For Better, For Worse

by Jane Isaac

  Freeman took a breath before he answered. ‘Mr Carter. How can I help you?’

  The smooth tone irked Carter further. ‘I’m here about my son.’ He looked towards the door at the side of the counter that led to the back offices, as if he expected to be taken to a nice room and offered a coffee. When nobody moved, his forehead creased into deep grooves.

  ‘Your son is helping us with some inquiries,’ Freeman said.

  Carter checked behind him. The couple sitting beside the entrance had broken their conversation and were listening with interest.

  ‘What inquiries? You’ve got nothing on him.’ He sneered at Beth. ‘This is police harassment. I’ve already spoken to your inspector about this.’

  ‘On the contrary—’ Freeman said.

  ‘I want to see him,’ Carter cut in.

  ‘I’m afraid that’s not possible.’

  He passed a heavy glance between the two detectives. ‘Why not?’

  ‘As I said, he’s helping us with our inquiries.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘He’s an adult, I can’t discuss the details with you.’

  Carter’s face flushed in anger. ‘This is a fit up. What’s he supposed to have done?’

  ‘I’m not at liberty to discuss any further details right now,’ Freeman said. ‘I suggest you speak with your family solicitor. He was present at the interview.’

  Carter tightened his jaw and poked his finger at Beth. ‘You haven’t heard the end of this.’

  ‘Mr Carter, I suggest you go home and calm down,’ Freeman said evenly.

  Beth held his gaze, until Carter stepped back. His nostrils flared, but he said nothing. He was still standing there, dazed, in the middle of reception, when they tapped in the code and walked through the door into the back office.

  Away from the prying eyes of the public, Freeman broke into a smile.

  ‘You look pleased with yourself, sir,’ Beth said.

  ‘It’s about time somebody put him in his place. I think we’ll save the press statement for the morning, shall we? Make him sweat for a while.’

  44

  It was the early hours of the morning before Beth arrived home. Myrtle skipped over to greet her when she opened the bathroom door to let her out. ‘Hello, darling,’ she said, scooping her into her arms and carrying her downstairs. The cat didn’t appear too bothered about being locked away for the evening while the house was checked and secured. In the front room, Beth cast a quick glance at the mantel where Dale Yates had left the note.

  She carried Myrtle into the kitchen, pleasantly surprised to see the CSIs had left the place clean and tidy, with only a touch of their chemicals lingering in the air. The window at the back was boarded up, the floor clear of glass. It wasn’t their job to tidy up and clear the debris but they’d done it as a personal favour to her and her heart warmed. The job brought out the best in people. She placed Myrtle down and flicked the switch on the kettle. It had been a long day and the tension was starting to trickle out of her shoulders. But sleep still hovered on the horizon, a distant prospect.

  The promotion papers rested beside the microwave, where she’d left them days earlier. The possibility of being promoted and staying on the homicide team had seemed too good to be true. And it was. Andrea’s stark absence that evening rankled her. Practically every exchange they’d had was laced with contempt; the acting DI clearly didn’t approve of Beth’s method of policing and there was no way Beth could see Andrea supporting her application. And with Kyle Thompson hovering in the wings, she could never be sure what would crop up next. She tore the papers in half, pressed the pedal on the bin and dropped them inside just as the door knocker sounded.

  Beth frowned. It was nearly 2 a.m. She padded out to the hallway. For the second time in less than a week, she recognised Nick’s frame through the frosted glass in her door. Her shoulders slumped as she pulled open the door.

  ‘Hey,’ he said.

  ‘What are you doing here, Nick?’

  ‘What?’ He looked affronted. ‘You weren’t at the pub. I was worried about you.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘You don’t look fine. You haven’t been answering your phone.’

  They wandered through to the kitchen. Nick declined her offer of a drink and pulled out a chair at the table.

  ‘What’s going on, Beth?’ he said. ‘I thought you’d have been euphoric, keen to celebrate after what we went through yesterday. What’s up?’

  ‘You haven’t heard?’

  He stared at her blankly.

