Me frowning. Adi grinning. Davy looking on earnestly.
I left the picture on the screen and tried to pray for them. But my prayers turned into tears, and my tears became my prayer, as I wept for my brother and my friend.
COMING SOON
LOCAL KILLER
Whet your appetite with Chapter 1…
CHAPTER 1
Out of the last ten minutes of her life, Ruth Darnley spent five of them talking to me.
Is that significant? Or just coincidental? It feels significant, but I can’t always trust feelings like that.
I’d just come out of court, and was standing on the back steps methodically checking my keys, my phone, my radio, and so on, when I heard her call my name from the corridor behind me.
“CSI Kepple?”
I turned round as she came out of the open doors. I was used to seeing her on the bench, and out of that context I didn’t recognize her at first. A short, dark woman with a surprisingly gentle smile.
“Yes?” I asked cautiously. Then recognition kicked in and I hastily added, “Your Honour?”
She waved that away. “None of that, please. Ruth to my friends when I’m not in court. And you’re Alison, right?” She put out a hand to shake. “There, that’s the formalities over!”
I’d heard this about Ruth Darnley. In the courtroom, a stickler for protocol, very strong on upholding the dignity of the court. Outside it, friendly and approachable.
But still retaining a sense of authority and presence, I realized. I’m not a particularly tall woman, but I was looking down on her head. Yet at the same time I felt very much the inferior. It was confusing. Not knowing what to say, I said nothing.
She, however, had no such problem. “I’m glad I caught you, Alison. I wanted to say how much I appreciated your evidence. Not just today. You’ve given evidence before me on several occasions, and it’s always excellent. Clear, factual, precise. So many people, even professionals, seem to feel the need to pad things out, but I’ve never had that from you.”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that. “I’m only there to say what I know. So that’s what I say.” Did that sound rude? I wondered. People think I’m rude, sometimes, though I don’t mean to be. “Not much point in saying anything else.” Oh, heck, that did sound rude! “I mean – I’m sorry – I…”
“No, no. You’re absolutely right and I wish more people would think like that. It would make my job a lot easier!” She gave me a shrewd look. “You find it easier talking in court than outside of it, don’t you?”
Not many get that. “There are rules, in court,” I explained. “I know what I’m there for. It’s defined. Outside, well – I…”
Ruth Darnley smiled. “Outside, the rules aren’t clear and they’re always changing.”
“Yes,” I agreed.
“Then stick to court rules, Alison. Be clear, concise, and accurate. People appreciate that more than you realize, and don’t waste time on those who don’t like it.”
She held my gaze for a moment, and nodded as if she approved of what she saw. “I hope we can talk again, Alison. With more time. But I have to be going. If I can find my car in this mess!”
The main car park was being resurfaced. A yard at the rear of the courthouse, once intended for service access to the old boiler house, had been pressed into temporary car park duty, but even though it was supposedly restricted to court officials and police officers on court duty, it was totally inadequate. All the marked-out spaces had long since been filled, but vehicles had continued to drive in and park up wherever they could.
The situation was made worse by the lack of security. There were no actual human guards available to cover the gates – budget cuts had seen them replaced with CCTV and automatic barriers a year ago. And of course, the yard had neither. Just its own set of gates which, with the volume of traffic going in and out, had to be left open.
Which meant that anybody could drive in and take up space. And apparently had. The judge let out a word that I would have expected her to know but never to use.
“Looks like someone’s blocked me in! That’s my car, behind that rusty old Transit. I’m sure that shouldn’t be here.”
My CSI van was parked a short distance from Darnley’s Mercedes – thankfully it seemed to be clear of obstructions. We walked in that direction together, while I considered her words, and my reaction. It seemed she was offering a friendship, which I suppose should have made me feel flattered, or even happy. Instead, it started my stomach churning with worry.
“It looks like they’ve left a note on my windscreen,” the judge observed as we drew closer. “Good, I might be able to get out of here after all.”
Something was bothering me, quite apart from the conversation. I glanced over towards the entrance. There had been someone standing there, watching us, when we came out. They weren’t there now. But why should that bother me? There were people passing by all the time, often glancing in as they did so. I didn’t understand why I felt uneasy about it, and not understanding made me feel worse.
We reached my van. “I have to go,” I said.
“Yes, of course.” Her attention was on her own car and the vehicle blocking it in. “Thank you again, Alison.”
