by Celina Grace
Kate was conscious of a slight coldness at those words. “The first one?”
Hugh nodded. “Joe’s first relationship – well, the first serious one – when that broke up, he sort of – well, he kind of went off the rails a bit then. It really broke his heart. I don’t think he really trusted people much after that.” He looked at the two of them as if he’d only just noticed something. “That was with one of your lot actually – Joe’s ex-partner, I mean. He was a policeman. Nice bloke, although I only met him once.”
Both Theo and Kate avoided looking at one another. There was a short, awkward silence.
“So,” said Kate, briskly, trying to move things along. “What about Joe’s work? He was an actor, wasn’t he?”
Hugh looked gloomier than ever. “Well, yes. Of a sort. I think that was half the problem, really – you know what an actor’s life is like. It’s so uncertain, there’s no stability about it at all. And you’re constantly judged on, well, yourself, you know, how you look and how you sound – if you’re a bit insecure about yourself, it just makes you worse.”
“Joe was insecure, then?” Kate found herself wondering what exactly Olbeck had ever seen in Joe Vickers. She had the uncharitable thought that he sounded like a needy, melodramatic nightmare. The very opposite of her friend. That’s why Olbeck’s behaviour just recently was so concerning; it was very unlike him.
Dismissing the thought, she turned her attention back to the interview. Theo was asking Hugh Vickers about whether he knew anything about Joe’s partying habits.
“Drugs? Oh yes, lots of drugs, I’m afraid. We had a big row about it one time – he turned up here for Sunday lunch completely out of it, one time – he’d obviously come straight from a party and he was just – well, let’s just say I told him he couldn’t be around the children like that, and he blew up and stormed off—“
“When was this?” asked Theo.
“Oh, ages ago. Before he came for Christmas last. Perhaps two summers ago?”
Theo nodded, making a note. Kate asked Hugh what he’d been doing on the night of his brother’s death, not putting it quite as baldly as that but knowing that he needed to be eliminated as a suspect if it turned out that Joe Vickers had died at another’s hand. Hugh Vickers put up his eyebrows when she asked, the implications of the date not lost on him, but he didn’t protest.
“I was playing squash with a friend of mine – we meet up every Friday after work – and after that, well, I was at home.”
“What time did you get home?”
“The same time as normal. About eight-thirty.”
“Did you speak to anyone, use social media, anything like that, that evening?”
Hugh Vickers shook his head. “No, I’m afraid I was just home with my wife. We normally watch a film or something on Friday evenings.”
Kate thanked him and sat back, letting Theo ask a few more, perfunctory, questions. It didn’t sound as if Hugh Vickers had much more to tell them.
As they were leaving, Kate thought of one more question. She hesitated for a moment and then took the plunge. “Did Joe ever show any interest in – in the occult?”
Hugh Vickers looked more taken aback at that than he had at any other question. “In the what?”
Kate knew she sounded awkward. “He didn’t have any interest in – in black magic, or the occult or – supernatural, erm, things? Or anything like that?”
Hugh Vickers looked almost offended, as if he thought she was making fun of him. “Well, I can’t imagine so - I never saw or heard him talk about anything like that. Why?”
Kate ignored his question. “That’s very helpful. Thank you, Mr Vickers.”
*
“What do you think?” asked Kate as they drove away from the neat little house.
Theo shrugged. “Bit of boring bastard, isn’t he? Sounds like he and his brother were chalk and cheese.”
“Mmm.” Kate agreed. “He’s probably not who we actually need to talk to to get an idea of Joe Vickers’ life, despite being family. It doesn’t sound like he really knew anything about his brother, really, does it?”
“Nope. Bit sad, really.”
“Yes.” Kate stared out of the window, pondering.
“You know, this could all be a big waste of our time, mate.”
Kate looked over at Theo. “Yes, I know. Still, what can we do?”
“Hope the docs will have sent those tox results over by now.”
“Fingers crossed.”
