The Rules of Murder

by The Rules of Murder (epub)

  His words didn’t really help to ease her tension. Was he saying that he did regret leaving the police? But that he’d done it for her? In a way, it made her feel all the worse: the thought that she was the cause of him cutting short the career he’d loved.

  ‘I just don’t want you to resent me,’ she said. ‘Or to resent this life.’

  ‘Dani, learn when to shut up and move on. I love this life, and I love you more than anything.’

  And this time, his words meant everything.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I look at my watch. It’s nearly midnight. I’m starting to get worried now. Where is she? Is she coming back tonight at all?

  I glance to the bed across from where I’m sitting in a plush velvet-covered armchair. There are no lights on in the bedroom, but the one in the en suite is on, just as it was when I arrived, and with the door partially open, there’s an arc of orange light stretching out across the bedroom, across the bed, across his face.

  The blood dribbling from the wound in his hair glistens. Streaks of red are running down his cheeks, onto the white bedsheets – at least I think they’re white. Every now and then there’s a tiny splattering sound as another drop falls from the bed and onto the growing patch of red on the thick carpet below.

  He’s slumped on his side, facing me. His eyes remain closed, though he’s still breathing. I can tell because of the rise and fall of his body under the sheet.

  I only hit him once. The strange little stone ornament I used is back on the bedside table next to me.

  I’ve been staring at that ornament for minutes, and I can’t work out what it’s supposed to be. Perhaps two figures hugging, though their limbs and their heads are moulded together, and the more I stare, the more disturbing I find it. Like conjoined twins, except they’re facing each other. That might be it. They’re not hugging. They’re facing each other, trying to pull away, but they can’t because their skin and their flesh is knitted together.

  Now as I stare, I can hear the creak and strain as they pull. The figures seem to be moving apart from one another ever so slightly. The skin is straining, beginning to tear. The sound it makes is sickening yet strangely curious, even as it intensifies.

  They’re screaming now. But they don’t stop pulling, they just keep on going, pushing through the pain. Pulling for freedom, whatever the cost. Their screams get louder and louder, the sounds of their skin tearing, the blood-curdling squelch, gets louder and louder…

  Stay focussed.

  Her voice snaps the visions and the sounds away.

  I realise there’s a thin film of sweat on my brow.

  No mistakes.

  I wipe the droplets away with my sleeve.

  ‘I know.’

  As I look back now, the figures are statuesque – and quiet – once more. My eyes fall to the bottom of the ornament. I think a small chunk is missing from the corner of the base.

  Did I do that? Did the chunk fall away, or is it now wedged in the man’s skull?

  Thoughts of blood and bone and flesh come to the fore once more…

  Stop. I said to stay focussed.

  ‘I am focussed.’

  Perhaps you should give him the shot.

  I look at him, lying on the bed. Peaceful. Is he dreaming? I wonder what about.

  ‘He doesn’t need the shot.’

  If he wakes up I’ll just hit him again.

  If he wakes up. Perhaps he never will.

  I hear a car engine outside, somewhere not far away. The low-pitched rumble drifts through the partially open bedroom window. Then a car door opens. And closes. Footsteps. Hard-soled shoes – heels – on compacted gravel.

  I get up from the chair and walk around the bed and pull one curtain aside an inch to peek out.

  She’s here. Finally.

  Get ready.

  I am ready. Sometimes I wish I was trusted more.

  I do trust you.

  Sometimes I wish I could at least think without you listening!

  Silence now.

  I creep across the room towards the bedroom door which is open a few inches. Down below I hear the front door opening and closing. A few small bangs downstairs. Softer footsteps padding about. I think she’s drunk. I saw how she was wobbling up the drive and I know she likes these nights out with her friends. A tap goes on in the kitchen. Yeah, she’s pissed as a fart. Wants some water to stop her waking up tomorrow with a screaming headache. Poor thing. If only she knew.

  At least she’s had some fun on her last night on earth.

