by Jessie Keane
Yeah, I’m just a boring bloody copper. And Hugh’s right. I am married to the job.
And this is where you end up, she heard her mother’s whiny little voice saying. Alone. No husband, no children. Just you, Romilly, on your tod. Is that what you want?
She sat up. It was daylight and she didn’t have a clue what time it was. Reached for the alarm clock, which she hadn’t set. Looked at it in disbelief.
Gone midday. Time to get going.
‘Christ,’ she muttered, and swung her legs to the edge of the bed and sat there. She could hear traffic passing on the road outside.
My marriage is over.
She kept thinking that. But she couldn’t seem to summon any sense of sadness over it. It was done, finished. It had been dead in the water for a long time. So, forget it. Move on.
Romilly rose from the bed as her phone rang. She picked it up.
‘Hello?’
‘We got a shout, ma’am,’ said Harman’s voice.
‘What is it?’
‘St Michael’s Church, Mitchell Underdyke. Shooting at a wedding. Armed officers are there.’
Jesus, thought Romilly.
25
As Rob and the photographer were loaded into two separate ambulances, everyone watched in silence. Even the wedding planner was quiet for once, pale-faced and shaken. The place was thick with filth, cop cars pulling up one after another, lights flashing, black-clad men getting out of a plain car. Armed officers everywhere.
‘I’ll go with Daisy,’ Ruby told Kit.
He nodded. ‘I’ll follow in the car,’ he said.
The photographer’s wife was going with him to the hospital. Poor woman, Ruby couldn’t imagine what she was going through. Clive Lewis had come here to do his job in all innocence, and this had happened. She caught Jody’s eye as the nanny was battling with two howling twins in the church doorway. ‘Look after them, yeah?’ Jody nodded numbly.
Taking Daisy’s arm, Ruby walked her down to the gate and into the ambulance after Rob. The armed officers moved past them, talking into radios.
‘If anyone wants to come into the church and sit . . .?’ the vicar offered, appearing at Jody’s side, looking shaken.
No one did. They all stood there, staring at the bloodstained gravel, as the ambulances roared away.
‘Everyone else,’ said one of the beat police, raising his voice, ‘stay where you are. Police officers will move among you and ask questions.’
‘I’m going to the hospital,’ Kit told him. Not waiting for a reply, he turned and walked away.
When Kit caught up with Ruby and Daisy, they were sitting in a small, grey-painted waiting room in the bowels of the hospital building.
‘What’s happening?’ he asked them.
Ruby, her arm around Daisy’s shoulder, looked up at her son with bleak eyes.
‘The photographer’s dead,’ she said, her voice unsteady. ‘There was nothing they could do. They said it was instantaneous, he didn’t suffer. They’ve taken his wife off somewhere, I don’t know where. I think they’ve sedated her. She was shattered.’
Kit sat down opposite the two women. He was almost afraid to ask. ‘And Rob?’
‘They took him straight into surgery.’
Kit looked at Daisy. Her face was like a waxwork dummy, devoid of expression. Her white wedding dress was stained red. She still wore a circlet of flowers on her head, and her veil and her corn-gold hair were peppered with bits of confetti. Ruby had taken off her hyacinth-blue silk coat and draped it over her daughter’s shoulders. Daisy sat and stared dully at the floor.
‘Daise?’ he said. ‘You OK there?’
Her eyes raised, very slowly, until they rested on his bloodstained hands. ‘What?’ she said.
‘Are you all right?’
‘You’re asking me that?’ Fury flared in Daisy’s eyes and her voice was sharp as a knife. ‘Someone is right at this minute cutting open my fiancé’s . . .’ she paused and then corrected herself . . . ‘My husband’s chest to try and dig a bullet out of him, a bullet that was meant for you, so no, I’m not bloody all right.’
‘She’s very upset,’ said Ruby to Kit.
‘Upset?’ A horrible rictus of a smile twisted Daisy’s mouth. ‘Upset?’ She glared at Kit. ‘You’re like a fucking cancer, aren’t you? You corrupt everything around you. You’ve even changed Mum. It’s down to you, what’s happened to Rob.’
‘Daisy—’ started Ruby.
‘It’s true. This is all down to him.’
‘Oh, come on,’ said Ruby.