  ‘I was working.’

  Nick’s jaw dropped when she talked him through Waite’s revelation and the interviews with Jason Carter and Vicki Ryan. When she mentioned the exchange with Mike Carter, he grinned. ‘Why didn’t you call me back when you got the information on Ryan?’ he asked.

  ‘You were already at the pub when we realised the gravity of the situation.’

  ‘I suppose that’s why Freeman wasn’t there either. Can’t believe I missed out on the action!’

  She rested back in her chair. ‘How did you get here?’

  ‘I used a pool car. Didn’t feel like drinking.’ He pulled a receipt out of his pocket. ‘The car recovery service have been on and off the phone all evening. They’re pretty sure the Spider will be written off.’ He looked crestfallen.

  ‘I’m sorry. I know you loved that car.’

  He balled the receipt in his hand, lifted the lid on her recycle bin about to toss it inside when he saw the torn sheets. ‘What’s all this?’ he said, lifting out the clump of promotion application papers.

  ‘I’ve decided not to apply. The timing’s off and, anyway, I’d need countersignatures from the next two grades.’

  ‘What, and you think I wouldn’t sign it?’

  ‘No, the DI. I’m not exactly flavour of the month.’

  ‘Ah… Well, you might not need to worry about that for much longer.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She’s applied to the Met for a promotion.’

  Beth lowered her eyes. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I know you two are close.’

  ‘I don’t know about that. It’s through my contact she applied. I’ve got a friend there who told me they were looking for inspectors. Took lots of calls and nudges, but she’s got an interview tomorrow. That’s why she wasn’t at the office this evening, she had a train to catch. She’ll be peeved she’s missed out on the result though. I’ve been mentoring her, helping her with the application.’ He gave a cheeky grin. ‘My days in training weren’t completely wasted.’

  Confusion riddled Beth. All those secret phone calls, catching them in the corridor and surrounded by papers in the canteen. ‘I don’t understand. Won’t that mean a move to London?’

  ‘Yes. I mean there are no guarantees. Freeman went for a post earlier this year, as you know, and didn’t get it and I would have said he was a dead cert. But if she is successful, at least it’ll get her out of our hair.’

  That explained Andrea’s active role in the murder investigation. She was vying for brownie points to support her application. Beth pulled a face at Nick.

  ‘What? You didn’t think…’ Nick sniggered. ‘Christ, give me some credit, Beth.’

  She barely heard his response. She’d convinced herself Nick was keeping his liaisons with Andrea secret because they were together, much the same as he’d done with Beth. Although, actually it was her decision to keep their relationship secret; she hadn’t wanted colleagues to judge her, see her as currying favour with the sergeant. Could she have misread the signs?

  ‘I didn’t want to tell anyone, get the team’s hopes up, until I knew it was a possibility. I know how unpopular she is,’ Nick said. He moved in close, examining every contour of her baffled face. ‘I saw Reynolds from PSD. I hear your file is closed?’

  ‘Freeman didn’t tell you?’

  ‘No. I had no idea.’ His eyes softened. ‘I’ve missed you, Beth.’ The words were gentle, tender
. She could feel the heat of his breath.

  Confusion and indecision swamped her in equal measures. Oh, how she’d hankered for this, yearned for it, but now he was here she was struck by doubt. Was it really a good idea to pick up where they left off?

  The touch of his lips was electric, sending sizzling bolts of lust through her, smothering all rational thought. She reached for his collar, tugging him closer, arching her body towards him, craving this moment, craving him.

  45

  Beth was awoken by her phone ringing the following morning. Nick groaned and snuggled under the duvet as she patted her hand across the bedside table until it came into contact with her mobile.

  ‘Morning, Beth.’ It was DS Osborne. She sat upright and rubbed her right eye which was refusing to open, the minimal sleep leaving her woolly. ‘Sorry to bother you so early but I thought you’d want to know, we’ve carried out a search of Jason Carter’s home and offices and we’ll be re-interviewing him this morning.’

  ‘Did you find anything?’