  She’s on the stairs now. I turn back to look at the bed. He’s still out of it. He hasn’t a clue what’s going on.

  I retreat to the armchair by his side. It’s within the band of light coming from the en suite. That’s good. I want her to see my face.

  My breathing is getting quicker by the second, in line with my now racing heart. But I’m not scared. I’m not nervous. I’m perfectly ready.

  I want this.

  She’s on the landing now. The bedroom door opens slowly. She’s trying to be quiet and discreet. I suddenly realise, when she steps in she’ll see my face, but on the dark side of the room, I won’t see hers.

  It’s not important.

  I want to see her face.

  I lean across and press the switch on the wall above the bedside table. The main light in the centre of the room flicks on. The bedroom is lit up brightly.

  There she is, right in the open doorway.

  She freezes. She’s looking at him, rather than me. I slowly get to my feet as her gaze sweeps across.

  Oh, this is so perfect!

  She sees me now. And even though she can say nothing, she’s so paralysed by fear, I know she recognises me.

  The whole moment probably lasts only a second or two, but I savour it as her eyes glance down to my hand. Down to the six-pound axe that I’m grasping.

  And now finally she screams.

  But it’s too late for her.

  I’m already lurching forward, the newly sharpened blade swinging wildly through the air.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Bright and early on Tuesday morning, Dani was waiting outside Easton’s house in Sutton Coldfield with the engine running. He stormed out of the front door of his modest semidetached, sullen-faced, and stepped into the car with a grumbled greeting.

  ‘Run out of cornflakes again?’ Dani said.

  Easton huffed. ‘Very funny. No. Claire’s back.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Dani was looking at him, but he was glaring out of the windscreen, clearly not wanting to engage.

  ‘Just drive,’ he said.

  Dani put her foot down.

  ‘You don’t owe her anything,’ Dani said as she came to a stop at the end of the street and took the turn onto Chester Road.

  ‘She’s my sister.’

  Yet another family relationship gone wrong. Did it make Dani feel better to know that pretty much every family she knew was fucked up, one way or another? Not really. Though in Easton’s case, his problem sister really shouldn’t have been such a big problem for him personally, if he actually just told her straight to go and get herself sorted out.

  ‘Kids with her?’ Dani asked.

  ‘Where else would they be?’

  ‘So you two and four kids in your two-bedroom house. Sounds ideal.’

  ‘It’s gonna be chaos.’

  ‘What about school? Bit of a trek over to Rugeley each morning.’

  ‘School holidays, isn’t it. Another month before they go back.’

  ‘So what are you going to do?’

  ‘What can I do? She’s my sister. I can’t just turn her away.’

  No. Apparently not. And apparently not many other men could either. Which was why at the age of twenty-six she had four kids from three dads.

  ‘At least you get some time with your nieces and nephews.’

  ‘Don’t get me started. They’re the devil’s spawn.’

  Dani tried to hold back her la
ugh at that, but couldn’t manage it, and when she glanced over she saw Easton now had a wry smile too.

  ‘Enough about her,’ he said. ‘She’ll probably go crawling back to Andre soon enough. And if she doesn’t I’ll get her into a flat somewhere before school starts again.’

  ‘Somewhere far, far away?’

  ‘Not far enough. Anyway, what’s new?’

  ‘Since I last saw you all of ten hours ago? Nothing really. Certainly not compared to you at least.’

  Easton rolled his eyes, but the conversation about his sister was over, and when they arrived outside the gates to Drifford House not long after, he had a focussed look back on his face.

  Pamela Longbridge answered the intercom, and they were soon heading up the driveway to the house. Easton had spoken on the phone to Caroline Redfearne late in the afternoon the previous day, and although she’d pushed back on the homicide team returning to their home for what would be a third day in a row, Easton had eventually persuaded her that it was in the best interests of the investigation.

  The grounds immediately around the house, without the myriad of police vehicles and ambulances, were quite the contrast to when Dani had last been, and although there was an overarching stifled mood about the place, the charm of the house and its carefully kept gardens was plainly evident.

