The Secret Dawn

by Solomon Carter

  “Yes,” said Heybridge. “Although we haven’t had word back from forensics on the car yet,”

  “Which is another good reason we don’t want to waste any more time speculating. Any idea when the forensics investigator will come through with a verdict?”

  “You could always speak to them yourself, sir.”

  “No, no. That’s okay, Heybridge. I wouldn’t want to tread on your toes.”

  “Okay, sir. Then I expect we’ll hear something by tomorrow, I’m sure,” Heybridge replied. “Would you like to meet at the scene? I could talk you through it step by step. Hopefully the forensic analysis will be complete by them.”

  “No thanks, Heybridge. Not necessary, it’s all in your report here. It seems you’re doing a very thorough job as it is. I’m impressed. Besides, you may have heard I’ve been landed with a dead body down here.”

  “Brett Reville?” said Heybridge.

  News travelled fast. Hogarth’s eyes narrowed.

  “Any chance that it’s linked, sir?” said Heybridge.

  “Who can say, Heybridge, who can say? You just keep your focus on Paglesham, and I’ll deal with all the rest.”

  “One missing presumed dead, one dead,” said Heybridge. “And they knew each other, didn’t they? It could well be linked.”

  “Thinking of applying for CID are you, Heybridge?”

  “No, sir. I’m a bit past all that.”

  “Then leave the detective work to me, eh? But don’t worry. I’ll keep you in the loop.”

  Hogarth left the call there before he said anything he might regret, which was a hazard of the trade when you were Hogarth. But he happily noted Heybridge seemed relieved he was not micro-managing the incident at Paglesham. There was no need, of course. Grant Dawn was alive and well. But if the forensics on the car were due to arrive tomorrow, then they were fast running out of time to find the saboteur before Dawn’s case would be elevated to suspected murder.

  With Heybridge dealt with, Hogarth was keenly aware of feeling strung out after a weekend which should have been his own. Tomorrow, his proper work shift would start bright and early as ever. No rest for the wicked, it seemed. Sunday or not, there was still time to give Grant Dawn’s PI a careful prod. Hogarth Googled the name John Gurney along with the term ‘private investigator Southend Essex’.

  Bingo! Gurney’s cheap little website came top of the list. It was made on one of those cheapo community websites, the ones which came free but had an extra suffix at the end to show you were a cheapskate. GurneyInvestigations.Webbo.Net.

  Gurney’s long, horse-like face had been stuffed into the header, which looked like a bad move. Not only had the photograph been squashed to fit, but the overall impression was of Igor from one of the old Universal horror movies. Igor, the weirdo sidekick who helped the mad professor bring the corpses back to life. Maybe Gurney wasn’t keen on receiving paid work. It looked like he badly needed the help of a social media influencer or two.

  Hogarth dialled the man’s number, and he answered promptly.

  “Gurney,” said Hogarth, both blunt and overfamiliar.

  “Who’s this?”

  “DI Hogarth, Southend CID.”

  “Oh. You,” said Gurney. “What can I do for you?”

  “Just wondered if I could pay you a little visit?”

  Hogarth waited while the man chewed it over.

  “No. I’d rather you didn’t. It’s Sunday night after all.”

  “Sunday night, yes. And a man like you would probably still be working, right?”

  “I don’t take visits.”

  “Not from me specifically or not from anyone?” said Hogarth.

  “What do you want, Inspector?”

  “First of all, I think your presence in this mess is unwelcome.”

  “I should think you do,” said Gurney. Hogarth heard the grin in the man’s voice. Igor was taking pleasure in his suffering.

  “Grant Dawn didn’t tell us about you. In fact, our whole involvement in this business was an accident. We were misinformed at the start. Which made things difficult when we found out Mr Dawn was alive.”

  “You could have shopped him there and then,” said Gurney. “But you didn’t, did you?”

  “Your client wouldn’t have liked that, and neither would you. Your case would have been over too.”

  “Maybe not. I’m still to find out who targeted him.”

  “And how’s that going?”

