by Jack Probyn
A few feet from the entrance, they collided. Lester dropped his phone on purpose, allowing it to smash to pieces on the concrete, and Jessica’s cup flew from her hands. The muddy-brown liquid soiled the knock-off phone Lester had bought second-hand online, destroying it completely, and splattered across the ground.
‘Oh my God!’ Jessica exclaimed. ‘I’m so sorry. Are you OK?’
Jessica touched his arm and then bent down to the ground. She picked up the phone using her thumb and forefinger. Coffee dripped from the corner.
‘Oh my God,’ she repeated. She hung up her conversation and pocketed her phone. ‘I’m so sorry. Your phone… I… I didn’t…’
‘It’s OK,’ Lester said, attempting to disarm her with his smile.
‘But it’s broken.’
‘It’s fine. Honestly. It’s not mine. It’s a company phone. My work pays for it.’ He took it from her. ‘So you can do what you like with it. Snap it in half if you want. It’s useless anyway.’
Jessica stared at the phone for a moment and then the ground. Lester followed her gaze.
‘What were you drinking?’
‘Chai tea.’
‘Let me get you another one.’
Jessica shook her head. ‘No. This was my fault.’
‘Well, I’m not going to ask you to buy me a brand-new phone – especially when it isn’t mine in the first place. Come on – let me buy you another drink.’
‘Let me. Please. It’s the least I can do.’ Jessica bent down, picked up the cup from the ground and started back towards the coffee shop.
Lester wasted no time in following her. As they entered, he moved to the side of the space and found a pile of napkins. He wiped down the phone, wrapped a few sheets around it and then placed it back in his pocket.
‘What would you like?’ Jessica asked as he joined her in the queue.
‘Chai tea. Same as you.’ He sniffed the air. The aroma surrounding her was delicious – a perfume he wasn’t familiar with. Fruity. Sweet. Different to the Chanel that Jessica Arnholt had been wearing the other night. If everything went to plan, he would have to buy her the same one. The experience needed to be perfect, immaculate, exact.
Jessica smiled and turned her back on him. She gave the barista the order, told him her name and then shuffled along with him to the other side of the till.
‘Listen,’ she said, turning to him. ‘I’m sorry, again, about your phone. I didn’t mean to… I – I didn’t see you. You came out of—’
‘What did I tell you? It’s cool. Nothing to worry about. I’m just glad I didn’t get any on my suit.’
‘Won’t your manager be annoyed? Won’t they have to get you a new one?’
Lester shook his head. ‘No, I don’t think he’ll be annoyed.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because I am my manager, and I’m pretty sure I can’t be annoyed with myself for too long. And I certainly can’t be annoyed with you – after all, it wasn’t your fault. All mine. That’s that.’
Jessica smiled and her cheeks flushed. Her gaze fell to the ground and she readjusted the bag on her shoulder so that it sat against her hip.
‘Well, thank you,’ she said.
Lester extended his hand and he introduced himself.
Jessica took it. ‘Nice to meet you. Jessica.’
Before he could respond, the barista called Jessica’s name and placed the two cups on the counter before them. Lester took his and handed Jessica hers.
‘Now we’re even,’ he said with a smile. ‘You no longer have to feel guilty about anything.’
They left Alinka’s, and as they exited, Lester headed left, and Jessica right.
‘Well, I’m this way,’ he said.
‘And I’m this way,’ she said, pointing in her direction.
‘See you,’ he said, and started off.
He made it two steps before he was called back.
‘Wait,’ she said. ‘Sorry. This is going to sound completely strange and weird and stalkerish. But… do I know you from somewhere? You look vaguely familiar…’
Lester smirked at her and licked his lips. The scent of her perfume was beginning to grow on him. Maybe he would let her get away with it.
‘I don’t think so.’ He shrugged. ‘I’d remember a beautiful face like yours.’
Jessica blushed, sipped her drink, apologised, and then left.
Lester waited a while and watched her go before heading home. His operation had been a success. She had recognised him. And he had planted the delicate seed of curiosity inside her. All he needed to do now was let it grow.
