‘Don’t be angry with yourself, Dad. You might not have found me, but you really did get me out of there, if you get my meaning.’
That set him off again.
They were at the hotel where her parents and Mason had been staying. She’d refused to stay in hospital and had discharged herself after being checked over. Bar dehydration, she was in pretty good health.
‘Are you sure I can’t get you anything?’ Mandy asked her again, hovering anxiously next to the sofa where Jade and Mason were sitting together.
‘Mum, that’s the millionth time you’ve asked me. I’ve told you, I’m fine, I don’t want anything.’
Mandy flushed. ‘I’m only trying to help.’
‘I know you are, and it’s lovely. But it’s all a bit much right now.’
Her mum nodded. ‘It’ll be better once we’re home. Dad’s on the phone next door to the travel company, trying to get some flights for first thing tomorrow. The police said as long as they can keep in touch with you by phone, it’s fine if we leave.’
Jade shook her head.
‘I don’t want to go home tomorrow.’
‘Babe, it’s better if we do,’ said Mason. ‘We need to get back to normal.’
‘I’m not bloody going home until I’ve had the rest of my holiday,’ she retorted. ‘I’m not letting that arsehole rob me of a decent tan.’
Clive heard the commotion and came through from the bedroom, his phone still pressed against his ear.
‘What’s going on?’
‘Jade doesn’t want to go home yet,’ said Mandy.
‘Why can’t we stay until next Saturday? Come on, Dad,’ Jade pleaded. ‘Let’s enjoy ourselves. I had a lucky escape and I’m fine – we should celebrate that.’
At some point she would have to process what had happened in that villa and face up to the horror of it. There would be the court case to come back for as well. But, for now, she didn’t want to think about it.
Clive’s eyes brimmed with tears. ‘She’s right. We should stay on and have the holiday we were meant to have. I’ll ring down to the manager, see if we can keep the room a bit longer.’
‘I don’t know if we can afford it,’ said Mandy worriedly.
‘Don’t worry, Mum, we’ll get one of those newspapers that keep pestering you and Dad to pick up the bill,’ grinned Jade. ‘If they want an interview with me that much, it’ll cost them.’
Clive laughed. ‘That’s my girl.’
Galen Martos had dined alone every evening since his wife left him seven years previously. He never blamed her for going, or for their children drifting away from him after the divorce was finalized. For too long they had to compete for his attention with the ghost of Katy Pope.
As he wiped up the last traces of sauce and rice from his dish of arròs brut with a piece of bread, he pondered what headlines tomorrow’s papers would bring. No doubt his incompetency and failure to solve the case would be raked over again. There was a time when the criticism cut him deep but now he had toughened his skin enough to let it settle like a fine film of dust that did not penetrate. Who knows, perhaps Walker would mention his contribution, small that it was.
Meal finished, he left his apartment and crossed the road to the bar across the street, as he did every evening. Its tiny opening and location off the beaten track meant locals were the only patrons to frequent it and that was why Martos liked it. At the height of the original investigation it was his only place of solace, where he could escape from the pressure mounting on him and where no one gave him the time of day, much less badgered him for a progress update or a quote justifying why the killer hadn’t been caught yet.
The mistakes he’d made back then were many. He had been absolutely certain Declan Morris was the person they should be focusing on and had too readily dismissed Julien Ruiz as a suspect. He wondered how Jasso must be feeling now, knowing he’d let the killer slip through his fingers by not checking his alibi properly. At some point they should meet and talk.
Stepping through the narrow doorway into the bar, Martos sensed immediately that something was different. Heads stayed resolutely lowered, no greetings rang out, and his usual drink, a shot of Grappa, wasn’t on the bar waiting for him.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked the barman in a low voice.
The young lad gestured to the small television perched on a ledge high up in the farthest corner of the bar. It was a news programme, proclaiming the killer of Katy Pope had been arrested.
Martos looked around at the regulars who had previously been so supportive. They all ignored him, bar one.
‘You could’ve saved her,’ he said. ‘You let the bastard go.’
Martos had taught himself over the years to never let his emotions show in his expression, but in that moment he couldn’t help himself as his face crumpled. The Katy Pope case had cost him his marriage, his children, his reputation. He would never escape it.
‘I know,’ he nodded, blinking back tears. ‘Soy el hombre que dejó morir a una niña.’
I am the man who left a girl to die.
