by Faith Martin
Everyone’s memories of the party seemed to tally. Everyone said that Felix was not a drinker, and yet he’d drunk well that night. Which reminded her – she needed to talk to the good-looking bartender at some point in the near future. If someone had been slipping alcohol into Felix’s fruit juices then a bartender was an ideal candidate – a fact that DI Varney had not overlooked.
But the fact was, the foxy Mr Peter Goodman, who’d tended the bar that night, had had no connection with their murder victim at all. ‘ Didn’t know him from Adam’ was how he’d put it to Varney, and the original SIO had not been able to find any evidence to contradict that. So why would a man with no criminal record, who’d been asked to serve drinks at a fancy New Year Eve’s bash, have been spiking the drinks of a complete stranger? Unless someone had paid him to?
Hillary knew from Varney’s notes that Goodman had left the party shortly after a quarter past midnight, to go on to a party that one of his own friends had been throwing, and he had left with Querida Phelps’s knowledge and blessing. Why shouldn’t the young man have had a good time, along with everyone else, had been her attitude. Besides, by then, midnight had come and gone, and her guests (those that were still upright and capable) were perfectly happy to pour their own drinks.
This had meant that Varney had had to track down Goodman and question him the next day, but the costume he’d been wearing that night had shown no traces of the victim’s blood, or any DNA evidence that put him anywhere near the bedroom where Felix Olliphant had been killed.
So that had led to another dead end. But still, Hillary needed to follow it up herself, if for no other reason than to tick it off her to-do list.
What else? Well, Hillary had saved till last the questioning of the widow of William Brandt, DI Varney’s favourite suspect. Mostly because, with Brandt already deceased, there was no hurry to get around to that aspect of the case. If it turned out that Brandt had killed Felix, what exactly could they do about it? Unless Zoe wanted to throw a séance so that they could posthumously arrest him.
So what did they have? Hillary mused restlessly.
A very nice man, that everybody liked, and yet somebody had wanted dead.
A man who everybody said didn’t drink, but who’d been drunk as a skunk when he died.
A man who felt guilt about a dead child in a road traffic accident that wasn’t his fault.
A man who’d mourned the loss of a gay friend in a tragic accident.
A successful businessman, with a rather cold-hearted business partner who nevertheless had no reason to want him dead.
A somewhat needy girlfriend, who had gone on to marry someone else and successfully start a family.
And something significant that Querida Phelps might have said, although what that was, who the hell knew?
‘Where do we look next, guv?’ Zoe asked, as she pulled into the car park back at HQ.
Hillary pulled herself from her blue funk and took a deep breath. ‘Well, you have a report to write and add to the murder book, and I need to check in with Steven. After lunch, we need to speak to the widow of William Brandt, so look out her particulars, will you? Oh, and find out where our foxy bartender hangs out nowadays as well. We’ll be wanting a word with him.’
‘Right, guv. And you will take me along to see the fox, won’t you? I do like good-looking men.’ Zoe grinned. ‘Jake can have the stuffy widow.’
‘Now there’s a surprise,’ Jake Barnes drawled from the back seat. ‘And thanks a lot.’
Hillary, wondering if she’d read Zoe Turnbull wrong after all, said that she’d think about it, and the three of them separated at the bottom of the stairs.
Steven looked up at the knock on his door, then smiled as the door opened and Hillary walked in. Today, she was wearing a wheat-coloured two-piece jacket and skirt combo, with a deep chestnut-coloured blouse that matched the colour of her hair and complemented her sherry-coloured eyes.
He’d been up early that morning and had left her sleeping. Now, vivid memories of their energetic night spent pressed close together in her tiny bed flashed through his mind, then flashed out again, as she sat in the chair facing him and began to bring him crisply up to date on her latest case. Quickly he turned his mind to the business at hand.
When she’d finished, he leaned back in his chair with two fingers forming a steeple together under his chin, and a small frown tugging his dark brows together.
‘So, getting nowhere fast then?’ he summed up succinctly.
