The Dead Dog Day (28 page)

‘So all was well that ended well. But that old telly adage, never work with children and animals – so true!' Cora said vehemently, and took a large and satisfying bite out of her bun.

Adam swallowed the last of his rhubarb crumble and grinned. ‘Anyway – how's your stalker situation these days? Anything new to report?'

Cora shook her head. ‘Nothing for a week now. Maybe he's got bored and given up, eh? I'm not that interesting to stalk, after all – go to work, come home, that's about it.'

She had, in fact, almost convinced herself that she'd imagined the whole thing. Why would anyone follow
her
? It made no sense. It was, she'd decided, much more likely that the strange stalker was actually a fan of Benjamin's, as most of the incidents had happened when she was with him. There were some peculiar people around, and she wasn't going to waste any more precious time worrying about it. If that was how this particular fan got his kicks, let him! Justin had gone quiet, too – no more scary warning messages. And she hadn't seen the navy car again either, deliberately not looking too closely at cars behind her as she drove. The sense of imminent danger that had freaked her so much a few weeks ago had eased.

She smiled at Adam, at the same time feeling slightly guilty that she was sitting here enjoying his company so much when she hadn't seen Benjamin for over a week. Both their schedules had been insane, and there'd simply been no days when both of them were free. She missed him terribly, but she had to acknowledge somewhat reluctantly that Adam did a rather good job of distracting her from pining for her boyfriend. She looked forward immensely to their weekly briefings, and she suspected he did too. Harry had joined them once or twice too since Cora's first meeting with him, and she'd grown rather fond of the little boy as well. It was, for some reason, a fondness she hadn't shared with Benjamin. After all, she reasoned, these were just work meetings, and as she and her boyfriend tended not to discuss the finer details of work much when they were together, there seemed no need to tell him about unimportant meetings. That was fair enough, wasn't it?

Adam was pouring himself a second cup of tea from the big pot on the table.

‘Me too, please,' said Cora, pushing her cup towards him. As he obliged, she suddenly became aware of a familiar voice behind her. She turned, but saw nobody. Then she heard it again.

‘I feel … sick. When I think about it. And so, so guilty. I really do,' the voice said.

Alice? That was Alice Lomas. Where was she?

Adam had recognised the distinctive whiny tones too. ‘Is that Alice? Oh look – there's an alcove, there at the back. Hadn't noticed it before. She must be sitting round there,' he murmured.

Cora turned round to see what he meant. Sure enough, tucked away in the rear of the cosy café was a little booth.

‘What did she say … she feels guilty? Wonder what she's been up to then?' whispered Cora.

‘I wonder …' Adam's eyes were glued to the alcove.

Alice was still talking, but her voice was too low for them to make out any more of the conversation, and moments later she fell silent.

‘Was she on the phone, do you think? Or is she with somebody?' Cora asked quietly.

‘Sounded like a phone call … I only heard one voice. Oh – watch out, she's on the move.'

Abruptly, the subject of their interest emerged from the booth, phone in hand, and marched smartly towards the exit. Cora steeled herself. There was bound to be a nasty quip from the presenter as she passed by. Adam raised an eyebrow. Although he'd never seen them together, he had become well aware of the animosity between the two colleagues. Somehow, he suspected Cora was able to give as well as she got.

Alice, a distracted look on her face, was almost alongside their table when she noticed them. To Cora's astonishment, the newsreader stopped dead in her tracks and instantly flushed bright red.

‘Cora. And … Sergeant, er …' stammered Alice, who never seemed to be able to remember Adam's rank.

‘Good afternoon, Alice.' Adam smiled politely.

Cora stared. ‘Are you feeling alright, Alice?' The girl was practically luminous.

‘Yes. Fine. Why on earth wouldn't I be? Just didn't expect to see you here, that's all. Anyway, goodbye.'

‘Bye, then.' Cora watched, bemused, as Alice rushed out into the drizzle and disappeared round the corner.

‘Well. That was strange. Why did she go so red? And what was she feeling guilty about? More tea?'

Adam shook his head slowly. ‘No idea. And yes, more tea, thanks.'

