Never Say Goodbye: An edge of your seat thriller with gripping suspense (Detective Tom Fabian Book 1)

by Richard Parker

  ‘What date was this?’

  ‘She was vague. And she was on her way to work when I called her.’

  ‘Where does she work?’

  ‘Tyre fitters on Fulham Broadway.’

  ‘Worth chasing. Try to get a date. Ask her to remember what else she was doing the day her dad told the story. It might jog her memory.’

  McMann pursed his lips and loitered.

  Was he waiting for praise? ‘Let me know what else you find out.’

  ‘Right.’ He pulled the door shut after him.

  ‘I was going to send him to the hospital.’ Banner headed out.

  ‘I want to keep him on this. I think he may surprise us.’

  She yanked the handle but turned. ‘If he drops the attitude.’

  ‘It’s understandable. Chasing a lead might focus him.’

  Banner stepped into the corridor. ‘I’ll update Francesca.’

  ‘I’ll be in shortly.’ Fabian let the door close behind her. Until they had word from the hospital on Stephan they could only go around the houses with Francesca. And the ambulance was still en route. But he wondered if he was wasting his time with the pair of them. Something was off but he still doubted Stephan Cousins would construct a murder route right on his own doorstep. Fabian dialled Harriet’s number. Engaged. He hoped she was speaking to Tilly. He walked into the corridor, and Finch was jogging towards him. ‘That doesn’t look like a face that’s bringing good news.’

  ‘It’s not. Metcalfe wants to see you again.’

  Chapter Thirty

  ‘So when did you find out about the medication he was meant to have been taking?’ Metcalfe was standing behind his desk, arms folded tight across his chest.

  ‘From his sister. He hadn’t mentioned it.’

  ‘And now he’s unconscious.’

  ‘I think it’s a ploy.’

  ‘It had better be. For your sake. What’s the medication for?’

  ‘Ask Lauren Reid. She had to look it up on her phone. I’d never heard of it. Anxiety, from what I understand.’

  ‘Anxiety? Any of those drugs floating about for me?’

  But from Metcalfe’s red pallor Fabian guessed he was fairly familiar with prescription pills.

  ‘You weren’t aware of his history?’

  ‘Reid only informed us of his condition just before he had the seizure. The barman of his local pub said he’d got drunk while taking medication in the past though.’

  Metcalfe sighed. ‘So you were aware. Does his sister know he’s been taken away in an ambulance?’

  ‘We’ve just informed her.’

  ‘But you haven’t released her yet.’

  ‘We’ll have to though. She’s elderly and we don’t know how long Cousins will take to recover.’

  ‘She could go straight to the media. It’s going to be difficult enough as it is to keep a lid on this without attracting that sort of scrutiny.’

  ‘Why don’t we make a statement then?’

  ‘No. Not before we have everything squared for an arrest. If not, there’s going to be hysteria.’

  ‘I’m not convinced Cousins is guilty.’

  ‘If his sister is the only person who can vouch for him on all of the dates…’

  ‘They’re still working through them but if we’ve got the wrong man then somebody else could be targeted in the meantime.’

  ‘Whatever it is you do, for God’s sake, keep it low key. However much you’re tempted to speak to Angelina Friedmann…’

  So there it was again. Metcalfe barely concealed his resentment about Fabian’s relationship with the media during the Wisher investigation. Angelina Friedmann was the BBC presenter who had been following him around when he was assigned the case. The documentary she’d made had won her an award and secured her a position as an editor for News 24. Neither of them had spoken since her last interview with him at the conclusion of Wisher’s trial.

  ‘Naturally, I speak to her most evenings, but I’ll try to keep the conversation general.’

  ‘Escott warned me about your impudence, Fabian.’

  Escott had held the top job before Metcalfe. ‘Glad to see I started with a clean sheet. Is that why I’ve been spending my time chasing teenage gangs?’

