Secrets of the Dead: A serial killer thriller that will have you hooked (Detective Robyn Carter crime thriller series Book 2)

by Carol Wyer

  ‘Look, let me get showered and we’ll take this somewhere we can talk properly. It’ll give you a chance to collect your thoughts.’

  ‘My house isn’t far away.’

  ‘Okay. Give me the address and I’ll meet you there. That way you won’t have to hang about here. I won’t be long.’

  Robyn stood under the hot shower, letting the water beat against her neck and hair. She needed to be quick. Tricia was so certain that Miles Ashbrook had not voluntarily gone into the sauna that Robyn felt she might be right. She sensed a familiar prickling of excitement that occurred when she felt she had a new case, or at least an inkling of one. And, if Tricia was right and Miles Ashbrook had not chosen to take a sauna, meaning his death was suspicious, Robyn would take huge delight in proving Shearer wrong.

  Five

  Cassidy Place was only a ten-minute walk from the gym, so Robyn left her car in the car park and strode towards Tricia’s house. Tricia lived in a trendy area made up of terraced Victorian houses that had been renovated in recent years. Each house had a tiny front courtyard that was only big enough for a couple of large flower tubs. Tricia had opted for two bay trees in pots on either side of a cheerfully painted red door. Robyn pressed the buzzer and pulled up her coat collar around her neck. After the stormy morning, it was now an icy, cold, starlit evening. Robyn began to wish she had driven here. Her hands were beginning to numb. She rang again. There was no answer.

  She was about to leave, cursing the woman for messing her about, but thought she would try the handle first, just in case Tricia was in the bathroom and hadn’t heard her ringing.

  The door opened into a carpeted hallway and a staircase. She called Tricia’s name. Once again there was no response. The sound of a television, showing some sort of cop movie with gunfire and sirens, told her someone was in the house and that something was definitely awry. Tricia was not here to greet her, and yet the woman had wanted to talk to her. There was no way she would leave her house unlocked like this if she were not here. Robyn edged towards the sound of the television, her senses on alert as she approached the sound of wailing sirens. She nudged the door open with her foot and peered into the room

  On the settee sat two teenage boys, game controllers in their hands, completely absorbed in shooting at villains, who were racing muscle cars. Neither noticed her presence. She was about to call out when she heard Tricia behind her.

  ‘Did they not let you in? Hey, you two. Turn the bloody set down. I told you to listen out for the doorbell. You wouldn’t hear it if it was as loud as Big Ben.’

  One of the boys twisted in his seat and grinned sheepishly. ‘Sorry, Mum.’ He had Tricia’s fair hair and long face, while his brother had a round face covered in freckles and a cheeky smile that endeared him to Robyn immediately.

  ‘Soz, Mum. I wanted to catch Josh. Hi.’ He nodded at Robyn.

  ‘That’s Joshua and Ryan – the terrible twins. They’re supposed to be doing their homework,’ she said in a no-nonsense voice. ‘Aren’t you, boys?’

  Ryan nudged his brother, who reluctantly paused the game and dropped the controller onto the settee. ‘I haven’t got much. Can we finish our game afterwards?’

  ‘No. You should have done it ages ago when I was out. You know the rules – homework first. You can play again tomorrow. It’s already late and you have school in the morning. Go on, hop to it.’ The boys sidled out, leaving the women in the lounge.

  ‘Sorry about that. They’re good lads, really. They get a bit carried away once they’re playing on the Xbox. It’s addictive. I was up in the loft and didn’t hear the doorbell. I wanted to get this photograph album to help explain.’

  Robyn was surprised that Tricia was a mother to two boys. It had never crossed her mind that she would have a family as she seemed to spend all her life at the gym.

  The front room was welcoming. Two large plump settees with several flattened cushions on them were facing a large television screen. A black cat lay zoned out on one of the settees, oblivious to Robyn’s arrival. There was a glass-fronted cabinet housing a variety of medals and trophies, presumably won by Tricia’s children, and on the wall hung three black and white photographs of her with her two boys, all beaming at the camera and striking a range of poses. It was a far cry from the sort of place Robyn had imagined Tricia living in – a sterile flat with just the basics, much like her own home.

