consider. So, he’d handed in his notice, and was now unemployed.

  He’d booked into an Airbnb in Heygate Street, Market Harborough for a few days, and had left Elsa, his yellow Labrador, in the kitchen. He’d taken her for a quick walk before leaving, and she’d likely sleep for the rest of the afternoon. At nine years old, it was what she did most of the time.

  He planned on using his time away from London to map out his future.

  It had been many years since he’d visited Market Harborough, but it had still retained its quaint market town feel, very different from the hustle and bustle he was used. He was looking forward to having a few days to explore and unwind.

  A black hearse drew up outside the church, with a coffin in the back, followed by a black limo. The driver got out and opened the back door. Out stepped Sarah and her grown-up sons, the twins. Their faces set like stone. Sarah appeared much older than he’d remembered, her body slightly stooping and her face pinched. Although it was hardly surprising after what she’d been through.

  He stepped out of his car and stretched his arms and legs. Despite it being considered roomy, it wasn’t made for someone of his size. At six feet six inches tall, he struggled to find any vehicle comfort
able. He headed over to where there were about twenty people waiting outside the 13th century church, well known for its historic spire. He nodded at those who glanced at him, not recognising anyone. Sarah and her sons walked into the church first, and the rest of them followed.

  Were the boys not going to be pall-bearers? Surely they were old enough.

  In his peripheral vision he noticed a man standing twenty yards away staring at the mourners. Was he from the media? He expected so, or why else would he be watching. No doubt the funeral would be reported on the local news later.

  Once everyone was seated, the coffin was brought in and placed on the catafalque at the front of the church. The service was brief, comprising two hymns and a reading from the vicar. No one else spoke. After the coffin was taken from the church, Sarah and her two boys left, being the only immediate family present, followed by the rest of the mourners. It was a miserable day and had been raining on and off. They headed to the burial site and umbrellas were held up as the coffin was lowered into its hole in the ground.

  Once it was all over, he was about to head back to his car when he heard his name being called. He turned to see Sarah striding towards him.

  ‘Hello, Seb. I see you drew the short straw.’