We Don't Speak About Mollie: Book 2 in the DI Rachel Morrison series

by Vicky Jones

  “Someone mention my name?” she trilled.

  “DC Chapman, this is Detective Inspector Rachel Morrison, your new guv’nor,” Jenkins said.

  “Call me Mags, dear. Sorry, boss, I should say.” Mags said in a soft scouse accent. “It’s nice to finally meet you. We’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “So it would seem,” Rachel replied, with a deep breath. “Nice to meet you too, Mags.” Rachel held out her hand, which Mags shook.

  “I think it’ll be quite full on for the next couple of months, with what they want us to get through,” Mags said, fingering the stems of her reading glasses.

  “In what way?” Rachel replied.

  Mags nodded over Rachel’s shoulder. Rachel turned to face the mountain of files on her shelves. Of course they’d be mine, she thought with an inner eye roll. It struck her that there were an awful lot of files to get through in a two-month window, which was a tad concerning.

  “We’ve had quite a few misper files piling up over the years, as you can see. God knows what’s in them. It wouldn’t surprise me if Lord Lucan and Shergar were in that lot somewhere.” Mags snorted at her own joke, then straightened her face. “Nobody around here has had the time to properly go through those old folders. Let alone solve them. Yet.” Mags grinned and clasped her hands across her middle.

  Jenkins walked over to Rachel and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I have every faith in you two. I couldn’t have picked anybody better to box off these cases. And I’m going to enjoy my retirement in a few months knowing that all these loose ends are tied up.”

  Forcing a smile, and wondering what she had got herself into, Rachel walked around her desk and placed her hands on the back of her chair. “Well, we’d better get started then.”

  DC Bradley appeared at the door with a bucket of cleaning materials and a steaming black coffee. “First thing’s first, though, boss,” he said, holding out the coffee to Rachel.

  Katie had been sitting up in bed next to Tom for the last half an hour staring at a tiny crack on the far wall of their bedroom. Her fingers were wrapped in the cotton fabric of their pale blue duvet cover. Tom looked up at her and placed his book down on his chest.

  “You OK, babe? You’ve been quiet for a while.”

  Katie looked down at him and sighed. “I just can’t believe she’s gone, Tom. She was more than just my aunt. I was too young to really remember my actual mum. Auntie Joan was my whole world for so many years. She cared for me more than my loser of a father. Couldn’t even be arsed to pay his respects to his own sister at her funeral, when she stepped up to be both parents to me. Just because he couldn’t handle being a dad. Oh, Tom, how did it come to this? I’m alone again in the world. Apart from you, that is.”

  “I know, baby. I know. You’ve always got me, no matter what. OK?” Tom pulled her down into a tight cuddle. He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. “I promise you, we’ll get through this.”

  “How’s my work mum this fine Tuesday morning?” a chirpy voice sounded from the end of Mags’ cluttered, paper-strewn work desk. She looked up from her computer screen and pulled her reading glasses to the end of her nose. There she saw the smiling face of the young PC who had brought her another archive box up from the records office. He was barely twenty with short brown hair, a small scar on his upper lip and a twinkle in his blue eyes. He wore a tidy police uniform and had his Sillitoe striped cap resting on the top of the box.

  “Oh, hello, Mick. I’m very well, thank you, sweetheart. How’s that gorgeous girlfriend of yours?”

  Mick perched on the end of Mags’ desk and folded his arms. “Amazing. She’s definitely a keeper, this one. Had a big bowl of scouse literally ready to eat as soon as I walked through the door last night. And a beer waiting. That girl is something special, I can tell you. And she’d remembered the match was on. Had Sky Sports 1 on already for when I sat down. Boss, that, eh?”

  A huge grin swept across Mags’s bright red lips. Her blue-grey eyes twinkled with pride. She had taken Mick under her wing as soon as he’d started as a newly trained PC in their department, and taken a keen interest in his private life. “Oh, I’m so pleased for you, darling. It’s about time you had a good one.”

  Mick blushed. “I know. I’ve had some crazy ones, me, haven’t I?” Mick looked to the heavens and grinned. “Remember the girl who only let me eat the orange jelly babies in the pack?”