  ‘Sit down and I’ll explain.’ Tricia dropped onto the settee next to the cat. ‘I know this is going to sound far-fetched, but I genuinely believe Miles Ashbrook’s death was no accident.’ She took a breath and began her story. ‘I met Miles when I was at university, way back in the nineties. We were on the same business studies course and ended up next to each other in a lecture one day. It was a dreadfully dull lecture and, halfway through, he passed me piece of paper with a noughts and crosses grid on it. I filled in my space and he filled in his and somehow we managed to spend the entire lecture playing the stupid game. At the end of the hour, we were told we were getting tested on the contents of the lecture the following day. Since neither of us had a clue what had been said, we had to ask for help from our fellow students. We managed to blag some notes from one of the really clever students, photocopied them and arranged to do a cramming session back at my flat. That’s when it all began. That was the night Miles fell in love.’

  Robyn watched as Tricia’s face took on a faraway look. She opened her album and passed it to her. ‘That’s Mark.’ The photograph was of a handsome young man with a chiselled jawline, a mane of blond hair that was swept back with some strands falling forward, and deep navy-blue eyes. Robyn was struck by the similarity between the man in the photograph and Tricia.

  Tricia gazed at the picture. ‘He was my brother – my twin brother. Twins run in the family. You’ve seen my pair. Mark and I were twins. We were very close, which was surprising given we were different sexes. We liked the same sports and music and lots of other stuff. We even ended up going to the same university, although Mark studied electronics. He was heavily into machines and gadgets. At university we shared a flat. It made sense, given we were both poverty-stricken students, and our parents were glad we were together for the first year, just to keep an eye out for each other. The night Miles came back to cram for our test, he met Mark and kaboom! Mark felt the same way, and soon Miles had moved in with us. It was good having him there. He was a laugh.’

  She stood up, uncertain of what to say next. ‘Did you fancy any tea or anything? I feel I’m being rude not offering you anything.’

  ‘No, thanks. I’m fine.’

  Tricia sat down again. ‘They were an item for ten years. They bought a house together in Stafford after they left university. Mark took up a position at the JCB factory and Miles found work in Stafford, as a trainee manager at a leisure centre. They were really happy. Mum and Dad accepted their relationship and Miles used to drop around for Sunday lunch with Mark. I was surprised at how well my parents got on with Miles and how they took the relationship in their stride. They must have suspected Mark was gay. Anyway, Mark got a promotion at work and treated himself to a new motorbike. He’d always wanted a BMW and so he bought one for his twenty-eighth birthday. He claimed it was his pre-mid-life crisis present to himself. I remember joking and asking where mine was. We always got similar presents for our birthday when we were younger,’ she explained, the sadness evident in her voice.

  ‘He rode it to work the following day. There had been a hard frost the night before… He hit a patch of black ice and… lo— lost control of the bike on the A50. He slid into the path of a lorry…’ she finished.

  Robyn spoke quietly. ‘I’m so sorry. That must have destroyed your world.’

  ‘It did. And Miles’s. He sold the house and dropped off the grid for a while. I think he went on a retreat or something, to help straighten his head out. He returned a few months later, went back to his old job and rented a flat. He became a loner – stopped socialising. I didn’t see him like I used to,
but I still visited his mum a lot. She lives in Uttoxeter, so not far away. She told me Miles took it all very badly and hadn’t found another boyfriend since. Sometimes I bumped into Miles at her house. We chatted a bit but he never wanted to talk for long. I think it was because I reminded him too much of Mark, and that reminded him of what he’d lost.

  ‘Mark’s death had a profound effect on us all. Mark was always the go-getter who wanted to grab life by the horns. I was the quiet one – Miles too. Mark made everything seem fun, even if it was just a barbecue. Mark would make it extra special and put on crazy games. He loved life so much.’

  She turned the pages of the album, tracing the face of her dead brother.

  ‘That’s them. They went to Ascot races together. Mark loved dressing up for occasions like that.’

