by Celina Grace
“Oh yes?” Kate looked up from her notebook.
“Oh, I don’t mean he was mean with money or anything like that. Quite the opposite. But he very much liked to be in control. In control of everything.” Askell slipped his glasses back on and sighed. “I suppose that’s what marriage used to be like, didn’t it? The husband as the head of the family. Sounds a bit old-fashioned now, I suppose.”
Suddenly, inspiration broke into Kate’s mind in a shower of golden sparks. That was the phrase that had nagged her so much, the words that Dorothy Smelton had used that had niggled away at Kate without her being able to say exactly what they were. She almost gasped and then quickly collected herself.
“Mr Askell, thank you, you’ve been very helpful.” There were in fact several questions she could have still asked him, but she wanted to get this little matter cleared up before doing anything further. “I might have to come back and see you again but what you’ve told me today has been very useful.”
Askell didn’t look as relieved as he might have done. Instead, he was looking rather sad. “It’s funny,” he said, “But just talking back over about Simon suddenly made me miss him, rather. I’d have said, just before you came, that I didn’t miss him at all.”
Kate smiled, rather distractedly. “These things take a long time to get over,” she offered, packing up her bag.
“Yes, I suppose so. Well, do let me know if I can be of any more help, DS Redman.” He stood up to courteously show her from his office.
Kate said goodbye, shook hands, and then hurried to her car, anxious to go back through her notes before the sudden flash of inspiration disappeared. She flipped back through the pages of her notebook, searching for that one phrase that had caused her so much anxiety. There it was. Kate had actually jotted Dorothy Smelton’s exact words down. Rather unusual for her to have done that. Perhaps her subconscious had been working well for her that day. Kate read it again. Mia would have been a leader in her field by now. Not that I know much about that new-fangled stuff myself...
Re-reading it, Kate frowned. It actually wasn’t that much to go on, after all. Should she bother...? No, if she didn’t find out exactly what Dorothy had meant by that, it would continue to nag her. She hauled her road map out from under the passenger seat, thinking that she was probably not too far from Dorothy Smelton’s house here. She’d drop in on the way back to the station and find out, once and for all, what Dorothy had meant by that statement.
She tried to ring the landline – she had no mobile number for Dorothy Smelton – but there was no answer. Never mind, she’d just call in and hope that she would be home. Kate closed her notebook and put it back in her bag. Then she took one last look at the map, checking on her route, and drove away.
Chapter Twenty-One
Dorothy Smelton’s car was in the driveway of her house when Kate pulled in through the gateway, which pleased her. Chances were Dorothy would be in. Kate parked the car, smoothed her hair down, and made her way to the front door.
Nobody answered her first ring of the ancient, clattering doorbell, nor the second. Kate hesitated, about to leave it and walk away, but a flicker in the glass of the door showed her that someone was actually in the house. She pressed the bell again for a third time and watched the flicker in the glass get nearer as the figure finally approached the door.
The door was yanked open with surprising speed, and Kate nearly jumped. Dorothy stood there on the doorstep peering suspiciously at her. “What is it?”
“Hello Councillor Smelton, it’s me again, I’m afraid.” Too late, Kate realised that Dorothy wasn’t a councillor any longer. “May I have a few minutes?”
“Who?” Dorothy glared at her as if she suspected Kate of playing a practical joke.
“It’s me, Detective Sergeant Redman—” Kate said, faltering a little at the look Dorothy gave her. “I was here yesterday, talking to you?”
Dorothy snorted, as if it was the most preposterous thing she’d ever heard. “Don’t be ridiculous. Who are you? What do you want?”
Kate was beginning to have that dizzy feeling, the kind felt when the situation becomes oddly dreamlike. Was she going mad or was Dorothy?
“Dorothy, I’m Kate Redman, we met yesterday. We talked about Simon Farraday and his wife, your friend, Mia Farraday. Do you – do you not remember?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You must think I was born yesterday, thinking you can just barge into the house. Go on, be off with you. Trying to trick me. Go on, off!”