  Metcalfe looked down at his desktop. ‘If you have any grievances you can pursue them through the appropriate channels but neither of us has time for this now.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Fabian acknowledged that Metcalfe backed down as quickly as Escott used to. His previous boss was retired and he knew his current one was probably making the most of waving his dick around before his day arrived in 2021. But not so much that it would involve any additional paperwork. ‘I’ll let you know as soon as Stephan Cousins is fit enough to recommence his interview.’

  ‘I hear Lauren Reid’s on this one, she’s put me through the wringer in the past.’ Metcalfe was back-pedalling, eager to find something they could agree on.

  ‘Not sure if she’s comfortable with Cousins.’

  ‘Reid?’ he said incredulously.

  ‘I think he may have told her why he doesn’t want us on his property. Any progress on the warrant?’

  ‘Yes. But if the department is about to be held responsible for his hospitalisation it’s not going to look good if we search his home while he’s in there.’

  ‘I’ll take full responsibility, sir.’

  ‘I know you will, but I’m holding back the warrant until we’ve had an update on his condition.’

  ‘I really don’t think we should delay.’

  ‘He’s not going anywhere. And his sister can be escorted home. We wait for him. And my word on that is final.’ Metcalfe clearly enjoyed it being so.

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Fabian made for the door.

  ‘Let me know when you have anything solid.’

  Fabian closed it behind him.

  Finch was outside, pretending he hadn’t just overheard.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘That guy who tried to throw himself under the Tube train… you know, the story on the radio?’

  ‘This morning?’

  Finch nodded. ‘It was Candice Langham’s husband.’

  Chapter Thirty-One

  ‘Mr Langham?’ Fabian was surprised at the age of the man in grey sweats who opened the front door of the three-storey detached property in Ealing. He looked to be in his early seventies.

  ‘No… well, yes. I’m Leonard Langham, Marcus’s father.’

  ‘I’m Detective Inspector Fabian and this is Detective Sergeant Banner.’

  He nodded the scant grey hairs on his tanned scalp. Even his goatee was threadbare. He gestured them inside.

  Fabian quickly checked his phone as he had on the drive over. No message from Harriet. He took a look around the pristine, modern, sparsely furnished hallway. A few abstract prints hung on the wall to his right and a cerise runner led the way down the wooden tiles to the expansive lounge at the end.

  They followed Langham’s father there and found Marcus seated low in a dark green padded chair in front of an enormous TV screen on the wall. The news was on but the sound was turned down. He looked to be in his early fifties and had the same patent baldness as his father. The room wasn’t in any way homely, more like a showroom. The large polished glass dining table in the floor-to-ceiling window that looked into the long garden didn’t look as if it had ever been used.

  ‘Mr Langham, I’m Detective Inspector Fabian…’

  ‘I heard.’ He took off his spectacles. ‘What happened to Whiting?’

  Fabian thought he looked exhausted. ‘I’m afraid DI Whiting passed away.’

  That seemed to genuinely shake Marcus. ‘How?’

  ‘He suffered a massive stroke.’

  ‘Good God…’

  ‘I’m now heading up the investigation. I planned to speak to you as a matter of course…’

  ‘But now I’ve bumped myself to the top of the list.’ Marcus unsteadily picked up a glass of water from the small table beside hi
m.

  Fabian noticed the bottle of pills there.

  ‘Can I get either of you a coffee?’ Langham Senior was still lingering behind them.

  Fabian turned to him. ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘I’ll be in the study if you need me then.’

  Marcus nodded at his father and panic briefly registered in his eyes as he left.

  ‘It’s been a hellish month for you.’ Fabian knew there was no easy way of broaching what had happened that morning.

  Marcus nodded and swigged the last of the water. ‘You’re no nearer to catching anyone.’ It was a statement. He thumped down the glass.

  Fabian knew he had to be circumspect with his response. ‘Every investigation can only move as fast as procedure will allow. It’s frustrating for us but I can only imagine how difficult the waiting has been for you.’

  ‘As I said, you’re no nearer to catching anyone.’

  Fabian exchanged a look with Banner.