Hillary wrinkled her nose at him. ‘So far. And I wouldn’t say exactly nowhere. We’ve cleared up a few loose ends that Varney never bothered with. The trouble is, they didn’t really lead us anywhere.’
‘No. I thought when I looked through it that it was a bit of a stinker,’ Steven admitted with a cheeky grin. ‘And I said to myself, if anybody can make anything out of it, then it was you.’
Hillary smiled grimly. So he was down to grovelling, was he? Paying her compliments as a sweetener? Why didn’t he just come out and say that he was ready to call it quits on their affair? He must know she was half expecting it. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t capable of reading the bloody writing on the wall.
‘But nobody expects you to work miracles with every cold case that passes your desk. If you want, you can write it up and toss it back into the pile,’ he offered magnanimously.
‘Not just yet,’ Hillary said, feeling her hackles rising. ‘I still have other witnesses to see.’
‘OK, as you like,’ he agreed amiably. Was it his imagination or was she trying to pick a fight? ‘Anything else?’ he asked mildly.
Hillary sighed. ‘I need to discuss the team. As you know, Sam will be starting his last year at uni in September, and he needs to concentrate on getting good exam results. That’s my idea, by the way, not his. I imagine he would want to keep on working in his spare time, but it’s just not on. I’m going to have a chat with him about it. He’s enjoyed himself here, and I think it’s almost certain that he’s going to apply to join up when he graduates. So I’m going to tell him that I’m going to write him a glowing recommendation, providing he does well in his finals. The lad’s got a good head on his shoulders and he’s made of the right stuff. He’s learnt a lot since he’s been here, and toughened up enough to make me hopeful that he’ll last the course.’
Steven nodded. ‘OK. And if he comes to the interview panel with a recommendation from you, no recruitment officer is going to turn him down. Anyone you sponsor is someone they’re going to want on our side.’
Hillary waved the compliment away with the grimace it deserved, and Steven frowned. ‘Come on, I mean it. You must know how high your star’s in the ascendant round here,’ he pressed.
Hillary again waved the compliment away, but it made her wonder. Did he resent, even now, her so-called popularity with the top brass and the rank and file alike? Was he, maybe even unknowingly, just a little bit jealous of her? Had she somehow turned herself into a rival for him? Is that why he was leaving her?
She suddenly heard the pathetic, self-pitying tone in the way her thoughts were going, and cut off the whinging instantly. The last thing she was going to do was make a scene over this. She didn’t do messy, emotional break-ups. When the time came, and he finally worked up the nerve to tell her like a man that he was dumping her, she’d just take it on the chin and send him on his way with a goodbye drink at the local. What the hell else could she do?
Her hands for some reason began to feel cold, and she resisted the urge to rub them together for warmth.
‘Jimmy is good to go for another few years yet,’ she carried on, ‘so there’s no change there.’
‘You just want to keep him on as your wingman,’ Steven said with a grin. ‘Go on, admit it, he’s your enabler and enforcer all rolled into one.’
‘Damn right!’
‘He’s Tom to your Jerry, Bodie to your Doyle, Dr Watson to your Sherlock Holmes …’
‘Laurel to my Hardy more like,’ Hillary c
orrected, grinning back. ‘Now, Zoe Turnbull.’ She scratched her chin, frowning at the coldness of her fingers. Damn it, was she coming down with a summer cold? That was just what she needed. ‘I think she’s probably gay.’ And then she thought about the goth’s seemingly genuinely statement that she liked good-looking men, and amended slowly, ‘Or maybe bi-sexual would be a better guess.’
Steven blinked, thought about it for a moment, and then shrugged. ‘Not a problem, surely?’
‘Not for me, no,’ Hillary said. ‘Her private life’s none of my business. And naturally, my first reaction would be to say to her, fine, no problem, stick two fingers up to the establishment if you want and go for it.’ Then she sighed heavily. ‘But, of course, better sense prevails. We both know that even now she’d take some flak if it became common knowledge. Not that we don’t need the pioneers to push the boundaries and drag all the troglodytes screaming into the modern world. But we both know it’s not that easy. In the end I sort of hinted that, if I were her, I’d put some time in, make some friends and get a bit of rank behind me before sticking my head above the parapet for them to start taking pot shots at.’