Chapter Seven
When Kate got home that night she had to kick aside a drift of post when she opened her front door. She’d been ignoring it for a few days, and having spent most of her nights at Anderton’s recently, the letters, junk mail and flyers had been piling up. Giving in, Kate scooped it up in a slippery pile and carried it through to the kitchen, dumping it all on the dining table.
There was the squeak and crash of the cat flap in the back door and Merlin, Kate’s big black cat, mewed a greeting as he leapt onto the kitchen floor. Kate rubbed him behind his ears, fighting a pang of guilt. She’d been neglecting her pet too, really; not in terms of not feeding him or anything like that – the idea! – but in just not being there to keep him company. She’d stay home tonight, whatever happened, she told herself and repeated herself out loud to make her intention even clearer. Even so, she couldn’t help checking her phone, just in case Anderton had called or texted her. As it happened, he hadn’t, so she could put it away feeling both disappointed and relieved that her new-found resolution to stay home wouldn’t be tested.
She sorted through the post, putting anything important to one side and running the rest through her little paper shredder. Then she fed Merlin, put a load of washing on and went around the house, dealing with all the little tasks that she’d been neglecting. One of the ferns in the bathroom had dried out so badly it was beyond saving. Tutting, Kate carried it outside to the compost bin at the bottom of her garden.
The good weather had held all day, and the evening sky was ablaze with a panoply of reddish-gold and pink streaks of light. Kate made herself some toast – she really couldn’t be bothered to cook anything properly – and ate it out at the outside table, looking over her garden. This too, had been somewhat neglected over the past few weeks. The lawn needed cutting and the potted annuals were going to seed.
It was then that Kate realised quite how much time she and Anderton had been spending together lately. Almost every night, Kate had been to his cottage. She realised that he hadn’t yet spent a night at her house. Why was that? She chewed her toast slowly, thinking about it. Of course, Anderton’s house was nicer but not that much nicer. Was it because Kate’s house was in the middle of Abbeyford and Anderton’s cottage was right out in the countryside? Much more discreet and tucked away?
Frowning, Kate reached for her tea. She and Anderton had both agreed to keep their relationship a secret for now. They had both agreed that. But now Kate was wondering just how long that was going to be practical to keep up. Surely, if things were going to become more serious between them, then at some point, others would have to know. Most pertinently, the team was going to have to know. How would they react? Would they disapprove?
Uncharacteristically, Kate found herself recoiling from the idea. She knew that it was likely that she and Anderton would be found out, especially the longer their relationship lasted. But she found the idea of the two of them being discussed by her colleagues quite – very – distasteful. She hated the idea of it.
And what about Olbeck? Kate hated keeping such a big secret from her friend and colleague. He would be hurt, she knew it instinctively – not so much, she hoped, by the idea of Kate and Anderton having a relationship, but more because she hadn’t told him for so long. The longer it went on, and the longer he didn’t know, the more hurt he was going to be.
By now, Kate practically had her head o
n the table. She felt it wobble beneath her forehead as Merlin jumped up on it and raised her head. “Silly cat.” She blew out her cheeks, shook herself and got up, determined not to brood any more.
*
There was a welcome surprise when Kate got to the office the next morning – DS Chloe Wapping had returned from her holiday. She spotted Kate at once as she walked through the door.
“Bird!”
“Morning, bird,” said Kate, grinning. “Welcome back. How was the sunny Algarve?”
“Sunny.”
“Bring us back any – any – what do they drink in Portugal?”
Theo, who had been listening in, snorted incredulously. “Seriously, woman? Port. They drink port.”
“Oh, yes.” Kate laughed at herself. “So, did you bring us any back?”
Chloe made a face. “Eugh, are you joking? I’m not ninety.”
Still laughing, Kate slid into her chair, facing Chloe’s desk. Her friend looked suddenly anxious. “You didn’t really want any port, did you?”
