'Til Death (DI Steven Marr Book 1) - UK Crime Fiction Whodunnit Thriller

by SP Edwards

  But the world didn’t work that way. Karma wasn’t real. Life was random: a complete lottery. Justice wasn’t given to people just because they deserved it. Some days it came, of course, but it was like a gust of wind, and could die at any time.

  Caroline and Anna, Anna and Caroline. Beautiful, clever, tough. Both of them rotting in the ground, their white knights unable to do a thing to save them.

  Thomas turned around, and caught the eye of a dark-haired woman across bar. She had a pretty face, but her body hadn’t kept up. Thomas smiled at her, receiving a roll of her eyes before she walked away towards the door.

  Your loss, Thomas thought. He smiled, and took another sip, enjoying the burning sensation as it moved down his chest.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Marr bumped into Sam as he was leaving the building.

  He smiled, trying to walk past her. Nothing doing; Sam blocked the doorway.

  ‘We should talk.’ she said, in a way that made it very clear that this conversation would end with them talking.

  ‘My car?’ he said, not wanting to head back into the station. Sam nodded, and they made their way across the car park. Marr looked around to make sure no-one was watching, and was relieved to see that was the case.

  ‘How’s Lizzie doing?’ Sam asked.

  ‘Well, she’s doing alright I suppose. Not massively different since last night, though.’

  ‘Were you trying for a baby with her?’

  Marr shook his head.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Would you have said yes if she’d asked you to have one?’

  Christ, start with the easy one, Marr thought.

  ‘I don’t know.’ He said.

  ‘Yes you do. Would you have said yes?’

  Marr repeated his answer, but found himself unable to look Sam in the eye.

  ‘Fair enough,’ she said. ‘How are you feeling?’

  Marr considered this, and decided that honesty was probably the way forward.

  ‘Scared’ he said.

  ‘Why scared? A baby’s an exciting thing, isn’t it?’

  ‘Maybe, but it’s a scary thing too. I’ll have a family.’

  ‘Lucky you.’

  Marr sighed. He owed Sam a talk…well, he owed her whatever she wanted. But this was becoming hard work.

  ‘Sam, what did you want to talk about? Really?’

  She sighed.

  ‘I want to know what happens with us, now. I’m not asking you to run off and leave your family. Why the hell would you? But what happens?’

  ‘What do you want to happen with us?’

  ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, Steve, grow up. This one isn’t my decision. It’s yours. Be a man and make it.’

  ‘What if I don’t want to?’

  Sam laughed. But it wasn’t genuine, and it wasn’t trying to be. It sounded like a threat.

  ‘I guess I’ll have to make it for you.’

  She reached out her hand and ran it along the front of his trousers. He hated his body for how quickly it responded to her touch. Sam slowly began to run her hand along the stiffness beneath the material.

  He pushed her hand away, almost instinctive.

  ‘No, Sam. No. No more.’

  She smiled.

  ‘See? Not so hard to make the decision when you’ve got to, is it? You’ll be a good father, Steve. Even if you are scared. It’s not the baby that you’re scared of anyway.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘No, you’re scared of how Lizzie will react if I drive over to your house and tell her that you spent Thursday night fucking me.’

  ‘Sam…’

  ‘Or that you spent your anniversary last year with your head between my legs when you said you were away at a conference.’

  Marr said nothing, just looking at her. He’d half expected Sam to make the threat. She had to make some sort of power play; to make him feel helpless, because it would mean Sam felt less so.

  Sam was looking at him, too. Not smiling. He couldn’t help but think of the shower, and her flat, and her car. And he thought of all those times, of the sounds of her voice, and of how much he wanted to take her to all those places and do all those things again and again.

  But no; enough was enough.

  ‘You were right, Sam. It’s not just about me anymore. I have a kid on the way. So no: it stops.’

  ‘And if I tell Lizzie?’

  Marr sighed.

  ‘There’s nothing I can do, is there? For all I know, you’ve already called her and she’s packing her bags. I fucked up, and I have to pay the price for what I did.’

