by Anne Coates
“Another?” Rory asked and she nodded, glad for his departure for a few moments. Maybe it was the mention of Judy, which had conjured up Paul’s image.
“So – decisions,” he said returning with their drinks.
“A friend of mine who’s a teacher told me about how some young Asian girls are being taken out of school to look after members of their families. Some, it seems, are being forced into arranged marriages at a very young age.”
“Sounds right up your street. What’s the problem?”
“Not sure I should involve myself and the newspaper.”
“Why? These girls are British citizens. Don’t they deserve your support?”
Hannah was surprised at Rory’s reaction. “What do you know about this then?”
“More than you may think. A cousin of mine married into an Indian family. Don’t get me wrong, her in-laws are great but neither she nor I would say the same about some of the extended family.”
Hannah sipped her drink. “Well I’ve called the cuttings service, so I’ll see what comes up there.” Hannah circled her glass over a damp patch on the table. “There is something else.”
“Knowing you, Hannah, there always is.” He grinned at her.
“There was a drowning in my local park. A young Asian girl. The police wrote it off as suicide but the family was convinced otherwise. The aunt asked me to look into it and a second post mortem suggested that she may have been coerced into drowning herself.”
“Sounds a bit far-fetched. Why did the aunt contact you?”
“She’s a trustee of the charity Celia Rayman set up in Liz’s memory. Apparently she recommended me.”
Rory finished his beer. “Well she could have done worse. Why don’t you write that story first? Seems we have a scoop – such as it is. It obviously hasn’t been picked up anywhere.”
“No, the local press only reported the suicide. Also, a valuable and distinctive ring has gone missing – I have good images of that and it may jolt someone’s memory.”
“Good.” Rory finished his pint. “Any plans for the weekend?”
“Seeing friends and being an attentive mother. You?”
“Need you ask?” Hannah looked at him blankly. “West Ham are playing Southampton and I have tickets. But for now it’s back to the coal face.”
“Is this guy for real?” John, one of the younger news reporters was shaking his head.
Hannah looked up from the cuttings she was studying. “Who?”
“His name is Peter Marks. He is, apparently, a private investigator, who would like to discuss some possible news story ideas.”
“Oh yes.” Rory had walked back into the office. “And what might they be?”
“He says he has intelligence on how security services in South Africa infiltrated a high security prison in order to perpetrate a revenge killing.”
Rory looked across at Hannah whose face had drained of colour. “Well I don’t suppose that was too difficult to effect given the resources of the NIS.”
“This guy Peter Marks reckons he was part of the team.”
“Does he now?” Rory was leafing through a battered leather Filofax he’d retrieved from his desk drawer. “Thought so. He’s also a bit-part actor and singer… okay John, arrange a meeting with him and see what he’s got to offer.”
John looked bemused.
“We’ll pay him for exclusive rights to his info and it’ll go into the vault, but we won’t tell him that, of course.”
Hannah could feel her face redden. Her own story had been spiked. Caroline’s story. And Gerry Lacon had been part of that. She had to shake herself to remember that they had not spiked her exposé about the trafficking of Somali girls. That one had been reported… Eventually. But at what cost?
CHAPTER TWELVE
“You’ve cut your hair!” He was outside her house, leaning against a car, smiling and relaxed. Looking for all the world as though they had seen each other the day before and had not spent the last weeks communicating via the odd email and transatlantic call.
Hannah’s hand immediately touched her hair as though in confirmation. She opened her mouth but no words emerged as she was engulfed by his embrace.
Tom stood back and grinned. “Thought I’d surprise you.”
“Well you’ve certainly done that.” Hannah could hear the sharpness in her tone. What was wrong with her? How many times had she dreamed of him turning up just like this? Out of the blue? And now that he had, she felt put out and irritated. She stepped back and rummaged in her bag for the door keys.
“Perhaps Elizabeth will be more welcoming.”