CHAPTER 11
PINKY PROMISE
As soon as the kettle stopped boiling, Jake poured the steaming water into his mug and stirred. He had deviated from his norm and opted for three heaped spoons of coffee. It was needed. His head ached and his eyes were sore. Sleep had mostly escaped him last night – he’d managed four hours at most. And now he was beginning to feel the effects of it. But it wasn’t the alcohol that had caused his restlessness. No, the effects of that had worn off after the cab journey home. That was one of the good things about living nearly an hour away from the station, even if it was a minor consolation to the cost of the cab ride home. Instead, Jake’s mind had been plagued with thoughts of The Crimsons, of Danny, of Michael, of their trial, of their inevitable – and imminent – release back among the British public. It was a tragedy, a major lapse in the judicial system, and, as he lay there staring at the ceiling in the early hours of morning, with the soft sounds of Elizabeth’s breathing beside him, he decided he was going to investigate it.
As Jake set the spoon face down on the kitchen counter, Elizabeth entered, her dressing gown wrapped tightly around her, emphasising the swell of her stomach.
‘You came home late,’ she said sternly, resting against the fridge.
‘I know,’ Jake replied, wiping the coffee stain on the surface away with a piece of kitchen roll. ‘I was with the guys from work.’
‘Drinking?’ Elizabeth moved across the room and sat down at the island in the centre of the kitchen. The chairs were at a comfortable enough height for her to slip away easily when she needed the toilet, or as soon as her back started to ache. In her hand she held a letter.
‘Only a few,’ Jake said, sitting opposite. He watched her place the letter back on the table upside down so that he couldn’t read what was written on it. He didn’t have the heart to tell her how much it had cost him to get home – and how much it was going to cost in getting another cab into work. ‘They wanted to celebrate our pregnancy. They only found out last night.’
‘You’ve been working there for months!’
‘I know. But I’m beginning to fit in a little bit more. They’re talking to me about things other than work now, which is nice.’ Jake gulped the rest of his coffee as Elizabeth placed her hand on his.
‘I told you they’d come round eventually. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend. You’re a half-decent guy when you’re not being a sarcastic arsehole. Hell, I know because I married you, though it took me a while to warm up to you. And you said yourself that they were a close-knit team.’ Elizabeth wrapped her fingers in his and squeezed. ‘I just don’t want you to become someone you’re not to try to impress them.’
Jake burped and swallowed the stench of coffee away. ‘I won’t, Liz. Trust me.’
‘Pinkie promise?’
‘Pinkie promise.’
The two of them entwined their baby fingers and squeezed. It was a long-standing tradition of theirs. When they’d first met in a coffee shop during their second year of university, Jake had made her pinkie promise that she would return his set of highlighters. Ever since, the routine had stuck. It was their little thing, and it was a reminder that there was still trust and honesty in their relationship. The pinkie promise was a sacred vow that neither of them ever wanted to break.
Elizabeth’s hand fell onto the letter again.
‘What is it
this time?’ Jake asked, already aware of what might be inside.
‘Another bill,’ Elizabeth replied.
‘Which one now?’
‘Take your pick. Internet, phone, television. They’re all going up.’
Jake sighed. Now he really felt guilty about the drinks last night. ‘Can we look at other providers?’
‘I will do today.’ Elizabeth averted his gaze and glanced down at the table, deep in thought. Jake observed her, admired her. After a few more seconds, she turned her attention back to him, rubbed her stomach and asked, ‘We’re going to be all right, aren’t we?’
Before Jake could answer, Maisie, his two-year-old daughter, waddled into the kitchen from the living room dressed in her Peppa Pig pyjamas, wiping the sleep from her eyes. ‘Daddy!’
Jake bent down to pick her up and held her in his arms, then gave her a kiss on the cheek and buried his nose into her skin. Maisie giggled, and Jake smiled along with her. Her happiness and innocence and ebullience was infectious. It was irreplaceable, and he couldn’t wait to experience the same feeling with the new baby.
