by Braven
For a moment Karen thought the other woman was going to hit her, and she wouldn’t have altogether blamed her had she done so. Involuntarily, she took a step backwards. Her nakedness made her feel quite defenceless.
But Sarah Cooper was not that interested in Karen, it seemed. Instead she swung around to face her husband.
“And you…!” she began, still screaming. “As for you, I never want to see you again as long as you live. You are not my husband anymore, you bastard. You are no longer the father of my children.”
She ran back across the room, then, to Cooper and slapped him just once across the face. He flinched, and still seemed unable to find any words.
“I am going to make absolutely sure that you never see the children again,” she stormed. Then she pushed past him and out through the door he was still holding open. He let go of it at once and lurched across the room to pick up his clothes, which were also all over the floor.
“I have to go after her, I have to go after her,” he gasped, his voice sounding strangulated, as he struggled into his trousers and shirt.
Karen just watched in silence. There was nothing much she could say and it was pretty obvious she was not in any case going to be given a chance to say it. Cooper seemed almost to have forgotten she was there.
Once he was dressed, after a fashion, he picked up his car keys from the bedside table and took off at a run. In fact, he was in so much of a hurry that he actually opened the door and left the room without speaking to her again. She stood trembling with shock. She had a pain in her stomach. She felt as if she had been abandoned in another universe. This was Phil, the man she loved more than she had thought possible. And, now that he had been confronted by his wife, he did not even have time to give her one small word of comfort.
Just before closing the door, however, he put his head back around it.
“You’ll cover for me tomorrow, won’t you, Karen?” he asked.
“Of course,” she replied glumly. She had tried to put irony into her voice, but he didn’t even notice.
He was gone almost at once. She stood for a few seconds more, the events of the last few minutes racing through her brain. She feared that she was well enough aware of what it all meant. Phil’s reaction had spoken for itself. He was a family man. She had known that. His family had been everything to him until she came along.
And if it came to a choice between her and his children, there was going to be no contest at all. She supposed she had always known that, really. Now she was absolutely certain of it.
She let her clothes fall to the floor again and threw herself onto the bed where so recently she and he had made love so splendidly. And so lovingly.
“You really are a bloody fool, Karen Meadows,” she muttered to herself.
Then, not for the first time during her brief relationship with DS Phil Cooper, she buried her head in the pillows and sobbed her heart out.
Chapter Seventeen
In the morning Karen made herself rise early. She showered, brushed her teeth and scrubbed at her red swollen face. She ordered breakfast and she asked reception to arrange a hire-car. She had, after all, been abandoned without transport. But her job now was to forget the ordeal she had been through.
She had an important post-mortem examination to attend. She had a murder enquiry to run. She was Detective Superintendent Karen Meadows. She was not destined to have a man in her life, to have a family, to have a relationship that meant everything to her—unlike, it seemed to her, just about everyone else that she knew. It was as simple as that. Her destiny was her work and nothing else, she told herself. And that was a mess now, too.
She found she couldn’t eat the scrambled egg and bacon she had made herself order. The tea, however, was welcome. She was on the second cup when her mobile phone rang for the first time that day. She guessed who it was even before checking the display panel.
“Hello, Phil,” she said flatly.
“Karen, I’m so sorry about everything,” he said. Cooper’s voice sounded unnaturally high-pitched and had a definite quaver in it.
“I just don’t know what to do,” he went on.
“I think you’ve done it, Phil.”
“Karen, I didn’t have any choice. I had to go after her. Sarah’s my wife. She’s the mother of my children. I can’t lose my children. I really can’t.”
“Fine.” Karen didn’t really want to hear any of this. She had, in any case, already known it.
“How did it happen, anyway?” she asked. “Why did she come to Bournemouth?”
“She told me she’d had suspicions about you and me for some time. I thought I was being so bloody clever, but apparently I wasn’t at all. She said that it was the way I was behaving, the hours I was keeping, even the way I spoke about you, that made her start wondering. Sarah and I have been together a long time. She knows me very well. When I called and told her I was staying overnight at the Bournemouth Hilton she told me she somehow immediately guessed that I was sharing a room with you. So she simply phoned the hotel and asked if Mr. and Mrs. Cooper had checked in. The reply was all the confirmation she needed.”
“And she came all the way to Bournemouth just to check it out?”
“I suppose so. She said she still couldn’t quite believe it, she had to see for herself. So she took the kids round to her mother’s and drove straight here.”
“Well, she certainly saw for herself, all right. What now?”
“God knows. I was in too much of a state to do or say anything sensible last night. And she was in a state, too. But she’s not having any so far, that’s for sure. She made me sleep out in the car last night.”
“Right.” Karen took note of the self-pity in his voice. He had yet to even ask how she was feeling, what she might be going through. Apart from anything else, Sarah Cooper, with or without justification, had threatened to ruin Karen, and Karen had taken that threat absolutely seriously. It would be extremely easy to carry out. All the woman had to do was contact the Devon and Cornwall Constabulary top brass and let them know what had been going on, that a detective superintendent had been having an affair with a married junior officer, and Karen would be in very serious trouble indeed. This was not, however, what was foremost in her mind. She felt as if her emotions had been hit by a bulldozer, and the bulldozer just kept crashing on and on.
