by Anita Waller
Murder Undeniable
Kat and Mouse Mystery Series Book 1
Anita Waller
Contents
Also By Anita Waller
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Copyright © 2018 Anita Waller
The right of Anita Waller to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in 2018 by Bloodhound Books
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
www.bloodhoundbooks.com
Also By Anita Waller
Psychological thrillers
Beautiful
Angel
34 Days
Strategy
Captor
Game Players
Malignant
Supernatural
Winterscroft
Praise for Anita Waller
Praise For Anita Waller
"a masterclass in suspense. This is Waller at her best" Betsy Reavley - bestselling author of Murder at the Book Club and The Optician's Wife
"a whirlwind of a read and a poignant one" - Nicki's Book Blog
"if you are after a book that deals with family, relationships and friendship that takes dark turns and twists that will hook you from the very beginning then you really do need to read this" - Yvonne Me and My Books
"Thanks for a great read Anita Waller! When is the next one out??" Rebecca Burton - If Only I Could Read Faster
"This book has lots of gasp out loud moments and plenty that will make you a little weepy too (it did for me anyway)." Lorna Cassidy - On The Shelf Reviews
"This is an engrossing read that I pretty much inhaled." Philomena Callan - Cheekypee Reads And Reviews
"Waller has an amazing skill to grab you and keep you interested until the very last page." Eclectic Ramblings of Author Heather Osborne
"WOW! ANITA HAS DONE IT AGAIN. What a bloody brilliant, outstanding, captivating story." Gemma Myers - Between The Pages Book Club
"This is a very gritty read...Add into the mix, the ruthlessness of the gangsters and you’ve got a cracking crime thriller." Claire Knight - A Knight's Reads
"It has twists and turns, shocks and honestly at times I had no idea what the end would be!" Donna Maguire - Donnas Book Blog
"A plot to keep you turning from beginning to end. I really enjoyed this . A captivating read ." Nicki Murphy - Nicki's Book Blog
"... a really well written, gripping book with plenty of twists for me!" Donna Maguire - Donnas Book Blog
"...building up to a tense, drama packed read. I was literally biting my nails by the end." Lorna Cassidy - On The Shelf Reviews
"The author really keeps you on the edge of your seat – the twists made me gasp and she sets the atmosphere absolutely perfectly." Melisa Broadbent - Broadbean's Books
"If you are looking for a crime thriller that is somewhat unnerving as it is every mothers worst nightmare, a fast paced page turner that keeps you guessing. Then I definitely recommend Captor!" Dash Fan Book Reviews
"Captor will have you gripped from the beginning and won’t let you go until you have finished. It is a suspense filled crime thriller that will keep you guessing throughout." Gemma Myers - Between The Pages Book Club
Dedicated with love to my husband, Dave,
with gratitude for his patience and tea-making skills.
No teapots were hurt during the writing
of this book.
I would like to be there, were it but
to see how the cat jumps.
In WEK Anderson (ed), Journals of Sir Walter Scott
11 December 1826
Mountains will go into labour,
and a silly little mouse will be born.
Ars Poetica 1.139
Sweet is revenge – especially to women.
Don Juan (1819-24)
Canto1, st.117
Chapter 1
8 May 2002
Caroline Phillips and Isla Norman sat on the ground behind the riverside wall; Caroline took out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. ‘Let’s have one now before the lads get here,’ she said, ‘and then they can smoke their own instead of ours.’
Isla giggled. She was a giggly person by default, and at that moment her fascination for Oliver Merchant, with his blonde hair, slim body and piercing blue eyes, was making her even more giggly than usual.
‘They said they’d come after football practice had finished, so they’ll not be here yet.’
‘I heard from Sarah last night. She said to wish Michael happy birthday, and she’s sorry she’s not here to take part.’
‘She like her new school?’ Caroline asked, dragging on the cigarette, and tucking her long brown hair behind her ears. Sarah Hodgson had been a close friend of both of them, and had suffered an enforced move to Essex following her father’s promotion.
‘She just said it was okay, sounded a bit quiet to me.’
Caroline laughed. ‘Quiet? Sarah? What have they done to her?’
‘Dunno. Maybe it’s because it’s another birthday here. We set this up between us, and she enjoyed four birthdays, including her own, then went to sunny Essex. Is Essex sunny?’
‘No more than Derbyshire,’ was Caroline’s considered opinion.