‘How did you get down here?’ Jake asked her, glancing at Elizabeth quickly.
‘Stairs,’ Maisie replied.
‘Sorry,’ Elizabeth added. ‘I must have left the child lock off.’
Jake turned his attention back to Maisie. ‘You’re a very clever girl for coming down the stairs on your own, aren’t you? Mummy and Daddy will have to be a little more careful in the future… How is my angel this morning?’
‘Sleepy!’
‘Sorry for waking you up last night. Daddy got home late.’ He hesitated and looked at Elizabeth. ‘And how’s my big girl doing?’
She scowled at him. He knew she hated that name, but he thought it was rather fitting.
‘Tired as well,’ she said, shuffling onto the edge of the seat and hopping down. She rounded the island and traipsed up to his side. ‘Please keep your phone on loud today. I don’t want anything to happen and not be able to get a hold of you.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ve got a charger on my desk and one in the car. The only way I won’t answer is if my phone breaks… or I die.’
Elizabeth’s face dropped at the end of his sentence and she slapped him playfully on the shoulder.
‘Don’t try to be funny,’ she snapped.
‘Are you still seeing your mum today?’ Jake asked.
Elizabeth nodded, squeezed Maisie’s cheeks and moved to the sink. She turned on the tap and started washing the dishes.
‘She’s coming over early.’
‘Will she still be here when I come home?’
‘Don’t worry – she’ll be gone.’
Jake set Maisie on her feet. ‘Good.’
‘You know, you should be a little more grateful to her when she’s around.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘You know why. You wouldn’t be in this position if it weren’t for her.’
Jake paused a beat. ‘I’ll think about it,’ he said.
He spent the next few minutes preparing his bag for work and made lunch – tuna and sweetcorn sandwiches, his favourite. By the time he was done, Elizabeth had finished washing the dishes and was preparing to feed Maisie her breakfast.
‘Guess what I found out yesterday,’ Jake said, pouring Maisie a glass of water.
‘What?’
‘The Crimsons.’ Jake paused. ‘Their trial’s falling through.’
She shook her head in disgust. ‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘I know. The lads at work told me last night. I’m going to find out what’s happened. I’m going to stop it if I can,’ Jake said, handing Maisie the plastic cup of water. His daughter took it and guzzled it down in one.
‘How do you intend on doing that? These are dangerous people, Jake. I don’t want you getting hurt or involved in anything risky.’ She placed her hand on top of her stomach. ‘Not now. Not ever.’
‘I won’t,’ he said.
‘Promise me.’ Elizabeth held out her little finger.
Jake gazed at it, contemplating. He didn’t want to promise her that what he was about to get involved with would be safe. But he also didn’t want to lie to her. Or worse, worry her.
‘I’ll be safe,’ he said, curling her finger around hers. ‘I promise.’
CHAPTER 12
PART OF THE TEAM
Lindsay Gray was already in the office by the time Jake got there. He didn’t like being the second to arrive, even if she was a completely separate entity to the Major Investigation Team. He wanted to show dedication and determination. Sometimes, when he was sitting at his desk – during the dullest parts of the day, or during his lunch breaks – infrequently fantasising about his future career, he imagined what his managers and colleagues would say about him, how gracious they would be in their praise.
‘Jake was a stellar officer. He was always the first in the office and last to leave.’
‘Never met an officer who worked as hard as Jake did.’
‘He always gave everything to his work.’
If he put in the hard work now, it would set him up for all the glory later.
‘Morning, soldier,’ Lindsay said to him as he wandered past her.
The kitchen area was old and bleak. It still contained appliances from the eighties – all of which hadn’t been safety checked in over a decade and posed a considerable risk to every member of the team who used them. There were other, more important things to spend the budget on, and kitchen appliances wasn’t one of them.