Hannah could feel him watching her as she unlocked the reinforced door and keyed in the code to turn off the alarm. He followed her into the hall. “Hannah, I’m sorry. I had to come to London for a briefing and managed to add on a couple of days’ leave. I thought it would be a happy surprise – not an unwelcome one.”
“You’re not unwelcome, it’s just… Oh I don’t know. Coffee?”
They walked into the kitchen and Hannah filled the kettle. “Janet will be back with Elizabeth soon. They go to soft play on a Friday afternoon.”
Tom smiled. Soft play. He longed for the ordinariness those words conjured up. “Do you have any plans for the weekend?”
“Why?” Hannah busied herself with the coffee pot and mugs.
“I was going to suggest a couple of nights away. By the sea. I thought… Hannah, what is it?”
Hannah walked over to the back door, unlocked it and walked outside. She inhaled deeply, the scents of her garden a heady mix of early roses and lavender. She could sense Tom hesitating, not knowing whether to follow her or not. He remained in the kitchen and, when the kettle boiled, she heard him making the coffee.
She was sitting at the white garden table and smiled as he approached with the coffee pot and mugs on a tray.
“Sorry, my emotions are all over the place at the moment. So much seems to be happening and then nothing changes. Did you hear about Gerry Lacon?”
It seemed an odd question. But Lacon linked them back to Caroline and their first meeting. There were misunderstandings between them then and they had survived those pretty well – in the end. “Yes I did.” He poured the coffee and passed her a mug.
They drank in an uncomfortable silence.
“So what do you think?”
Hannah looked away. “About what? Gerry Lacon’s death?”
“No! A weekend away? By the sea?”
Hannah thought about the weekend that had stretched before her. Time in the park with Elizabeth. Pottering about the house and garden together. Playing. And then the long evenings when her precious daughter was safely tucked up in bed and she was left at a loose end.
“It sounds lovely. I haven’t got anything planned that can’t be rescheduled.” That made it sound like a business arrangement. What was she thinking of?
A commotion from within the house and an imperious call of “Mama?” broke into the tense atmosphere. Hannah went into the kitchen, had a hurried conversation with Janet and then reappeared with Elizabeth in her arms.
“Look who’s come to see us.” Elizabeth hid her face in her mother’s neck. “It’s Tom.”
Slowly, the child’s face emerged and she stared at the man in the garden. “Tom,” she repeated and smiled at him but with no hint of recognition.
“Hello, Elizabeth.” Tom had a special timbre in his voice when he spoke to the child and it seemed to click with some memory. Her face lit up; she kissed her mother, then wriggled free and toddled over to Tom.
“Hello Tom.”
Tom said he had some calls to make so Hannah left him in the sitting room while she bathed Elizabeth and put her into her nightclothes for the journey. Janet had already packed the essentials for Elizabeth and it didn’t take Hannah long to fill her own bag with what she regarded as ‘holiday’ clothes and her toiletries. Since the explosion that had been meant to kill her, Hannah always had a bag of essentials at
the ready just in case they ever needed to make a hasty departure. It was one of her coping mechanisms. There were others less obvious but just as reassuring. Like having cash and an extra credit card locked in her desk at The News. She also had a bag of essentials and another card stored with Linda and David.
Janet had left with a cheery wave and a bag of items from the fridge that Hannah asked her to use up as they’d be away.
Finally they were in the car Tom had hired and were off. Elizabeth, strapped into her car seat in the back, soon nodded off to the music Tom had switched on.
“I’ve booked us into the Queen’s in Brighton. It’s near the front and is fairly anonymous. Is that ok?”
“Mmm, not sure it will be up to our last hotel experience.”
Tom looked nonplussed.
“My weak attempt at a joke, I’m afraid. Lord Gyles paid for us to stay at the Dorchester when…” her voice broke, “when…”
Tom reached for her hand. Hannah absorbed its warmth knowing there was nothing he could say without sounding trite and appreciating his sympathetic silence. He moved his hand to change gear. Soon they were out of the south London suburbs.