‘What, you don’t think so?’ Daisy twitched away from Ruby’s enfolding arm; she was staring at Kit with venom. ‘I think Rob saw something. And he was trying to shield him from it.’
‘What?’ Kit thought of the flash of metal in the window across the road from the church. Had Rob seen it too?
‘You heard. He unbalanced me so I fell. He was moving toward you. He saw something and he was doing his damned job. Even on the day of his wedding he was protecting you.’
Ruby was staring at Kit now. ‘You ran off, into the building over the road. Did you see something there?’
‘I thought I did,’ said Kit.
‘But you didn’t find anyone?’ Ruby asked.
He shook his head.
‘Did you speak to the police?’ asked Ruby.
‘No, I came straight here.’
Daisy glared at her brother. ‘Rob’s in there being sliced up like . . . oh Christ . . . a Sunday joint, all because of you. That poor little man who was taking the photographs is dead, because of you. You were the target. Not him. Not Rob. The photographer’s already in the morgue, and I don’t know, I just don’t know what’s going to happen to Rob. Christ, he could die . . .’
Daisy dissolved into shuddering tears and Kit stared at her in anguished silence. In the past he had been a target for other gangs, and had got this far in life by fending them off – yes, with Rob’s help. He probably was the target. Nothing else made sense. Daisy was right to shout and scream at him, to say it’s all your fault. Because it was.
Someone came and stood in the doorway. It was a tall, cadaverous man, middle-aged and with a neat, grey goatee beard. He was wearing a green cap and a stained green gown.
‘Mrs Hinton?’ His calm brown eyes went to Ruby, then to Daisy sitting there in her wedding dress, and his face softened.
Ruby got to her feet. ‘What’s happening? How is he?’ she asked.
The surgeon shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. We did all we could.’
‘No,’ said Daisy, her face blank, standing up, seeming for a moment to sway on her feet. ‘NO! This can’t be happening . . .’ She was almost screaming now.
‘I’m so sorry,’ said the man again.
‘No, no! It can’t . . .’ Daisy was shaking her head, over and over. Ruby grabbed her, held on tight.
‘No, it’s not true. I want to see him. I want to see Rob.’
‘Yes, you can see him. In a few minutes. Of course you can,’ said the man gently, and then he withdrew.
‘Daisy . . .’ Kit was on his feet too now, reaching for her.
‘Don’t touch me, don’t you fucking dare!’ she shrieked. ‘This is you. This is all you, you bastard! Rob is dead. And it’s your fault!’
26
Feeling as if she was floating through hell, Ruby went in with Daisy to see Rob.
‘I don’t want him in there with us,’ said Daisy, looking with hate-filled eyes at her twin.
‘All right,’ said Ruby soothingly. She looked at Kit. ‘Wait for us, yeah?’ They went into the room.
‘He looks like he’s sleeping,’ said Daisy as she stood at Rob’s bedside.
Ruby couldn’t bear it. Her daughter should be the happiest woman in the world today, and it had all been snatched away from her. She stared down at Rob’s still face and thought that Daisy was right; it was as if he was sleeping.
They had covered him with a sheet right up to his chin, and wheeled hi
m into this impersonal pink-and-white painted room somewhere off one of the main wards.
Yeah, he’s asleep. He’s asleep and this is all a dream, and in a minute I’ll wake up and laugh about this, thought Ruby.
Only she didn’t feel like laughing. She didn’t think she’d laugh, ever again. As she watched her daughter bend over Rob’s lifeless body and lay her head in the hollow of his shoulder, she felt tears overflow and run down her face. Rob had been Daisy’s love, but he had also been Ruby’s friend; no, more than that. He had been like another son. Rob had saved her, guarded her, taken care of her. Of Daisy too. Of both of them. And of Kit. And yes, Daisy was so angry with Kit, that was natural, but she would eventually see that turning on Kit was not the answer. They had to be strong for each other now and stay together, a family unit – not bicker among themselves.
Daisy was weeping, sobbing against Rob’s unresponsive body. Ruby could only watch in anguish. His treacle-blond hair was combed, his strong face composed, his eyes closed. It seemed that at any moment he would open them and smile up at them standing here and say: ‘What’s up with you two? Who died?’
