Copycat

by Diane Saxon

  His eyes widened with each statement she nailed home. ‘Sheesh, Jenna, do you have to be so bloodthirsty?’

  ‘I investigate crimes every day. What do you expect?’

  The look he sent her was pitiful. ‘A little compassion.’

  ‘You have as much compassion as you need, you know I don’t do fluffy bunnies.’ She pointed her index finger at him. ‘Hurt my little sister and you’re dead meat, pal. In the very worst sense of the word.’

  Mason jiggled his shoulders. ‘Dead is dead. Anyway, she may not agree to go out with me.’ Thoughtful, he tapped his fingers against his chin. ‘Do you think I’m too old for her?’

  Age wasn’t a particular issue for Jenna, nor did she think Fliss would think so. ‘No, I don’t. She may, but you won’t know if you don’t ask.’

  Mason smiled, relief washing over his face. ‘Good.’ He nodded and broke into a grin. ’Great.’

  Distracted by the glimpse of a familiar figure, she stared past Mason at the young detective lolloping towards them through the main office of Malinsgate Police Station. Detective Constable Ryan Downey, the son of Jim, their senior forensics scientist, seconded to her team when her sister went missing. His enthusiasm and intelligence had led to his position being made permanent, much to her delight.

  His loose-limbed swagger became overexaggerated as he made his way past the new blonde administrator, who never even spared him a glance.

  Jenna narrowed her eyes as his gaze caught hers. She jerked her head in a ‘come over’ motion and curved her lips in a friendly smile.

  Like a deer in headlights, the young man hesitated mid-stride, his gaze darting from side to side as though looking for an escape route.

  Mason glanced over his shoulder to see who she’d pinned with a look, kept his voice down low and mumbled out of the corner of his mouth. ‘Would you stop baring your teeth at the poor lad. He hasn’t a clue what he’s done. It only quarter to six. He’s early for God’s sake.’

  The smile zipped off her face. ‘I wasn’t baring my teeth.’

  Mason quirked his lips in disbelief.

  Offended, she snapped upright in her chair. ‘I was smiling.’

  Mason snorted out a burst of laughter, half relieved, she suspected, to have the attention off him. She’d lost interest in any case. There was nothing further to discuss. Mason would ask her sister out. Fliss would most likely say no and Jenna would have to tolerate the pitiful heartbroken eye-rolling pettiness that would ensue.

  Not unlike how she felt about Adrian Hall, the Chief Crown Prosecutor she’d spent so much time with when Fliss went missing. If the situation had been different, she may well have made moves on him. But timing had been the issue and her sole focus had been her sister. Once that focus had changed, she’d have quite happily ripped his clothes from his delectable body. She’d barely moved past the change of focus when she found out he was married. Off limits. That was her rule, a one she’d never strayed from. Married men held no interest for her.

  She pushed all thoughts of Adrian from her mind, just as she had when she received a text from him that morning, acknowledging her drunken message from the night before. It wasn’t altogether cringeworthy, she’d asked him when he’d be in the station again. He’d not answered her the night before, but by the time she arrived in work, he’d replied, asking when she was available for a quick coffee.

  Coffee was all she could allow herself with him.

  Right now, she had more interest in the approaching Detective Constable. Her avid gaze zoomed in on the items the young man clutched in his bony, over large hands.

  She leaned forward to get a better look. ‘What you got there?’

  Newly appointed to the team, DC Ryan Downey bobbed his head a couple of times, racing pigeon style, and cast Jenna a sheepish grin. ‘Bacon and egg baguette and a Venti caramel shortbread latte with extra cream, Sarg.’

  Mason blew out a breath and flung himself back in his chair. ‘A fucking, what…?’

  Jenna’s stomach flipped over and threatened to throw up the biley contents at the thought of so much cream. She covered her mouth with her hand and squeezed her eyes closed as her stomach rolled over, then did a quick backflip to make her gag.

  In the silence, she sucked air in through her teeth and coaxed her eyes open, relieved as the rush of nausea subsided.

  With a depth of maturity and command she didn’t quite feel, she lowered her eyebrows and pointed at the baguette he held in his left hand. ‘Gimme.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ His eyebrows shot high in his smooth, unwrinkled forehead.