  ‘There was a guy who lived three streets from here.’ Marcus’s eyes drifted to the muted newsreader. ‘Ted Anstice, he was a surveyor, two children, Barney and Rosie, Rosie was handicapped. Used to go there for dinner or if he was throwing a community barbecue. Somebody shot him in the throat with a crossbow in broad daylight.’

  Fabian recalled the murder but had forgotten it had been in this neighbourhood.

  ‘A crossbow.’ Marcus shook his head. ‘Outside his home. He was lying in his driveway until his wife and kids got home. It was probably a teenager but they didn’t catch anyone. I don’t know what happened to Pamela Anstice or her kids. We tried to help, Candice and I.’ He briefly clenched his jaw. ‘But what can you really do? All I know is that everything they worked for was taken from her in a matter of months. Candice went round there, and the house was empty. Pam didn’t leave a forwarding address. Who knows where they are now.’

  ‘I understand things must be overwhelming for you.’

  His attention darted back to Fabian. ‘Do you?’

  ‘It’s been a month.’

  ‘And by that you mean “only” a month. As if that’s going to make any difference in another month’s time. It doesn’t matter to Candice… or Pam. Even if you tell me you’ve got the man who mutilated my wife it makes no difference to them…’

  Banner unbuttoned her coat. ‘You’ve talked with a counsellor?’

  Marcus nodded. ‘I haven’t even begun to process what’s happened to Candice. That’s what I’ve been told. What they haven’t told me is how I do that while my life gets tugged from under me.’

  ‘And that’s why you went to the station?’ Fabian watched him shake his head at the floor.

  ‘No,’ he eventually replied. ‘I went to the station early because I was going to catch up on the backlog at work. Compassionate leave isn’t really an option for me.’

  Fabian knew Marcus worked in the City. He waited for him to continue.

  ‘I had to shift the image of what they did to Candice’s face somehow. I haven’t been sleeping. Been taking pills. It was a lapse. I got off the train at Monument. Was about to go up the escalator. When I heard the train arriving at the opposite platform I crossed over to it though. Kept on going…’

  ‘And how do you feel now?’

  ‘I’m rational again,’ he said testily. ‘It was the medication… and the sleep deprivation.’ He still didn’t look up.

  ‘You’ve never had any episodes like this before?’

  Marcus shook his head but kept his attention locked on the carpet.

  ‘And no other reason to do something so drastic?’

  ‘No.’ Marcus breathed out through his nostrils.

  Was he simply ashamed of his actions? Fabian regarded the canister of pills on the table. It was full. ‘So what did your doctor prescribe you?’

  Marcus looked up, a frown on his face. ‘Cipramil.’

  ‘And when did you start taking them?’

  ‘Three years ago.’ His features hardened.

  ‘Do you mind me asking why you started taking antidepressants then?’

  ‘Why do most people start taking them? And what has that got to do with Candice?’

  ‘Obviously, mixing them with sleeping pills could account for this morning.’

  Marcus wrinkled his head with incomprehension. ‘I’ve taken them together before. I told you, it was a brief lapse of judgement. It’s not going to happen again. I don’t need suicide watch.’

  Fabian wasn’t so sure. Marcus looked as if he was running on empty. ‘Are you still OK to answer questions now?’

  Marcus nodded. ‘Are you going to make me go over everything Whiting did again?’

  ‘I’ll try not to, but I’d appreciate your patience if I do. I’ve read his interview so I’m hoping to fill in gaps for my benefit. You’re up to it?’

  Marcus nodded.

  ‘Thank you. We’ll be as quick as we can.’

  ‘For God’s sake, both of you sit down first.’

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Fabian and Banner seated themselves on the tan leather couch, which was positioned some twelve feet away from where Marcus was. There was only one chair in front of the TV. Was this always how the furniture had been arranged?

  ‘You’ve trodden in something.’ Marcus nodded at Banner.

  There were spots of dark dirt across the sepia carpet.

  Banner examined the short heel of her shoe. ‘I’m sorry.’ She slid it off.

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ But it really sounded like it did.