“Look, I can’t work today, I really can’t,” Phil continued. “I’ve got to try to sort this mess out.”
So that’s what I am, thought Karen, a mess.
Aloud she said: “OK, don’t worry. I’ll say you were called home urgently because of family sickness. All right?”
“You’re a brick, Karen.”
“Aren’t I, though?” Her sarcasm was actually directed at herself rather than him.
“Well, thanks anyway. Look, as soon as I’ve got to grips with this I’ll get back to you, OK?”
“Of course.” She couldn’t believe it. He sounded as if he were in a business meeting. Get back to her? Good God!
“Oh, and Karen, I think I left my watch behind. Could you bring it with you?”
“Sure.” She’d noticed it on the bedside table earlier, and his tie was still lying on the floor.
He rang off then, barely saying goodbye. Karen sat looking at her phone for a moment or two. Her hands were trembling. It had been like talking to a stranger. Phil was now going to attempt a reconciliation with his wife, she assumed. And he seemed to just take it for granted that she would accept that. She would accept it, too, of course. In any case, what choice did she have?
She gathered up her briefcase, shoved her phone in her pocket, and hurried out of the room. All she could do was switch her mind off Phil Cooper. She didn’t have time to think about her feelings anymore. And in any case she was too frightened to do so.
The post-mortem examination brought no surprises. Richard Marshall’s estimated time of death was between ten and twelve hours before his body was found. So he had been killed the previous eveni
ng, and his condition indicated that the handgun with which he had been shot had been fired at close range. His body showed no signs of any other injury.
Karen found that she was completely dispassionate as she watched the proceedings. The truth was, she had grudgingly to admit, that although it was, of course, useful to exchange views with the Dorset policemen present, and to know at first hand the thoughts of the pathologist, she might not have bothered to stay over for the inquest at all had it not been for the opportunity to spend a night with Cooper. And look how that had turned out, she reflected wryly.
Not even the gory sight of the decimated remains of Richard Marshall’s head moved her. Although she had become extremely good at steeling herself at postmortems, Karen didn’t think anyone ever got completely used to the sight of mutilated or decayed bodies. However, on this occasion she was completely unmoved. Whether or not this was due to her complete lack of any kind of compassion for Marshall or whether it was simply that she was still numb from the events of the previous night, she was not sure. A bit of both, she supposed.
As she walked to her car she received a second call on her mobile, this time from DC Tompkins back in Torquay.
“We’ve found Sean MacDonald, boss,” said Tompkins, sounding almost excited. “He was on a fishing trip, staying in some remote Highlands hotel. Apparently he saw on breakfast news this morning that Richard Marshall had been found dead and immediately phoned here for you.”
“Inverness are checking it out but the hotel have already confirmed that he’s been there for four nights. He admits that he did buy a handgun, from some old army pal apparently, though he won’t say how, of course, and that he did consider seeking his own revenge on Marshall. But he says he couldn’t go through with it. The gun was in the boot of his car. He said he was planning to throw it into some deep water somewhere. If you ask me, boss, he still hadn’t quite made up his mind whether to have a poke at Marshall or not. He was still hedging his bets. There was ammunition with the gun, but the Inverness boys say that if Mac had tried to fire the thing he may well have ended up killing himself. It turned out to be an old Second World War Smith and Wesson, would you believe? They’re having it checked out by forensic, but they don’t reckon it’s been fired in twenty years, let alone two days ago.”
“So it looks like Mac’s in the clear, boss, whatever he may or may not have intended. Of course, it was illegal for him even to have the gun in his possession, but Inverness have indicated that, taking all the circumstances into account, including Mac’s age, they’ll probably settle for a formal caution on that.”
“Thanks, Chris.”
Karen felt relief wash over her as she climbed into her hire-car. Having to arrest Sean MacDonald might well have proved one thing too much for her to cope with, she thought.
She started the engine and switched on Classic FM. It was her favourite driving and thinking station. She wanted to concentrate hard on where this latest development left the new murder investigation. If Sean MacDonald was no longer the main suspect, then who was next on the list?
Suddenly another thought struck her. She was still in the hospital car park, heading for the exit. Abruptly she pulled in to her left on to a wide section of pavement and stopped the car. Then she fished in her handbag for her phone again.
There was somebody she hadn’t heard from. She dialled another mobile phone number. The phone was switched off. All she got was a message service. She didn’t leave a message. Not yet. Instead she dialled the number of the Evening Argus back in Torquay.
The news desk told her Kelly wasn’t there. He was off sick.
“Was he in the office yesterday?” she asked.
“Oh, yes,” responded the young news-desk assistant helpfully, apparently finding nothing curious in such a query. “Well, he was in first thing but then he went home because he said his tummy bug was back. He’d been off the day before, you see…”
Karen felt her heart start to beat faster. She made another call then, to Kelly’s home. His partner, Moira, answered on the fifth ring. She sounded sleepy. Karen remembered then that Moira was a nursing sister who worked nights at Torquay Hospital. She didn’t feel guilty about waking her, though. This was far too important.