  Mags let out a bark of laughter. “Oh my God, yes. And the one after that who wanted you to ring her every half an hour, even if you were on the loo.”

  “Jesus. Thank God that didn’t last. No, I think Lisa’s different. Normal, you know?”

  “Well then, you make sure you appreciate her,” Mags said, jabbing him with her elbow.

  “Of course I will.” Mick stood up straight. He leaned in to Mags. “I even did the washing up at half time,” he whispered in her ear. “A changed man, I am.”

  Mags slapped him on his arm and laughed. “That’s my boy. Now away with you. Momma’s got work to do.”

  As Mick went to sit down at his desk over the far end of the office, he passed Rachel striding past who stopped at Mags’ desk holding a blue cardboard folder.

  “Looks like you’re a lot of people’s ‘mums’ around here,” Rachel said, smiling.

  Mags looked up at her. “Too many years of experience around here. I like to pass it on to the younger waifs and strays. Poor Mick over there never knew his parents. They died in a car crash just after he was born. Grew up in different foster homes. He’s called me the ‘mum he never had’ since his first day here. I’m OK with that; no children of my own, you see.” Sadness seemed to glaze over Mags’ normally bright eyes. She snapped back into work mode. “If I can pass on that wisdom to the next generation then I’ll be happy with that. Now, shall we get started on those files?”

  “This one here I think could be an easy win.” She held up the folder. “Hazel Connolly. I looked through the notes and then checked on the database. Her credit card was used last week, so I’m sending Bradley over to her house to confirm it’s her and she’s not missing after all. Looks like an admin error on this one. Database was updated, but not the paper file.” She handed the folder to Mags who licked a finger and leafed through.

  “An admin error? That’s not like me.” She spotted the amendment note Rachel had made in red pen by the ‘bank cards last used’ line. “Right, well, this looks like one less off the list.”

  Rachel took the folder back off her. “Means we’ll have to take a more detailed look at the other folders cluttering up my office. Just to make sure they are all officially unsolved still.” She looked pointedly at Mags, who lowered her eyes.

  “Well, that’s me told,” she murmured with a forced smile. “Just, if you wouldn’t mind not mentioning it to the juniors on the team?” she whispered, nodding over to Bradley a couple of desks away who was staring intently at his computer screen and diligently making notes. “I’ve heard how smart you are, but there’s really no need for you to show me up to assert yourself here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Mags spread her hands. “Well, you’re this new supercop. Oh, I don’t want to sound bitter there, dear. I’m just happy to make it to my retirement in nine months’ time. I’ve got nothing left to learn in this job or to prove.”

  Rachel bristled. “I’m not looking for you to ‘prove’ yourself to me, Mags. Your thirty odd years’ service shows me you’ve done that already. No, the mistake on this case was just an oversight, that’s all. I’m not out to ‘show anyone up’.” She relaxed her face. “And if anything, I need to prove myself to you. Anyway, Superintendent Jenkins had nothing but good things to say about you when we first were introduced.”

  The corners of Mags’ mouth twitched. “He just wants those cases boxed off. Tired of the flak he gets from above. He doesn’t care how that happens and probably thinks flattery will get us to work quicker on them.”

  Chapter 3

 
Katie stood outside the large, white stone hotel a mile from Brighton town centre and took a deep breath. Her cordial, but frosty, interaction with her sister yesterday at the funeral had made her a little nervous. But seeing her niece Charlotte had reminded her that she did have a family, and Katie was determined to try and work on her fractious relationship with her older sister. She pushed open the glass front door of the hotel and walked over to the lifts. Her text from Jenny had told her to go to Room 364. When she located the correct corridor, she walked along the purple carpeted hallway and up to the door. With trepidation, she lifted her hand to knock.

  “Oh. Hello,” Jenny said. She was wearing her outdoor coat as if ready to leave and held the door open a few inches, looking thoroughly put out that Katie was stood there.

  “Hi,” Katie replied. “Can I come in?”

  “Um... OK.” Jenny opened the door to the hotel room.

  Inside it was fairly spacious, with a big white quilted double bed in the middle of the room complete with purple runner, and a smaller single at the far end. On the double bed was a large open suitcase, half packed. Charlotte sat on her little single bed playing with a fluffy black and tan dog teddy. The silence hung like thunder clouds in the air between them.