  ‘We’re still going through everything, but we’ve also started looking into the estate agent scam. It seems the last house Carter allegedly undersold was in your village.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. And you won’t believe who it’s presently owned by… a Mr Kyle Thompson.’

  Beth’s mind raced. She recalled her conversation with Kyle in the local store; he was showing off, proud of his new home.

  ‘We’ve a lot more work to do before we pick up Thompson, but it appears the house was sold about £20,000 under the expected value. If we can prove this, it opens him up to a fraud charge. We’re inspecting his finances too, I very much doubt his income from the pub and the casino supports his lifestyle. Anyway, I thought you’d like to know.’

  She cut the call, sunk back into the pillows and allowed herself a wry smile. When Kyle provided the information to put his friend out of the picture, he clearly had no idea of Ian Waite’s connection with Jason Carter and the trail that could lead back to him. Talk about poetic justice.

  Nick turned to face her. ‘Who was that?’

  ‘Osborne.’ She passed on the news.

  He blinked and nodded. ‘Not bad for a night’s work.’ He lifted his head, checked the clock and groaned. It was nearly 9 a.m. ‘Don’t you set your alarm?’

  ‘Don’t need to. I’m usually awake.’

  He rolled towards her, kissed her gently on the lips, slipping his tongue in.

  She pulled back. ‘What are we doing here, Nick?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I don’t want to creep around behind people’s backs, not anymore.’

  ‘I never wanted to. That was your idea.’

  ‘You’re my boss, people will talk. They’ll accuse you of giving me preferential treatment.’

  He cupped her chin. ‘Ignore them. And I won’t.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Give you preferential treatment.’

  Beth leaned back on her elbow. ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Oh, come on. You know what the police force is like. There are affairs all over the shop. There’s a husband and wife on the same crew over on the Northern area. There’ll be a burst of interest, a quick gossip, then they’ll find something else to talk about.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘I do.’ He pecked her on the cheek and climbed out of bed. ‘Anyway, I wanted to ask you a favour.’ She watched the muscles in his back ripple as he moved around the bedroom, picking up his clothes. ‘I’ve given notice on my flat.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s not practical. I love living out at Oundle, but it’s too far away, especially when we’ve a live investigation running. I need somewhere to stay until I find a place closer.’ He held up his hand, anticipating her response. ‘I’m not looking to move in. More a place to stay for a few weeks until I get myself organised. I planned to ask one of the lads but… since my stuff is here and we’re going to make a go of things.’

  Silence fell upon them. This was moving too fast. They’d only just agreed to get back together.

  ‘I’ll kip in the spare room, of course, unless you don’t want me to.’ He grinned. ‘It would only be a few weeks and I’d pay my way.’

  Beth ruminated a moment. The money would certainly come in useful and a few weeks didn’t sound so bad. She did enjoy having him there. ‘Okay, a few weeks.’

  ‘Thanks. Are you coming to court this morning?’

  ‘To watch Yates be remanded in custody?’ She pulled a face at him. ‘It’ll be a formality.’

  ‘Yeah, but there’s a satisfaction in seeing someone sent down pending trial. Especially after he gave us such a runaround.’

  Beth yawned, grabbed her robe off the back of the door and slipped it on. ‘No, I’ll meet you at the office. There’s something I need to do first.’

  *

  The morning sunshine streamed through the window of Gina Ingram’s front room. She’d sat quietly as the detective explained the arrest of Dale Yates and the events of yesterday evening. By the time Beth finished, Gina was trembling. She’d believed Stuart, but there’d always been those devilish suspicions hovering beneath the surface. And over the last few days, the suspicion had grown to insurmountable levels.

  ‘Stuart wasn’t guilty?’

  ‘It seems not.’

  Beth explained Ian Waite’s admissions to Gina, her later interview with Vicki Ryan and the subsequent arrest of Jason Carter. Gina gasped at intervals, pressed her hand to her throat at the revelations surrounding the estate agents and her son-in-law, but remained silent until Beth had completely finished.