“Is John there?” she asked.
“Uh, no, he’s working.”
The warning bells rang at once. His office had said he was off sick. Moira said he was working. This didn’t look good. Unless Kelly, a man with a bad track record with both women and wine, was up to his old tricks, of course. Karen didn’t think so.
“You don’t know where he’s gone, do you?” she asked as casually as she could.
“He’s working on the Marshall story. I’m surprised you haven’t caught up with him. I would have thought he’d have been chasing you, actually.”
“He has,” Karen lied swiftly. “I missed his calls. Now his mobile’s switched off. Between you and me, I’ve got something for him. Something we can help each other over. But I need to get to him fast. Do you know exactly where he is?”
“Well, no. He left in a hurry yesterday morning. He woke me up halfway through my day’s sleep, too, phoning to say there’d been a development and he had people he needed to see on the Marshall case and he didn’t know when he’d be back. I guessed he was going to Bournemouth, and then, well, when I heard on the news later about Richard Marshall I just assumed he’d had one of his tips…”
For a moment Karen felt hope rising. “So was he at home the previous day, then?”
Her hope was swiftly squashed. “Oh, no. He was out on the story all that day as well, Bournemouth then, too, I assumed. I think he told me so. Oh, I’m not sure…”
Moira Simmons’ voice trailed off. Karen could sense the other woman’s sleepy brain beginning to turn over. She was not quite as ingenuous as the Argus’s young news-desk assistant, who must surely, Karen thought, be very new to his job.
Nonetheless, she persisted a little more. “Have you heard from him since he left yesterday morning?” she asked.
“Yes, he called late afternoon to say he would be away overnight…”
Moira Simmons sounded really concerned now. Karen ended the call abruptly before Moira could start to question her. She realized that she must have put all kinds of thoughts into the woman’s mind, but that wasn’t important. All that really mattered was to find out where Kelly had been for the last two days and what he had been up to.
Karen had that sinking feeling again. First Sean MacDonald, now Kelly. What was it with this case? It was just too close to home, it really was.
She fiddled in her handbag again and fished out a cigarette. She really needed one. Again. Tomorrow she would definitely give up. Then she made another call. This time to Bill Talbot. To her relief her old boss was at home and answered his phone straight away.
She didn’t waste time with small talk.
“Bill, do you remember you mentioned to me in the pub once that John Kelly had a special reason for being so interested in the Richard Marshall case? Can you tell me all about it, please?”
“Sure.” Bill sounded puzzled. “Hey, what about the news, though? That bastard Marshall’s got his at last. Couldn’t believe it when I heard. You won’t find it necessary to look too hard for whoever took him out, I hope.”
Karen had neither time nor inclination for those sort of sentiments. She ignored him totally on that issue. Instead she persevered with the purpose of her call.
“Bill, please, tell me about Kelly.”
“Oh, yes.” Talbot sounded disappointed. He’d wanted to enjoy the moment, no doubt, to share it with a kindred spirit.
“Well, it’s all about Kelly’s mother, really,” he went on. “Angela Kelly taught Marshall’s girls at primary school. Well, actually, she was the headmistress, and a bloody good one at that, I’m told. It seems that the day after Clara Marshall was last seen the eldest Marshall girl, Lorraine, told Kelly’s mother that her father had got rid of her mother—”
K
aren interrupted there. Light had suddenly dawned. “I knew about the headmistress, it’s in the files, and I’m not at all sure I didn’t hear it gossipped about at the time. But I had no idea she was John Kelly’s mother. I’d missed that completely.”
Karen cursed herself. She felt she really should have known.
“Do you know the rest?” Talbot asked.
“Well, I know that the headmistress always blamed herself, thought that if she’d reported to the police what the little girl had said that she might have saved both children. She had no reason to blame herself, of course—what Lorraine Marshall said was just the sort of thing kids do say when their parents’ marriage is on the rocks.”
“Indeed,” Talbot continued. “But that was not the end of it, I’m afraid. It played on Angela Kelly’s mind. I talked to her myself, you know, when the shit finally hit the fan the year after Clara and the girls disappeared and when we first arrested Marshall. She kept saying over and over again: ‘Lorraine told me her father had got rid of her mother, she told me her father had got rid of her mother. She told me that and I should have understood. I should have done something.’”
“Mrs. Kelly always believed that it was because she had confronted Richard Marshall and told him what his daughter had said that he then killed his children as well as his wife. And she couldn’t forgive herself for having been taken in by him, for believing him when he said that Clara had first left him, then returned for the girls. I remember that I couldn’t console the woman at all. And neither, it seems, could anyone else. Six months later she killed herself. She took an overdose. And her family, John included, never had any doubts at all over why she did it…”
Talbot paused there. Karen felt a chill in her spine.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered.
Talbot began to speak again. “Well, as it’s turned out Marshall certainly didn’t kill both children. That’s one thing we do know, because at least one of those girls is still alive. Ironic really, isn’t it, Karen?”
Karen did not reply. She was lost in her own thoughts, and they were extremely disturbing ones.
