The First Cut (Terrence Reid Mystery Series Book 2)

by Mary Birk

  Anne brushed her hair back behind her ears, trying for nonchalance. “It must have been something I picked up on the trip over.”

  “Or something you picked up before you left. Anyway, there’s coffee made. Apparently, Terrence made it before he left. Want me to bring you some?”

  Beware of Greeks bearing gifts. If Darby brought it, it would probably be poisoned. Besides, Anne was off caffeine for the duration.

  “No, thank you. I’ll just get into the shower. If you like, I’ll make breakfast when I get out.” God, why had she said that? The thought of cooking eggs or sausages made the nausea rise up again, but her empty stomach had nothing left to retch up, and she willed it to calm.

  “Not for me. I’m a yogurt-and-granola girl. I’ll leave you to your shower.” Darby closed the bathroom door.

  Anne let the hot water run over her, feeling whole worlds better after she was done. She got out of the shower, looked around the bathroom and realized she hadn’t brought her toiletries bag in with her. Bundled in a towel, she went to the bedroom to get her things. Her heart caught in her throat when she opened the door. Sitting on the bed in front of Anne’s open toiletries bag, was Darby, looking smug and holding a bottle of prenatal vitamins.

  Anne’s heart sunk from her throat to her stomach. “What are you doing?”

  “Good news, Anne. You’re not sick, you’re pregnant.” Darby’s voice dripped with gleeful contempt.

  “How dare you go through my things?” She couldn’t believe Darby’s flagrant disregard for her privacy. “This is not your home.”

  “Not really yours either. I was fairly certain that bout in there was morning sickness. I remembered you didn’t drink any wine last night, so I thought I’d take a look.”

  “You had no right to go into my things.”

  Darby made a pretend pouty face. “Oh, no. Are you going to tell Terrence on me? Go ahead, tell him; he doesn’t know about the baby, does he?”

  “This is none of your business.”

  Darby put a finger to her temple in pretend concentration. “I’m a trained investigator, so I should be able to figure this out. Let me think. Terrence has wanted children all his adult life, but only with the right woman, his perfect woman. He stupidly thinks that perfect woman is you. Ergo, if he thought you were pregnant with his child, he would be announcing it from the bloody rooftops.”

  “Get out of here.” Anne’s voice was barely a whisper.

  Darby threw the vitamin bottle on the bed, and stood up. “Not just yet, you little bitch. I’m not finished.”

  Anne leaned weakly against the door frame. “Finish then.”

  Darby’s eyes shone with malice as she continued. “You saw how happy he was just that you are working on putting a home together with him. A baby—correction, a baby with you—would have him delirious. As he doesn’t seem to know, my deduction is that the baby isn’t his. All of this, coupled with the knowledge that I share with most of the civilized world, that you were another man’s mistress until, what, less than two months ago, leads me to the conclusion that the baby is your boyfriend’s, not Terrence’s.”

  Anne absorbed Darby’s tirade in silence, trying to remove herself emotionally from what was happening. She couldn’t think of anything to say in her own defense.

  Darby, her face flushed with unleashed anger, didn’t seem to care if Anne responded or not. She held up Anne’s phone. “So then I checked your mobile . . . oh, please don’t look so righteous, Anne. Regular calls from Andrew Grainger. Who is—I presume—the baby’s father?”

  “Get out.” Anne finally managed a response, then closed her eyes as currents of agonizing pain swam around her head. “Get out of here. Leave me alone.”

  “I’m going. I’ll stay somewhere else tonight. But you had better tell him, and you’d better do it soon. If you don’t, I will. Can you imagine what this whole mess with you has already done to him professionally? After everything he’s done to build his career, you tear it down and make him look a fool.” Darby spit her words out like poison darts, then slammed every door between the bedroom and the front door on her way out.

  Anne slumped to the floor, put her face in her hands and wept.

  Chapter 24

  DARBY STRODE into the High Street offices, her mind still reeling from her discovery about her slag of a sister-in-law’s pregnancy, and passed a familiar looking redhead who was on her way out. The television newswoman. Interesting.