  “I brought you these,” Katie said, holding out a bunch of multi-coloured tulips. “I remembered you saying they were your favourite last time we spoke on the phone.”

  “You have a good memory.” Jenny took the flowers and laid them on the bed next to her handbag. “We’ll be leaving soon. It’s a long train ride back up to Liverpool.”

  Shit, Katie thought, looking down at the extra thing to carry that she had given Jenny. “Well, I just wanted to say thank you for coming down here to support me. It means a lot. And to see this little one too.” Katie pointed at Charlotte, then took a few steps towards her. Charlotte looked up from her teddy.

  “I’ve called him Timmy now,” Charlotte said, holding out the teddy.

  “Oh wow, he really looks like my auntie’s dog, doesn’t he? That’s a great name. Do you remember me from yesterday, Charlotte?”

  “Mummy told me you were her friend.”

  Katie felt her heart slice open. She looked behind her at Jenny, who looked away.

  “It’s best for her she doesn’t get attached. You and I live so far apart. She needs stability at her age,” Jenny said, the irony of her words to her exiled sister lost on her.

  “Please stay a bit longer, Jenny. We can spend some time together. I know we’ve lost our connection, but we’re si—.”

  “Charlotte, can you put your books in your Trunki, please?” Jenny cut in. She turned back to look at Katie. “I can’t. The studio. I need to get back.”

  “What was your favourite toy when you were small?” Charlotte piped up. Katie looked down at her large brown eyes.

  “Oh, um…” The question surprised Katie. “You know what, I can’t really remember. I’ll have to get back to you on that one. Your hair is beautiful. Brown like chocolate. Just like mine when I was your age. Can I brush it?” Katie leaned down to the bed and picked up Charlotte’s soft-bristled pink brush.

  “Yes, please,” Charlotte said, swivelling round on the bed. Katie glanced at Jenny who stared at her. After three seconds of hair brushing, Jenny leaned into Katie and snatched the brush away.

  “Charlotte, I have asked you once already to put your books in your Trunki. Please do as Mummy says,” Jenny barked, making Charlotte jump.

  “Yes, Mummy,” Charlotte mumbled. She shuffled off the bed and over to her pile of books strewn across the hotel room floor and set about piling them into her little panda suitcase.

  “I’m sorry, it’s just, it’s time to leave now,” Jenny said as she zipped up her suitcase, not looking at Katie.

  “It’s OK,” Katie replied in a quiet voice. She turned the little pink brush over and over in her hands. “I just miss Auntie Joan so much. I guess, except for you and the little one, all my family is gone. Well, apart from Dad, but it’s been so long since I’ve heard from him.” Katie put the brush down and reached into her handbag. She took out her phone and fished into the folds in the leather wrap case. “This is the only photo I have of him. It was taken years ago. I must have brought it with me when I was first sent here. He never calls, or writes, or texts. I don’t even have his number.” Katie stroked the photo with her thumb as she spoke.

  Jenny sighed and looked over at Charlotte. A pensive look glazed over her face. “He’s just…Dad, you know?”

  Katie looked up from the photo, her eyes moist. “Does he ever ask about me?”

  As the answer sat on Jenny’s tight red lips, Charlotte’s little voice piped up from the carpet. “Mummy, I can’t close the buckle.” Her face screwed up with exertion as she tried in vain to squeeze her little fingers around the plastic catch to press it into place.

  “Here, sweetheart, let Mummy do it.” Jenny sank down beside Charlotte and closed the case after rearranging some of the books her daughter had tried to force in there. “I’m sorry I snapped at you,” she whispered in Charlotte’s ear. “Mummy’s very tired, that’s all.”

  “It’s OK, Mummy. Can I play my game on your phone, please? Just for a few minutes? Please?”

  “OK. But just until I’ve packed the rest of our things.”

  Charlotte wandered over to Jenny’s handbag which was on the dressing table by the window.

  Katie dabbed her eyes with a tissue and cleared her throat. “Can I use your loo before I go?”

  “Sure,” Jenny replied without looking up from Charlotte’s Trunki.