“Don’t be daft. I can’t stand the stuff. Anyway, are you up to speed with what we’re working on at the moment?”
Chloe nodded. “As much as I can be. I hear the PM was inconclusive?”
“Yes. We’re waiting on the toxicology reports. Any news on that?” Kate looked over enquiringly at Theo and then at Rav, who both shook their heads. “Oh well. What else have we got?”
She and Chloe got themselves a coffee and headed back to Chloe’s desk, talking over the case as they did so. Rav brought over the CCTV reports and each woman took their turn poring over them. There were no cameras located near the graveyard or the house next to it so the images that had been taken were not particularly useful.
“Something to go through with a fine-tooth comb if we can’t find anything else,” sighed Chloe, shuffling the slippery sheets together into a pile. “You’ve done interviews with the next of kin, then, I take it?”
Theo began explaining about their visit to Hugh Vickers. Kate, her attention drifting off, found her gaze being drawn to Olbeck’s office. He was in there with the door firmly shut, and as Kate realised this, she also realised how that had been the case for most of the recent weeks. Olbeck, locked away in his glass office, shut off from the rest of the team. It was such a contrast to how things had been, not all that long ago – then, the door stood permanently open, unless he had a meeting. Olbeck himself was always in and out, catching up with people at their desks, helping out with the coffee runs. Kate frowned. Then on impulse, she jumped up and made her way over to Olbeck’s office.
She knocked and when he looked up from his desk, caught his eye with what she hoped was a cheerful smile and made a ‘can I come in?’ gesture.
He smiled back, a little more reluctantly than Kate would have liked, but he nodded and beckoned her in.
“Hi.” Kate sat herself down opposite him.
“Hi. How are you?”
“Fine. How are you, more to the point?”
Olbeck frowned. “I’m okay. Just busy, busy, you know how it is.”
Kate’s cheerful smile was beginning to falter. “Do you want to know how we’re getting on with the—“ She stopped herself, remembering who Joe Vickers had been. “With the – you know, Joe—“ She stumbled to a halt, feeling foolish.
“You’re reporting to Anderton on that, not me,” Olbeck said distantly.
“Yes, I know, I was just – I thought you might like to know how it was going—”
“Not really.”
“Okay.” Kate stopped, chilled by his tone.
“Was there anything else?”
“No.” She got up, feeling a nasty mixture of anger, pity and embarrassment. “I’ll be – I’ll be going then.”
Olbeck said nothing. She was at the door when she heard him say behind her, “Wait – wait a minute.”
Kate turned and their eyes met. After a moment, Olbeck smiled painfully. “Thanks. I appreciate the thought.”
“Anytime.” Kate hesitated. There was a lot more that she wanted to say, but this wasn’t the time. She shrugged, smiled again, and left.
She drifted back to her desk, feeling that mixture of anxiety and guilt about her friend that seemed to be the default setting for her feelings about him these days.
Chloe looked up as she slumped back into her chair. “You all right?”
Kate sighed. “I’m fine. Just tired. Anyway, where were we?”
Chapter Eight
Kesh Farmer was cold. He’d been trying to find a place to sleep for several hours now, but he was still not having any luck. It was the first proper cold night of the year, with a light frost silvering the ground, and the thought of having to bunk down on that wisp-thin, sparkling layer of ice was not an appealing one. And he was hungry. The cider he’d managed to steal from the corner shop on Thaxton Avenue was wearing off, and the more sober he got, the more the cold stabbed at him. He should have stolen some food too, while he was at it, but it had been a desperate grab and run theft, and cider had been more important at the time than food.
Fuck, what was he going to do? The hostel in Arbuthon Green was full; he’d already tried to get a bed there. It was a Sunday and every shop in the vicinity of the hostel was closing for the night. The only sign of life in these dingy, quiet streets was the pub at the corner of Minsom Street and Clare Avenue, where the thud of bass resonated through the grimy windows and clumps of smokers stood outside, the plumes of their breath and the smoke they exhaled indistinguishable in the cold night air.