  She pointed out Mark, in top hat and tails with a pink velvet bow tie, his arm draped around the shoulder of a man in his late twenties, Miles Ashbrook. He was a slightly bigger build than Mark, with dark-brown hair and a happy smile on his face.

  She showed Robyn more pictures of family events, and her brother and Miles Ashbrook.

  ‘I’m glad I have these photographs. Nowadays everything is on your phone or in the Cloud. It isn’t the same as turning pages and seeing the faces of those you love. That’s why I took the twins to the photography studio last year. I had the best photos of us made into prints. I wanted to have something tangible.’

  Robyn nodded. She had photographs of her and Davies that had not seen the light of day since he had been murdered. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the faces of the couple so in love during those happier days.

  ‘It was a huge hole in our lives when Mark died. I think that’s why I got married. I’d been seeing Travis for a few months before the accident. Soon after we buried Mark, Travis asked me to marry him and I agreed. We muddled through all the years the boys were little, but last year I hit forty and decided I was going to live my life the way I wanted to, and that meant saying goodbye to Travis. It wasn’t acrimonious. We both knew it was on the cards. The twins see him regularly.’

  Robyn waited patiently for Tricia to get to the real point of the meeting.

  ‘For a long while, I didn’t just have one brother, I felt as if I had two brothers. I often hung out with them both. And that brings me on to why I am convinced Miles’s death was not an accident. Miles had a heart condition – he had an unstable coronary artery. He knew he had it and he always took care not to overdo any exercise regime. Mark was more gung-ho and went on some of his more extreme activities alone. Miles always went along to support Mark, but he would never participate if it were something that would put strain on his heart. He most certainly would not have taken a sauna. He knew the heat would be too much for his heart and would cause problems at best and serious harm at worst. We found out about it early on in their relationship. Mark wanted to go travelling after university and really wanted to go to Asia – that was, until Miles refused to join him. It was then he revealed his problem. He couldn’t take heat or humidity. If Miles wasn’t willing to travel to far-flung countries with the man he loved on account of the heat, he most certainly wouldn’t have walked into that sauna. Can you understand why I think there is some foul play involved?’

  Robyn’s head bobbed up and down in agreement. ‘I can. And I think it’s worth running it past DI Shearer. I’ll ask him to look into it again.’

  ‘Would you?’

  ‘I can’t promise anything, but it does seem suspicious.’ Tricia seemed relieved at the prospect, although Robyn wasn’t sure if she would be able to convince Shearer to reinvestigate. She stood up to leave.

  ‘I’ll let you know if we turn up anything unusual.’

  Tricia heaved an audible sigh, filled with sadness and regret. ‘Thanks. I want to do right by him. Mark would have wanted me to.’ Robyn felt a sudden empathy with the woman.

  She headed back outside, her breath making clouds in the air as she assured Tricia she would do what she could.

  Robyn jogged back to her car. In spite of the promise she had just made, it was going to be tough persuading Shearer, or indeed Mulholland, that she had grounds for following her gut instincts over this. Some of her hunches had proven wrong in the past. And if Mulholland were to move on, leaving the position of DCI vacant, Robyn would have to show she was capable of being a responsible officer who toed the line. She shook her head. The reality was, she would never be considered for the position, and if she stomped on a few toes it was no big loss. She wasn’t looking forward to treading on Shearer’s though. He had a habit of retaliating if undermined. She might have to be a little more subtle this time.

  Six

  ‘The man had a heart attack. The coroner’s report will prove it and I don’t appreciate you muscling in on my cases. This one, Carter, is firmly closed.’ Tom Shearer put his hands on his slim hips and stared at her. Robyn refused to be intimidated by his stance or icy stare.

  ‘I’m not disputing he had a heart attack. I’m pointing out that he was not likely to use a sauna given his medical condition.’

  ‘I don’t care what his medical condition was or was not, the fact remains he removed his clothes, he put them in a neat pile, took a shower and he walked into that sauna where he keeled over and died! Maybe he wanted to die. Have you not considered that possibility? Maybe he was sick of his life, although this is an extreme way of doing it.’