  ‘This wasn’t a drunken mistake, Steve. You slept with me because you always wanted to, from the first moment we met. You can’t pretend this was nothing. It wasn’t; and you know it.’

  Marr was forcing himself not to look at her, because he was scared of what he’d do if he did. In the end, he wasn’t given much of a choice as she reached and tilted his face towards her. She’d undone the top two buttons of her blouse, the white lace visible underneath. Sam looked him dead in the eye as she undid the third button.

  ‘Take me somewhere and fuck me,’ she said.

  Marr forced himself to look away.

  ‘No, Sam.’ he said, and then he repeated himself again, like a mantra. ‘No more.’

  He looked at her, and she looked back at him. Marr suddenly knew this really was ending. For real this time.

  And when things ended for real, there were consequences.

  ‘I’m sorry’ he said.

  Sam did her top back up and moved to leave.

  ‘If I tell her, you deserve it.’ she said, looking out of the window away from him.

  Marr nodded.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And you don’t deserve your wife.’

  ‘I know that too. But I want a family; that’s what I really want – a family. I want a wife, and a kid, and a home.’

  ‘And you don’t want me?’

  ‘I did, Sam. But this changes things.’

  Sam turned to face him again.

  ‘It does, Steve. It changes everything.’

  Then she left the car, not smiling and not looking back as she made her way over to the station doors.

  Marr’s phone buzzed, breaking the peace inside the car. It was Ray again.

  ‘Are you still at the station?’ the CSI asked.

  ‘Just pulled into the car park.’ Marr lied.

  ‘Good, then come step into my lair.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I’ve got a few bits of information that you’re going to absolutely hate.’

  Marr sighed.

  ‘You sure know how to make me excited.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Ray was sat holding a lab tray, in which was the razor blade and suicide note they’d taken from Caroline Marcus’ flat.

  ‘I present exhibit A and exhibit B, both of them straight from the bowels of despair.’ Ray said.

  ‘So what?’ Marr replied.

  ‘She did it, Steve. Caroline killed herself. Her fingerprints are on the razor, the blood on the blade is definitely hers and the angles are almost dead on where you’d expect them to be. What’s more, the esteemed Doctor Johnson has taken a look at the letter, and he’s pretty sure it’s Caroline’s hand-writing.’

  ‘You’re taking the piss, aren’t you?’ Marr asked.

  Ray shook his head.

  ‘I’m afraid you’ve been barking up completely the wrong tree, Steve. Caroline Marcus definitely killed herself, and as a result she probably killed Anna Markham, too.’

  ‘She didn’t kill Anna Markham, not a fucking chance. I’d bet my reputation on it.’

  Ray snorted.

  ‘Sounds like you might have to. Anyway, I’ve got to send the results through to Mr Brooke, who’ll be very keen to wrap this whole thing up, wouldn’t you say?

  Marr looked at Ray, who returned the stare.

  ‘And you’re 100 per cent sure of this, Ray?’


  The CSI nodded.

  ‘I’d bet my own reputation on it. Caroline Marcus killed herself. As to the whys and why-nots, I’d say that’s more your area. Enjoy.’

  Marr looked down at the razor again, trying to imagine Caroline running the blades down her wrists. He thought of her parents, Simon and Mel, both of whom – whilst not wanting to admit it to themselves – seemed to believe their daughter would do it.

  Had Caroline really been so desperate to die; to not live with the consequences of her actions? Had she really stuck that knife into her friend, just because she couldn’t bear to live a life without Gregor Stanic?

  Marr was reluctant to admit it, but if Caroline Marcus really had killed herself, Anna’s death almost had to have been the reason.

  So then, why the hell had the blade turned up in Gregor Stanic’s house?

  Marr left the room, dialling Becky’s number as he did so.

  ‘Sir, good timing, I’ve got something you need to…’

  ‘No time, Becky, sorry; I’ll have to come back to you on it. Is Stanic still at the station or with that lawyer?’

  ‘No, that was what I was about to tell you; he’s done a runner.’