  ‘Gimme.’ She wriggled her fingers, beckoning him towards her, and then reached inside the top drawer of her desk with her other hand to pull out a ten pound note. Desperation made her generous. She’d have offered him a bar of gold if she’d had one. ‘I’ll give you ten quid for it.’ She hoped her voice sounded more business like than wheedling. If he scented her wretchedness, Ryan would have the upper hand. Sweetheart though he was, Jenna couldn’t afford for him to choose now to find his confidence.

  Mason snorted.

  ‘But it’s my breakfast.’ Despair tinged Ryan’s voice and he ended the sentence on a high pitched squeak.

  ‘Mine now.’ She wriggled her fingers again.

  His huge brown eyes drooped at the edges and she could have sworn tears started to form. She relented and reached inside her drawer for another ten pound note. ‘Twenty quid, Ryan, and I’ll let you go and get another one right now. If you’re quick. But I want that one.’ Self-preservation was all that mattered. The young man was never without food. He’d find more.

  Mason groaned and dropped his head into his hands ‘Pathetic…’ he muttered under his breath. ‘Truly, pathetic.’

  Pathetic didn’t quite hit the mark. She’d have crawled over broken glass to get that baguette. It was the magic cure for her hangover.

  ‘Here. My need is greater than yours. You can go back.’ She waggled the money at Ryan, knowing she had him. ‘While you’re there, I’ll have one of those huge cups of coffee – black – lots of sugar.’

  ‘Venti.’

  ‘What’s empty?’ Confused, she stared at him, the murkiness of her hangover fogging her mind.

  ‘Not empty. The size of the coffee. It’s Venti.’

  What the hell made him think she cared. She didn’t care. She only cared about coffee. Now. ‘Good enough. Get me a Venti. Triple shot of espresso’

  His gaze darted between her and the baguette, his skinny chest appeared to deflate, and then he handed it over, exchanging it for the money.

  His head drooped, his shoulders rolled in and he reverted to his teenage-boy stance, one that still amused her even through the pain.

  Smug in her victory, she honoured him with another one of her smiles. ‘Make it quick. You’ve got fifteen minutes, or you’ll be late for work.’

  His eyes almost popped out of his head as his chin shot up and his skinny neck stretched taut, his shirt collar leaving so much room, he reminded her of a surprised tortoise, before he wheeled around and made off in the direction he’d come.

  ‘Ryan,’ Mason called before the young officer had even taken three steps.

  His shoulders drooped again in defeat and he slouched back around to face them. ‘Yeah.’

  Mason shot him a shark’s grin. ‘I’ll hold onto your Venti caramel shortbread latte with extra cream until you get back.’ He dropped a fast wink. ‘Keep it safe, so to speak.’

  Not to be conned twice in a row, Ryan’s gaze sharpened; a crafty gleam entered his narrowed eyes to show exactly why they’d chosen him for their team, his bright mind already calculating. ‘How much?’

  ‘What?’ Mason’s forehead crinkled with confusion.

  ‘How much will you give me for it?’

  Mason flopped back in his chair, a benign smile on his lips. ‘Cheeky bugger. How much did it cost you?’

  Ryan sniffed and glanced at the cup he still had possession of. ‘Six quid.’


  Mason chewed on his lip. ‘Would that be your answer if you were under caution?’

  A delicate flush spread up Ryan’s skinny neck, but he stood his ground. ‘I’m not under caution. The Sarg gave me twenty quid for her baguette and a triple Venti espresso.’

  Mason squinted up at him. ‘Sergeant Morgan has more money than sense this morning. I’m pretty damned sure if she wasn’t in such a delicate condition, she’d have thought this through a little better.’ He slid her a sly look, before he turned his attention back to Ryan. ‘So, you leave that drink with me, son, and go and get yourself another one with the twenty quid you were given.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out a few coins. ‘And while you’re there, pick up a bacon and egg baguette for me too. Grab some brown sauce with mine.’

  Ryan’s lips twisted, but he snatched the money from Mason’s palm, slapped the drink down on the desk and marched off through the office muttering, ‘You’re not the boss of me.’ Under his breath.

