The Secret Admirer: An absolutely gripping crime thriller (Detective Natalie Ward Book 6)

by Carol Wyer

  ‘We spoke about anyone who might have had an interest in Gemma, but what about you? Is there anyone who’s been pestering you recently?’ asked Natalie.

  Sasha pressed her fingertips to her temples and winced. ‘I can’t think clearly. I’m useless. I want to help you but…’

  Natalie could sense the anxiety rising. ‘Take your time. There’s no pressure on you. What about somebody who asked you out? Maybe at the bar.’

  There was a long pause and then Sasha lowered her fingers and said quietly, ‘There was somebody – a recent regular. He’s only been drinking at the bar about a month. He seemed really nice but low – depressed – and he always sat alone, but he was no trouble and he was nicely spoken. He looked like he was having a tough time. You can tell when people are going through bad times and he was one of those people. I made a bit of an effort when I served him, tried to find time to chat with him, be a little extra-nice and friendly.

  ‘Then last Wednesday evening, he was waiting for me outside the bar when I finished work. It was obvious he’d been drinking because he was unsteady on his feet. First he complimented me on my outfit, then thanked me for being nice to him, and then he asked if I’d like to go out with him sometime. I told him I didn’t date customers and he flipped from the nice, quiet gentleman to a complete prick. He asked what was wrong with me and said I’d given him the come-on every time he’d visited… but I hadn’t. I’d only been pleasant because I felt sorry for him. He started shouting I was a prick-teaser and I got into my car and drove off before he could say or do anything else. Oh, my!’

  Her eyes widened as she realised the significance of what she was about to reveal next. ‘He knew Gemma too. He was in last Saturday night and I saw them talking. I didn’t think anything of it at the time.’

  Natalie kept up the momentum of the conversation. This was important. The stranger at the bar knew both Sasha and Gemma and had shown aggression towards Sasha after being knocked back. ‘Did he threaten you?’

  ‘No, but there’s something else you should know. I think he was standing outside my house on Thursday evening before I went to work. I ran upstairs to double-check and maybe call the police, but when I looked out of the bedroom window, there was no sign of him and I thought I’d imagined it. I haven’t seen him again since.’

  Murray gave Natalie a quick look that said everything she was thinking. This could be a strong lead.

  ‘Do you know the man’s name?’

  ‘Only his first name – David.’

  ‘And can you describe him?’ asked Natalie.

  ‘In his late forties, glasses, dark hair, slim and I think he’s a translator.’

  Natalie’s mouth went dry and she reached for her mobile phone, swiped several photographs and found one of David with Josh sitting together on a bench. She held it up for Sasha to see.

  ‘That’s the man. That’s David.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sunday, 18 November – Late Morning

  Fran ended the call and hurled the mobile at the wall. It hit with force but dropped onto the duvet and she joined it, falling onto her back and staring at the ceiling, face set. Thanks to the police confiscating her mobile, she’d had to borrow Ryan’s to ring her mother. The call had started off okay but had rapidly deteriorated into the usual snide comments and then argument…

  ‘So, you’re too good for us all now to come home?’

  ‘Why do you come out with such crap, Mum? I rang, didn’t I?’

  ‘I’m only stating the obvious.’

  ‘I didn’t come home this weekend cos I had work to do and it’s fucking expensive to get back. I’m a student not a banker in case you’ve forgotten, and I’ve hardly got enough money to eat let alone travel back and forth to Liverpool.’

  ‘You get a student discount for travel on the train.’ Her mother’s voice was peevish and Fran could picture her perched on the kitchen stool, thin lips pressed together in disapproval.

  She’d never wanted Fran to go to university. She’d wanted her to leave college, where she’d been studying for A-levels, and bring some more money into the household, but Fran had stuck to her guns. Nanna had encouraged her to study for university, and even though the old lady was now ill with dementia, Fran wanted to do right by her. Her grandmother had believed in her and wanted better for her. However, had Fran not been granted a full student loan, she wouldn’t be here.