  Dani parked the car on the gravel drive and a second later the hefty oak door to the house opened and there stood the head of staff, Pamela Longbridge. Her long face was sullen and suspicious. Dani didn’t believe that was because of grieving any more, she just felt it was Pamela’s naturally stern demeanour.

  As Dani and Easton stepped from the car, Dani glanced across the side of the house to the woods. No sign at all of the crime scene from here. Although the body had been, by now, long removed, and the forensic scour complete, Dani would make sure they took a wander down there before they left today. She could always hope for a flash of inspiration.

  Dani turned her gaze back to the house, and as she did so her eyes swept over the other two parked cars on the gravel. One was a gleaming black Bentley Continental GT, which Dani recognised as belonging to the Redfearnes, the other was a garishly yellow Porsche.

  ‘Good morning,’ Dani said as she and Easton approached Pamela, trying to sound warm and friendly.

  ‘Detectives,’ Pamela said. Her face remained sour. ‘I’m afraid there’s not much good around here right now.’

  Dani let the comment slide. Pamela showed them in.

  ‘What can I do for you today?’ Pamela asked, as though it were her house. ‘I thought after the last of you left yesterday that the Redfearnes would be given some time alone to grieve.’

  ‘I’m very sorry, Mrs—’

  ‘Ms.’

  ‘Sorry, Ms Longbridge, but until we get to the bottom of Oscar’s death, and Sophie Blackwood’s disappearance, we may need to make frequent trips back here. I hope you can appreciate that?’

  Pamela humphed.

  ‘Are Mr and Mrs Redfearne available?’ Easton asked.

  They should be, Dani thought, given this was the time Easton had arranged to meet with them yesterday.

  ‘I’ll take you to them,’ Pamela said before turning and heading off.

  ‘Do you have some free time this morning as well, Ms Longbridge?’ Dani said as they walked across the expansive, wood-panelled main entrance hall. ‘We’d really like to speak with you too.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About the case.’

  ‘I’ve already given a statement to some of your colleagues.’

  ‘Which we’ve both read. But it’d be very helpful to ask you some follow-up questions.’

  Pamela turned to glare at Dani. ‘Very well. But I am very busy. This house doesn’t run itself, you know.’

  When Pamela faced back the other way, Dani looked over to Easton and saw he was smirking. Just as well Pamela didn’t see.

  They headed on down a corridor that Dani hadn’t seen before but was much like the rest of the house, with unnecessarily tall ceilings complete with elaborate decorative mouldings, huge chandelier light fittings, side tables with expensive-looking ornaments, and large, framed oil paintings dotted here, there and everywhere. They arrived at a closed door, and Pamela knocked and waited for a response before she opened it and stuck her head inside.

  There was a muffled exchange before she pulled her head back.

  ‘You can go in,’ she said to Dani. ‘I’ll get someone to come and take a drinks order.’

  With that Pamela turned and strode off.

  Dani pushed the door open fully, then did a double-take when she saw who was inside, and tried her best not to show any reaction.

  Amanda Johansson, the same lawyer who’d been with Arnold Davenport, was sitting on her own behind a desk in a room that Dani would have described simply as a smaller version of the library they’d been in on their previous visit. Was this the Redfearnes’ home office?

  ‘Good morning, detectives,’ Johansson said, with something of a snide smile. ‘The Redfearnes will be with us shortly, but first I wanted to make sure I understood exactly what it is you’d like to talk to them about this time.’

  Dani glanced at Easton. The unimpressed raised eyebrow showed he was thinking exactly the same thing as she was.

  * * *

  Despite Johansson’s best efforts, Dani was determined to ask the questions they’d come to ask. In fact, it was likely because of Johansson, fully prepared and in overly bullish mood, that Dani was happy to steer the meeting towards more uncomfortable subjects once it was clear, after forty minutes, that they were otherwise going nowhere.

