by Jane Casey
Godley winced. ‘I don’t like waiting for another death, Josh. I don’t want to feel that someone died because we didn’t act quickly enough.’
‘We don’t have a lot of choice. We can’t call in help from the locals because we don’t trust them. The potential victims don’t want us to find them either. They just want to be invisible. And that’s not going to assist us. We’re looking in the same places as the killer, lifting the same rocks to see what creepy-crawlies scurry away when the light hits them. The only difference is that we don’t want to squash them when we find them.’
‘Picturesque.’ Godley’s face twisted into a smile, almost against his will.
I cleared my throat, feeling slightly awkward at interrupting their love-in. ‘We need to find out why the killer chose to start with Palmer and Tremlett, too. Their crimes were very different and they didn’t have much else in common. If we can get a handle on why he picked them, we might be able to work out who’s next.’
‘Good. I like that. Something else to keep in mind.’
‘That’ll be a lot easier if we get another victim,’ Derwent said, grinning widely as he chomped on his gum. Godley frowned.
‘Get on with it, Josh, all right? Stop trying to provoke a reaction and get out of my office.’ But there was no heat in his voice; he sounded amused, not irritated.
The DI went over to the door and held it open for me. ‘Come on. Let the boss get on with his evening.’
Godley put out a hand. ‘No. Wait. I want a word with you, Maeve.’ He looked up. ‘Thanks, Josh. You can head home. We’ll talk tomorrow.’
Derwent nodded, his face expressionless, and shut the door behind him. The superintendent and I watched him walk across the office, grab his coat as he passed his desk, and swing out through the double-doors at the end of the room without breaking his stride.
‘How are you finding it?’
I looked at Godley, unsure how to answer him. ‘The case? It’s not easy. But it’s okay.’
‘It’s a bad case. I know you’ll do a good job, though. You’re thorough, and that’s what this one needs. I wanted you to work on it because I think you’ll complement DI Derwent’s strengths.’
I nodded, trying to hide the doubt I was feeling. Godley narrowed his eyes.
‘You’re not convinced about him, are you? He’s not easy to get to know. But he’s decent. I worked with him a few years ago when he was just a DC. When the opening came up in the team after Tom left, he was the first person who came to mind. Keith Bryce was the second. I managed to persuade the bosses to let me have both.’
‘I’m sure DI Derwent’s very good. I’m looking forward to seeing him in action.’ I couldn’t bring myself to say anything nicer about him, but I was beginning to think that was my problem, not anyone else’s. Godley had an almost witch-like ability to read minds and rarely made a mistake about people – if he thought that Derwent was worth having around, I’d just have to find a way to get on with him. Besides, if I was finding the inspector hard to manage, I certainly wasn’t going to admit it to the boss. Not only would it reflect badly on me, but if Derwent found out I’d complained, he would make my life a living hell.
‘He’s got a few rough edges. He likes to make people uncomfortable. If he thinks he’s managed to annoy you, he’ll never leave it alone.’
I raised my eyebrows. ‘Is that a warning?’
‘Of sorts. Not that I think you really needed it. I’m sure you know better than I do how to deal with him. I just want you to be aware that you shouldn’t take what Josh says at face value, necessarily. He can come across as a boorish thug, but a lot of it is put on to get a reaction.’
‘I’ll put the sexual harassment case on hold, then.’ I smiled. ‘Really, I’m not bothered by it. I’m sure we’ll get on fine.’
‘You are very different. You’ll put the work in. Josh is more of a big-picture type. Don’t let him intimidate you, but don’t discount what he says either. He broke a few big jobs over at Central Task Force. He has an uncanny ability to be in the right place at the right time, and he knows his stuff.’ There was a note of finality in Godley’s voice, as if that was the last word to be said about the DI. He stood up. ‘It’s late. You should get home.’
I looked at my watch and couldn’t suppress a squeak of horror. ‘Oh my God. I was supposed to be in Crouch End ten minutes ago. My brother will murder me.’
