“No problem. We’ll paint it red. So long as you bring the paint. The Met’s got a bigger budget than us.”
“If I must,” said Burns. “Let’s see. I can be in Southend for eight pm on Friday... how’s that sound?”
“It’ll be nice to see a friendly face,” he said.
“Same here,” said Liv. He knew she was thinking of Carson. The old boy would be livid if he knew what they’d organised. Hogarth smiled and bit his lip.
“So, um. Where will you stay?” said Hogarth, wincing at his own cheek.
Liv Burns pretended not to hear the question. “I’ll call you when I’m on my way. See you Friday.”
The line went dead and Hogarth stared at the screen.
“You look happy all of a sudden,” said Palmer, appearing before him on the street.
He looked up in surprise. “We’re about to wrap up a case, Sue. Why not be happy, eh?”
“Liv Burns by any chance?”
Hogarth looked up. “Another roll of the dice, Sue, that’s all. Let’s see where this one goes. What about you? Will you be making up with big Orcun anytime soon? He’s going to be a bit short of company from now on.”
Palmer smiled and shook her head. “There’s nothing to make up, guv.”
“I don’t know. Maybe you should go back for another raki.”
“Orcun? He’s more of a holiday fling type. I think I’m a bit past all that, don’t you?”
“He will be disappointed. So then, DS Palmer. What is your type exactly?”
Palmer offered an enigmatic smile as they walked on. “I’ll let you know when I find out.”
They walked together in silence, Hogarth with a wry smile and a gleam in his eyes, Palmer gazing at the pavement in front of her shoes.
Epilogue
Hogarth was buoyant enough after his whisky to give the DCI the news himself. Two arrests and now they would both be charged, one with attempted murder and assaulting a police officer, the other with murder. Both bang to rights, one confession in the bag, one murder proven beyond a reasonable doubt. It was a good way to put the Long Melford back in his box. On his way to Melford’s office, Hogarth gave Kaplan and Simmons a brief word of thanks. Kaplan made a surprised face at his whisky breath.
He knocked on Melford’s office door and waited, but there was no answer. Hogarth pressed his ear close to the wood, knocked again, and listened. There was still no answer. He scratched the back of his neck and had turned to walk away when he heard Melford’s voice somewhere nearby. Hogarth’s eyes narrowed. He turned his head and tracked the man’s voice to the nearby toilet door. Melford wasn’t as quiet as he imagined, and he sounded agitated.
Hogarth had intended to sit on the revelation about the emails and the lies – to sit on it until it became useful or valuable enough to get the DCI off his back. But hearing the man’s agitated voice, Hogarth wondered again whether it was best to have things out in the open. There was a chance it would even helpx Melford in the long run, and if not, at least Hogarth would feel better. He walked to the toilet door and put his hand towards it, ready to push the door open. There he paused. Melford’s voice was going up and down, from a holler to a whisper. Hogarth was intrigued. He moved closer to the door and leaned against the frame.
“No... it won’t work... not like that. You’ll just have to trust me then, won’t you? No. I can’t do that either. I’m a policeman for heaven’s sake. I can’t do that. You know how this must work. And if you don’t know then let me tell you. You think you hold all the cards, but I still have to follow the rules. Or at least look like I am. No, you listen to me. You need to back off. It’ll still happen, but you... must back off.”
Hogarth frowned hard. What the hell had the man gotten into? Hogarth stepped away, his heart suddenly racing. He saw Palmer pacing past the doors at the end of the corridor and thought of involving her. But it wasn’t fair. If Melford had gone rotten it was far safer to keep it secret until he knew what to do about it. But what could he do? Hogarth had nothing – no evidence, just a lot of unease and a lot of suspicions. So he decided to take a risk. He walked across the corridor, head down. He tested Melford’s door. It was unlocked and gave easily. His heart raced faster still. Before he could think better of it, he walked inside and shut the door behind him. The big antique clock on the back wall above Melford’s desk ticked at him like a guard dog. Hogarth looked at the desk. It was clear, clean, and empty. Hogarth walked around it and tugged the top drawer. All the drawers were locked. But he noticed something. The curling corner of one lined page was protruding from the top edge of the second drawer down. It was only a corner, too little visible to make sense. Feet thundered past in the corridor and Hogarth froze. The footsteps passed and he breathed again. He began to tease the sheet free of the drawer with his fingernail – until there was enough to pinch between finger and thumb. He pulled until he felt the pad rumple against the back of the drawer front, and the sheet began to tear. He pulled hard, and half of one sheet came away in his hand. He saw the sheet was strewn with a couple of names and a few notes, but Hogarth dared not risk reading them there. He had to get out. He walked to the door as he stuffed the note into his pocket, and yanked the door open quietly. Melford continued to prattle on in the toilet across the corridor, but Hogarth now heard the man making some lengthy goodbyes, attempting to extract himself from a difficult call. He bit his lip and slipped away, ignoring Kaplan as she passed him. She eyed him curiously as he wandered away in silence. Hogarth passed the uniforms, entered the office, and pulled the door closed behind him. He eyed the note and saw the panicked scribbles inscribed across its surface. Hogarth frowned. He needed time to consider what could be done about Melford. And he needed to see just how deep it went. If Hogarth was going to take another serious risk – his next step had to be reasoned. And it had to count...
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THE SECRET FEAR
DI Hogarth SECRET FEAR series Book 1
First published in Great Britain in 2019 by Great Leap
Copyright © Solomon Carter 2019
Solomon Carter has asserted his moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
This book is a work of fiction and except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this e-book publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review, without the prior written permission of the author.
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