The last word was accompanied by the slam of the front door, almost in Kate’s face. She took a step back, shaken. What was going on? What was the matter with Dorothy?
She backed away from the house, troubled by what had just occurred. Did Dorothy truly not remember her? From a day ago? Or was she pretending not to know Kate for some other reason? But what?
Shaking her head, Kate returned to her car. She was half-inclined to try the door again but dismissed the idea. Dorothy wasn’t under arrest – she wasn’t even under suspicion. If she was pretending not to know Kate, for whatever strange reason of her own, then right at this moment, there wasn’t anything much Kate could do about it. She’d just have to come back later and try again. Kate made a resolution to do just that. Whether or not she’d be more successful later was only half the point. She wanted to make sure Dorothy was okay.
She drove back to the office. The interview with Askell and the odd encounter with Dorothy Smelton had, for a while, driven thoughts of Tin and Anderton out of her head, but as she approached the station, she began once more to think about what had happened with her boss and whether it was going to be another big mistake or whether it might actually result in some sort of meaningful relationship this time.
Kate sat for a moment once she’d parked the car, collecting herself. She checked her appearance in the mirror. Not that it should matter but... Shaking her head at her reflection, she grabbed her bag and climbed out. Her nervousness at seeing Anderton again was growing. She had to take a moment to remind herself that she was a grown woman in her late thirties, not a teenage school girl about to come face to face with her crush.
As it happened, Anderton wasn’t even in his office. Feeling a mixture of disappointment and relief, Kate headed for her desk.
“Afternoon, bird.” Chloe gave her a greeting without even looking up. “Where have you been?”
Kate felt a secret satisfaction at how quickly she was able to snap straight into work-mode. She flung her bag under her desk and sat down, reaching for her keyboard. “I’ve just come from Dorothy Smelton’s house.”
“Who?”
Kate explained what had happened. “You know, the councillor. Mia Farraday’s friend. I went to see her to check something out, and she was really odd. Really odd. I’m wondering whether there might actually be something wrong with her.”
“How do you mean?”
Kate stopped, thinking back on her strange encounter with Dorothy. “I’m not sure, exactly,” she said, slowly. “It was like she didn’t even recognise me.”
“Are you sure that wasn’t just her way of getting you to bugger off?”
“No,” admitted Kate. “But I think I might pop in again later on, just to check she’s okay.”
“What was it that you wanted to ask her?”
“Well, that’s just it.” Kate retrieved her notebook and re-read the phrase that had so puzzled her. “Actually, I think I’ll have a closer look at it myself. Perhaps I don’t even need to speak to Mrs Smelton.”
“What are you talking about, bird?”
Kate grinned. “Doesn’t matter. I know what I mean.”
“Well I’m glad somebody does.”
Kate fetched them both a coffee and then sat down at her desk again. She wondered where to begin. It was such a tiny, insignificant remark. Was it even worth bothering with? She tapped a pencil on the edge of her jaw, her usual displacement activity when thinking. Then, making up her mind, she brought
up the Google search bar and began to type.
She referred back to her notes, found the name of the institution she was looking for and carefully worked out the years in which she was interested. It took a while to track down the telephone number of the person she was looking for and at least three separate phone calls before she got through to their office. Then followed a lengthy rigmarole of Kate having to prove her identity by faxing through her identification and having the person she needed to speak to call her back through the police station reception desk.
She’d just put the phone down on them, their conversation having left her feeling more puzzled than ever, when Anderton appeared in the doorway to the office. Their eyes immediately met, and Kate felt her heart give a thump so painfully strong, she was surprised it wasn’t audible to Chloe.
“Kate,” Anderton called. “Have you got a minute?”
Thoughts of the phone call she’d just had fled in an instant. “Yes, I have – just one moment,” Kate said as casually as she could. Play it cool, play it cool... Chloe obviously hadn’t noticed anything amiss and wasn’t even listening, intent as she was on her computer screen.