Kesh decided he’d go in the pub for a while, just to get warm, or until he got chucked out, anyway. At least he could go for a slash and maybe swipe a few abandoned drinks at the same time. Worth a try, anyway. He shouldered his backpack again and straightened up, trying not to look too – well, homeless. The pub was a shithole anyway, but he needed to at least get inside the door.
He managed to walk in quite confidently and headed straight for the Gents. Might even be able to get a bit of a wash in, if he was quick about it. There was a guy already in there, using the urinals. Kesh had no option but to stand next to him to relieve himself as the room itself was so small. He didn’t look at the guy – well, you didn’t, did you? – but as the man beside him zipped up and turned away, Kesh’s eye caught sight of the wallet in his back pocket, peeking temptingly out.
Kesh felt his heart begin to thump. He had never stolen anything from a person – taking from shops was okay in his book, they could afford it – but he was feeling desperate. He had no food, no booze and nowhere to sleep tonight. He probably wouldn’t even last an hour in this pub before they chucked his scraggy arse out the door. The guy with the wallet was washing his hands over by the opposite wall. Kesh zipped himself up and turned slowly, psyching himself up.
“You look cold.”
Kesh had been so focused on what he was planning to do that the words made him jump. He snatched his gaze from the man’s wallet and looked up, meeting the man’s eyes in the mirror. He felt himself blush.
“Yeah.”
“Want a drink? Something to warm you up?”
Oh, so he was one of those. Kesh felt nothing much, just a faint disgust – more at himself than the man, because it wasn’t the first time that Kesh had been propositioned and he’d gone along with it because he needed the money. It didn’t bother him. Much.
“Yeah,” he said, cautiously.
The man smiled, still holding his gaze in the mirror. He was a big bloke, Kesh realised, thinning blonde hair and pockmarked cheeks. Still, what did that matter? If he was going to pay, that was the only thing that mattered. Kesh hoped it would just be a hand job or something like that. He didn’t fancy taking any clothes off in this weather.
“I’ll have a drink if you’re buying,” he said, boldly.
The man turned at last. “Oh, you don’t w
ant one here. Come with me and I’ll take you somewhere much better.” He looked at Kesh more closely. “Are you homeless?”
Kesh dropped his head. Was it that obvious? “Yeah,” he mumbled.
“How old are you?”
“Nineteen.”
“Nineteen and all on your own?”
“Yeah.”
The man smiled for a moment and then became brisk, almost fatherly in manner. “Well, never mind. You come with me and you’ll be all right.”
“Okay.” Kesh was too cold, hungry and miserable to care much anymore. He let the man lead him out of the toilets and through the crowded pub and out into the cold slap of the night air without thinking much about anything. The stars in the night sky above him glittered coldly down as the two figures walked away from the pub and into the darkness.
Chapter Nine
When Kate woke up that morning the sun was shining brightly on the glitter of ice-crystals on the outside of the bedroom window. The glare was so bright that for a moment she thought it was snow she was looking out upon.
“Bloody cold this morning,” Anderton said, putting a cup of tea down on the bedside table.
“It’s nice and warm in here, though.”
“Well, you know me. I was only going to live in an old building if I had a nuclear-powered heating system.” Kate grinned and sat up, tucking the duvet across her chest and under her arms.
Anderton caressed her cheek and she turned her face into his hand and kissed his palm. “Last night was fantastic,” he said in a voice that made her want to start all over again.
“Mm.”
“Shall—” He began and then his mobile began its tinny, insistent ringing. Anderton cursed and pulled it from his dressing gown pocket. He mimed an ‘I’ll take this outside’ to Kate who nodded and reached for her tea.
She sipped it, staring dreamily out of the window at the glitter of sun on ice. Anderton’s voice could be heard outside in the passageway but Kate was only aware of it as a sort of background hum – that was until his sharp exclamation made her blink and tense. Something had happened.