  The loan would be paid off in time, when she got a decent job with her degree. Far better than other options. Returning to East Toxteth wasn’t one of them. For one, she hated Jerry. Her unemployed stepfather was lazy and demanding and liked booze too much, and her younger siblings were hard work. She would have to share a bedroom with ten- and twelve-year-old stepsisters, and her fourteen-year-old brother, Kyle, was a bag of trouble who would soon end up in prison. Fran would have returned if she could have continued to live with her grandmother in Childwall, as she had for several years in her teens – years that had kept her out of trouble and away from the influences of her old friends in East Toxteth, girls who now had two or three kids of their own, or were still hanging about with local tearaways and members of street gangs like sad groupies. But after Grandpa had died, Nanna had got ill, and only six weeks after Fran had taken her A-levels, the old lady had been admitted to a care home.

  She stood a chance with a degree and was more likely to have a better future than if she’d remained in East Toxteth. There, she was far more likely to end up pregnant, on drugs or stabbed in some pointless yet vicious fight. She’d never learnt to keep a lid on her temper. At least in Samford she found herself in less volatile situations.

  She wasn’t keen on her housemates, other than Ryan, and much preferred Rhiannon’s company to Hattie’s, but the sodding university housing authorities had got their applications mixed up or lost, or some other bullshit, and instead of sharing a house as she and Rhiannon had both intended, they’d been separated. Fran didn’t get along with many other girls at university. They were put off by her looks and attitude, which suited Fran. Rhiannon, however, hadn’t been, and during their first year at university they’d forged a good relationship. It had been a different story with Gemma, who’d got right on Fran’s tits from the off – partly because she’d been placed in the house and not Rhiannon. She was such a girly girl and so fucking nice to everyone. It wound Fran up even thinking about it. Gemma’s mother was even worse. Fran hated all that bullshit. It had to be false, didn’t it? Nobody she knew behaved that way. Watching Ryan fawn over Gemma had been sickening, more so because, up until then, she’d had hopes for a relationship with the South African. Gemma had put paid to that.

  She sighed. It had been really fucking stupid to have put all that crap online about harming Gemma. She’d got carried away in the moment. She should have kept her opinions to herself. Her fiery temper was to blame. She couldn’t control it at times. It was the same temper that had won her a fearsome reputation before she’d moved to Childwall. If anyone was going to lash out uncontrollably, it would be Fran. She’d broken a girl’s nose and cheekbone during one such altercation and been lucky that charges hadn’t been pressed.

  She scowled at the stains on the ceiling where somebody before her had put up posters that had left behind marks shaped like fat love hearts, which had yellowed with age. Fat chance of her finding love any time soon! The sour mood wasn’t entirely down to feeling unwanted. As usual, her mother had pissed her off. Fran hated ringing home at the best of times – her mum usually grumbled and complained the entire conversation – but it was her grandmother’s birthday today, and Fran had been expected to return to East Toxteth and pay lip service to the old lady who probably didn’t even remember who Fran was. Dementia had destroyed the one person who’d truly believed in Fran. A trip was out of the question. She’d plumped for a phone call rather than face the ordeal, in the knowledge there’d be an emotional fallout. Her mother wouldn’t let her get away with it and would keeping pushing Fran’s buttons until she
felt so guilty she’d return home. Fucking families!

  She checked the phone to see if the screen was damaged. It would be a swine if it was. She couldn’t afford to repair it. That temper of hers. Her mother had always warned her it would get her into trouble one day. Fortunately, it was okay. She palmed it and dragged herself from the bed. She’d return it to Ryan and then she could do with a drink, something to take the edge off a shitty few days – but first she had to speak to somebody. It was a decision that would cost her dearly.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sunday, 18 November – Late Afternoon

  Now that it was fast approaching 4 p.m. and trading had almost ceased, the car park at Wolseley Bridge Garden Centre was rapidly emptying. Lucy remained in her car and observed the stragglers emerging from the exit, pushing trolleys laden with plants and bags of soil or fertiliser. She had little interest in their purchases. She and Bethany weren’t big gardeners. Their back garden was set to lawn, a practical choice for a couple with a child. Even though Aurora was only a baby at the moment, it wouldn’t be long before she’d be playing outside. Lucy could picture it all – a swing, trampoline and sand pit, and smiled at the prospect.