Miraculously for a Friday evening, the A3 had been relatively fast flowing but he’d spotted what seemed like an accident up ahead and took the slip road off to bypass it. As he did do he glanced in the mirror and saw that the car he thought had been tailing them had followed. He wondered which of them – Hannah or himself – was under surveillance. Maybe both. As soon as he saw a pub, he pulled over into the car park.
Hannah looked at him, then at the child sleeping in the back.
“No problem, just need to check something in the boot. Thought I heard a rattle.”
Tom released the boot lock then got out of the car. The vehicle that he suspected was following them was forced to carry on or risk being exposed. But Tom now had the registration number. He made a quick call on his mobile out of Hannah’s earshot and then returned to the car.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DS Benton knocked on DI Turner’s office door and entered. The room was bare of anything personal save a suit in a plastic shroud hanging on the back of the door. No photos on the desk. No citations on the walls. She was, or liked to give the appearance of being, a closed book. However Benton had reason to grateful for her pastoral care. Their relationship had improved over the last few months. He’d got his act together and appreciated the faith she now had placed in him.
Claudia smiled as he entered. “How’d it go?”
“Grim.” He sat down in the chair opposite her.
She opened her desk drawer and produced a bottle of scotch and two glasses. She poured and passed one to Benton.
He gulped a mouthful. “The mother was totally hysterical and the father appeared torn apart by the news. Everyone in the family has a cast iron alibi. But…”
“But? Come on Mike, what’s your gut instinct?”
“That something isn’t right. It feels as though they’re concealing something. The interpreter thought the same. It’s not what they said or didn’t say but rather the way they appeared utterly defeated. As though they had known their daughter’s murder was going to happen.”
Claudia sipped her drink. “Go on.”
“When I took the father to identify the body, he completely broke down. Went to pieces. The interpreter didn’t come with us as Mr Chopra’s English is very good. He said something, I couldn’t understand. When I asked him he just shook his head and repeated it.” Benton loosened his tie.
“Well let’s run some background checks. See if any of their neighbours know anything of interest. Let’s hope they’re the nosey kind.” Claudia looked down at the photos spread out on her desk. “Completely different MO to Amalia Kumar’s murder.”
“If it was.”
“Oh, I think it was and Hannah Weybridge has made sure we’d look at the case again… She’ll have an article in The News soon. Maybe that will dredge up something.”
Even Benton looked appalled.
“Sorry, bad choice of words. Get one of the team to check all suicides by young Asian girls.” Benton made a face as he stood up. “There can’t be that many, can there?”
Benton shrugged and made for the door. “Hope it’s not a can of worms.”
“So do I, Mike. So do I. By the way, have we had any leads with Amalia’s ring?”
“None so far.”
“Well, maybe Hannah’s article will nudge a few memories.”
“Let’s hope so. By the way does Ms Weybridge know about Nadia Chopra?”
“No – I’ve held back on going public with this one. Don’t want to give the idea that we have a serial killer on the loose.” Claudia finished her drink. “But it will be useful to see if she’s unearthed anything in her research.”
“Right. I’ll go and get someone to run a check on deaths and suicides of young Asian girls.” He looked at his watch. “Probably be Monday now unless you’re paying overtime.”
“No chance. Doing anything exciting this weekend?”
Benton’s smile lit up his face. “I’m taking Josh to the game – Tottenham are playing QPR at home. What about you?”
Momentarily a cloud passed over her face. “Takeaway, wine and a good book – plus I’ve got some paperwork to get through.”
“Right see you Monday, then.”
“You will. Bright and early.”
But neither knew how early that was destined to be.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Hannah was surprised at the detour they made in Brighton. At one point they drew up outside The Grand.
“I thought you’d booked The Queen’s.”