  Weak with laughter and lack of food, Jenna held her tender stomach. She wiped her eyes and picked her baguette up, took a huge bite and relaxed back into her seat. All she needed was food in her stomach, the giant coffee, fifteen minutes for it all to process and she’d be cured. Please, God, let her be cured.

  She eyed the cup Mason raised to his lips and her stomach clenched enough to have her lowering the sandwich into her lap, a quick wave of dizziness spinning her head.

  ‘How the hell can you drink that shit?’

  Mason grinned, raising his head away from the cup to leave a thick, white moustache on his upper lip, so she almost threw up anyway.

  ‘That’s disgusting.’ Jenna glanced away. What she held in her hand was a cure-all. A bacon and egg baguette was the answer. Always. Regardless of the question. She took another healthy bite and shook her head as the fuzziness cleared momentarily. ‘I’ve changed my mind, you can’t date my sister.’

  He stared at her over the rim of his cup, the deep blue of his eyes turning steely. ‘Too late. You already agreed. I’ve got it recorded. Besides…’ he lowered the cup and swiped the cream off his top lip with his tongue and made her belly roll again. ‘You know you’ll love having me around.’

  Poker faced, she stared back at him. It didn’t warrant an answer. He was yanking her chain. She hadn’t given that a thought. Did she really want Mason hanging about in her house? Her stomach rebelled and threatened to chuck its contents all over the desk in front of her.

  If Fliss moved out, it wouldn’t be an issue. She’d barely see either of them.

  Before she allowed those thoughts to consume her, she deliberately turned them off.

  With a valiant effort, she swallowed the mouthful of bread, knowing it would line her stomach against the punishment she’d administered to it. She pressed the heel of her hand to her eye to stop the jackhammer from slamming it out of her head, took another bite of the baguette and chewed. It would do her good. It had to.

  With slow, deliberate movements, Jenna reached back into her drawer and picked out the battered remains of a paracetamol blister pack, almost kissing it as she noticed two left. She popped them out of the packet, threw them to the back of her throat and, in the absence of any liquid, took a small bite of her baguette and swallowed.

  Satisfied it would go part of the way to resolving her hangover, she rootled around in the bottom of her drawer again and came up with two white-coated tablets. She shot them into her mouth and dry-swallowed, hoping that the bread she fed in after would push them down quickly enough to avoid them burning a hole through her gullet.

  Mason screwed his face up. ‘That’s disgusting, they could have been anything.’

  ‘Nope. I gave DI Taylor some the other day and two dropped out into my drawer. They’re the last two. I know they’re ibuprofen.’

  He snorted, looking at her from under lowered eyebrows. ‘Are you quite sure? You’ve interviewed a couple of addicts lately. You never know what they may have slipped into your drawer when you were looking the other way. Planting evidence, so to speak.’

  No, he wasn’t going to get her on that. There was no way she was about to doubt what she’d already swallowed. It was too late. She knew for a certainty they were ibuprofen. She thought. If she started to see dancing pink elephants, she’d maybe admit they weren’t what she believed them to be.

  She spared the open drawer a momentary glance and then dismissed his suggestions from her mind as she opened her mouth to take another bite and stopped with the baguette almost touching her lips as her radio crackled to life.

  ‘Sarg, are you there?’

  Jenna picked up her Airwaves, not recognising the voice. ‘Sergeant Morgan, go ahead.’

  ‘Sarg, its PC Dodd here. We have a body. Life extinct. Suspicious circumstances. Duty acting inspector is on his way. The scene has been preserved, Sarg. The ex-boyfriend is in the lounge, Sarg, he discovered her. He’s an emotional mess.’ Static filled the silence for a long moment before PC Dodd’s voice whispered down the line, ‘I can hear him sobbing.’

  Jenna depressed the button on the radio, her gaze connecting with Mason’s as her brain clicked into gear, fresh and bright, as though it had never been hindered by alcohol. ‘Is anyone else there with you, PC Dodd?’

  ‘No, Sarg.’ Now she heard the wobble in his voice and her stomach gave an instinctive heave. ‘Duty acting inspector’s on his way,’ he repeated. ‘He told me to contact you.’