  ‘Poor Phoebe.’ Her eyes turned sad, the relief at Stuart’s innocence bittersweet. ‘How is she taking it?’

  Beth recollected Phoebe’s ghostly face when she delivered the news to her earlier that morning. ‘She’s dealing with it well,’ Beth said gently. ‘All things considered.’

  ‘What about Whitefield’s?’ Gina said. ‘That poor girl? Isn’t that why Stuart was killed?’

  ‘Yes, Dale Yates planned to take revenge on all those he believed should have kept Jess Adams safe. But there’s no evidence to prove his allegation that she was abused and driven to suicide.’

  ‘And nothing to disprove it either,’ Gina said quietly.

  ‘The investigation at the time was thorough: they checked with her doctors, her social worker. She had a history of depression and was taking medication. Dale Yates said Jess didn’t accuse Stuart directly. When Yates was released from prison, he saw the recent charge on Stuart, remembered his connection with the home and made the leap, assuming he was involved.’

  ‘But we’ll never really know.’

  ‘Possibly not.’

  Gina swung her head back and stared at the ceiling. ‘Was Phoebe aware of Jason’s part in all of this?’

  ‘She claims she wasn’t.’

  ‘My poor girl.’ Gina’s eyes filled. ‘Losing her father in such awful circumstances. And now her husband.’

  ‘She wants to see you.’

  A tear dribbled down her cheek. ‘She does?’

  Beth nodded. ‘I spoke with her this morning. She’s keen to see you.’

  A strangled cry escaped from the hand that clamped Gina’s mouth. ‘When?’

  Beth exhaled a loud sigh. ‘Now? She persuaded me to bring her here. Insisted on waiting in the car while I updated you, in case you didn’t agree. She won’t come in unless you want her to.’

  ‘Phoebe’s here?’ Gina jumped up and rushed to the window. Her chin trembled. ‘With the children?’

  ‘Only Phoebe for now. She left the kids with a neighbour.’

  ‘Bring her in.’ But as soon as the words left her mouth she was in the hallway, following Beth.

  Phoebe looked up from the passenger seat in Beth’s car as the front door opened. The two women eyed each other. Slowly, Phoebe levered herself out of the car. Her face was red and blotchy.

  They moved together and
embraced. The hug was long, heart-warming. Finally, Phoebe buried her face in her mother’s shoulder and sobbed.

  46

  Beth was sitting in traffic listening to Pachelbel’s ‘Canon’, her late mother’s favourite tune, when the tears started to flow. She couldn’t get the image of Gina guiding her distressed daughter back into the house at Hay Close out of her mind. That poor family. Their lives had changed irrevocably a year ago with the charge on Stuart, a charge that caused a rift between mother and daughter, for a crime he was innocent of. Two women at different stages in their lives; so much loss. Phoebe would have to raise her children singlehandedly. Gina had to learn to be a mother and a grandmother again. It would take time.

  Their heartfelt embrace had reminded her of her own mother. Taken so young. She missed her so much.

  The car in front edged forwards. Beth wiped the tears away with the back of her hand, lost in her memories. The music paused to allow her phone to ring. ‘Nick’ flashed up on the screen. She was going to have to get used to the transition between the roles of boss and lover, and they were still to overcome the hurdle of sharing their relationship with the team, but her heart still warmed at the prospect of speaking with him.

  ‘Beth, where are you?’

  ‘On my way back to the station.’ She looked at the clock. ‘I should be with you in about ten minutes. Why?’

  ‘Dale Yates has escaped. He slipped the security guard on his way to court this morning.’

  ‘What?’ Beth slammed her foot on the brake, stopping just short of the stationary car in front of her. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I don’t know exactly. But you need to get here now. Freeman’s called an urgent meeting.’

  *

  Gina Ingram stood on her driveway and waved at her daughter in the taxi. She continued waving until the car rounded the corner of Hay Close and disappeared. She went inside, closed the door and leaned up against the cold plastic. Key points of the recent charges played over and over in her mind, like a song on permanent replay. Stuart was innocent. The images had been planted on his computer by their own son-in-law.