  Katie opened up the door to the en suite and closed it behind her. While she was in there, the voices in the bedroom seemed to change in tone. “Who is this, Mummy?” she heard Charlotte ask. Before Katie flushed the toilet, she opened the door a crack and looked into the bedroom. Charlotte was looking down at a small passport-sized photograph she’d found in the flap of Jenny’s mobile phone case.

  Jenny snatched the photo out of Charlotte’s hand. “What are you doing going through my phone? You never go through Mummy’s things, is that clear?” Jenny’s eyes were raging.

  Katie recoiled, then looked again through the crack in the door.

  By now, Jenny had composed herself after seeing tears in Charlotte’s frightened eyes. “I’m sorry, darling.” Jenny sank to her haunches and rubbed her daughter’s shoulder. She showed Charlotte the photo. “This little girl is called Mollie. But we don’t speak about her. OK? It’s important that you understand that, Charlotte. Don’t ask about her again, OK?”

  Charlotte blinked and looked at her mother. “Why?”

  “We just don’t. Now, go put on your shoes or we’ll miss the train.”

  With a shrug, Charlotte trotted off to find her red trainers. Katie flushed the toilet and came out of the en suite, wiping her hands on the front of her jeans. “That’s better. I was busting.”

  Jenny didn’t look up from the carpet. She pocketed the photo and wiped her eyes with the heel of her palm.

  “I was thinking. Maybe I could drive up one weekend and book a hotel? Have Charlotte overnight? I’d love to spend some quality time with her. And of course fulfilling my auntie duties of feeding her ice cream for breakfast and sweets for tea?” Katie aimed that last comment over her shoulder at Charlotte, who made an audible gasp of delight.

  “She doesn’t like strangers,” Jenny replied. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that to come out like that.” She exhaled. “I meant, well, she doesn’t know you.”

  “It’s not for the want of trying, though, Jen. I write, I send cards, I send books and toys for her,” Katie said. Her tolerance for her sister’s cold and distant manner had run out. She set her lips. “Did you even give them to her?”

  “I’ve been busy, I told you. I have my own life to lead, Katie. And so have you. I suggest we keep the two separate. For everyone’s sake,” Jenny hissed back. “Right, you,” she directed at Charlotte, who was now wearing her trainers with the Ve
lcro stuck down, and had buttoned up her pink duffel coat. “Time to go.” Jenny walked over and opened the door. “I’ll text you when we get home. Bye, Katie.”

  Chapter 4

  “Bloody hell, I keep forgetting my pissing password to this thing,” Mags said as she bashed her fingers into the buttons of her black computer keyboard. She wiggled the mouse and tutted loudly. It was late afternoon, the shadows long across her sun-bathed, coffee cup-cluttered work desk.

  “I’ll ring tech, see if they can reset it. Otherwise we won’t have time to get started on these cases before you go home,” Rachel said, reaching for Mags’ desk phone.

  “No, don’t do that yet. I’m sure I’ve got it written down somewhere.” Mags fished into her handbag and drew out an A5 sized ring-bound notebook.

  “You write your passwords down?” Rachel said out of the corner of her mouth.

  “Oh, no one’s going to know what the words ‘monkeysocks’ and ‘pebbledash’ mean, now are they? Let alone con their way in here to hack into my computer. And people around here know better than to go in Momma’s handbag,” Mags added with a tap of her nose.

  “Still, I think from now on you should really try to leave your passwords in your head, hmm? Just do what I do and make it something obvious to you and only you. Even if it’s work related, like something you see in front of you every day when you sit at your desk.”

  Mags laughed. “Well, in that case my new password will be ‘studmuffin’, then, won’t it?” She jutted her head to indicate DC Bradley who had just sat back down at his desk. He looked very smart in his tailored three piece suit and baby pink tie. His sandy brown hair was neatly combed, as usual, into a trendy quiff, his stubble beard immaculately trimmed. Mags caught his eye and waved at him.

  “Mags,” Rachel said, tutting, then smiling. “What about this password?”

  “I think this might be this week’s one.” Mags tapped the d-o-n-k-e-y letters and hit the return key. “There we are.” Her desktop flashed up, bright and clear.