  ‘Stanic?’

  ‘Made a break for it. His right honourable idiot let him go and buy a coffee unaccompanied. He never came back and he’s not at home.’

  ‘Fucking hell, and we’ve tried his mobile and work number?’

  ‘We’ve tried calling everything. He’s gone.’

  Godamn it, something was going on and Marr didn’t like it very much at all. Why the hell was Stanic trying to run? What the hell had he done that he thought running away was worth it? Had he really killed Caroline?

  And if he killed Caroline, had he killed Anna, too? His wife to be; the one Marr was so, so sure Stanic had really loved?

  Was Stanic’s relationship with Caroline more than just sex? Was it worth killing for?

  ‘What did you want to talk to him about, sir?’

  ‘That’s the kicker. I just spoke to Ray, and he’s pretty sure Caroline definitely killed herself.’

  ‘And if he thinks that, and there’s a suicide note, I don’t think our Chief Inspector is going to have much difficulty going along with it. Hell, I don’t think her parents will fight it.’

  ‘So, what do we do?’

  Marr sighed.

  ‘I’ll talk to Brooke.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Becky hung up the phone. He sounded stressed, Marr. It was a real shame; the whole thing with Sam was probably tough to deal with. Even without finding out you’re going to be a dad in nine months.

  Sam had been upset. Not too bad. As Becky had told Marr, Sam was tough. It wasn’t like she was going to throw a tantrum, but no-one liked being rejected, did they? Sex matters, more to some than others.

  Not for the first time, Becky felt grateful for Alex.

  Then she checked her watch to see if she had time to take a quick drive to Wivenhoe.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  ‘Steve, stop jabbering at me and try to speak some fucking sense. If Caroline killed herself then why the fuck is Stanic doing a runner?’

  ‘That’s the point; I’m saying I don’t know.’

  ‘He really has done a runner, hasn’t he? That godforsaken lawyer isn’t going to call us in half an hour and say ‘Sorry, he was hiding in a cupboard and I didn’t realise?’

  ‘Safe to say probably not. Maybe he’s just scared. As far as Stanic is concerned, Caroline’s turned up dead too, and the weapon used to kill his fiancee’s been found in his garbage. There are a lot of questions about him at the moment, and he can’t answer one of them.’

  Brooke nodded.

  ‘Do you think there’s any chance at all that he’s the killer?’

  ‘No. I think Thomas Coulthard killed both of them.’

  ‘Well, it’s quite an accusation, even if he is a slimeball.’

  ‘He didn’t have alibis for either murder.’

  Brooke shrugged.

  ‘Remember, we’ve got no evidence that Caroline was murdered at all. In fact, if our esteemed…well, Ray is to be believed, we’ve got evidence that she WASN’T murdered. Didn’t that cleaner at Thomas’ work back him up too?’

  Annoyingly, Thomas’ alibi had come through fine. Not that Marr was convinced.

  ‘Well, technically yes. But what’s stopping Thomas from buying him off, or threatening to get him sacked? Thomas is probably high up enough at that Insurance firm to influence hirings and firings. The cleaner’s not going to risk his job, even if he wouldn’t go to court for Thomas.’

  ‘He won’t have to at this rate. Look, I’m not saying that you’re wrong, but I am saying that we’ve got a far stronger case for Caroline being the killer than we have against Thomas. We’ve got a better case against Stanic than him too. Fuck, we’ve probably got a better case against Anna’s parents than we do Coulthard. You don’t have to like it, but Thomas is bottom of the suspect list at the moment.’

  ‘Then we need to move him up.’

  ‘With what? As far as I can tell Coulthard does nothing but sit at home eating pizza and wanking. We might be able to get him on charges of never satisfying a woman, but not a lot else. We stick him in court and he’ll look like some loser we’ve stitched up.’

  ‘He’s more than that.’

  Brooke shrugged.

  ‘Not necessarily. Look at the bastard; he’s pathetic. Alright, if I had to live like him, I’d probably run around shanking brides-to-be.’