Steven listened, nodding, and understanding immediately where she was coming from. But would a newbie like Zoe?
‘Think she heard you?’ he asked curiously.
Hillary shrugged. ‘Who can say. It’s still early days yet – she’s still getting to know me, to figure out her place in life, as well as in the team. She might be willing to take advice, or she might not. Besides, I’m not sure yet that she’s a keeper.’ Hillary tucked her hands under her thighs on the seat, and frowned. ‘Oh, she’s very keen and clever enough. But she might just burn out early. We’ll have to wait and see.’
‘OK.’ Steven, as ever, trusted her judgement without question. It was part of her job to train and guide the potential recruits under her care, after all. So he wasn’t about to interfere or second-guess her. He wouldn’t dare! She’d probably hand him his head back on a platter if he tried, baked to perfection and with an apple clenched between his teeth. ‘So a tentative question mark over Zoe Turnbull. What about Jake Barnes?’
‘Ah yes. The Boy Wonder. Zoe’s pet name for him seems to be sticking. Besides, it sort of suits him.’
‘OK. I can see how he might have earned it,’ Steven said with another slow grin. ‘He does seem to be something of a golden boy, doesn’t he? Donleavy and the top brass were all but salivating over him when they thrust him my way,’ he concurred. ‘Did you know he’s already sponsoring several community youth initiatives and drug rehabilitation programmes?’
‘Doesn’t surprise me,’ Hillary said neutrally. Jake was nobody’s fool, and would have made sure to earn himself serious brownie points before even approaching Thames Valley’s recruitment officers.
‘He’s also set to give a series of interviews with the media that the PR department has set up. You can imagine the hook they’re using? Millionaire businessman backs the boys in blue, and how. Why he’s joining the force, and all that jazz.’ He stretched wearily in his chair and bit back a yawn. ‘As you can imagine, the ACC loves him.’
‘That doesn’t surprise me either,’ Hillary repeated laconically.
‘But? Come on, sweetheart, I know you too well not to hear the but in your voice by now.’
Hillary’s smile twisted slightly. He knew her so well, did he? And if she was his sweetheart, why … Hillary stopped herself right there and forced herself to keep on track. She had always been able to rely on herself to be professional, damn it.
‘He’s up to something,’ she said flatly. Briefly she told him about her doubts, which had led to her asking Jimmy to keep an eye on him, which in turn had led to Jimmy spying on Barnes’s little foray into her office last night. As she spoke, she could see her soon-to-be-ex-lover and boss getting more and more tense.
‘And you’re sure it was your password that he was after?’ Steven said finally, sitting up straighter behind his desk now, his eyes narrowing angrily. ‘Did he get it?’
‘I presume so.’
‘You have changed it, right?’ he demanded shortly.
Hillary hesitated. Then admitted cautiously, ‘Actually, no. And that’s what I want to talk to you about.’
‘What do you mean? The little sod’s out on his ear, as of right now. I’ll escort him from the building myself, and apply my boot to his rear end, Donleavy’s golden boy or not.’
Hillary held up a hand. ‘Hold on, not so fast. Like I said, I want to speak to you about that. Don’t you think it makes more sense to see what it is that he’s after?’
Steven stared at her for a few moments, his mind racing. He’d always found the cunning way her mind worked to be fascinating, sometimes frightening, and, yes, he thought with a wry inner smile, more often than not downright sexy.
‘What did you have in mind, exactly?’ he heard himself ask warily.
‘As I said to Jimmy, my password isn’t going to get him access to anything vital. And what’s the likelihood, really, of him being interested in pulling off some sort of a financial scam anyway? I mean, that’s what you’re really worried about, right?’ She outlined to him the same thoughts that she’d shared with Jimmy. ‘So, it looks far more likely at this point that the Boy Wonder has a personal bee in his bonnet. Maybe he’s got a pet crime that he wants to investigate and solve for himself; or more likely, he wants to find out more about a specific cold case that touches on his life somehow.’