‘Oh well. At least it’ll be an easy one to solve. That sort of case is a bit thin on the ground at the moment.’ He smiled. ‘Go. Run. I’m sure he’ll forgive you.’
I was halfway out the door already. I ransacked my desk, cramming my notes into my bag on the off-chance I got to look at them later, grabbing my phone and texting a rapid, illiterate apology as I hurried out of the office. I had one arm in the sleeve of my raincoat while the other sleeve flapped against my side; I didn’t have time to stop and put it on properly. The evening timetable was way off. I had to get home, placate Dec, get rid of Dec, tidy myself up, clean the kitchen, clean the bathroom, tidy the flat and be ready to welcome Rob by nine. No chance. I went through the list of tasks in my head, jettisoning the inessentials as I tip-tapped rapidly down the corridor, the sound of my heels echoing. I didn’t really need to clean the bathroom but I should do something about the kitchen sink. The rest of the flat would be untidy anyway because of the unpacked boxes of stuff everywhere – no point in worrying about that. I would have to make time to change the sheets on the bed. And I really, definitely needed to shave my legs.
As I shouldered through the door at the end of the corridor and swung into the stairwell, I was smiling. Focused on where I was going, the need to get there quickly, and hopelessly distracted by my thoughts, the only warning I had was a faint tang of mint in the air that I had barely registered before my arm was caught, and held. Momentum spun me around so I found myself face to face with Derwent before I could do so much as draw breath. Shocked into immobility, I stared into his eyes for an uncomprehending second before my brain started working again. With awareness came a warm jolt of pure anger. I dragged my arm out of his grasp and put one hand to my chest, where my heart was doing its best to batter its way out of my ribcage.
‘You scared the shit out of me.’
‘Sorry about that.’ He didn’t sound it. ‘What were you talking to the boss about?’
No point in prevaricating; he knew as well as I did that he had been the subject of our conversation. He was a senior officer but he wasn’t behaving like one and I replied in kind. ‘Godley wanted to let me know that I shouldn’t think you were a total twat, even if you acted like one. I’m paraphrasing,’ I added.
‘Was that all?’
‘He said you were a good copper.’ I waited for a few seconds, taking the opportunity to put my coat on properly. I tied the belt in a knot, pulling it tight. ‘Now that we both know what the boss thinks of us, can I go? I’m late.’
‘Yeah.’ He stepped out of my way and I started to move past him. ‘Before you go … if you have any more bright ideas about this case, I’d like you to share them with me before we go into briefings, instead of making me look unprepared.’
‘You were unprepared. You hadn’t read the files,’ I pointed out. ‘But that’s my job. You’re supposed to be handling the big picture, according to Godley, while I take care of the details. So don’t worry about what he thought of you. Anyway, I hadn’t put it all together until we sat down and started talking about it. I’d have told you in advance if I’d thought of it then. I’m not interested in playing games – I just want to do a good job and help catch this murderer.’
‘Very laudable.’ Derwent was looking amused. If anything, I found it more unsettling than when he was angry. ‘I like you, Kerrigan. You don’t back down.’
‘Not often. Not when I’m right.’ I sidestepped him and started down the stairs. A tingle between my shoulder blades told me he was watching. He couldn’t see that my heart was still pounding, or that the hand I had stuck i
n my coat pocket was trembling with leftover adrenalin. I kept my head high and my shoulders squared, and forced myself to take my time. I still expected him to call me back or grab hold of me again, and I found myself holding my breath until I had turned the corner and stepped out of sight.
I was late leaving work and Dec would be waiting. It was a reason to hurry. But in truth, that wasn’t why I ran the rest of the way to my car.