  ‘Sir…’

  ‘Alright, alright: I know. But it doesn’t change the fact that we need evidence before we can even think about charging him. We need it before the inquest into Caroline’s death, as well: Ray will give his evidence then. Once he does, that’s us cooked. You had forty-eight hours yesterday. Today, because I’m so generous, you can have twenty-four.’

  Marr made to leave the office.

  ‘Hang on,’ Brooke said. It wasn’t a polite enquiry. Marr turned around. Brooke was looking at him with an expression that he rarely wore; it was frighteningly close to concern, and it didn’t quite suit the Chief Inspector’s constantly grumpy features.

  ‘Sir?’ Marr asked.

  ‘Steve, it is absolutely none of my business what goes on in your private life. But I do need to warn you that Detective Superintendent Hume takes a very dim view of relationships between colleagues. And I’d therefore assume that her view of relationships between colleagues when one of them has a wife and a child on the way is probably even dimmer.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Steve, I respect you very much. So I hope you don’t mind when I ask what in the name of St Peter’s hairy balls you were playing at getting involved with Sam?’

  ‘Only if you mind telling me who told you, sir.’

  Brooke’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  ‘Careful. And what makes you think anyone told me? I’m a fucking detective, deskbound or not.’

  Marr nodded.

  ‘Sorry, sir. Point taken. But don’t be too worried; any previous relationships are now concluded.’

  ‘Really? And you wouldn’t lie to me about that?’

  Marr shook his head.

  ‘I’m having a baby.’

  The chief inspector’s demeanour relaxed.

  ‘Congratulations!’

  Marr smiled.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You’re nervous?’

  ‘Well…’

  ‘Course you’re nervous, you’d be bloody fucking stupid if you weren’t. Don’t worry, though; it’s the best thing you’ll ever do. Fuck’s sake tell me when the baby’s born, though; I’ll be sure to keep you away from paperwork. When I was 16 I went to a 5-day rave, consumed many things, none of them legal, and I still wasn’t as knackered as I was the first month after Ethan was born. Do you know what you’re having yet?

  ‘No. Too early. I’m trying not to think about it; still nicely in the denial phase.’

  �
��Sensible enough, enjoy the denial while you can; it’ll all get nice and real after they’re born. You made the right decision, you know.’

  ‘Right decision?’

  ‘Yeah; at least I’m assuming that you made the choice to finish with Sam after you found out about the baby?’

  ‘Almost immediately after.’

  ‘Well, you’ve done the right thing. Flings are flings, but it’s nothing compared to a family. Without meaning to go too Godfather, family’s everything. Fucking enjoy it’.

  Marr felt better as he drove home. In his own strange, offensive way, the Chief Inspector had helped to put things in perspective. Family was what mattered; everything else could be left in the past.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  Stanic knocked loudly on the door. He knew that the occupant was home, of course, because he was just the sort of man who was always at home, when he wasn’t at work.

  Sure enough, after thirty seconds or so, Thomas Coulthard opened the door. He looked surprised, initially, but the expression soon gave way to a sort of smug amusement.

  ‘Greg. Come in. I wasn’t expecting you to come here.’

  Stanic followed him into the living room.

  ‘Beer?’ Coulthard said. Stanic shook his head.

  ‘Please yourself.’

  Coulthard moved across to the armchair and sat down, indicating for Greg to do the same on the sofa.

  ‘How can I help you?’

  Stanic looked at him.

  ‘Why?’ he asked.

  ‘Why what?’

  ‘Why did you kill them?’

  Thomas laughed.

  ‘What, you think I’m some serial killer? Stay here, I’ll go and get a nice Chianti from the kitchen. I assume you don’t want any fava beans…’

  ‘Don’t take the piss, Tom. I know you killed them. You stabbed Anna and then forced Caroline to kill herself.’

  Thomas leaned forward, and smiled again.

  ‘Oh, you do have a good imagination Greg. Maybe you’re not the monkey I always took you for. Calm down and have a drink.’

  ‘I don’t want a drink.’