Her daughter was in pain.
Her dear friend was lost to her.
Someone’s going to pay for this, Ruby promised herself.
27
Kit sat down, feeling that the bottom had just dropped out of his world.
Rob was dead.
He couldn’t take it in; didn’t want to. His best mate. How was he going to cope, how was he going to go on, without Rob at his back?
But then – minding his back had got Rob into this.
Daisy was right. He felt bone-deep grief. And anger.
A moment later, Rob’s brothers and sisters arrived, and his mum Eunice with her partner, and Kit had to tell them the worst news they’d ever had in their entire lives.
‘Mr Miller?’ someone asked.
Kit didn’t know how long he’d been sitting alone in the waiting room, staring at the floor. Down the hall, Rob’s mother Eunice was sobbing her heart out. Rob’s sisters, Trudy and Sarah, were with her. And his brothers, Daniel and Leon. Kit could hear Leon asking over and over who the fuck could do a thing like this.
But worst of all was the sound of Daisy crying. She was shut away in a room with Ruby and with Rob’s dead body, but her cries carried along the hospital corridor and wrenched at his innards. My fault, he thought.
The female voice repeated his name. ‘Kit Miller?’
He looked up. A tall, soberly dressed woman of about thirty was standing in front of him. She had a shock of wild dark-brown curls tied back with black cord. She was looking down at him with serious dark eyes, set in a pale, oval face. A stocky, thin-haired man of around the same age stood behind her.
He had the eyes of a cop, or a criminal. And so did she.
‘I’m DI Kane, this is DS Harman,’ said the woman, and they both flashed their warrant cards.
Kit stood up. He was six feet two inches tall and she was looking him straight in the eye. Not many women did that. His eyes slipped down to her feet. No heels. This girl was tall.
‘Yeah, I’m Kit Miller,’ he said.
She was gazing at him in that special way cops reserve for those who they know operate on the far edges of the law.
‘Mr Miller, we have a situation here,’ said DI Kane. ‘A double shooting at a wedding. I believe your sister’s . . .?’
‘Daisy Darke,’ said Kit. ‘Her fiancé, her husband, I mean. He was shot. And the photographer.’ And I think that poor sod got in the way. Just like Rob did.
‘The vicar said you ran away when the shooting started.’ Her eyes were staring into his. Curious. Mocking. Behind her, Kit thought he saw DS Harman suppress a smirk. Kit looked at him, and the smirk dropped away.
‘That’s right,’ said Kit. ‘I ran away.’
‘Really? Only a couple of the guests think different. That maybe you saw something, and went for it. Maybe you saw the gunman?’
Kit wrestled with himself and then thought: Maybe they can actually help. Who knows, perhaps they can find this fucker faster than I can. And if that’s the case, I have to tell them.
‘I saw metal catching the sun at a first-floor window over the road,’ he said.
DS Harman got out a notebook and started writing things down.
‘So you ran toward what you thought was someone with a gun.’
‘There was nobody there. He’d already gone.’
The DI looked at him steadily. ‘Mr Miller,’ she said, ‘I need you to show me. Right now.’
‘Wait up,’ said Kit in exasperation. ‘I’ve got my mother in there in bits over this. And my sister. And there’s Rob’s mother, his brothers and sisters. They’re all bloody devastated. I can’t just fuck off. Not now.’
‘I’ll give you an hour to see everyone safely home,’ she said. ‘And then you’ll show me. And once that’s done, I’ll have to speak to your sister – I’m sorry, but it’s necessary. This is a murder investigation, Mr Miller. We don’t want to lose any time on this. I’m sure you understand.’
28
It was a miserable drive home, with Ruby hugging Daisy, who was slumped across the back seat beside her, and Kit at the wheel. Ruby knew she should have sought out the wife of the photographer before she left the hospital, but she couldn’t. All her concern was for Daisy, who seemed simply broken. She had to focus on her daughter and push everything else to the side. Over the coming days, Daisy was going to need her badly. And so was Kit.
Kit parked up the Bentley beside a couple of other cars and a purple catering van with Soul Food writ large on the side of it on the gravel drive in front of Ruby’s place. They went indoors to be met with silence, inactivity. All the happy preparations of the morning were done, and now should have been the time for celebration. The house should have been rocking with happy laughter and music.
