The Secret Dawn

by Solomon Carter

  “You took it for what?”

  “As a kind of insurance policy. It was my business, right? And after what happened to me, I’m glad I did. It means whoever wanted me out of the way can’t swipe every last penny while I’m gone.”

  Hogarth read the man’s eyes and saw hurt behind his words. So Grant Dawn still seemed to suspect his wife. “Who else knew about the money?” said Hogarth.

  “Why?”

  “You know why. A fat wad of cash knocking around presents a sizeable motive for anyone in this world. So who knew?”

  Dawn shrugged. “Sabine knew my given reason for taking the money out. I said cash would mean getting a discount off the rebrand, but she’s not stupid either. I don’t know what Brett and Yvette would have made of it, and they would have found out as soon as the money was taken out. They’d have gotten a notification direct from the bank. So I sent a little email around to explain my cover story.”

  “You told them all it was for the rebrand, then,” said Hogarth. “I doubt they would have believed it either.”

  “It doesn’t matter what they believed. I had a right to take it.”

  Hogarth carried on. “Sabine knew. Brett knew. Yvette probably too…”

  “Yes. And Emily knows pretty much everything in my world.”

  “Except, apparently, where you’re keeping that cash.”

  Dawn frowned. “Inspector, with your current line of questioning, I might start to get suspicious about your sudden interest in this money.”

  “And then you’d be wrong. That cash could prove important to the investigation, that’s my interest. In my predicament your cash is the very last thing I want. I can’t wait to extricate myself from this mess at the earliest opportunity. That’s all I want to do.”

  Dawn nodded. “Okay. Then yes, Emily knows about the cash.”

  “And? Do you trust Emily?” said Hogarth. “She seems… how can I say? The ambitious type.”

  “Ambitious? That’s good, isn’t it? Besides, I have to trust her. She’s family. And a man always needs a confidante when he’s in a tight spot like this. My wife would have been my first choice… but, well – you know the rest.”

  “You suspect it was your wife who set this whole thing up, don’t you? How? That she arranged the hit on you, is that it?” said Hogarth. “And do you still believe that?”

  “Nothing’s changed, Inspector? Sabine was always in the frame.”

  “But, your own wife?” said Hogarth.

  “I don’t like it, do I, but it makes sense. When rock bands split up, they always cite creative differences. Let’s just say I think my wife was experiencing some creative differences with me.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, I won’t pretend that I’m not difficult to live with. I’m the free-wheeling, free-thinking type.”

  “Awkward squad. You don’t say,” said Hogarth. Dawn ignored the barb.

  “But then there was Sabine’s drinking. I didn’t mind it too much, but she was getting worse. And drinking like that is always a sign of unhappiness, isn’t it? It made her extremely moody. Always brooding. I felt she was angry a lot more than she let on.”

  “About what?”

  “You name it. I just felt her constant disapproval.”

  In Hogarth’s experience the woman had certainly fit all those criteria. But as far as Hogarth was concerned, Sabine Dawn had never uttered a bad word against her husband. If Grant Dawn was right and his wife was the culprit, then she had been sober enough to play it smart. No mean feat with a gallon of white wine running through her veins. Hogarth kept his thoughts to himself.

  “So you trust Emily but not your wife, and you didn’t kill Brett Reville.”

  “Emily’s good for the business. Her social media impact brings in clients. They all love Instagram these days. It’s the glamour platform, glamorous like she is. But Sabine? She is so difficult to read these days. As for Brett, come on, I told you, I wanted to kill him. But I didn’t have any proof, did I? The photograph Gurney showed me… it still hurts like hell to think that my wife might have been with that fat ogre.”

  Hogarth nodded. “Sounds like any trust between you broke down a while ago.”

  “Now you sound more like a marriage guidance counsellor than a detective. There was some trust left, but it was fading fast.”.

  Hogarth shook his head. “This isn’t helping. Was Sabine a problem or not?”

