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

by SP Edwards

  ‘Christ, you’re eager. Anyone would think you were looking forward to dying. That wife of yours must be something special.’

  Marr nodded.

  ‘She is’ he said, more to himself than anyone.

  Thomas walked towards the door, keeping the gun trained on Marr’s head.

  ‘Well, I will say that it’s tempting to let you live. The trouble is I’ll end up getting intercepted before I get to London If I do. Well, it’s nothing personal, just so you know. Call it attention to detail. Goodbye, Inspector.’

  Thomas leaned forward. Marr closed his eyes again, and thought of Lizzie, and of a cot in a room decorated with blue wallpaper.

  There was a crash, and the door opened behind Thomas. Marr’s first thought was Alex, or Sam, or Becky.

  It wasn’t: it was Gregor Stanic. He was on Thomas before the smaller man had a chance to react. This time, Thomas had no chance: with Michelle, he’d been lucky. There was a loud snap as Stanic bent the wrist containing the gun back. The gun fell to the floor and Thomas was screaming; screaming as Stanic pushed him to the floor, and mounted him.

  There was a crunch as Stanic broke Thomas’ nose with the palm of his hand. And another crack that Marr guessed knocked out some teeth.

  It was tempting to let it go on, but he couldn’t. In a half daze, Marr got up and tried to pull Stanic away.

  ‘Greg, let go.’ He was saying, ‘You’ve got him’.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

  Stanic stuck around after Thomas had been taken away. There was no point in him running now. He might get charged for assault, but there wasn’t a jury or judge in the world that would convict him. At most, he’d be looking at a fine.

  The way Stanic was looking at the blood on his knuckles, Marr guessed that he probably considered a few hundred quid a price worth paying.

  The paramedics had declared a snapped wrist, a broken nose and a cracked orbital bone. Maybe a bit of internal bleeding, almost definitely a concussion too. Thomas had been crying as he’d been taken away in the ambulance, with Sam and Alex for company.

  What was left of Michelle Markham had also been moved, but the red stain on the concrete remained. It would take a long time to get clean. Becky had gone to talk to John Markham, a sign as good as any that she remained perfect for the job.

  Uniformed officers had arrived and were taking statements. They’d be at it for a few hours to come. At least fifty people had been on the courtyard when Michelle hit the floor. The government would be paying for a lot of therapy in the next few months.

  ‘You OK?’ Stanic asked.

  Marr shrugged.

  ‘I’ve been better.’

  Stanic nodded.

  ‘Yeah; me too. Guess I’ll be looking at a bit of jail time for that?’

  Marr smiled.

  ‘Privately, Greg, I can say you’ll probably be alright. You’d struggle to find any juror that wouldn’t have done the same thing. And even the ones that wouldn’t have done it would have wanted to.’

  Stanic nodded.

  ‘I was thinking of Anna whilst I was doing it. The nose was for her, so was the eye, the wrist was probably more for Caroline.’

  Marr caught his breath automatically. Stanic’s head spun around with such speed Marr was reminded again that this man had spent years in a warzone, where quick reactions could be the difference between life and death.

  ‘What?’ he asked.

  Christ, how much worse could a man’s day be?

  ‘Thomas didn’t kill Caroline. Michelle did.’

  ‘What?!’

  ‘I know. Caroline tried to get John to tell Anna about the affair. He hung up on her. Michelle overheard the conversations, and when Anna turned up dead…’

  Stanic looked down at the floor.

  ‘Fuck!’ he exclaimed.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Christ, Caroline didn’t deserve that. Fuck, if anyone deserved it, it was me.’

  ‘Michelle thought the world of you, you know. John did, too. They didn’t for a moment suspect you, even when they found out about the affair. You really did love Anna.’

  Stanic shook his head.

  ‘I don’t know. I mean, yes, I did love her. But then, it wasn’t enough to stop me cheating on her, was it? I loved being with Caroline too, though I didn’t love her in the same way. I wouldn’t have married Caroline.’

  ‘I’m guessing you never phrased it to her in that way.’

  A wry smile came across his face.

  ‘Well, no. We’re strange, you know, men? It’s like you can just divorce yourself from it. Lock it away; put up barriers. It always catches up with you, though, in the end. The walls don’t stay up forever. Bet I’m not the first man to find that out.’

  Marr looked down at the silver band on his ring finger.

  ‘No, you’re not.’

  Stanic looked down at the ring, then up to Marr. He looked away, a nod of acknowledgement.

  ‘I suppose all we can do is deal with the consequences’ he said.

  Marr looked out across the grounds of Hendon House. Behind the clouds in the distance, a crack of bright winter sun was beginning to shine down.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY

  Epilogue

  Lizzie was still sleeping badly, so Marr left her at home, deciding to take the pushchair for a walk around Castle Park. It was still quiet this early in the morning, and little Caroline seemed already to enjoy the fresh air.

  Marr pushed the pram around the castle itself, before settling down on one of the park’s many benches to enjoy the quiet.

  After a minute or two, he checked his phone. He knew there wouldn’t be anything on there: everyone at the station knew he had another week of paternity left. Even after all this, it still felt strange not to see Sam’s name on the screen with just a message, or some photo. He didn’t want any messages like that…but it felt odd, like a part of his life really had ended.

  The bundle of blankets in the pushchair probably helped with that, too.

  Marr had suggested the name, and Lizzie had liked it. Caroline Marr. It was a nice name, a sweet name.

  Marr had debated whether he should attend Michelle’s funeral, but he had. He’d gone to support John Markham as much as anything, though he hadn’t had a clue what to say. It was down to the clichés: shake your hand, offer commiserations, move on.

  Even Greg Stanic had shown up, which Marr thought had taken some guts. Whatever else he might have been, you couldn’t have called Stanic a coward.

  Thomas Coulthard was still locked up. With over fifteen thousand pounds worth of credit card debt, he’d been unable to post bail. No-one felt willing to post it for him. It was hard not to wonder what Thomas was thinking as he sat alone in a cell. Furious that he had been caught? Embarrassed at the way that, in the end, Gregor Stanic had completely taken him apart? Scared of what it was going to be like to spend the next thirty years in prison?

  Or, Marr wondered, was there a small part of him that looked back at the last week or so and felt a fire in his belly that he never could have got from twenty years working for an insurance firm?

  Thomas…well, Marr had seen prisons change men like him.

  There was a slight gurgling sound from the pram, and thoughts of Thomas vanished. Caroline had woken, and was looking up at him with an almost puzzled grin as if to say ‘what are you thinking about?’

  Marr returned the smile.

  Never you mind, he thought.

  Never you mind.

 

 

 
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