I opened the van and put my folder with all the court paperwork on the passenger seat. Ruth Darnley had reached her car and was reading a sheet of paper that had been placed under the wipers. She took out a mobile.
I went round to the side door and slid it open. I had a job to go to: a burglary on the north side of town. I’d checked all my kit was ready before I left the station, but I checked again anyway. I always do.
Fingerprint kit, camera bag, DNA recovery kit, all lined up in size order, just inside the door, just as I’d left them. I opened the camera bag, checked the camera, spare battery…
There was a thunderclap, the loudest I’d ever heard, and the van jerked sideways and flame poured round it, over it, even under it, licking up past my boots. The door sill hit my legs and I thought for a moment that the whole vehicle was going to fall over on top of me, but then it righted itself, rocking back on its suspension.
The flame was gone, but there was an acrid smell in the air, strong enough to have me coughing. And light – a colour of light that didn’t belong.
I stepped out from behind the van, and saw flames climbing furiously into the air for twenty feet or more before turning into thick black smoke.
They were coming from Judge Darnley’s Mercedes, or what was left of it. The car parked next to it was on fire as well. There was nothing visible of the van that had been blocking her in, though some of the burning wreckage could have been tyres.
In the midst of the flames, halfway through the Merc’s windscreen, was a roughly human-shaped figure. It wasn’t moving. It was never going to move again.
Behind me there was shouting, panicked screams. My radio had been turned off while I was in court; I clicked it on.
“9818 to Control.”
“Control, go ahead.”
“Explosion in the temporary car park at the courthouse. Several vehicles now on fire. At least one casualty, believed to be Judge Ruth Darnley. Fire service required ASAP.”
There was a short pause. But Control Room staff are used to dealing with emergencies.
“9818, can you confirm the cause of the explosion?” A different voice, probably the Control Room manager cutting in. The 999 calls would already be starting.
“It appears to have been a vehicle that had been parked in front of Judge Darnley’s car. A white Ford Transit, VRN unknown.”
“Confirm your own status, 9818.”
“I’m unharmed.” I thought I was.
“Good. Do not approach the scene. Stay clear and keep other people clear. Is Judge Darnley visible to you? Does she appear injured?”
What did he think “casualty” meant? “She appears dead.”
Long pause. “Stand by, 9818, Fire and Ambulance are on their way.”
I
replaced my radio on its clip. Then went back into the van for my camera. I’m a CSI. We photograph things.
I started with wide shots of the general area, moved around for different angles, then zoomed in on details of burning wreckage. Especially Ruth Darnley’s car. The flames had spread to other vehicles, it was hard to make out much even with the zoom, but there was still a human-shaped figure just visible through the conflagration.
I was still taking pictures when the fire service arrived. There were police officers there as well. They ushered me away, took the camera off me, led me over to some paramedics.
It was only then that I realized I was in pain from my legs, and that my eyes were aching from staring into the flames, and that my cheeks were wet with tears.
Also from Paul Trembling in Lion Fiction
978-1-78264-230-5
ROB SEATON KILLED A WOMAN.
Rob doesn’t know Laney Grey. But when she steps out in front of his van and dies on impact, his life will never be the same.
He has to know who she was, why she chose to die, and why he had to be part of her death. To understand her, he must learn to read her poetry.
To know her, he must unravel the mysteries of her past. As Laney’s dark secret starts to come to light, and Rob’s innocence is questioned, he must learn the full truth.
But truth comes at a cost… Will Rob be the one who has to pay?
978-1-78264-259-6
THE POLICE CALL CAME AT 4:00 AM.
A possible burglary that turns out to be a particularly nasty murder. Sandra Deeson, the Librarian who finds the bloodied body, is deeply shaken.
Then the nightmares begin… because what the police don’t know is that this is not the first time she has found a corpse.
One of Sandra’s colleagues is missing. The Police investigation starts and then stalls. There may be a clue in the painting someone left for Sandra – but the picture brings back memories she’s tried to keep buried.
Two unidentified bodies, thirty years apart, and the only connection is Sandra herself. Last time, it cost her dearly. This time the price may be even steeper.
More from Lion Fiction
978-1-78264-216-9
MIDWINTER IN ANTARCTICA.
SIX MONTHS OF DARKNESS ARE ABOUT TO BEGIN.
Scientist Katie Flanagan has an undeserved reputation as a trouble-maker and her career has foundered. When an accident creates an opening on a remote Antarctic research base she seizes it, flying in on the last plane before the subzero temperatures make it impossible to leave.
Local Legend Page 22