Fatal Act (33 page)

‘You sure you don’t mind going out with me looking like this?’ Nick asked her when it was time to leave.

‘Don’t be daft. Shall I drive?’

He nodded his thanks then winced when the movement hurt his eye.

A
s they walked down the corridor together to the exit, several male colleagues called out to Nick, trying to wind him up, ribbing him about his face. Nick smiled in resignation. A bit of good-natured banter was inevitable, once he had gone into work with a black eye. Geraldine couldn’t help noticing that a couple of female officers averted their eyes, as though they were embarrassed to be caught looking at him. They neither teased him nor expressed sympathy, but pointedly ignored him. Presumably they had been taken in by the rumours about Nick beating his wife. But they didn’t know him. Geraldine glared at them but they weren’t looking at her.

‘You’ll have to direct me,’ she said as they set off. ‘I can remember the general direction but not the last bit, after we turned off the A road.’

N
ick leaned back and closed his eyes. He looked pale.

‘Are you sure you’re up for this?’ she asked. ‘I can easily turn round, or drop you home, if you’re feeling rough. We can do this another time.’

‘I’m fine,’ he assured her. ‘Just fine.’

They drove on in silence. Geraldine regretted not having insisted they postpone the outing. Nick was feeling rotten, she was preoccupied with the case she was working on, and it was going to turn into a dreary evening.

‘Are you sure you’re feeling up to it?’

‘I thought we were just going for a drink,’ he said, laughing. ‘What else did you have in mind, Inspector?’

S
he relaxed when he started flirting with her. Perhaps it was just as well she hadn’t insisted they cancel their date. He was an adult, after all. If he wasn’t feeling well enough to go out, he would have said so. No one was holding a gun to his head. Even though nothing serious was likely to develop between them, at least they could pass a pleasant evening in one another’s company. Besides, he was the ideal person for her to share her thoughts about her current investigation, which had hit a brick wall. As a fellow inspector, he understood her frustrations and anxieties, without her having to explain what she was going through. He had already come up with one helpful insight.

C
omfortably settled in a corner of the pub, Nick quizzed her about her companion of the previous evening.

‘He’s just an old friend,’ she said.

She felt a twinge of guilt. Ian’s friendship deserved more than such a dismissive comment.

‘Just an old friend? Why don’t I like the sound of that?’

Geraldine laughed, ignoring a passing irritation. Her friendship with Ian was none of Nick’s business. She wondered if he was signalling that he was interested in moving their relationship to a new level. She brushed off his questions and the conversation moved on to the fight he had dealt with.

T
hey talked for a while about young people and what society had to offer them, disagreeing just enough to make for a stimulating debate.

‘I know some people are dealt a lousy hand from birth,’ Geraldine said. ‘Of course it’s not fair. As a society, we have a duty to try and give everyone a chance in life – an equal chance – but that’s not going to happen, is it? Some people are born intelligent, or beautiful, or well off, and others aren’t dealt any cards at all. But that doesn’t mean people don’t have to take responsibility for their own actions. Otherwise, what’s our whole justice system about? You can’t punish someone for committing a crime at the same time as claiming they’re not responsible for their own actions.’

‘I can see I‘m never going to convince you,’ he said at last.

‘No.’

‘But we’ve got time for another drink?’

‘I’ll agree to that. I’ve got all evening.’

They smiled at one another and he went off to the bar, bringing back a menu.

A
s they were eating, Nick returned to the subject of the friend Geraldine had seen the previous evening. His interest had been flattering to begin with, but his questioning was becoming intrusive.

‘Where did he take you?’

‘We went to my flat.’

Nick raised his eyebrows as though she had admitted something shocking.

‘He’s an old friend, a colleague I worked with in Kent.’

She was about to add that her friend was married. Just in time she remembered that Nick was too. ‘It’s really none of your business who I see, so can we drop it? There are more interesting things to talk about than my cooking.’

She tried to make light of it, but she was growing angry.