Half an hour later, there was a crack of a football being hit against a wall, and the five lads they had been expecting came around the corner together. Peter Swift picked up the ball and they all crossed to join the girls. Each one took off their backpacks and removed two cans of lager.
The previous year, Anthony Jackson had been the first one of the group to become fifteen, and they had decided to meet by the river, take a can of lager each, and chill out together after school. It had been an excellent couple of hours, and that first birthday had led on to a promise to treat each birthday within the group of eight in the same way.
By the time the second birthday had arrived, Keith Lancaster’s, the lager intake had doubled, and the girls had also brought snacks.
Each birthday had been a celebration of friends, and the only time all eight hadn’t been there was when Sarah had moved away. Now they were seven, and Michael Damms was their honoured guest on this warm early May evening.
During the cold months, they had met twice in Oliver’s garden, using the summer house, but the proximity to his parents tended to put a dampener on their conversations, and their drinking and smoking. It was much nicer down by the river;
Michael’s birthday was the 8th of May, and they would soon be meeting up again for Caroline’s benefit on the 23rd of May.
Isla and Caroline produced crisps, peanuts and sausage rolls, and a general discussion was held that if they all chipped in one pound each for every birthday, the girls could get the food without having to dip into their own pockets.
They finished eating, and once again the cigarettes came out.
Only Peter refused to smoke. ‘I’ve had some good news, so there’ll be no more smoke going inside me.’
‘What’s that?’ Anthony asked.
‘It’s top secret, I’ve said nothing at school in case I don’t get accepted, but I’m going for a trial at Stoke City.’
There was silence for a moment, then everybody clapped.
‘That’s brilliant,’ Oliver said. ‘You’ll go to their academy if you’re accepted?’
Peter nodded. ‘Yep, and I’m not jeopardising that for the sake of a fag.’
They all toasted him with what remained in the bottom of their cans, and he blushed. He was the quiet one of the group, unused to the limelight.
Anthony took out a small plastic bag from the front pocket of his backpack. ‘I didn’t know whether to bring these or not,’ he said, ‘but this is a double celebration with Michael’s birthday and Peter’s news.’ He offered the roll-up cigarettes around.
‘What are they?’ Caroline raised her eyebrows; her nervous reaction wasn’t lost on the others.
‘Joints,’ Anthony laughed. ‘They’ll make you feel good. My treat to us for Michael’s birthday.’
‘Drugs?’ Oliver said, reaching across and taking one. He lit it, and took a drag.
There was a slight pause, and then he said, ‘Wow, happy sixteenth, Michael!’
The others, with the exception of Peter, all took one, and quietly sat with their backs to the stone wall, lost in the moment, not speaking, enjoying the new experience.
Darkness had fallen; Peter gathered up all the rubbish and filled two carrier bags. He left the others in their soporific marijuana induced haze and took the bags around to the wheelie bins at the back of the Co-op.
He smiled as he walked back to them; none of them looked capable, or even willing, to walk home. He could hear voices approaching where they were, although clearly on the other side of the stone wall, by the riverside itself. Peter dropped to his knees and held a finger to his lips. He didn’t want anyone seeing his friends like this; if it were the police they could be in heaps of bother.
They all understood immediately; they too could hear the voices.
One man seemed to be crying, to be pleading for something. They heard ‘please don’t do this,’ several times, and ‘I’ll get your money’, followed by a small scream.
As the voices passed within three feet of their positions, they could tell that someone was being dragged, rather than walking unaided.
‘Let’s get him up the deeper stretch,’ they heard the first man say, and Oliver turned around to Keith, mouthing ‘Leon Rowe’. Keith dipped his head in agreement.
They remained behind the wall, not moving, until the voices faded slightly.
Keith spoke quietly. ‘We say nothing of this. That was Leon Rowe and Brian King. Brian lives next door to us, and trust me I know his voice, and Leon’s. Let’s just pretend we never heard this. I feel sorry for that poor bugger, whoever he is.’
They felt suddenly sober.
‘Can we go home?’ Caroline’s voice was quivery.
They picked up their bags, and Oliver carefully lifted his head above the wall. He could see the three men in the distance and, without speaking, waved the others to begin the walk home.
‘Stick to the roads,’ Anthony whispered. ‘We don’t want to be seen by anybody on the river path.’
It was as they were moving quietly away they heard the scream. It was dramatically cut short by a popping sound, almost immediately followed by a splash.