  Robyn felt sideswiped. That possibility had crossed her mind, but then Tricia’s face loomed in front of her. The woman was convinced there was some foul play. Tricia knew Miles, and she would have also known if he was depressed. It didn’t fit.

  Robyn folded her arms. ‘I don’t buy it.’

  ‘I also don’t give a shit whether you buy it or not. I am not looking into his death as suspicious. I have stacks of other stuff to deal with – last night’s stabbings in the town centre, for one. I have to go and tell some parents that their children are dead.’

  Robyn had heard about the incident outside the nightclub. A fracas had occurred at 2 a.m. and Shearer had been called out to it, but only after two young men in their late teens had been knifed to death. No wonder he was in a rotten mood.

  ‘Okay. Look, I’m sorry about that. This isn’t the easiest job at times. Can I at least run it past Mulholland that I can take on the case with your blessing?’

  Shearer exhaled noisily. ‘Whatever. Do what you want. But I want it noted that I am not at all happy about this. I have an unblemished record as far as crime scenes go and I say Miles Ashbrook did not die in suspicious circumstances. You do not run it past anyone “with my blessing”,’ he added, slamming down a heavy file on the desk next to her, before striding out of his office.

  Robyn braced herself for the next hurdle as she stood outside DCI Mulholland’s office at the far end of the building. She could hear mumblings and refrained from knocking. She waited in the corridor and studied an old poster for a missing child. The little girl had not been found, and stared at Robyn from the poster with trusting blue eyes, her blonde hair in plaits. Robyn wondered if she was still alive. If so, she’d be about the same age as Amélie, who was now twelve. Amélie was Davies’s daughter, with his first wife Brigitte. Even though she was not related by blood or marriage, Robyn was planning on taking the girl out for the day, and was still stumped as to what to do with her. She wanted to be part of Amélie’s life for his sake. At least that’s what she told herself. In truth she had come to love the girl. Had Davies lived, Amélie would have been her stepdaughter and they would have seen far more of each other than the odd visit Robyn currently managed. She was pondering once more on what to arrange for the coming weekend with Amélie when Mulholland’s door flew open and a smug Shearer exited. He walked past without a word to her. She felt a surge of rage. He had deliberately been to see Mulholland to scupper her request before she had even spoken to her superior. The lousy son of a bitch. She’d had the decency to run it past him before mentioning it to Mulholland an
d he had done the dirty on her. So that’s how he wanted to play this one.

  She tapped on Mulholland’s door, unsure of what to expect. Louisa Mulholland was staring out of the window, hands behind her back. Her short dark-blonde hair, lit by the sunlight, revealed several grey strands. She turned to face Robyn, her face unreadable. Robyn noted the fresh frown lines that seemed to have appeared overnight. Louisa’s eyes held hers.

  ‘Go on, spit it out. I have a good idea what this is about. Let’s hear your side of the argument.’

  Robyn outlined her meeting with Tricia and her belief that the death of Miles Ashbrook warranted further investigation. When she had finished she remained standing. She had not been invited to sit. Louisa Mulholland nodded gravely before speaking.

  ‘Here’s my problem, DI Carter,’ she began. ‘Last night we had an incident in town where several victims were stabbed. I have been led to believe that it was not a random act and there is some sort of turf war going on between groups or gangs of young people. This is one of many senseless acts of violence that take place regularly on our patch. We also have several burglaries to handle, not to mention the numerous incidents which we are called to daily. Only yesterday you made an error of judgement when you went off half-cocked after a perp who turned out to be a visually impaired innocent.’

  ‘I’d like to point out that I actually prevented officers from halting the vehicle, ma’am,’ Robyn interjected, earning a steely look from her superior.

  ‘Fortunately for you the matter was resolved, yet it is another example of you following an instinct which is not always accurate. Now, this woman you know might have cause for concern, but I put a highly respected officer onto that case and he informed me that Miles Ashbrook walked into the sauna of his own volition. I have also received the report from the autopsy, and Miles Ashbrook died of a heart attack most likely brought about by high temperatures and humidity from the sauna.’