“Fine, just come and find me in my office,” Anderton said, equally casually, turning away. Kate forced herself to wait two whole minutes, scribbling mindless doodles on her notepad, before getting up and making her way there.
The blinds were down in Anderton’s office. Kate’s heart rate increased to a pitch that almost made her feel nauseous. She knocked on the closed door – why was it closed? – wishing her hand was steadier.
“Hello,” Anderton said as she closed the door behind her.
“Hello.” The sight of him across the other side of the desk, dressed in his customary suit, and looking sternly professional, was so at odds with her memories of him from the night before that for a moment, Kate was convinced she’d dreamt the whole thing. This whole day was turning out to be somewhat dreamlike, she thought.
Then Anderton was getting up and approaching her and before she knew what was happening, was kissing her so deeply and at length, his arms around her, that for a moment she didn’t know what to think or feel, or anything at all.
Eventually, he drew back. “Sorry,” he said, a gasp in his voice. “But there’s no way I could sit there and talk about work with you without doing that first.”
Kate made a valiant effort to collect her scattered thoughts. “That’s okay,” she said, equally breathless.
“And, while we’re on the subject, when are we going to see each other again?”
Kate felt like cheering. Cheering and crying. Outwardly, she smiled and said “Up to you.”
“Well then, how about tomorrow night? Dinner?”
Kate had to struggle not to let her delight show too plainly. “I’d like that,” she said, very proud of the even tone of her voice, that hopefully still conveyed to Anderton just how much she liked the idea.
“Good. Now—” There was a knock at the door, and Kate and Anderton sprang apart guiltily. Hastily, Kate took a seat, and Anderton hurried over to the window. “Come in?”
It was Olbeck. Kate was unprepared for the jab of guilt that hit her. Why did she feel guilty, when confronted with Olbeck’s honest, open face and the smile he directed at her? She tried to smile back equally as enthusiastically.
“Mark!” Anderton cried, just a shade – Kate thought – too enthusiastically, but luckily Olbeck didn’t appear to notice.
“I’ve just heard from the tape expert, you know the one looking at that CCTV footage. That one?” Anderton nodded and Olbeck continued. “Unfortunately, it’s not great news. The tape quality is so bad that they weren’t really able to get anything new from it. In fact, the guy said that he thought the camera itself was actually faulty and that’s why the quality is so bad.”
Kate watched Anderton himself switch into work-mode and was secretly impressed. He was even better at it than she was. Had more practice, probably, said the little gremlin in her ear, and Kate tried not to grimace.
“That’s a shame,” Anderton said. “But it’s not entirely unexpected. It was that same camera, wasn’t it, that actually conked out completely later on that evening?”
“Yes, that’s right. So unfortunately, this doesn’t give us any more real evidence.”
Anderton sighed. “C’est la vie, I suppose.” He looked across at Kate. “Anyway, on we go. Was that everything you wanted Kate?”
There was nothing in his tone but Kate couldn’t mistake the flirtatious look in his eyes. She frowned. It felt wrong to do this in front of Olbeck, innocent of the truth as he was. “Yes, that’s all for now, thanks.” She got up to go, not looking at him. Then, on her way to the door, something struck her. “By the way, where are we with Melanie Houghton?”
Anderton was too professional to look surprised but his eyebrows flickered minutely. “I’m still in two minds about charging her, but she’s far and away our most likely suspect. She’s on the scene, she arranged to meet our murder victim on the night of his death, she’s been emotionally and sexually involved with him, she owns a raincoat very similar to the one seen by our CCTV suspect on the night of the murder, and her only alibi is from her husband.” He sighed and added “The more I think about it, the more likely it seems that she’s our girl.”