  Terrence was leaning over a computer terminal where another redhead, this one a man, was intently working. She couldn’t imagine two redheads who looked less alike. Carolyn Caspary defined the word elegance, and the computer jockey looked like he just fell off an old farm lorry.

  Her brother looked up, saw her, and frowned. “Nice that you could join us. Had a bit of a lie-in, did you?”

  Darby brushed him off. Maybe Terrence should have stuck around longer. He could have learned all kinds of interesting things about his wife. But she just said, “We don’t all get up at the crack of dawn. What was the telly news girl doing here?

  “Carolyn is an investigative reporter.”

  “Excuse me, investigative reporter. Don’t want to slight her profession. I should have said bloodsucker. So what’s she doing here?”

  “I’m feeding her some information I want put out on the case.”

  “You really think you can trust her?”

  “We’ve worked together before. There’s a quid pro quo, of course, but she’s trustworthy.”

  Something clicked in her memory, and Darby smiled. “Didn’t you used to have a thing with her?” Heads turned toward them, quick interest in their faces, and her brother shot her a warning look.

  She lowered her voice. “Oops, wasn’t I supposed to mention that? So sorry, are we keeping secrets?” Served him right. He’d kept secrets from her, secrets he should have shared with her, secrets she’d deserved to know. He needed to be taught a lesson about what keeping secrets could cost.

  He ignored her question, but Darby didn’t need his answer. Carolyn Caspary’s name had been tied to her brother’s a few years ago, before the woman that was before Anne. Past lover once removed. Mr. Holier-Than-Thou had carnal needs, too.

  Her brother indicated the man sitting at the computer next to him. “Darby, this is Harry Reid.”

  The ginger-haired bumpkin gave her a slight, distracted wave, then returned his attention to his dual computer screens.

  She didn’t bother with a greeting, just let her eyes scan the rest of the group. Hopefully there’d be someone more interesting than the bumpkin. But no. A guy in a wheelchair who looked like he used to be a circus acrobat, a guy who would have been passable if he didn’t wear black-rimmed glasses as thick as scones that made him look like a human owl, and a young woman with hair desperately begging to be styled and who goggled at Darby with obvious awe. Where did he find these people? But Darby smiled and made nice while her brother recited their names. She might need them on her side.

  Introductions complete, Terrence said, “This is the first time you’ve been to our new offices, isn’t it?”

  “Aye. Last time I was here you were still in the basement of that building over in the Osprey House complex.” She looked around, her eyes taking a quick survey of the large room. The main floor of what obviously used to be a shop was open except for an office in one corner with half glass walls that gave the occupant of the office, Terrence, she assumed, a view of the open room where the rest of the detectives worked, another room she could tell from the open door was a conference room, and an alcove with a small kitchen.

  The desk of the man who apparently ran the administrative side of the office, the one in the wheelchair, was set in the main area near the entrance, appearing to double as almost a reception desk, although Terrence explained that Frank spent a good deal of time on the lower floor where the records and other more space-intensive administrative areas were housed. The rest of the open area held assorted desks boasting what look
ed to be top-of-the line computer stations. A staircase at the back of the room appeared to access both the upper and lower floors, and a small glass-walled elevator ran beside the staircase. For the wheelchair, Darby assumed.

  “What’s upstairs?”

  “It used to be the building’s above-shop living quarters, but now it’s a state-of-the-art computer and surveillance paraphernalia lab. Oscar’s got a full house up there right now working on the computers. Right, Oscar?”

  “Aye. They’ve been at it over an hour already this morning.” The owl man gestured upstairs. “We’ve four officers who’ve been seconded to the team to help review account information and analyze bank and financial institution intelligence.”

  Terrence said, “As you can probably tell, we spent the bulk of our budget on the electronic component of the offices. Consequently, the furnishings might have been a bit shortchanged, but Frank got us some bargains from secondhand stores.”