  ‘How long have you lived here?’ Fabian asked.

  ‘Eleven years. Candice moved in eighteen months before we got married.’

  Fabian nodded. ‘How was your relationship with Candice?’

  ‘I thought you weren’t going to go over Whiting’s questions. We were just married. How do you think things were?’

  ‘You tell me.’

  ‘We had plans. None of them involved raising a family. Which was probably why we were the most content couple I knew.’

  ‘Most content. Not the happiest?’

  Marcus pursed his lips and nodded wearily.

  ‘Despite the age difference?’

  ‘Because of it. Candice had an old head on young shoulders. Older than mine. And no, we never fought, physically or verbally.’

  ‘No fights?’ Banner slid back on her shoe. ‘Very lucky.’

  Marcus could tell she meant ‘very unlikely’ and nodded emphatically. ‘No fights.’

  Fabian wondered how comfortable he would be if Tilly decided to start seeing a man as old as he was. ‘She was a very attractive girl.’

  ‘I also told Whiting she wasn’t seeing anyone else.’

  ‘I’m aware of that. How would you know for sure?’

  ‘We had an arrangement. I knew she had younger admirers. I told her she was free to see other people… casually. As long as she told me about them and there was no deception.’

  ‘And did she ever see anyone?’

  ‘She slept with one guy. Said he was her first and last.’

  ‘Did you believe her?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You trusted her implicitly?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t I? She was free to tell me if it happened again.’

  ‘But if she’d told you he was her first and last and it had happened again wouldn’t that have been a reason not to tell you?’

  ‘I trusted her,’ Marcus said firmly.

  ‘You know who she slept with?’

  ‘Yes. He works in Dubai now. It’s been checked out. Is this all you’ve got? I ran around this wheel with Whiting.’

  ‘I know I just want to double-check she wasn’t involved with anyone else.’

  ‘No,’ he answered, intently.

  ‘Did she have a close friend she might confide in?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Not really?’

  ‘There was one girl she studied with. Ria Campbell. I gave Whiting her details.’

  Banner consulted no
tes on her phone. ‘Yes, we have them.’

  ‘How long ago did she have a relationship with this other man?’ Fabian continued.

  ‘Well over a year ago. It was before we were married.’

  ‘And it was definitely over?’

  ‘Yes. It only lasted a couple of months. He was always planning to work in Dubai.’

  ‘So it was casual?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then you were married and both ecstatically happy?’

  Marcus sighed. ‘Not ecstatically happy.’

  ‘I understand from DI Whiting’s interview notes Candice was also taking antidepressants.’

  ‘Yes. She was diagnosed bipolar.’

  Fabian nodded. ‘And how did that manifest itself?’

  ‘How do you think? Ridiculous highs, crushing lows, very little in between.’

  ‘Did she ever attempt suicide?’

  ‘No.’ But Marcus didn’t answer immediately.

  ‘No?’

  ‘She said she’d considered it but had never come close.’

  ‘And this morning was the first time you have?’

  ‘I told you so,’ Marcus snapped.

  ‘So, it was your birthday the night before she died.’

  That took him unawares and his expression briefly froze. ‘Yes.’

  Fabian saw Banner turn briefly to him out of the corner of his eye. ‘It’s just you didn’t mention that to DI Whiting.’

  ‘Why would I? It’s irrelevant.’

  ‘No celebration?’

  ‘No. How old are you, Inspector?’

  ‘Probably younger than you think.’

  ‘Not that young though. So you probably appreciate that birthdays come and go with less and less of a fanfare.’

  ‘So this was the case the night before?’

  ‘Yes. Look, we don’t do cards but we planned to do something for both our birthdays later in the year.’

  ‘Hers is only a couple of days after yours.’

  ‘Yes,’ Marcus replied quickly.

  ‘Nothing planned for her then?’ Fabian saw the anger flash in his eyes.

  ‘She didn’t like birthdays either.’

  ‘At twenty-two?’

  ‘They’re not happy occasions for everybody.’