Paula and Stephen McCall, the couple from Scotland, returned home as minor celebrities for the part they’d played in identifying Julien Ruiz as the man behind Jade’s abduction. They were considerably richer too, with newspapers and magazines all over the world paying to publish their picture of Ruiz standing beside the hire car that everyone now knew Jade was hidden inside.
They used some of the money to pay for another holiday in Saros, because despite everything, they did love the resort. But this time they splashed out and booked to stay in one of the luxury apartments at Orquídea.
Two days in, their daughter Macy’s brand-new dolphin inflatable developed a puncture after they left it overnight by the pool. Terry Evans swore blind it wasn’t him this time.
80
Tuesday
The flight back to Gatwick was both excruciatingly long and also too short. On the one hand Maggie couldn’t wait to be back on familiar soil; on the other she didn’t want the plane to land, fearful of what she must face up to.
Umpire hadn’t acknowledged any of the texts or voicemails she’d left him in the past few days. Maggie spoke to Lou and all her sister could tell her was that he was devastated still and he wouldn’t discuss with her whether he and Maggie had a future. He told Lou that he couldn’t get the sound of the voicemail out of his mind: it was playing on a loop he couldn’t switch off, no matter how much he tried.
Maggie’s final message to him had been a text to say when her flight was due to land. It killed her that he still wouldn’t talk to her, but she was hoping that, knowing the kind of person he was, he was waiting until they could discuss in person what she’d done. Then, hopefully, he would see how sorry she was.
She was grateful that she was seated away from Walker and the other two – they were all dotted around the plane, less of a priority to be seated together than the families returning from their holidays. The chatter of children excited to be flying echoed around her and she tuned in to it, allowing the sound to distract her from her own jumbled thoughts.
By the time she reached baggage reclaim she was churning with nerves. Only a few more doors to pass through . . .
Walker caught up with her as she hauled her suitcase from the carousel.
‘The other two have already got theirs and gone,’ he said. ‘Mine’s still not come round.’
She was disappointed Paulson and Shah hadn’t said goodbye, but she knew they were both desperate to get home. It had been a long, tiring and emotionally draining eleven days and they were all shattered.
‘I’ll need you at Belgravia on Thursday to be debriefed, but we’ll stay in touch anyway ahead of the trial,’ he said. ‘Operation Pivot might be over, but there’s still work to do.’
Jasso had informed the team before they left Saros that they were all likely to be called to give evidence for the prosecution. Maggie would continue to be the Popes’ FLO in the meantime.
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p; ‘That doesn’t mean you’ve got tomorrow off, though – your DCI wants you back at Islington as usual.’
The churning in Maggie’s stomach shot up a gear as she thought about having to work alongside Mealing again, but she hid her anguish behind a brisk smile.
‘Thank you for asking me to be a part of Operation Pivot, boss,’ she said.
‘It’s been a pleasure.’ He paused. ‘Actually, once we’ve tied up all the loose ends on this case, the Commander’s saying there’s another cold case he wants us to have a crack at, this time going back twenty-five years. There’s a place for you on the team if you want it,’ he said.
‘Seriously?’
‘Seriously.’
The thought of never working with Mealing again made her grin. ‘I would love to take you up on that, boss.’
‘I was hoping you’d say that,’ Walker smiled. ‘Let’s chat more on Thursday.’
After saying goodbye, Maggie rolled her suitcase along the ‘Nothing to Declare’ channel then went through the automated double doors into the arrivals lounge. Her heart pounding, she scanned the faces of the people standing there, a few holding up signs proclaiming the names of those they were waiting to greet, but Umpire wasn’t among them.
Fighting back tears of disappointment, she walked on a bit then heard her name being called. Spinning round, she was stunned to see Lou emerging from the crowd. As her sister wrapped her arms around her, Maggie began to sob. She knew why Lou was there.
Umpire wasn’t coming.
Lou steered Maggie and her suitcase over to a coffee concession.
‘Wait here,’ she ordered.
Maggie slumped down at an empty table and used her fingertips to mop her tears. Then she counselled herself. Had she honestly thought Umpire would come to the airport for their first confrontation? Of course he wouldn’t. There’s no way he’d risk unleashing his anger at her in a public place.
But it was worse than that.
Lou set a cup of steaming hot tea in front of her then took the seat opposite.
‘Who’s looking after Mae?’ Maggie asked.
‘Mum is. The boys are going to hers after school as well, so I can stay overnight with you. I’ve already bought the wine. Two bottles, in fact,’ she said. ‘They’re in the car.’