Chapter Five
I feared the worst when I got back to the shabby double-fronted Edwardian house that was my new home. No Declan sitting on the dirty granite steps that led up to the front door. No Declan reading the paper moodily in the driver’s seat of his van, which was parked almost outside the house. No Declan in the hall when I opened the front door, although the stacks of cardboard boxes outside my door were incontrovertible proof that he had been there, and recently. I stood and looked at them, thinking extremely unenthusiastically about the physical effort it would take to move them from the hall into my flat, where I was going to put them once I’d got them inside, and how much time that would leave for cleaning and primping afterwards – not much, was the depressing answer. Not enough.
My flat was on one side of the ground floor. The dark and dusty hall currently filled with my junk was otherwise empty apart from a large, ornate staircase that gave a clue to the house’s more dignified past. It was a distant grandeur; its sad decline into multiple occupancy hadn’t happened today or yesterday or even ten years ago. High in the roof, a stained skylight allowed a greyish glimmer of daylight to penetrate, but late on a March evening it was already dark and the hall was correspondingly gloomy. The only other feature of note was the row of mailboxes nailed to the wall near my door.
On the other side of the hall there was a door that led to the flat opposite mine. It was white-painted, anonymous, and slightly ajar. The chatter of electronic gunfire floated out through the gap, the familiar sound of a computer game being played, and I wasn’t totally surprised to hear Dec’s voice providing a thoroughly over-excited running commentary.
There was no answer to my knock and I pushed the door open, following the sounds of shooting to the sitting room. The flat turned out to be a mirror image of my own, although it didn’t have the enormous bay window that had made me fall in love with mine. I had overlooked some fairly serious shortcomings in my new accommodation so I could live with that window. The view was of a small park with iron railings around it, and at this time of year the bare branches were dressing themselves with fresh green growth. I could have spent hours staring out at it, and fully intended to, once I got some time to myself – if that ever happened. I’d never had a view before and it lifted my heart every morning when I looked out at it. My neighbour had two narrow windows that would have had the same outlook, but heavy curtains blocked it out along with extra light that might have cast a glare on the screen. This was a home where the computer game was king, I could tell immediately. Various gaming systems littered the floor, their wires miraculously untangled but trailing everywhere. Shelves of games filled one wall. I couldn’t see a single book.
On the floor, two gaming chairs were positioned in front of the vast widescreen TV, where an animation of a man in uniform was currently addressing the viewer earnestly about the mission they were about to undertake.
‘I fecking hate these bits,’ came from the chair on the left, where my brother was sitting with a handheld controller on his lap.
‘Me too. Just get on with the shooting and stop talking.’
‘Who cares about the plot? It’s all rubbish anyway. Blast anyone in grey who shouts at you or points a gun in your direction, and try not to die. That’s all you need to know.’
Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments.
‘Sorry to interrupt, guys …’
The two of them twisted around, Dec with a sardonic expression on his face, my neighbour with a smile. He stood up quickly and held out his hand, revealing himself to be a couple of inches shorter than me, with shaggy fair hair, a ragged goatee beard and small, steel-rimmed glasses that kept sliding down his nose. He had a shy, lopsided grin that was immediately appealing.
‘I’m Chris. Chris Swain. Sorry for distracting your brother.’
‘Not at all. Thank you for entertaining him.’ I looked down at where Dec was sitting, his tongue protruding from the side of his mouth, concentrating as he switched modes on his submachine gun. ‘How’s it going, Dec? Sorry, I got held up at work.’
No answer. I turned back to my neighbour. ‘Your problem now is to get rid of him. This is his dream environment. He’s basically moved in already.’
‘I just want to finish this level,’ floated up from the floor, where my brother had shed fifteen years and the recollection that he was a married father of two in order to devote himself more thoroughly to murdering everything that moved onscreen. ‘Chris does this for a living.’
I raised my eyebrows and Chris smiled, looking a shade embarrassed. ‘I review games and technology for a couple of magazines. I’ve got a blog that’s pretty popular so I get sent all the new stuff anyway. It’s not very grown-up but it’s fun and it just about keeps the wolf from the door.’