W
hen they left, a light snow was falling for the first time that year, leaving a dusting of white on the roadside verges. The trees looked ethereal and the scene was magical. Her good temper restored, Geraldine drove slowly along the slippery country lane until they reached the main road. Nick leaned back, eyes closed, and appeared to fall asleep. She realised he was probably in some pain and felt guilty about being fractious with him. Overall she had enjoyed the evening and hoped he had too. She smiled to herself. Socialising for two evenings in a row was unusual for her. It was just a pity that both of her male companions were married. She glanced sideways at Nick, wondering about the nature of his relationship with his wife. He had asked about her friendship with Ian, but she hadn’t felt confident enough to challenge him about his wife in return. She wondered if she already knew the answer, but didn’t want to hear her suspicions confirmed. Sam’s words raced around in her head: ‘Nick had another bust up with his wife… he hits his wife… everyone knows… ’

I
n many ways, she was better off being single. Relationships only caused problems. Nick claimed to be separated from his wife, and Ian didn’t seem to be happy in his marriage. She was genuinely fond of Ian, and concerned that he was miserable. He hadn’t wanted to talk about Bev which meant she had more time to tell him about the investigation into Anna, Bethany and Zak. He had listened intently, keen to help her make sense of the Case of the Vanishing Murderer. During the course of the evening, she had a feeling he had said something significant, if she could only remember what it was. At her side, Nick began snoring gently.

H
AVING
DROPPED
N
ICK
BACK
at the station to collect his car she set off back to her flat. She was slightly put out by his insisting he was fine to drive, although his bruised face was clearly bothering him. As he drove away she realised she didn’t even know where he lived. The more evasive he was about his situation at home, the more Sam’s accusation bothered her. But she had only been out for a casual drink with him. He hadn’t even stopped to kiss her goodbye, had barely thanked her for the lift, before he had sloped off. With a shrug, she spun her wheel and drove away. Right now she had something more important to think about than Nick. As soon as she reached home, she brewed a pot of tea and sat down at the table in her living room. She hadn’t yet decided whether to buy a desk for her spare room. Using it as an office was the obvious way to make use of the space, but at the moment she was keeping a camp bed made up in there for when Chloe came to stay. Meanwhile, the only place she could work comfortably was on her living room table.

T
he trouble was that now she was ready to start, she wasn’t sure what she was looking for. All she knew was that Ian had made a comment that had reminded her of something. Not having written a report on the evening she had spent with her friend, of course, she had no record of their conversation. However hard she tried, she couldn’t remember what he had said. If she thought he might know what she was talking about, she would have called him, but she didn’t even know what it was she wanted to ask. Yet she couldn’t shake off the feeling that if she could only recall one random remark of his, she might be able to find a lead to unravelling the mystery. It would most likely turn out to be a wild goose chase, and was certainly too vague a hunch to share with anyone else, but she was at home on her own and unable to sleep. She had nothing better to do but hunt for this elusive lead. As long as she was looking, there was a chance she might stumble on something that would help them solve the mystery. So far they were casting about in the dark, hunting desperately for clues. This was as good a place to start as any.

S
uspecting it might have something to do with Piers, she began by scanning through all of his statements. Nothing jumped out at her so she turned to Cheryl’s accusation, and from there went on to read what Darius had said about his former brother-in-law. It had struck her as odd that Darius was so well-informed about Piers, but when she had pressed him he had admitted to being ‘in the business.’ He wasn’t an actor but said he used to ‘do jobs for actors.’ She wondered if he had worked with Piers, perhaps without the knowledge of the casting director who wouldn’t know the name of every member of the stage crew. He might have been stalking Piers behind the scenes for years, for some unknown reason. But that still didn’t solve the problem of how the killer had disappeared from the crime scenes. She couldn’t find Darius Cooper listed in any stage or film production, but it was possible he had never been credited, or he could have worked under a different name.

B
y now she was tired. She brewed herself a fresh pot of tea and made some toast, ready to continue searching. Having spent half the night poring over statements, pushing herself to keep going in case the next page might contain some dramatic revelation, her eyes kept closing. Once or twice she caught herself leaning forward in her chair, dozing. It was a struggle to focus on the screen. In the end she gave up and closed her screen. In the morning she would pick up where she had left off. Reluctantly she went to bed, leaving her tray of tea things on the table. She could clear that away in the morning. For now it was effort enough to get undressed and clean her teeth before she fell into bed. As soon as she pulled her duvet up to her chin, she felt herself drifting into a welcoming sleep.

A
rriving at the office early next day, she had been looking through statements for two hours by the time Nick arrived. His black eye looked no better and he was clearly in a foul mood.

‘Sorry to be uncommunicative, but I’ve got the mother of a headache,’ were the only words he said to her all morning.

Preoccupied with work, Geraldine hardly noticed him. At lunch time Reg summoned her, demanding to know what she was doing. When she tried to explain, he complained she was wasting time going over old statements.

‘I just get the feeling we’re missing something,’ she protested.

‘Like the killer’s name?’

‘There’s something staring us in the face, we’ve just got to find it,’ she insisted.

He scowled at her. Like Nick, he seemed determined to be irascible. Even Sam was crabby, pointedly asking about her evening out with Nick, and commenting on his black eye.

H
aving looked through all of Piers’ statements without finding what she was looking for, Geraldine resolved to go and see him again. After so many questions and interviews, it seemed unlikely she would learn anything new from him, but she couldn’t think what else to do. Sam wanted to accompany her, but Geraldine couldn’t face any more of the sergeant’s snide remarks about Nick. Instead, she directed Sam to go and talk to Darius. There wasn’t much point but it would give Sam something to do. Geraldine hoped it would take her mind off Nick and the gossip that surrounded him.

‘Ask him what he knows about his brother-in-law, and find out what you can about his sister, and her marriage. Perhaps he’ll say something that will help us nail Piers.’

‘You said you thought Piers was innocent,’ Sam pointed out.

‘To be honest, I don’t know what to think any more. I’ll see you later.’

With any luck, by the time they met up again, Sam would have stopped griping about Nick.

P
iers didn’t seem to mind Geraldine calling on him again.

‘You must be as keen as I am to find out who’s behind all this insanity,’ he said.

Geraldine went through the names he had given her, but it was a futile exercise. He had just come up with a list of people he thought might have a grudge against him. It soon became apparent why he had invited her in so readily. He wanted to talk to someone about his son. Geraldine listened patiently while he spoke of his pride in all that Zak had achieved, and his regret that they hadn’t spent more time together.

‘I suppose every parent feels this,’ he said, ‘but my work always got in the way. I never gave him the time he should have had with me, and now there’s no more time to give him – it went by so quickly and now –’ His voice shook and he broke off.

Geraldine thought about how quickly Chloe was growing up, and resolved that nothing would stop her seeing her niece at the weekend.

P
iers was surprised when Geraldine told him Zak had been in contact with his uncle. He began to reminisce about Zak’s mother, Ella, and her brother Darius. He spoke slowly, choosing his words with care. As she listened, Geraldine felt a growing sense of unease.

‘It’s not an easy thing to talk about, but it was all a long time ago.’

‘What was?’

‘Darius and Ella.’

‘What about them?’

‘Well, they had an odd sort of relationship, really. They’d lost their parents when they were children, and perhaps as a result of that they had become very close. But it was more than that, really.’

‘What do you mean, more?’

‘He was overly protective of her. I always thought there was something unnatural in the way he doted on her. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying there was anything inappropriate going on. There was nothing sexual in their relationship, nothing like that. At least, I don’t think there was. Ella was – pure – and anyway I had the impression he wasn’t interested in women in that way. But he was obsessed with her. And then, after she died, we never saw him again. He didn’t even come to her funeral. But I thought I’d already told you all this. ’