  Darby wrinkled her nose. “Shortchanged is an understatement. The place looks more than a wee bit shabby.” She didn’t miss the flash of contempt in the ginger-haired farmer’s face at her remark, before he turned his attention back to his computer screen. The owl likewise turned away, returning to his machine, and the circus acrobat wheeled his chair over to his desk. Apparently they all liked the furnishings.

  “We spent money where it was best spent for what we need. Elegant office furnishings weren’t a priority. Our equipment was.”

  Darby could tell Terrence was annoyed at her. What did she care? She was more than annoyed with him.

  But Terrence seemed to get past his pique quickly, and was all business again. “Allison, will you give Darby a full tour?”

  “Yes, guv.” Allison beamed.

  Darby shook her head. “I’m good for now. I’m sure I can find my way around.” No way was she going to be forced into a tour of this rattrap led by Allison in Bloody Wonderland.

  Terrence nodded. “DI Lawrence should be here any moment. You’re clear on what I want you to do?”

  She nodded. “Crystal.”

  * * * * *

  Darby didn’t have to wait long for her assignment to show up. DI Mark Lawrence entered High Street not a quarter hour after Darby finished going through the file. Terrence closed the door of his office, motioned for Lawrence to take the seat next to Darby, then resumed his place behind his desk.

  Lawrence was an attractive man: sandy hair that was obviously professionally styled, regular features, and a well-maintained body set off by an expensive suit that fit him perfectly. But it was equally obvious that he knew exactly how attractive he was, and that his smile was calculated to melt the knickers off most women. Luckily, she was not most women. Nonetheless, when he flashed his smile at her, she sent him a sidelong glance that let him think she just might be interested.

  Terrence said, “This is Darby Reid, Interpol. She’s come to assist in some of the financial aspects of the investigation that have been being pursued by her agency. And yes, she’s my sister, but she gets no special treatment for that.”

  Darby could feel DI Lawrence’s deep blue eyes appraising her. She had a good sense of when a man was attracted to her, and she knew without a doubt that she had Lawrence’s full attention.

  Darby spoke, not bothering to even look at her brother. “Nor do I want—or need—any.”

  DI Lawrence grinned. “I’ll bet you don’t.”

  She smiled, putting as much coy in her voice as she could get by with in front of her brother. “Thank you very much, Detective Inspector.”

  “Don’t mention it, angel.”

  Terrence’s icy voice broke into the flirtatious banter. “I met with DC Parsons’ family yesterday. Has your team been able to find any more evidence about what happened to him?”

  Darby remembered what her brother had told her about the young constable who’d supposed to have been watching Ramsey turning up dead.

  Lawrence looked suddenly subdued. “Not really. Hit and run most likely. Looks like he was walking on that dark lane after he left his post, and just was unlucky to get in the way of a car. The lane leads to a popular spot for shagging. My guess is whoever hit him had someone he shouldn’t have had in the car with him, and moved the body so it wouldn’t be found for a while. We’ve got bulletins out looking for information, but I doubt if there’s any connection to what happened to Ramsey.”

  “Maybe not, but it’s too early to rule it out. I’ve reminded everyone on my team to be careful. You might want to do the same with your people.”

  Lawrence nodded. “Aye.”

  Terrence picked up his mug of tea and took a long drink. “Right, then. We’ll be continuing our interviews today on Ramsey’s murder. I’ll interview the Von Zandts myself. DI Lawrence, if you and your team could finish interviews of the people in Ramsey’s office who he worked with most closely, maybe we’ll get a lead there. Also, I’d appreciate it if you would brief Darby on the Ramsey surveillance history—who he was in contact with regularly, etc., and try to determine who else needs to be investigated for possible involvement in his death.”

  “Happy to.” Lawrence cocked his head at Darby and gave her a smirk that told her he still had no idea with whom he was dealing. But she could play impressed female when she needed to, as long as it suited her purposes.

  “Darby has access to some deep background information that can save some time, so work with her on that. Other than the Von Zandt interviews, I’d like to leave following up on the Ramsey murder leads chiefly to the two of you. Frank will get you copies of the reports from the interviews that we’ve done already, as well as information on the evidence we’ve collected. Use your people from CID to do any additional legwork you need done.”