  Ocean Stone had unexpectedly agreed to meet up with Lucy to talk about his ex-wife, Hattie. She wasn’t sure what to expect. Her idea of a commune was probably outdated or based on television programmes she’d watched. She’d never been into an alternative lifestyle or understood the desire for anybody to shut themselves off from the world. A blue VW campervan, a little like the one Pinkney owned, pulled into view and a man descended from the driver’s seat. He cast about the car park, eyes settling on the unmarked BMW squad car Lucy had driven. He raised a hand. It was Ocean.

  Ocean was almost upon her before she’d stepped out of her vehicle, hand outstretched, and she was struck by his clean-cut looks. She’d expected a hippy, not somebody who looked like a businessman, dressed as he was in grey trousers, white shirt and a long, dark coat. His nut-brown eyes rested on her. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, DS Carmichael. It’s a shame it isn’t under more pleasant circumstances.’

  ‘It’s good of you to come all this way, to talk to me face-to-face.’

  ‘I confess it is not out of my way. It made sense to meet you here because I’m actually on my way to visit another commune, near Nottingham. Hence the last-minute phone call to you to arrange this.’

  ‘Thank you all the same. As you know, we’re concerned about Hattie and hoped you could help us.’

  He gave a sad smile. ‘Yes, the local police told me. I’m not sure how much of a help I can be. I haven’t seen Hattie since she walked out six years ago.’

  ‘Have you had any contact with her since then?’

  ‘The only contact I had was via a solicitor as the divorce went through. As far as I knew she returned to her father in Little Beansfield.’

  ‘It’s imperative we talk to her. Is there any possibility she’d have contacted any of her friends at the commune?’

  He shook his head. ‘That’s unlikely. Hattie wouldn’t have been made welcome by anyone there.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘She caused a lot of upset and grief before she left.’

  ‘I’m still a bit in the dark as to why she actually left. Can you spell it out, please?’

  Ocean gave a sigh. ‘Let me explain in more detail and then maybe you’ll understand the situation. I first met Hattie at a party. She was an eighteen-year-old, rebellious vicar’s daughter who wanted to save the planet and everyone on it. She shared my beliefs and ideals and I was bowled over by her enthusiasm. I was in the process of building up the commune and had already invited a few like-minded people. We had a passionate and whirlwind romance and I believed I’d found my soulmate, somebody to be part of my life and who’d fit in perfectly in the commune. There’s a saying: Marry in haste and repent at leisure. That was us. Within only a few months, Hattie was sick of life in the commune and griped about everything. She dragged everyone down, and obviously it reflected on me as their leader. Then, out of the blue, she accused me of sleeping around. She became obsessed with the idea and spread vicious rumours about some of the women and caused a lot of unrest. She even made moves herself on some of the men in the commune, in some pathetic attempt to make me jealous.’

  ‘Were you having an affair behind her back?’

  ‘Absolutely not, but she wouldn’t take my word for it. In hindsight, I think she was blinded by jealousy. The larger the commune became, the more she resented me and my role as leader, until she couldn’t stand it any more and left.’

  Lucy nodded. ‘I see. Well, we really need to find her. Can you think of anybody she might have gone to stay with?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. I don’t know any of the people she might now call friends. I can only reiterate that she hasn’t been in touch with any of us and I would know if she had. I can tell you one thing though: don’t be taken in by her. I was, and I doubt she’s changed that much in the last six years.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Hattie’s very two-faced. She could turn from friend to foe, very quickly.’

  ‘Did she turn on you?’

  ‘Twice. The first time, she threatened to go to the press and tell them I was running a cult and screwing all the women in it, and the second time, she attacked me with a knife, threatening to cut off my balls.’ He held up his right palm to show Lucy a thick, pale scar. ‘She sliced me before she dropped the knife and ran off.’