  “It’s going alright,” said Gurney. “But what about you? You’re calling me, so I guess you’ve hit a brick wall. Am I right?”

  “Not quite, Gurney.”

  “Oh?”

  “You showed Grant a photograph of Sabine Dawn with Brett Reville at the GDS office in Southend.”

  “Their meeting on Saturday.”

  “Yes. And then he went ballistic because he thought it showed evidence of big Brett knocking off his wife.”

  “Grant jumped the gun, that’s all. But it might have looked that way… I don’t know.”

  “You don’t think they were having an affair?”

  “I’m reserving my judgement, Inspector.”

  “Gut feeling, Gurney? Spit it out.”

  “And you’ll pay me a fee for consultancy, of course.”

  “We’ll get to that in a moment.”

  Gurney paused. “No. I don’t think they were having an affair.”

  “And today – I know you left Dawn’s lock-up a little while after he bolted. Where did you go?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “You went to look for him, didn’t you? But I don’t think you found him. So where did you go?”

  “I tried to look for him, but I wasn’t sure whether he’d go to his wife or to see Reville. And if they were having an affair, I reckoned he wanted to try and catch them at it, so I guessed he’d go home.”

  “So you went to Rochford.”

  “Yeah. He wasn’t there. No one was.”

  “And then what?”

  “What? Why are you so interested in my whereabouts?”

  “You’re helping me check something, Gurney. Don’t be shy. Did you locate Sabine Dawn?”

  “I did, yes. I saw both of them.”

  “What?”

  “I know what you’re after. Brett Reville’s dead.”

  “And how do you know?”

  “It’s not top-secret intel. It’s already out there, Hogarth.”

  “How?”

  “How do you think? First of all, there’s the rumour mill. Police talk. But more important for you, that body was just a stone’s throw away from The Record’s offices. It’s already their online exclusive. Tomorrow it’ll hit their front page…”

  Hogarth pulled the phone away from his ear and roared. He gritted his teeth and put the phone back to his ear.

  “You said you saw both of them. Both of who?”

  “Sabine Dawn and Brett Reville, back at the office, once again. But this time it was a quick meeting. No time for nookie and barely time for anything else. They both left at the same time, and each went their separate ways. It was clear to see they weren’t on speaking terms.”

  “Have you told Grant Dawn about this yet?”

  “It’ll be in my report for tomorrow.”

  “Okay. And you’ve got evidence, I take it.”

  “That’ll cost you if you want that.”

  “When this goes to court, we’ll have it anyway. No one’s paying you a penny.”

  “Really? Then what did you mention payment for?”

  “Oh, yes. Thanks for the reminder. Here’s my offer. You keep your mouth shut about me and my colleague’s involvement in Grant Dawn’s affairs. It never happened. Pretty soon now the police investigation will override everything. This is turning into an out and out murder case.”

  “And your arse is grass if they know you were hiding a man who was presumed dead.”

  “We hid nothing. We don’t work for your client, Gurney. We were pulled in on false pre
tences. And as of now, I’m warning you, you try and make anything of our involvement – if it gets to the press or you end up doing something else just as underhand, then I’ll stick your head on a spike on the A127. Welcome to Southend.”

  “That was uncalled for. You didn’t need to go there, Inspector.”

  “Maybe, Gurney. But then I don’t know you at all, do I? But I do know that some PIs like to scurry around in the dirt, so I thought it best that I make things clear. Easier for all concerned that way. See? I think you were probably right not to invite me over. I wouldn’t have wanted me visiting either. See you around, eh?”

  “I really hope not,” said Gurney, and he hung up.

  Warning issued. Message received.

  Fifteen

  At seven pm Ecrin Kaplan walked into Southend police station and she soon found DC Simmons in an idle moment of fretting, his arms hanging from the doorframe of the open CID room. Simmons had heard nothing from his father since the old man had dumped him in it the day before. Typical. Simmons had taken to mentally rehearsing his words for his father’s inevitable phone call when the old man would ask how things were going. None of Simmons’ rehearsals involved being polite. The office was empty. Hogarth was out so was Palmer, both still haunted by the case his father had landed on them, both working to save the thing from a disaster which looked increasingly likely. And in the middle of his brooding, in came Ecrin Kaplan. She walked towards the desk of the PCSO team before she saw Simmons

  “What are you doing here again?” said Kaplan.