  Lawrence’s eyes widened briefly, and Darby could tell he was surprised he was still going to be allowed to be involved so deeply in the investigation, especially after the reprimand her brother told her Lawrence had likely received from his own guv.

  “I was just thinking that perhaps my men and I should work out of High Street while we’re on this investigation. Might improve communication.” Lawrence watched for Terrence’s reaction to his suggestion.

  Not bloody likely, Darby guessed. She doubted improving communication was actually what Lawrence wanted; more likely he wanted to make sure he wasn’t excluded from anything important. But, just as she’d surmised, her brother wasn’t going to go for that.

  Terrence said, “Let’s leave things as they are for now. We’re a bit short on space.”

  Lawrence gave a just-trying-to-help shrug.

  “Meanwhile, the rest of the task force will continue to concentrate on trying to find the terrorist funding source. I’m beginning to think we were misled on the Von Zandt connection, and I have some other ideas I want to follow. I have no doubt he’s had some minor involvement, but as many dead ends as we’ve hit makes me think that he’s not who we’re looking for.” Terrence spun the tale he’d explained to Darby earlier. She knew he was hoping the false information would get back to Von Zandt and that the man would consequently be more likely to drop his guard.

  DI Lawrence face registered his surprise. “You’re bleeding kidding me.”

  “We’ve found some other leads on possible conduits for the terrorist financing, and I’ve decided to shift our resources in that direction. Harry and Allison will continue working on the electronic transmissions evidence, and Oscar and the officers he has helping on computers will keep focusing on tracing financing trails.” Terrence turned to Darby. “If you’ll meet with Oscar on that later, I’d appreciate it. Your lot at Interpol may have some resources we don’t have, and you can help him out with that.”

  DI Lawrence cleared his throat. “I’m not quite following why the task force is still on the Ramsey murder if you don’t think Von Zandt was involved. Doesn’t that mean whatever Ramsey was going to give you on Von Zandt was bogus?”

  “Might be, but he was our informant, so his murder is ours.”

&
nbsp; Lawrence gave a short laugh. “Maybe his wife killed him.”

  Terrence’s somber expression didn’t change. “Stranger things have happened.”

  Chapter 25

  DARBY AND DI LAWRENCE exited the High Street office into the chill of the cloudy Glasgow morning. Terrence had asked her to get the CID officer out of the way so his own team wouldn’t have to be on guard about what they were actually doing. So, after they left Terrence’s office, she’d suggested the two of them find someplace they could talk besides the crowded quarters at High Street.

  “Thanks for agreeing to brief me, DI Lawrence.”

  “My pleasure. And call me Mark.”

  “All right, Mark.”

  “Should I call you Darby? Or is it Lady Darby?” He was trying to make his manner mockingly casual, but she could tell it was bravado. The title impressed him. The title that wasn’t really hers.

  She shook her head. “Just Darby. I don’t use the other for work. Too off-putting.” She didn’t use it at all anymore, but she didn’t tell him that.

  “I think Lady Darby has a nice ring to it.”

  She’d always thought it did, as well. Before she’d found out the truth, she’d loved the title, loved the way it sounded, loved the way it set her apart. She’d felt like it was part of who she was.

  “Just Darby, okay?” She kept her face friendly, but it took an effort. Was it possible he knew the truth about her and was just taunting her?

  “As you like, Darby.” He touched her arm lightly. “Want to get some coffee? We can talk and I’ll fill you in on what we’ve done, and what I’m planning to do next. The coffee at CID is sheep piss, but there’s a café down the street here that’s not half bad.”

  “Do they have food? I didn’t have time for breakfast and I’m starving.”

  “Full breakfast menu. I could do with a fry up myself.” Then he squinted at her, considering. The fine laugh lines at the edges of his eyes didn’t detract from his good looks one bit. Slime or not, he was definitely hot. “Or are you the granola and yogurt type?”