“I did.” Tom left the engine running, checked something in the boot, then returned to the driver’s seat and smiled. “All clear.”
Hannah was none the wiser but it felt good to relax and let Tom do the worrying – if there was anything to worry about. He hadn’t mentioned the tail they’d picked up, and neither had she. She had seen the car in the passenger mirror she’d pulled down so she could see Elizabeth in the back seat. It had become second nature to her, to be aware and wary.
Then they pulled up outside the Metropole. “What, are we on a mystery tour of Brighton’s hotels?”
Tom laughed. “No, I thought better of The Queen’s especially after your comment about The Dorchester.”
“But I was joking.” Hannah felt awful.
“I know, but the Metropole has a suite. They didn’t know if they’d have one free earlier and I had to ring back.” He smiled. “Perseverance pays off.”
They were quickly registered and shown to their rooms. Hannah was surprised when Tom had removed Elizabeth’s car seat as well as all the travel paraphernalia from the vehicle. He just smiled at her raised eyebrow and loaded it onto the trolley that the bellboy had brought with him.
The bay window in the large sitting room they were shown to overlooked the seafront where the pier was already lit up. In the bedroom, a travel cot was ready for Hannah to transfer the sleeping Elizabeth into. She’d only opened her eyes for a moment as they entered the lobby and went straight back to sleep.
“Shall we order some dinner from room service?” Tom flopped into an armchair and perused the menu.
“Sounds good. You choose.”
Hannah went into the bathroom to unpack the toiletries and Elizabeth’s bits and pieces while Tom phoned through their order. She thought she heard him make another call but by then she’d decided to have a quick shower.
When she came back into the room wearing one of her favourite cotton dresses, she felt refreshed and more relaxed. Tom had opened two small bottles of wine from the mini-fridge.
“Here’s to some sunshine and sea air.” They clinked glasses.
Hannah look a long sip then asked the question that had been uppermost in her mind all the way down. “What happened to that man, Sherlock, who stood in front of me at the church?” Who took the bullet meant for me was what she didn’t say bu
t was implicit in her question.
“I really don’t know. He was taken to hospital, obviously, but after that I haven’t a clue what happened to him. As you know I went straight back to the States and – ”
“Couldn’t you find out? You must have some connections?”
“I could ask Claudia Turner.”
“I’ve already asked her. Still, maybe she’d give you a different answer.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tom looked genuinely surprised.
“Nothing, but you seem to know each other rather well.”
“True.” Tom finished his drink just as there was a knock on the door and room service arrived with their meal and a bottle of Chablis.
Hannah smiled at the memory it evoked of their first meal together in Jo Allen’s. He’d ordered Chablis then and she’d wondered if he was one of the corrupt police officers she heard so much about as he’d paid for everything in cash. Tom caught her smile. “We’ve come a long way, Hannah, and I’m so very glad we met.”
“So am I,” she said accepting a glass as she sat down at the dining table in the bay window. The sight of the food made her realise she hadn’t eaten for ages.
“Bon appétit.” Tom raised his glass to her.
“Thank you.” It summed up everything and nothing. But Tom seemed to understand.
The weekend was just what she needed. The hotel spa provided her with some relaxation and pampering while Tom took Elizabeth to the small amusement park. Elizabeth loved the indoor swimming pool. They wandered through The Lanes like any couple taking a holiday and later, on the beach, Elizabeth shrieked with delight when the waves splashed her as she took her first hesitant steps into the sea with Tom and Hannah each holding a hand.
They found a family-friendly restaurant, enjoying the food, wine and each other’s company. Elizabeth threw a couple of wobblies but that didn’t seem to upset Tom. In fact, Tom acted as though to fatherhood born.
In the evening they ordered from room service after putting Elizabeth to bed. Hannah felt both energised and at peace. Time away with Tom was just the tonic she needed. She was startled out of her reverie by a question she hadn’t thought would come up. At least not then.