  “No, there was a problem. We grew apart through our silences, Inspector. But I loved her all the same. But I’m not so sure she loved me like she used to. She was ten years younger than me. With me out of the way maybe a new life beckoned, with the money freed up from my assets to bankroll it.”

  Hogarth’s face screwed up in concentration and doubt. Something about Dawn’s suggestion was still off. Was Sabine Dawn the kind of woman who could arrange a killing? He didn’t think so. But Hogarth remembered he had been wrong before, and this time he couldn’t afford to be wrong again.

  His strained thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car pulling to a halt, crunching on the gravel outside. Hogarth and Dawn’s eyes locked together as they listened. “Who is that?” said Dawn.

  “You’re not expecting anyone else tonight?” said Hogarth. Dawn didn’t answer. The man was fixated on the door.

  He walked away towards the door, and Hogarth maintained a disciplined silence. Hogarth watched, breath held in his chest, as Dawn unbolted the entrance door. A gust of cold wind from across the bleak marshes billowed in and rattled the ornamental prints on the lock-up wall.

  “Sorry, Grant, but I had to come over,” said a familiar voice. “I had a call from that bloody awful police detective. That scumbag actually threatened me, can you believe it?!”

  “What?” said Dawn, standing back from the door. But the visitor didn’t give Dawn a chance to warn him. Hogarth folded his arms and a thin smile formed on his face. Hogarth had parked his car at the furthest end of the lock-up, tucked out of sight behind the gable wall. Hogarth had parked there to hide his presence from any interested parties, including press or other police. Now he was glad he had. Hogarth watched as Gurney walked into the dim space, and still not noticing him, the small man animatedly turned back to face Grant Dawn as he locked the door.

  “He called me about that photograph I showed you – the one with Sabine and Brett Reville. And then he asked me if I’d seen them together today, before Reville showed up dead…”

  Dawn’s eyes shot to Hogarth’s face. Dawn was about to reply, but Hogarth got in first and Gurney nearly jumped out of his skin.

  “And you said you saw them together again, didn’t you, Gurney?” said Hogarth. He folded his arms and watched as the little man spun around to face him. Gurney’s eyes bulged while his mouth shut like a trap.

  “What’s the matter?” said Hogarth. “Not so talkative now, eh?”

  “You didn’t tell me he was here,” said Gurney.

  “You didn’t give me the chance,” said Dawn.

  “Now what’s all this about Sabine and Brett?” said Dawn, looking between them both.

  “Grant, this man’s a problem. You really shouldn’t have involved the police in this at all…” said Gurney frowning.

  “Now there’s something we can agree on,” said Hogarth. “Tell him, Gurney. You saw Sabine with Brett, again.”

  Gurney nodded. “Yes, I saw them. They met at the office again this afternoon, but it was very different to the first time. It looked far cooler between them. And hurried too. They both left the office at the same time, walking away in different directions, Sabine went towards the high street, Brett went towards Clarence Road. Towards where he was found in his car. It really didn’t look like a happy meeting…”

  Gurney looked at Dawn with sharp eyes, his words trailing off as he spoke.

  Dawn seemed to read the small man’s mind. “I didn’t kill him, Gurney.”

  Gurney nodded and cleared his throat.

  “No,” said Gurney. “Bec
ause if you had I would have seen you around the area. You definitely weren’t there. So it had to be someone else.” The way he spoke, Hogarth knew he wasn’t convinced.

  “Someone like who?” said Hogarth.

  Gurney turned and met Hogarth’s eyes but didn’t say a word. But Hogarth read a lot in those glinting, beady eyes. Gurney’s silence said enough to fill Hogarth’s chest with a new chill feeling. Hogarth frowned. He stood up from the desk and Gurney looked away at Dawn, probably to see if his client had realised what Hogarth just had.

  “Sabine walked away from the office – towards the high street, and Brett Reville took the other direction,” said Hogarth. “They walked in the opposite direction to one another. But that doesn’t mean that Sabine couldn’t have doubled back around the block. She might have spotted you, Gurney—”

  “That’s very unlikely, I’d say,” said Gurney.