Maggie blinked back fresh tears as she tried to make a joke.
‘It must be bad if it’s a two-bottle job.’
Lou nodded, her face full of sadness.
‘Will called me last night.’
Maggie held her breath.
‘I’m so sorry, sis. He doesn’t want to see you.’
She felt a physical pain tighten her chest as she struggled to get her next words out. ‘Not ever?’
‘I don’t know about that, but certainly not for the foreseeable future. He’s asked that you give him some space, then he’ll contact you when he’s ready.’
In that dark, grim corner of her mind where she filed away the uncomfortable truths she didn’t want to confront, Maggie had known this was coming. What she had done was so hurtful and so unforgivable that she knew deep down there might be no coming back from it.
‘I know it’s easy for me to say this, but you will be okay, eventually,’ said Lou, leaning over and clasping her hand. ‘You’ll get through this.’
Maggie shook her head.
‘You will,’ Lou insisted. ‘This is the worst of it, I promise you. You won’t feel like this forever.’
‘It’s not just that.’
‘What?’
‘I’m late.’
It took Lou a few moments to catch up and when she did she gasped.
‘Your period is late? You mean you could be—?’
‘Well, you know how like clockwork I usually am.’
‘If you are, it’ll be Will’s, surely?’
‘Of course it would be Will’s. But me and –’ Maggie couldn’t bring herself to say George’s name out loud – ‘the other one, in Saros, we didn’t use anything. We were too drunk.’
‘Christ almighty, sis, you really don’t do things by halves, do you!’ Lou exclaimed. ‘What will you do if you are? I mean, I know you’ve always wanted kids and you’re not getting any younger, but . . .’
Maggie flashed her a wry smile. ‘Thanks.’
‘You know what I mean.’ Lou squeezed her hand tighter. ‘You know from what I’ve been through that it’s really tough being a single mother.’
‘You’ve managed,’ said Maggie. ‘You’re a great mum and the kids have turned out brilliantly.’
Lou’s eyes widened. ‘Does that mean if you were pregnant you’d keep it, regardless of who’s the dad or whether they wanted to be involved?’
Maggie stared at her sister for the longest time before she answered.
‘Yes, I think I might.’
Acknowledgements
This novel was written in memory of two very special women. Firstly Lyndsey Shepherd, whose sister Tyler bid for her name to be given to a character in my series in the Authors for Grenfell auction, which raised £150,000 for the victims of the 2017 fire and their families. Lyndsey died from sarcoma in 2012, but in life she was an avid crime-fiction fan and always wanted to publish her own novel. I am thrilled to have named a character after her and I hope Tyler and the rest of their family take great delight in seeing her name in print.
The second woman whose memory powered me through writing this is Ruth Bond. Ruth was one of my earliest and most enthusiastic readers and I was always touched to hear how much she was enjoying the series. Ruth died unexpectedly last year and is missed by everyone associated with George Carey Primary School in Barking, where she was a much-loved member of staff.
As always, I must thank Vicki Mellor and everyone involved at Pan Macmillan for their support and hard work in getting this book to publication, in particular Grace Harrison. Enormous gratitude is also extended to my agent Jane Gregory and the brilliant team at David Higham, and, of course, to Rory and Sophie, my reasons for everything.
But lastly I want to thank you, dear readers, for your enthusiasm and support for the books I write. You have taken DC Maggie Neville to your hearts and to your bookshelves and for that I am endlessly grateful.
DEAD GUILTY
Michelle Davies has been writing professionally for eighteen years as a journalist for magazines, including on the production desk at ELLE, and as Features Editor of Heat. Her last staff position before going freelance was Editor-at-Large at Grazia magazine and she currently writes for a number of women’s magazines and newspaper supplements. She lives in London and juggles writing crime fiction with her freelance journalism and motherhood. Dead Guilty is the fourth novel featuring DC Maggie Neville, following Gone Astray, Wrong Place and False Witness.
Also by Michelle Davies
Gone Astray
Wrong Place
False Witness
First published 2019 by Pan Books
This electronic edition first published 2019 by Pan Macmillan
an imprint of Pan Macmillan
20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR
Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com
ISBN 978-1-5098-5688-6
Copyright © Michelle Davies 2019
Cover Images © Margie Hurwich/Arcangel; Figure: Marcos Radicella/Getty Images
The right of Michelle Davies to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damage.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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Dead Guilty Page 29