Champagne should have been flowing. But it was eerily quiet. It didn’t look like any of the guests had come back here, and they wouldn’t, Ruby was sure of that.
As they walked into the hall, the wedding planner, still clutching her clipboard to her chest like it was a lifeline, came out from the kitchen and stared at them.
‘I didn’t know what you wanted me to do,’ the woman said, shrugging helplessly. ‘The caterers, all the food . . .’
‘Tell them to take it away,’ said Ruby. The thought of food gave her the dry heaves. And, oh Christ, the wedding cake. Daisy mustn’t see that. ‘All of it.’
The woman hurried off into the kitchen, closing the door behind her.
‘Daisy, go into the sitting room. I’ll make some tea,’ said Ruby.
Throwing Kit a vicious look, Daisy shrugged off Ruby’s blue silk coat so that it drifted to the floor and went into the sitting room. Kit made to follow, but Ruby caught his arm.
‘Don’t. Leave her for a while,’ said Ruby. Upstairs, she could hear Matty and Luke arguing. They fought night and day, those twins, but they were in good hands. Jody was wonderful with them. And thank God for it, because right now Ruby couldn’t spare a thought for anything but Daisy.
Fats, still wearing his cream rose buttonhole, came into the hall from the kitchen. It was only then that Kit remembered he was still wearing his buttonhole. He unfastened it, threw it aside.
Ruby picked up her coat, hung it up, and followed Daisy into the sitting room. ‘Tea, Daisy? Or coff—’ Her voice died on her.
Daisy was standing in the middle of the room, motionless.
Fuck, fuck, fuck! thought Ruby as she walked in. There, piled up on a long trestle table in front of the bay window, were the wedding presents. Pink balloons on ribbons decorated each end of the table, and floral swags that matched Daisy’s bouquet and headdress were draped along the front of it.
‘Oh Christ – Daisy, I didn’t think . . .’ she said.
Daisy walked forward and stood in front of the table, running her trembling hands over the gifts spread out there. When she turned to Ruby, h
er face was wet with tears.
‘I wish I’d died too,’ she said.
‘No!’ Ruby rushed forward and hugged her. Daisy stood there, rigid, unresponsive. ‘Rob wouldn’t have wanted you to say that. He was a fighter and he’d want you to be the same. And you have the twins. You’re a mother, Daisy. You have to go on.’
‘But I’m not like Rob, am I?’ Daisy sobbed. ‘I’m not that tough. I want him here, with me. And instead he’s in a morgue.’
‘I know.’ Ruby cradled Daisy’s head against her own. ‘I know, sweetheart. It’s awful.’ She wanted to say something wise, something comforting.
But there were no words.
All she could do was hug Daisy tight, and let her cry.
Kit sighed as he watched them both from the doorway. Daisy turning on him like that at the hospital had hurt. Then there’d been the hysteria from Rob’s mum and his sisters, loud fury from Leon and silent hostility from Daniel. Everyone was blaming him, and shit, they were right to do that. He knew it.
This must have been meant for him.
He went into the downstairs cloakroom and stood looking at himself in the mirror over the basin, wondering what the fuck to do now. His gaze drifted to his bloodstained hands. He literally did have Rob’s blood on his hands. He turned on the tap and washed them clean, splashed his face with water. The blood swirling in the sink smelled metallic and for a moment he felt his gorge rise and wondered if he was about to hurl. But he didn’t.
He heard someone knocking at the front door and he went back out into the hall and opened it. DI Kane and her sidekick Harman stood there.
‘Time’s up, Mr Miller,’ she said.
Kit nodded and turned in the doorway. ‘Fats? Keep an eye on everything here, OK?’
‘Will do,’ said Fats.
Kit stepped outside and pulled the front door closed behind him.
‘OK, let’s go,’ he said.
29
It was hard, going back to the church. The police were still there in force, people in white suits taking photos, POLICE DO NOT CROSS tapes being slung up in a criss-cross pattern in front of the church door. As they got out of the car, Kit could see the stain of Rob’s blood still there on the gravel. Confetti drifted along the pathway up to the church door, driven by the lifting breeze. He looked away. No fucking use, dwelling on things.