  “And of course you would say that, but it could be true all the same. Or she knew her route would be looked at later, after Reville’s body was found. So she could have walked around the whole block back towards the car park. Sabine, of course, would have known exactly which car belonged to Brett. She could have walked right up to him as he sat wolfing down his Mars bars behind the wheel—”

  “And done what exactly?” said Gurney. “How would she have killed him?”

  Hogarth nodded, and his eyes gleamed. “Good point, so maybe she did just walk away… already knowing Reville had been left in just the right spot for the job to be done. Maybe the hit man was already in play…”

  “Come on. There’s no evidence for any of that,” said Dawn, defensively. “Is there?”

  “Not yet. But there’ll be evidence soon enough when the forensics come through. Just like there’ll be evidence of what happened to your car. Seeing as your wife had to be the very last person to see Reville alive, and seeing as they parted on such bad terms, I’m afraid Sabine is starting to look like quite a prime suspect.”

  Dawn looked troubled.

  “Come on, Grant,” said Hogarth. “I thought that was exactly what you wanted to hear. It’s what you suspected she was capable of.”

  “It’s what I suspected, Inspector. But it’s not what I hoped for,” said Dawn.

  Hogarth stole a glance at the leather doctor’s case in Gurney’s hand.

  “Do you seriously think that Sabine could have…?” said Dawn, his words trailing off.

  “Isn’t that why this whole farce is taking place? The one person you were hoping to trap the whole time was your wife. And the bait you used was your death, to see how your wife would react the moment you were gone. You weren’t explicit about it – you didn’t tell me that was your aim – but it’s clear to see you thought your wife was the one who had sabotaged your car. You just told me trust was fading away between you. And if she did tamper with your car – or paid someone to do it – then it stands to reason that she might well be capable of killing someone else. Do you see?”

  “But killing Brett?” said Dawn. “What for? What were those meetings about?”

  Gurney shook his head and shrugged. He was about to make an excuse for his lack of knowledge when the sound of footsteps carried in to them from outside. All three men became silent and looked towards the door. Gurney whispered. “Has either of you spoken to anyone else about this place?”

  Hogarth shook his head.

  “What about your colleague? Is DC Simmons coming?” asked Dawn.

  Hogarth shook his head again.

  There was a knock on the door, then silence. Grant walked across the room. He carefully slid the bolt, and hesitantly opened the door. Hogarth watched as Gurney leaned to see who stood behind the door. And as Gurney strained to look – and as the door opened – Hogarth made his move. He swept across the concrete and swiped the leather case from Gurney’s hand. He wrenched it free and pulled the clasps open.

  “Hey!” growled Gurney. Hogarth stepped back, pulled the case wide open, and stuck a hand inside. He took hold of the manila files. Dawn opened the door and Emily Flount walked in, underdressed as usual, looking fresh from a photoshoot. She was carrying two heavy carrier bags, full to bursting with groceries. She dumped the bags down as soon as she saw Hogarth. Flount looked at him, arching an eyebrow as Hogarth pulled the files free from Gurney’s bag.

  “Good evening, Miss Flount,” said Hogarth, by way of a greeting.

  “Inspector,” said Emily, loading the word with hidden meaning. “Just stopping by with a few essentials,” she added, looking at Dawn.

  “Give me those!” snapped Gurney, reaching for the files in Hogarth’s hand. Instead, Hogarth shoved the now mostly empty briefcase against his chest and Gurney wrapped it in his arms to save dropping it to the floor.

  “You’ll get these back, Mr Gurney. I’d just like to make sure you people aren’t hiding anything else from me…” Hogarth put the files under his arm and walked towards the door. He stopped for a moment as he passed Emily Flount and cast her a sideways glance. “And it’s always nice to see family looking out for one another,” he said, smiling as he passed her by, but Flount seemed unfazed by his insinuation. The woman smiled at him, as much the coquette as the first time they’d met.