  ‘What happened to the victim?’

  The radio crackled before he answered.

  ‘You’ve got to see it to believe it.’

  7

  Tuesday 4 February, 06:15 hrs

  The hitch in his voice had her surging to her feet. Her gaze locked with Mason’s as she waved the remains of her baguette at him in a wordless bid to make him understand the urgency.

  ‘I’m on my way. Keep things in order until I get there, PC Dodd.’

  The metal slid back into his voice. ‘Yes, Sarg.’

  She was already taking the back stairs down the building as she shoved the last of the baguette into her mouth, aware of Mason on her heels.

  Of all the days when a murder hit her desk, it had to be midweek when she’d overindulged. The bread settled heavily on her stomach and she could only hope it lined it well enough to keep the contents in place.

  The wind whipped at her coat the moment she stepped outside the glass and brick building, making her regret her decision to wear a lightweight mac instead of her winter woollen overcoat. She’d mistakenly thought spring was on its way. She darted a glance up at the dark clouds rolling over one another as they scudded across the grey dawn sky to dip the temperature another two degrees, a deep shroud of fog threatened for the rest of the day.

  She trotted across the concrete bridge over the moat surrounding the police station, making it more of a fortress than a sanctuary, dashed into the car park and yanked open the driver’s door. She stared at Mason over the roof of the car and then tossed him the keys, aware of the swirl of alcohol still in her system.

  ‘You’d better drive.’

  She slipped into the passenger seat of the Vauxhall Insignia while Mason made the car jiggle in his enthusiasm as his backside hit the driver’s seat. He spared her a brief glance as he fired up the engine and pushed it into reverse.

  ‘What about Ryan?’ Jenna heard the mild whine in his voice and knew he was less concerned about the young police officer than the food he’d promised to bring.

  She ignored his silent plea, briefly mourning the loss of her own enormous cup of life saving caffeine when there were more important matters to consider. ‘We’ll brief him when we get back.’

  Mason fell into a quiet sulk as he concentrated on manoeuvring the vehicle backwards before he put it in first gear and drove it out of the car park, turning left onto the main Telford town centre thoroughfare. The bright headlights cut a wide swathe through the mist.

  Jenna leaned forward and plumbed the address she’d been given
into the satnav.

  With a squeak of enthusiasm, Mason shot upright in his seat, pointing a finger as he accelerated. ‘There’s Ryan. I’m going to stop. I have to stop for him.’ His palpable excitement almost bounced the car from the road as he wiggled in his seat. ‘We’d hate for him to be late!’

  If it hadn’t been for the giant cup of coffee Ryan balanced in his right hand, she may well have instructed Mason to drive past, just to piss him off. But there was no point punishing herself. After all, she’d paid twenty quid for the luxury of a bacon and egg sandwich and a coffee. She was damned if she’d pass up that opportunity when it was within touching distance.

  With a flick of his indicator and a quick glance in the rear view mirror, Mason slewed the vehicle to the edge of the road alongside Ryan. He lowered the electric window and bellowed, ‘Get in, quick,’ as he flicked off the automated door lock with a dull clunk.

  Wind exploded into the car as Ryan flung open the door, almost taking it off its hinges with the howl of the February gale. Jenna sucked in her breath and resisted the urge to yell at him. If it was her own car, she may have chucked him out and driven off. As it was, forgiveness was easy as he leaned forward from where he’d flung himself on the back seat with a wide grin and handed the giant coffee cup to her.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Youthful enthusiasm vibrated from him. Give him a few years and the Force would wipe that out.

  Cynicism sneaked through as Jenna took a slug of scalding coffee and closed her eyes, allowing the pleasure to soak through every taste bud in her mouth. The best coffee ever. Not coffee. Ambrosia, the nectar of life. One sip, and the taste of it tweaked her from the depths of self-indulgent pity, enough so she could answer him.

  ‘Sudden death. Domestic. Possible murder. We’ll find out when we get there,’ Mason answered for her before he chomped down on the baguette, then put the car in gear and pulled away from the kerb. He fell silent while he negotiated the vehicle one-handed around the curve in the road, probably contemplating how to ask Fliss out without making a balls-up of it.