‘Sounds like the ideal job.’ I didn’t tell him what I did for a living. I never mentioned it to strangers. You never knew how people would react. Even perfectly law-abiding folk tended to get twitchy once they knew you had powers of arrest. ‘I’m sorry to have interrupted your evening. And to have broken into your flat without being invited.’
‘No, no. I’ve seen you around and I was hoping for a chance to get to know you.’ He ran one hand through his hair, looking awkward. ‘I mean – God, that sounded a bit keen. I just meant that it’s nice to know your neighbours and it’s hard to get to know people. Especially in London.’
‘Where are you from?’
‘I’m from Suffolk. Not that far from London, but it’s another world. Everyone knows everyone else’s business.’
‘Sounds like a good reason to leave.’
‘You might be right.’ He laughed a little bit too heartily. Still recovering from his earlier embarrassment, I diagnosed, and I found myself smiling a little, wanting to set him at his ease. ‘What about you?’ he asked.
‘Oh, I grew up in the suburbs. I’m used to the London way of ignoring people.’
‘I’m glad he didn’t ignore me,’ Dec said, putting down the controller as the screen turned red. Game over, you’re dead. He stood up and I moved back, conscious that we were both towering over Chris. Dec was six foot four and broad with it, so he took up a fair amount of space.
‘Where were you until now?’ Dec was using his special older-brother tone of voice and I reacted accordingly, defensive from the off.
‘I told you, I got held up. Can you help me move the boxes into the flat before you go? It’ll take me a million years to do it on my own.’
‘Why do you think I was hanging around?’ He stretched. ‘Mum made me promise to see them inside your door. Apparently she’s given you some of her most precious possessions.’
‘Oh, great.’ I didn’t bother trying to sound pleased. Lately, Mum had been spending a lot of time clearing out the attic. Horrified at how little I had managed to accumulate in the previous twenty-eight years, and having given up on the thought that I might get married any time soon, she had decided to start handing over the things she’d been keeping for me. There was no way to refuse to take them without causing offence.
‘There’s china in there. I know that much. She made me promise to be careful with it.’
‘Well, at least that’ll be useful. I’ve been surviving with paper plates.’ I turned to Chris. ‘Sorry again. We’ll leave you to enjoy your evening.’
He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned his feet so he was standing on their outer edge in what was almost a parody of shyness. ‘I could help. I mean, I’m good at carrying boxes.’
I hesitated, not sure I wanted to invite my new neighbour into
my flat but reluctant to turn down any offer of assistance. It felt a bit like taking advantage, though, and we’d done enough of that for one evening, I thought.
‘Brilliant.’ Dec clearly had no such scruples. ‘The more the merrier. We’ll get it done in half the time.’
‘Okay. Where do you want to start?’
I led the two of them into the hall where we stared at the boxes with varying degrees of enthusiasm, ranging from Dec (none) to Chris (puppyish). I was somewhere in the middle with moderate curiosity about what they contained. ‘Right, lads. If you carry them in, I’ll tell you where to put them.’
Dec narrowed his eyes. ‘So let me get this straight. We carry the boxes and you stand and point. Is that it?’
‘More or less,’ I admitted.
‘That sounds fine.’ Chris was clearly determined to keep the peace. I let him heft the first box and Dec took the second with a grunt.
‘These’ll be the lead weights you wanted, Maeve.’
I ignored him as I opened the door, flicking on the main light and doing a swift recce to make sure I hadn’t left anything embarrassing in plain sight. It was actually reasonably tidy in the flat, for once. I was impressed with myself. ‘Leave the boxes along this wall, if you can. Anything with kitchen stuff in it should go over here. That’s about it, really.’
‘And that’s all you’re going to do?’ Dec let the box he was carrying fall from waist height to the floor. It gave an ominous clank as it hit the ground. ‘Oops.’
‘Don’t make me tell Mum on you,’ I said sharply. ‘Anyway, I’m supervising.’
Chris set his box down and looked at us. ‘How old are you two again?’
‘Some things never change.’ Dec patted me on the arm as he headed out to pick up another load.