But, as Cora topped up their cups, he wondered – and not for the first time – if he'd been too hasty in ruling Alice Lomas out of the murder enquiry. Jeanette's body had finally been released to her family for burial last week, and at the funeral Alice had been practically hysterical, sobbing loudly by the grave, ashen-faced and trembling. Her behaviour had been in stark contrast to that of other members of staff, who had been respectful and solemn but not visibly distraught. This was, after all, a boss who had not been terribly popular. Even Jeanette's mother and other family members, while clearly deeply distressed, had wept in a more dignified manner than the newsreader. Yes, Alice was certainly behaving a little abnormally.

Making a mental note to go back over her statement with a fine tooth comb, Adam smiled at Cora, who'd just launched into another anecdote. Maybe, one day soon, he'd actually have something interesting to tell
her
.

41

Benjamin stared at his reflection in the mirror for a moment, then turned away and flung himself truculently on the bed.

‘You're an idiot, Benjamin Boland. You really need to sort yourself out,' he announced.

He loved Cora, he really did. He told her so all the time, something he'd never said and truly meant to any woman in his life up until now. But over the past few weeks it had been difficult for them to meet up due to their conflicting work schedules, and he'd screwed up. He'd done something that a man in love really should not do. He'd slept with somebody else.

And not just once. Three times. The same somebody else. There had been no need to be unfaithful, no need at all. He felt slightly sick. The thought of losing Cora genuinely horrified him. He wouldn't do it again, he vowed, as he shrugged off his clothes and crawled under the duvet. Definitely not. Absolutely, one hundred per cent, NOT.

‘Wha … whassup? Huh?'

Cora woke with a jump so violent she banged her head on the side window. Window? Hang on, why was there a window in her bed? She rubbed her eyes and glared at it. Yes, there was definitely a window there.

‘Who put that there? I don't understand …' she croaked.

‘You're in the car, stupid. Stakeout, remember?' Clarity was restored by Nathan's voice at her right shoulder.

‘Oh. Sorry,' she muttered. Of course. Stakeout. Somewhere in Wales. That's where she was. She massaged her stiff neck and peered out through the windscreen.

‘Any sightings?'

Nathan shook his head. ‘Tea?' he asked, waving a Thermos flask.

Cora nodded gratefully, and glanced at the clock on the dash of his car. Three ten in the morning. She pulled the collar of her Puffa jacket up around her face and stared out into the moonlit street. Complete silence, not even a car anywhere in sight. They'd been here since nine last night, parked in a dark lane almost directly opposite the gated entrance to the Cardiff mansion of Arwyn Jones. The Welsh pop sensation was, the
Morning Live
news desk had been reliably informed, currently in the throes of a passionate affair with Jessie Jarman, lead singer of girl band Sugar Kiss. Jessie had married Burberry model Stuart Stevens in a million-pound extravaganza less than a year ago and, if the rumours about her infidelity were true, this would be on the front pages for weeks.

If Cora and Nathan could get the first pictures of the illicit couple together, it would be a major coup for the breakfast show. Normally the tabloids got hold of all of these lurid tales first, so a TV show that broke the story would earn serious kudos.

‘Sorry for falling asleep. It's even more tedious doing these things when there's nobody to talk to,' she said apologetically, and took a sip of her tea.

‘No worries. I need a wee. Back in a mo.'

Nathan opened the car door, letting a rush of frosty air in. Spring might be almost here, but the early hours of the morning were still bitter. Cora shivered, and watched in the rear view mirror as the cameraman disappeared into the shadows behind the vehicle. It was easy for the boys, she sighed, shifting uncomfortably in her seat and ignoring the fact that she would soon need to go to the loo too. She always carried toilet paper and a plastic bag to put the used tissue in, but finding somewhere to go in the middle of the night was always a challenge.

‘Oh, the glamour of telly!' she said theatrically, as Nathan clambered back in to the car. He slammed the door and turned the key in the ignition.

‘Tell me about it. I'll whack the heater on for a few minutes. Brass monkeys out there. Anything?'

‘Negative. No lights on or anything. If they're in there together tonight, they'll be tucked up in bed if they've any sense. It'll be the day shift tomorrow who get the pictures of her leaving, mark my words. What time are we being relieved – eight a.m.?'