  “I always like to give a helping hand to those in need,” she replied. Hogarth’s eyebrows leapt up his brow. He coughed as he walked out into the cold. But Grant Dawn hadn’t finished with him yet. Dawn followed him to the door.

  “Look. I really don’t know about this, Inspector,” called Dawn. Dawn meant his wife. Hogarth looked back at him from the darkness as both Gurney and Emily vied for his attention over Dawn’s shoulder. Gurney’s eyes were full of vitriol, Flount’s full of empty promises, but interesting promises all the same. Hogarth worked hard to ignore them.

  “We’ll all know soon enough, eh, Mr Dawn? And Gurney, don’t panic. I’ll return these shortly. Thanks for your help.”

  Gurney snorted. “That’s theft, you know.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s two like-minded detectives working for the common good.”

  As Hogarth turned away, Emily stepped towards the door and swished her hair at him.

  “I’m leaving too,” she said.

  Hogarth didn’t need the aggravation. He gave a farewell nod and firmly turned away.

  The door was still open behind them. Hogarth heard Dawn ask his cousin why she was leaving so soon. But Hogarth already had an inkling on that score, and he decided it was safest to get on his way. He made it as far as the end of the lock-up before the door was finally slammed. Emily Flount jogged down the gravel towards him. He smelt her fragrance as soon as she reached his shoulder, but he didn’t risk looking in case his resolve weakened.

  “You didn’t tell him then?” said Flount.

  “What would be the point?” Hogarth glanced at her once with a grim smile.

  “That means you’re on my side,” she said, beaming at him.

  “I’m on no one’s side in this mess, believe me,” said Hogarth. “I just figure there’s enough secrets between you that one more won’t hurt – provided you leave things alone.”

  “Hold on. So you’re warning me off?” said the woman. She slowed down, and Hogarth felt compelled to slow with her. They stopped and looked at one another. Flount folded her arms and looked at him.

  “I’m not warning you off anything, Miss Flount.”

  “That’s more like it,” she said. “Which means my offer still stands.”

  “You should save your offer for someone who’s interested,” said Hogarth. “None of you people seem to get it. I’m not involved. I’m not part of your little game.”

  “Really? Well, it certainly feels like you’re involved,” she said, and smiled. Her smile was hard to resist. Hogarth felt its gravitational pull, and something inside him squirmed.

  “Looks can be deceiving,” said Hogarth.

  “Not when it comes to that look in your eyes, Inspector.”

  Flount tilted her head and checked Hogarth’s e
yes again until she found what she was looking for. She stepped forward with a smile.

  “I’m afraid I’m spoken for, Miss Flount, and so are you.”

  “I’ve never seen a ring on your finger,” she replied. “And I’m not spoken for. Not in the least.”

  “Yes, you are,” he said. “You’ve fallen for Grant Dawn’s cash. I don’t think I’m a match for that.”

  Hogarth gave her a parting smile and walked briskly to his car.

  “Inspector… I won’t wait forever.”

  He left the woman lingering behind him. She tutted and shook her head, but Hogarth didn’t wait to see it. Somewhere far ahead of him, in the distance across the bleak, marshy landscape, Hogarth saw a faint searchlight swiping through the mist. The coastguard was still out there somewhere. Poor buggers. Hard working men and women, looking for a body they would never find.

  Hogarth got into his car and drove away, flicking a wave at the silhouette of Emily Flount as he accelerated away. He drove a good way on before his mobile finally picked up a signal. As soon as it did, it buzzed twice. Hogarth groaned and pulled up on the side of the lane, steeling himself for the latest bad news. The bright white phone screen illuminated his face and put pinpricks of light in his eyes. He listened.

  A voicemail from Palmer… and a cryptic message from Simmons.

  Palmer wanted him to call back. Which meant she must have got something from Yvette George. Maybe they were getting somewhere after all.