‘Has it occurred to you that he might have committed a serious crime and now he’s joined up with us in the hope that he can somehow cover it up? Erase vital evidence from the database or something?’
Hillary nodded. ‘One of the first things I thought about. But let’s face it, it’s not likely, is it? If he’s already got away with it, why jeopardize that by calling attention to himself?’
Steven thought it through, and didn’t like it. ‘Maybe. Or maybe he’s just big-headed. Thinks no one can touch him, or no one would be smart enough to figure out what he’s doing.’
‘Sure. But if that is the case, then it makes even more sense for us to keep him on, and find out what he’s up to. That way, if he is trying to cover up a past crime, either for himself or somebody else, we can nail him for that, and probably solve the original crime, whatever that may be as well.’
Steven slowly nodded. ‘I can see where you’re going with this. But it’s a dangerous game. If Barnes manages to pull a fast one on you, the brass will want your head.’
Hillary smiled. Well, that wouldn’t be his problem for much longer, would it? If the brown stuff ever did hit the fan, the chances were that the newly promoted Superintendent Crayle would be long gone and out of the line of fire.
‘True. You want to pass it on up the chain, don’t you?’ she said, and before he could defend himself, swept on quickly. ‘But have you considered the downside to that? Believe me, Donleavy isn’t going to thank you for scuppering Barnes without knowing all the whys and wherefores before you do. Besides, as far as the top brass is concerned, it’s far better for us if we have a neat little solution all ready and packaged and waiting to go. Besides, say we do chuck him out on his ear, that’s no guarantee that he’ll stop trying to achieve whatever it is that he’s up to. And he’s rich enough, and well connected enough, to try and ride roughshod over the lot of us to get what he wants. He might even sue us. And that we need like we need a hole in the head.’
‘So it’s better to have him inside the tent pissing out, then outside pissing in.’ Steven nodded slowly. ‘That’s still a risky strategy.’
‘I know it is,’ Hillary admitted reasonably. ‘Which is why I want to put a trace on my password. You can ask one of the boffins in the lab to do that, right? Every time my password is logged in, make a note of whatever it is that’s accessed? That way, I can try and figure out what his angle is.’
Steven sighed heavily. ‘Yes, I can arrange that, I suppose. But Hillary, I want you to promise me, the mom
ent it starts to look really iffy …’
‘We pull the plug on him. Sure. And hopefully, by then, we’ll have some real evidence to show Donleavy, and cover our own backsides. Because right now all we’ve got to show the brass are my hunches, and an old ex-sergeant’s word that he’s been snooping. Which, quite frankly, m’dear, they wouldn’t give a damn.’
‘Funny, I never saw you as Clark Gable,’ Steven said, with a distinct sparkle in his eye. Why was it this woman, even when she was being outrageous, could make him smile?
Hillary saw the warmth in his eyes, and felt her heart contract. Then she took a deep, shaky breath, and forced a smile on to her face. ‘I always saw myself as the James Cagney type, personally. You dirty rat.’
CHAPTER TEN
‘Right, it’s time we talked to Mrs Brandt,’ Hillary said, walking into the communal office later that afternoon. ‘Zoe, where’s she living nowadays?’
‘Just outside Bath, guv,’ Zoe replied promptly. ‘She left within a year of her husband dying. I don’t suppose she could stick it there, what with all the memories and what have you. I can’t say as I blame her for wanting a new start. None of what happened could have been easy for her. Besides, her daughter lives out that way, so I suppose she wanted to be near her and her grandkids. The ones she’s got left, that is,’ she added grimly.
Hillary nodded. ‘OK. Jake, you’re driving.’
Jake nodded and shut down his personal laptop. At first, she’d assumed he preferred to use it because it was both familiar to him and was no doubt the latest, all-singing and all-dancing example of its kind. And to be fair, Hillary had to admit, the police-issue computers down in CRT for Steven’s team tended to belong to the megalithic age, in IT parlance. It was only the boffins and forensics experts in the main office that got the very best on offer.