There, Jake made himself another coffee and returned to his desk. He loaded up the Police National Database and entered Danny Cipriano’s name in the search bar in the top-right corner of the screen. As he hovered his finger over the return key, the office door opened. The sound distracted him. It was Liam, carrying two cups of coffee in his hand. He nodded to Lindsay in acknowledgment and strode straight towards Jake.
‘Thought you could do with one of these,’ Liam said, handing him the drink. ‘You didn’t look too pucker before you left yesterday. You feeling all right this morning?’
‘I’ve felt better.’ Jake placed the cup on the table.
‘Lightweight. You’re only twenty-five. What’s wrong with you? You should be able to stomach more than a couple of pints,’ Liam said, chuckling. ‘When I was your age, I was out on the piss almost every night.’
‘My days of heavily drinking are long behind me,’ Jake said.
‘Wife and kids’ll do that to ya.’ Liam drank from his coffee and held it in the air, staring at it as if it reminded him of the bottom of the glass he’d drunk from last night. ‘Probably for the best. You don’t want to rely on it. That’s when you know things have got bad.’
Jake didn’t know what to say. For a brief moment, he pondered asking what was inside Liam’s plastic cup – he carried it with him almost everywhere and always held it close against his chest – but then he thought better of it. He didn’t want to insult the man who was finally beginning to accept him, and he certainly didn’t want to burn the bridges they had just started building together.
‘Hey,’ Jake said, lifting the coffee almost triumphantly, ‘cheers for the drink.’
Liam placed his hand on Jake’s shoulder. ‘When you’re part of the team, we look out for each other. Remember that.’
Liam started off. He stopped by his office door and gripped the handle. Then he checked his watch and called to Jake.
‘Two minutes. I want you in the MIR.’
MIR was the acronym for the Major Investigation Room, the hub of all police activity relating to a major crime. It was where the team pooled their resources together and focused on the strategy of their investigation. While Jake and Liam had attended the crime scene, Garrison had started setting it up.
Jake glanced around him at the rest of the office. ‘Where’s everyone else?’
Liam opened his mouth but was cut off by a sharp buzzing sound. The remaining members of Major Investigation
entered sluggishly, and headed straight into Investigation Room 2. Jake lifted himself out of his seat, deleted what he had typed into the search bar and joined them, cup in hand.
‘Morning,’ he said, and as he entered, he was greeted by a round of applause.
‘Here he is!’ Garrison said, seeming even livelier than he’d been last night. In his hand he held a chocolate digestive, while two more rested on top of his notebook. ‘The man of the hour. Get home all right then?’
Jake sat beside him. At the head of the small room was a whiteboard. Beside it, on either side, were corkboards with images of Steven and Jessica’s faces, along with the house numbers of the neighbours Jake had spoken to. It was the summation of their work, and it was looking bare.
‘Jake?’
Jake looked at him and realised his colleague had asked him a question. ‘Yeah. Sorry. Two hours. It took me nearly two hours to get home. Double what I can do on my own. I swear the cabbie took the longest route imaginable.’
‘Shambles. He probably wanted to rinse some more money out of you. You could have had a couple more in that time, and it probably would have been cheaper.’ Garrison nudged him in the shoulder.
‘Not unless he knew his missus was going to chop his dick off if he did,’ Drew said. He was sitting behind them, with his arms folded high up on his chest.
‘At least he’s got someone who can chop his dick off,’ Garrison said, jumping to Jake’s defence. ‘Unlike you, you lonely prick. When was the last time you saw your wife?’
Just as Drew was about to retaliate by throwing a fake punch at Garrison, Liam entered. At once, the air fell still, and the atmosphere dropped. The teacher had just entered and commanded the attention of the classroom without saying a single word.
‘I’ll make this one brief,’ Liam began. ‘We’ve all got a lot to be getting on with. It’s been more than twenty-four hours since Steven and Jessica Arnholt were murdered, and we’ve not had a single strand of evidence. Forensics on the DNA and laptop and mobile phone found at Steven’s art gallery will take a little longer to come in I’ve been told. Something to do with a number of personnel changes within the team. Seem they’re a man – or should I say woman – down.’