  “Working and resenting it. What about you?”

  “I came in to look for my phone charger,” said Kaplan. “Or to see if I could borrow the spare from Penner’s desk. I know she has the same phone as me.”

  Kaplan looked at him more closely.

  “What’s the matter? I didn’t have Hogarth down as a slave driver. The way I heard it, he doesn’t like hard graft much at all.”

  “He gets a bad rep here. He’s worked non-stop all weekend and he’s still going strong.”

  Kaplan smiled. “I didn’t expect you to stick up for him.”

  “I can’t help it. You know my dad called yesterday morning and stopped us going for that walk?”

  “Yeah?”

  “He’s really started something. He’s landed me in a right mess. I can’t discuss it right now, but when the dust settles, I’ll tell you about it.”

  “Your father? Why? What’s he done.”

  “Messed things up. I can’t say anymore at the moment, Ecrin.”

  Kaplan looked at him. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Simmons looked around the office. No phones were currently ringing – a rarity in itself. Disaster still loomed, but there was a hiatus, and Simmons needed a break.

  “You know, I really wanted to go on that walk with you,” he said.

  Kaplan smiled and looked around. “Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

  “You want to go now?” he said.

  “I don’t see why not,” she said.

  “Okay,” said Simmons, grabbing his jacket. “I think ten minutes would be okay. I need a break.”

  “Shame it’s not quite the scenic walk I had in mind,” said Kaplan.

  “That all depends what you’re looking at,” said Simmons. Kaplan brightened and turned to lead the way. Simmons grinned. Decision made. If he got through this debacle unscathed he was going to ask her out again. And this time, as more than a friend.

  ***

  There was still one scenic route available at this end of town, and Simmons dutifully led the way. It was the one place in the vicinity the local office workers, council staff, police and court staff frequented on sunnier days, and the best thing about it was that it was hidden from the view of the busy traffic. Kaplan was from Thurrock. Thurrock was still Essex, but from a local perspective it may as well have been the moon. And she didn’t know Southend much at all yet. Which put Simmons in the driving seat. A good place to be when wooing a young woman who had looks that far outshone his own.

  “Where are you taking me?” said Kaplan, looking across the side street of Carnarvon Road towards a green and hedgerow just beyond the black glass tower of Civic Centre.

  “Don’t you trust me?”

  “I trust you. But where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “Sounds ominous,” said Kaplan.

  Simmons smiled.

  He led her on a path by a small flat green which snaked towards the gate, past a lawned area flourishing with lilac crocuses whose blooms had filled the grass with spring colour. The world was still bright enough for the walk, but as they turned through the gate Kaplan found the path shaded by trees and hedges on either side. The twilight crept in. “It’s probably took dark for this,” said Kaplan.

  “Let me just show you, okay?” said Simmons. “Then we’ll come back another time.”

  As they walked down the path, Kaplan moved close to his side. The hedges closed in, and the foliage of the green trees hung low above them. At his shoulder, Kaplan seemed smaller, and more girlish than the girl he’d seen in uniform, and far less mature than the beauty he’d seen dressed to the nines on Friday night. She kept changing, kept surprising him. It was the nerves, he guessed, she reached for his hand and Simmons didn’t discourage her. Her hand gave him confidence and he risked a cheeky comment.

  “What if one of the others saw us like this?”

  Kaplan raised an eyebrow in the fading light. Her face was close.

  “Then I’d blame you,” she said with a challenging smile, “for leading me astray.”

  Simmons laughed and walked on. The path soon opened out again into a surprisingly large space, where the ground dropped away on their left to reveal a secret garden with a pond and a miniature stream in the centre. Mallards fussed quietly at the edge of the pond. A tree with red leaves glowed as bright as a flower. Kaplan seemed taken aback. “I never would have guessed this was here,” she said.