  ‘Why didn’t you report her?’

  ‘I don’t know. I suppose I ought to have but I didn’t want to involve the police. We live peacefully and given that one of the nurses at the commune fixed me up, I was fine.’

  ‘But she attacked you!’

  ‘And she left the commune that same day. She was out of my life. I didn’t see the point in pursuing it.’ He rubbed his palm absent-mindedly.

  ‘What else can you tell me about her?’

  ‘That’s everything really, except I hope you find her and that she hasn’t done anything stupid.’ He looked across at the VW campervan. ‘Is there anything else you want to ask me?’

  ‘I can’t think of anything.’

  ‘Then I’d better get going. It was nice meeting you, DS Carmichael.’

  Lucy watched as he made his way to the vehicle and clambered in. The calmly spoken Ocean had been a surprise but his revelations even more so. Hattie was not the loving, gentle person they’d initially believed her to be. Had she become jealous of Gemma and tried to hurt her? That now seemed a possibility.

  ‘I don’t care what my relationship with him is or was, he’s a suspect, and as such, he has to be interviewed,’ said Natalie to Dan Tasker.

  ‘There’s a conflict of interest and I can’t have this investigation compromised,’ Dan replied.

  She glared at him. ‘I refuse to give up this investigation. You assigned it to me because you knew I was the right person to head it. I will let nothing jeopardise this case, and I mean nothing at all. I shall treat David as I would anyone sitting opposite me in that interview room, and you know that, Dan! Besides, I am the best person to see through any lies. I’ll know every tell-tale sign, every giveaway he makes when he’s lying. I’ll know if he’s holding back on anything. Nobody knows David better than I do. I ought to be the one to interview him.’

  He lifted his palms to appease her. ‘Okay. I’ll leave it with you but I want DS Anderson to sit in on all your interviews with him, and if he feels the investigation isn’t being handled correctly, I’ll have no option other than to remove you. I don’t want to do that, Natalie. I’ll give you the chance to show me you can handle this.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She took off again. Murray had already gone to Castergate to fetch her soon-to-be ex-husband. She read through the notes she’d made while talking to Sasha and ran a hand over her forehead, fingers brushing away light strands. This was madness. David was a gambler and he lied to protect himself, but to throw acid in a young wom
an’s face? It didn’t seem at all plausible, yet if he’d been drinking and felt rebuffed… who could tell how somebody who’d experienced the anguish of the last few months would act? Josh had left home because he couldn’t bear to live with his father, and facts were facts. David had been frequenting Chancer’s Bar and had verbally attacked Sasha. Would a drunken and rebuffed David retaliate in such a horrific way by harming the woman’s daughter? Natalie had to remain impartial. That was the key to it all. She was not to let her feelings or her past relationship with the man influence her in any way.

  The internal phone rang and the desk officer informed her that Murray and David had arrived and were in room A.

  ‘Okay. Let Murray know I’m on my way down.’

  She glanced at her watch. It was almost four thirty. Her stomach was in knots. David of all people! She’d told Dan she could handle this investigation but her sweaty palms and hammering heart suggested otherwise. She had to divorce herself from her personal relationship with David and get to the bottom of this. She swallowed hard. It was going to be difficult to look into David’s eyes and not see the hurt and anger. It was going to be almost impossible not to think of Leigh. Should she hand over the investigation? No. She rubbed her hands on her thighs and inhaled. Deep breath. You can do this.

  David had lost weight. He had always been naturally slim but his old work jacket was two sizes too large for him and he seemed swamped by it. His neck had become craggy and grey whiskers poked out of a badly shaven chin. She caught her breath at the sight. The trauma of losing Leigh had aged her but it had destroyed David.

  He shook his head sadly as if it weighed too much for him and said, ‘Why am I here, Natalie?’

  ‘We need to record the interview to keep this official and you will have to address me as DI Ward.’