Kate paused with her hand on the door to the office. Something that Anderton had said had chimed with her. “What about the motive?” she asked, slowly. “Didn’t she say that they were in love, that he was planning to leave his wife for her? Why kill him?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Olbeck said, unexpectedly. Both Kate and Anderton looked at him.
“Spill,” was all Anderton said.
“Well, it’s like this. What if it’s all actually back to front? What if Simon Farraday confessed to her, right in the heat of the moment, that he wasn’t going to leave his wife, that he didn’t love her, or didn’t love her enough to break up his family? What then? Is she consumed with jealousy, goes mad, hits him on the head?”
Both Kate and Anderton stared at him. “I suppose that’s possible,” was all Anderton said.
“It’s only an idea,” said Olbeck. “But you know we’ve been searching for motives since the start of this case. And I don’t know about you, but I get the impression that this is a crime of passion, as it were. It’s a murder taken place because of an emotional reaction.”
Kate thought hard about what he’d just said. “I sort of know what you mean. But I get the impression that it’s actually a calculated killing. Carefully planned to look like it’s a crime of passion.”
“So, it’s murder for gain, then?” Olbeck looked sceptical. “Who gains? Who gains that hasn’t already been cleared?”
Anderton snorted. “Conjecture, conjecture, conjecture! I want evidence. Go on, both of you. Go out and get me some evidence before I hear one more word about motives or crimes of passion or dastardly plots.”
He shooed them both out of his office and shut the door. Kate, inwardly smiling, was just thinking with delight about the night with him yet to come when Olbeck touched her arm. “Listen, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Startled, Kate pulled herself together. “Just got a lot on my mind at the moment.”
Olbeck looked sympathetic. “I know. It must be hard. Listen, we talked about dinner, didn’t we? Could you do tomorrow?”
“No, sorry,” Kate said, just a shade too quickly. Hurriedly, she qualified her statement. “I can’t do tomorrow but it would be great to catch up soon. How about Friday?”
“That’s a possibility. I’ll check with Jeff.” They began to walk back to the office. “Listen, what was that I heard you talking to Chloe about? Something about Dorothy Smelton?”
Dorothy Smelton was actually the furthest thing from Kate’s mind at that moment. Jolted by the recollection of Dorothy’s strange behaviour, she explained to Olbeck what had happened when she’d gone to see her that morning.
“Strange,” said O
lbeck with a frown. “I think you’re right to go back and check on her.”
“Yes,” agreed Kate. “And in fact, that’s what I’m going to do right now, on my way home.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
On her way to Dorothy Smelton’s house, Kate found herself easing her foot off the accelerator. There was a lay-by up ahead, and she pulled the car into it without thinking consciously of doing so. Then she turned the engine off and stared ahead through the windscreen.
It was a cool, grey evening, the sunshine of earlier hours long gone. Kate’s driver side window was down, and she could hear the birds singing their songs as the twilight slowly gathered. Funny to think they were merely marking their territory. Not for the first time, Kate found herself wondering whether there really was a Higher Power. A bit like whenever she saw a rosebud, the absolute perfection contained in its curled petals. How could something that beautiful just evolve naturally?
Shaking off the philosophical thoughts, she took out her notebook and noted down all the points that were worrying her. University course. Dorothy’s behaviour. Check on house deeds? Motive – gain or emotion? Or both?
Kate stared at what she’d written for a moment and then added Jealousy.
She re-read what she’d written again and then, very slowly, wrote Trap?
A final read-through, and then Kate, tutting in frustration, scribbled her pen all over the words she’d just written. There was something missing, a final thread that would pull all these disparate things together, but what? What was it? She fought the urge to hit her head against the steering wheel to try and knock the answer out of her stubborn brain.
Eventually, Kate sat up, started the car and pulled out of the lay-by. As she drove through the crumbling gateposts to Dorothy Smelton’s driveway, she was suddenly aware of how tired she was. Had she and Anderton got any sleep last night? She found herself smiling, warm with remembered desire, and thinking ahead with anticipation to tomorrow night...