  ‘Mr and Mrs Redfearne, what is the purpose of your summer party?’ Dani asked.

  ‘Purpose?’ Henry said, a deep scowl on his face.

  ‘Well, is every person you invite a genuine close friend, or—?’

  ‘Many of them are close friends, yes. But it’s also a fundraising exercise. We help raise tens of thousands of pounds for charities through the activities we undertake during the day.’

  Tens of thousands? Wasn’t that pocket change for billionaires?

  ‘Activities?’ Dani said. ‘Would those include sexual activities with the waitresses?’

  ‘Detective, please,’ Johansson said. ‘Not this again.’

  ‘Not what again?’ Dani turned from Johansson back to Henry. ‘We’ve taken multiple witness statements now that include allegations of sexual harassment. Are you saying these people are all lying?’

  ‘I didn’t say that,’ Henry said.

  ‘Are you saying you were aware of these activities, then? In fact, isn’t that all part and parcel of the fun?’

  ‘You’re supposed to be catching our son’s killer,’ Caroline said. ‘Not dredging up lurid claims.’

  ‘But are the two connected?’ Dani asked.

  ‘Connected?’ Henry said.

  ‘What other nefarious activities are being covered up here?’

  ‘OK, Ms Stephens,’ Johansson said, getting to her feet. ‘I think you’re done here. And you can be sure I’ll be passing a complaint to your superiors about your behaviour.’

  Dani and Easton remained seated, though Dani could feel her colleague’s unease.

  ‘Our behaviour?’ Dani said. ‘I’m sorry, but we’re neck-deep in a murder investigation here, and at every avenue we’re hitting brick walls whenever we ask questions about what exactly happened at this so-called party on Saturday night. A party at which one man lost his life, and a young lady has gone missing. Now, on what basis are you suggesting that details of that party, who was here, what they did, are not relevant to that investigation?’

  ‘On the basis that—’

  ‘Oh, and it’s interesting that you’re here today, Ms Johansson. What is it that you and your clients are trying to hide about what happened here on Saturday night?’

  Johansson didn’t even attempt to answer that. Neither did either of the Redfearnes.

  ‘Now would be a goo
d time for you to speak up,’ Dani said. ‘I’m simply trying to understand what happened on Saturday night. Why is it so difficult for anyone to tell me straight?’

  Not one word in response. Henry folded his arms in defiance.

  Whatever. Dani had had enough.

  ‘Thank you all for your time. We’ll be in touch.’

  Dani rose to her feet. Easton tentatively followed her out of the room.

  ‘Well that was a waste of time,’ he said as Dani stormed away, back towards the entrance hallway.

  ‘Kind of,’ Dani said. ‘But it did tell me one thing.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘They’re not telling us everything, are they? The Redfearnes. Davenport. That damn lawyer.’

  ‘Yeah. Talk about a coincidence with her being here.’

  ‘It’s no coincidence, though, is it?’

  ‘Not from what I can see.’

  ‘So what are they not telling us and why?’

  ‘Could be these people just don’t want their reputations ruined. I can’t speak for the mega rich.’

  ‘Are their reputations really worth more than finding their son’s killer?’

  Easton shrugged.

  ‘We need to find out more,’ Dani said.

  ‘We do. And I think I might know what you’re thinking.’

  Dani stopped and turned to face Easton.

  ‘You do?’

  ‘We’re not leaving, are we?’

  ‘No. Not yet we’re not. Come on, this way.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Pamela was sitting tapping away on an iPad in the library when they found her.

  ‘Detectives. You’re done?’ she said, looking up and pushing her glasses further up her nose. ‘Shall I show you out?’

  ‘Actually, if you had a few minutes spare?’ Dani said.

  Pamela sighed. ‘Not really…’ She held Dani’s eye for a couple of seconds before she reached forwards and placed the iPad on the coffee table in front of her. ‘But if it’s just a few minutes I guess I can humour you. You’ll be eating into my relaxation time later this evening because of it though.’