  “That was the point,” he said. He said nothing while Kaplan looked around. The place was dead quiet, the tall trees surrounding the crater-shaped space blocking out the sound of Victoria Avenue’s traffic. But they also blocked out the light. Moments passed and Kaplan’s hand stayed in his.

  “You’re safe, Ecrin. You can let go now,” he said.

  Kaplan looked at him. “I will if you want me to.”

  Simmons looked back at her. “Not really, no.”

  “Do you think anyone else is down here?” she said.

  Simmons looked around, checking the twilight for sounds and sensing no one about.

  “No, I don’t,” he said, looking back.

  “I don’t think this very wise, you know.”

  “Wise?” said Simmons, his heart rate picking up. “What? Coming in here? It’s safe as houses.”

  “No. That’s not what I meant.” She rubbed his palm with her thumb.

  “Oh. Because we’re colleagues, you mean.”

  “Because I’m new. And because things could change.”

  “But I’d rather not worry about that now, would you?”

  Kaplan’s eyes sparkled at him. “I guess not.”

  Simmons waited. He was well aware of the charge of preying on the new girl. But by now Kaplan had been at the station well over a month, and she fitted in well. She squeezed his hand and Simmons reminded himself he wasn’t pushing anything. He just wanted to see where things might go… He turned to face her and Ecrin stepped closer to him. They were face to face in the fading light. Still, he waited. Kaplan let go of his hand, and he felt her hands land gingerly on his hips. They moved lightly carefully, ready to pull away if rejected. But Simmons said nothing. He looked into Kaplan’s captivating eyes. As her touch reached the small of his back, Simmons pressed closer. Kaplan smiled and leaned up. Simmons leaned down, and she pulled his head towards her. Their lips met – gentle, soft, a tender kiss. Kaplan’s caressing hands turned firmer around his back and his neck. He
r kiss surprised him and Simmons matched her gentle ferocity. The world became a heated moment of breathing, the taste and scent of Kaplan so warm and close, the sound of kissing, of gentle whispers, a murmur and the sensation of hands up and down his back. Kaplan was slender, small, perfect, and fitted in his embrace seamlessly. He wanted to wrap her up, and he followed the impulse. And as the kiss slowly broke apart, their faces stayed close, still smiling.

  “Down boy,” said Kaplan, coy and almost purring.

  “Or should I say, down girl? It’s always the quiet ones, eh?”

  “Isn’t it just?” said Kaplan with an accusing eye. “I think your ten minutes is up, DC Simmons. Bet you’re pleased your devious plan worked.”

  “Very pleased,” said Simmons. “Hopefully it’ll work even better next time.”

  “Not in a public garden, it won’t,” said Kaplan. She chuckled and pulled away from him and led him back up the sloping path, hand in hand.

  Simmons was wide eyed. A man in shock. A happy delirium. But as he emerged from Churchill Gardens, the black tower of the civic centre reappeared to bring him back to reality.

  “How do we play it?” said Simmons.

  “For now?” she said. “We’re just good friends.”

  Simmons’s mouth formed a defensive straight line.

  “For now,” said Ecrin. “But whatever else happens between us, well, that’s no one’s business but our own.”

  Simmons smiled and they walked on towards the kerb and their hands parted. He looked to his side, to see Kaplan’s eyes fixing on something across the street, and her smiling expression hardening. Kaplan had noticed something. Simmons moved to her side, emerging from his reverie. He wanted to see what she’d seen.

  “Ecrin?” he said. She remained silent.

  He saw she was looking towards the civic centre on the other side of Carnarvon Road. On their left were the new brown-box apartment blocks built where the old college had once been. But dead ahead was the pay car park, the one used by the public when visiting the council offices. Simmons saw a hint of movement across the street, and his eyes locked on to it. Standing beside a parked car in one of the bays facing the new apartment blocks, a tall man leaned beside a big shiny car. He was talking to a man seated in the driver’s seat, hidden from view. Simmons saw the figure behind the driving seat had his door open and was leaning out, speaking to the taller man. The taller man looked about to walk away, even though they were still talking.