Nathan nodded. ‘At least we get a day off tomorrow – I'm spending
all
of it in bed!' He stretched his hands above his head and cracked his knuckles.

‘Urgh, stop it!' Cora punched her friend in the arm. ‘Bed though … that sounds
soooo
good. I might go to London, sleep at Benjamin's for a few hours. He's around tomorrow afternoon, and we need to catch up. It's been impossible recently.'

‘How are things going then? Still serious?'

Cora thought for a moment. A few weeks ago that would have been an easy question to answer. Now, she wasn't quite so sure.

‘I don't know. We have an amazingly strong connection, and I do love him … we love each other, I think. But – oh, I don't know. I've been spending some time with Adam, and I really like him too. Although that could never go anywhere, because of the kid thing … but I shouldn't be having feelings for anyone else at all, if I'm in love, should I?'

Nathan looked at her quizzically.

‘To be honest, I always thought that Benjamin was just a rebound thing. And they rarely last, do they? It was SO soon after Justin that you two got together.'

‘It was, I know, but he made me smile again. I probably shouldn't have jumped into something so soon, no. But it just sort of happened. Oh Nathan, I don't know. I do love Benjamin, he's sweet and funny and kind. I'll just see how it goes. It's not like we're planning to get married or even live together or anything. There are no decisions to be made, we're just enjoying each other. I just wish I wasn't also enjoying Adam.'

‘He is gorgeous though. Always did like a man in uniform …' Nathan sighed.

Cora laughed. ‘You're such a slut. And he doesn't even wear a uniform, you twit. He's a plain clothes detective!'

Nathan tittered. ‘He can detect what's going on in my clothes anytime.'

‘Oh for goodness' sake!' Cora yawned. ‘More tea please.'

They settled down into a companionable silence, sipping from their plastic cups, eyes glued to the driveway opposite. Only another four and a half hours to go. Then bed. How heavenly that would be.

The person who had brought Jeanette Kendrick's life to a premature close was already in bed, but sleep would not come. Mind racing, the murderer stared at the ceiling. It couldn't wait much longer. The police were clueless, but care would still be needed with the second killing. The plan was coming together perfectly, though, and it was almost ready to be put into action. The killer's heart raced. It was very nearly time. One more, then it would all be over.

42

One week later – Wednesday 4
^th
April

‘I've got something really interesting for you to listen to … hang on, I'll get it.'

Benjamin bounded off the sofa and started rummaging in the leather Paul Smith bag he'd flung carelessly on the floor earlier. Cora stretched lazily and watched him, admiring the tightness of his bottom as he bent over the bag. He really was the most extraordinarily fine specimen of a man. She smiled as he returned to his seat, clutching his iPhone.

‘Now – remember last week you said you overheard Alice in that café, talking about feeling guilty about something?'

Cora nodded. She sat up, suddenly intrigued.

‘Well, have a listen to this. Recorded it when I was on that magazine shoot yesterday – you know, the ‘Sexiest Bods on the Box' one?'

‘Yes – the one Alice was on too, silly cow?' Cora was even more interested now. What on earth had he recorded?

‘Yep. Agreed, she's a silly cow. Got a smoking body though.'

Cora rolled her eyes.

‘But not as smoking as yours, obviously,' he smiled.

‘Yeah, yeah, get to the point!'

‘OK, well – we were sitting around, waiting for the lights or something to be fixed up, and she gets a phone call. Wanders off to take it. I'm dying for a wee so I head into the toilets, and suddenly I can hear her, clear as day, through the wall. She's in the ladies' loo next door, but it was only a sort of temporary partition thing, so I could hear every word. And it was so peculiar, what she was saying, especially after what you told me about last week in the café. So I hit record on the phone. Here, listen.'

He pressed play. Agog, Cora leaned forward as Alice's unmistakeable voice filled the room.

‘Yes, I feel really guilty. I feel awful. I can't stop thinking about it.'

Her voice was echoey and slightly distant, but Cora could hear every word. Her eyes widened. Yet again, the guilt thing. What on earth had Alice done? There was a pause, presumably as the person on the other end of the newsreader's phone responded. Then: