Death on Daytime: A Tess Darling Mystery (The Tess Darling Mysteries) (41 page)
Read Death on Daytime: A Tess Darling Mystery (The Tess Darling Mysteries) Online
Authors: Tash Bell
“Towards Mum?”
“Towards you. In this exposé of mine. So I admitted my film
did
plan to raise legitimate concerns about your journalistic professionalism, which is when she… she…”
“What?”
“Threw me out. Then threatened to sue me.”
“
Sue
you?” Tess couldn’t believe it. “What for?”
“Bloody alimony, can you believe it? Citing various counts of adultery – wretched woman ticked them off, going back thirty years.” His voice grew querulous. “I always thought she was too busy gardening.”
Violet Darling, grinned Tess, you bruiser.
“We re-cut the documentary this morning,” he said. “Changed our anti-tabloid tack; eschewed modern malpractice for the professionalism of the
past.
Funnily enough, it’s become something of a tribute to myself. My team’s idea, of course – you know how I hate a fuss – but they wondered whether, in the light of your recent investigative
coup,
you might deliver a small piece to camera? Some words about my legacy, perhaps? And how I’ve shaped your work?”
Tess hung up. “Shape that,” she thought, shoving her phone back into her Puffa. Hunched against a chill blast of winter air, she stepped off the police station forecourt.
“Tess, wait.” DS Selleck called from the station doors above. “Please.”
In his haste to reach her, he took the steps two at a time. Tess laughed. He was coming at her with so much force, he almost knocked her over – knocked them both over. Things spilled from his pockets. Laughing some more – wondering at his urgency –Tess bent to collect what he’d scattered.
Picking up a packet of Spearmint Sugar-Free gum, she passed it to Selleck. Their hands met.
She passed him a small box of dental floss. They exchanged a tentative smile.
She saw a leather glove on the step below – his? He nodded. She picked up the glove. He reached for it.
She didn’t let go. Instead, she raised the glove to her face – and sniffed it. “I knew it,” she said. “I bloody knew it.”
“What?”
“Just now – at Squarey Street – you pushed me out of the way of Mrs Pattison and her skull-smashing teapot? Well, I smelled it on you – on your gloves: glue.”
“Glue?”
“You heard me. Your model plane adhesive – your flat stinks of it. Your chicken chasseur stinks of it – and so do your gloves. Pull them on, do you, when affixing a tricky tail fin?” She screwed up the glove, and threw it at him. “That night – after our date – it was
you
, wasn’t it? You
attacked
me.”
“I didn’t Tess, I swear, I didn’t lay a finger on you – well, perhaps a restraining hand, but only to stop you punching me in the jaw.”
“I wasn’t punching anyone,” said Tess. “I was PRACTISING SELF-DEFENCE.”
“You were reeling drunk, that’s what. You’d fallen halfway down the street before I caught you up.”
“You were
following
me?”
“I just wanted to see you home.” He moved towards her. She backed down the steps. “You were all over the place, Tess. Then you disappeared into that hedge, so I ran to you. But I’d barely got my arms around you, when you smacked me in the face, and then kneed me in the crotch. I panicked, Tess, I admit it. You were acting like a crazy woman: a very
strong,
crazy woman. I thought it best to retreat.” He lowered his voice. “I’m a police officer, remember? I’ve got to think about how things look.”
“And it looked OK to leave me face-down on a pavement?”
“I was trying to rescue you.”
She let out a snort. “I
may
need rescuing, Officer, but not by a bloke. And definitely not by a bloke in smelly leather gloves.”
She turned to go. “Please,” he grabbed her. “Don’t leave things like this.” Rummaging quickly inside his coat, the office pulled out his notepad. Scrawling down a number, he tore off the page. “Give me another chance.” He pressed the paper into her hand. “Call me.”
“Sir!” A uniformed constable stuck his head out of the station doors. “DCI Burns wants you, pronto.” Selleck was the hero of the hour, wasn’t he? The force needed him.
Giving Tess one last, urgent look, Selleck turned back up the stairs to close the case of the year.
Back on the bottom step, Tess studied the piece of paper: Selleck’s mobile number. She imagined calling it. She pictured the dishy officer, naked. Then she put his clothes back on, and accompanied him to the Christmas Policeman’s Ball. She saw the ambitious, upstanding officer shamed by his shambolic blonde date – and dropped the paper to the floor.
“Don’t drop litter,” said Miller. “It makes the world sad.” Bending to pick up the paper, he rose slowly up again (ground level to 6ft 4 takes time).
As far as Tess was concerned, however, he could have taken all day. “Miller,” she flung out her arms. “How did you find me?”
“The usual way.”
“You phoned the police?”
He nodded. “Only this time, they seemed sorry to let you go.”
Tess let out a sad laugh. The friends stayed wrapped in each other for a bit. Tess’ arms halfway round Miller; Miller’s arms all the way round Tess. “I knew you’d figure it all out,” he said.
“You did?”
“Of course.” Miller rested his chin on the top of Tess’ head. He thought how soft her hair was – how it tickled him. And how it smelled mostly of Campari. He took a breath: Should he speak? Say what he’d want to tell her for –
“I dunno, Miller,” said Tess. “Feels like I’ve figured out no more than when I started. Where am I going wrong?”
He let his breath go. He couldn’t tell her, could he? She’d not want to hear it – not now. Not from him.
Tess was sad, though, wasn’t she? And when it came to Tess, Miller would always rather be the sad one. Gently, he ruffled her hair. Then he slipped Selleck’s crumped phone number into the pocket of her coat. “Things may look different in the morning,” he told her. “Until then, you’ll always have me to buy you a beer. And I’m not the only one.”
Turned to face the road, Tess saw the
Pardon my Garden
van driving up it. With an agonized grinding of gears, the vehicle lurched forward – and Tess saw Gideon and Lucy upfront, on the passenger side. “We came as soon as Miller phoned,” Di sang out of the window. “Gideon
was
driving, but then his wrists gave way.”
“It’s true.” Gid held up his hands like a MASH surgeon. “They had no more to give.”
“But no-one else could drive,” said Di. “Except, it turns out, your bluddy marvellous
motherrr!
”
Which is when Tess noticed the small figure behind the driver’s wheel, her head barely reaching over the top, and her hands gripping so tight that Tess could see every knuckle from ten feet.
“Mum?
In the driving seat?
”
“Makes a change, doesn’t it?” replied Violet Darling, somewhat breathlessly. She was wearing her faded raincoat, an erratic line in lipstick – and a look of jubilant terror. It suited her. “Would you believe I ferried your father everywhere in the early days?” she beamed. “Silly man was scared of driving. But then the TV companies started to send a car, and there was always so much to do in that horrible garden—”
“But… I don’t get it,” said Tess. “Two weeks ago, you could barely leave the house.”
“Well, a lot can happen in two weeks, can’t it dear?” said Violet. “Now jump in the back because Miller wants to take you to paintballing, and I’m not entirely sure how to stop.”
THE END
I hope you enjoyed DEATH ON DAYTIME. If you’d like to be the first to hear about the next instalment from Tess and Miller, please just click on
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Thanks for reading,
Tash
Copyright © 2014 Tash Bell
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.