‘We’ll talk tomorrow,’ Anthony said. He swung off to the right, accompanied by Oliver Merchant and Caroline Phillips. The others headed in the opposite direction.
Anthony and Oliver walked Caroline home first, and as she closed the garden gate she leaned over it. ‘Those cigarettes, Anthony… can you get more of them?’
‘As many as you want.’
She nodded. ‘I want.’
‘Me too,’ Oliver joined in.
‘Talk to me tomorrow in school,’ Anthony said, and Caroline disappeared down the path.
Anthony Jackson’s career began that night.
Chapter 2
April 2017
Katerina Rowe’s first impression of her husband had been he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen; his dark brown, almost-black, skin radiated health, laughter, and, let’s face it, lusty sex appeal.
And she had pursued him just as ferociously as he had pursued her; she knew he loved the way her long blonde hair spread out on the pillow or hung into his eyes as they made love, her blue eyes not visible as she gave in to the pleasure of the moment. And he especially liked the time after when they simply lay in each other’s arms, quietly satiated and content.
He had initially been shocked by her admission that she was still a virgin at thirty, but as he grew to know and love her, he also understood. God had come first in her life.
Deacon at the Parish Church of St Lawrence in the tiny village of Eyam, Derbyshire, had been her aim, and Leon Rowe had come into her life at the precise moment she had achieved that. One year later, they had married in the same church that had celebrated her christening.
And now it was fourth wedding anniversary time, with Leon Rowe still dealing drugs, still “arranging” do-it-yourself funerals, and still hiding it from his wife. His legitimate business, owning and running a string of pharmacies, was a cover for the darker business in his world; even his love for the ethereal beauty he had married couldn’t make him give up the income he coveted and received.
Katerina stood in front of the mirror and twirled. It was strange to see herself without a clerical collar, and the red silk dress made her appear almost devilish. Leon stepped closer to her and wrapped his arms around her. They both looked in the mirror.
‘Perfect,’ he breathed, and leaned to kiss the neck that was unusually exposed. ‘But it needs something else.’ His hand went into his pocket, and produced, with a flourish, a small square black box. ‘Happy anniversary, my love.’
She took the box and opened it. Inside was a glowing ruby pendant on a gold chain. ‘Wow.’ She didn’t know what else to say. It took her breath away. Nestling in the box, it resembled a nugget of fire.
He took it from her and removed the jewellery. Fastening it around her neck, he smiled at the expression on her face.
She touched it lightly and shivered. ‘Thank you… I’m a bit stuck for words. It’s exquisite. And it goes perfectly with my dress.’
He laughed. ‘And if you had settled on a blue dress for tonight, it would have been a sapphire.’
She leaned her back into his chest and looked into the mirror once more. ‘And here’s me thinking you’re so clever. You spoil me, you know. I really don’t need material things…’
‘Maybe not, but I need to give you material things, occasionally. I love you, Katerina Rowe, so stop moaning. You taking a jacket? It’s still really warm out.’
She shook her head. ‘No, it’s lovely to be able to go out without one, for a change. And we’ll be in the taxi anyway.’
She picked up her bag, gold to match her shoes, and walked out of the room.
‘Come on then, lazybones, let’s get on our way. I’m ready for this steak.’
Enid Silvers was quiet. Victor, her husband, felt this was so unusual that it merited a comment.
‘You okay?’
She looked up, startled out of her day-dreaming. ‘I’m fine. Just… contemplating.’
‘Contemplating what? The universe? The gas bill? Your belly button?’
‘It’s funny yo
u should mention a belly button. I was sitting here imagining the patter of tiny feet from grandchildren. Do you think Katerina will ever give us one? She’s thirty-five, her clock’s ticking.’
‘Does she want a baby?’
‘I don’t know. I daren’t ask. I mean, who would have thought five years ago she would meet someone? I always thought she was married to the church, so her falling for Leon was a shock and a half. Should I ask her?’
Victor laughed. ‘I wouldn’t advise being blunt. Don’t just say, “Are you planning on having kids?” She’ll freak out. You’ll have to be subtle, and you don’t do subtle.’
‘Victor!’
‘Don’t “Victor” me. You know exactly what I mean. Tread softly, take the wellie boots off. She’s a gentle soul, is our Katerina, and I reckon she’ll let us know soon enough. Your suggesting she might want a baby might just make her dig in her heels for another couple of years.’
Enid said nothing. What if there were a problem? Maybe they’d been trying, and it hadn’t happened. Maybe that hunk of a man was infertile, or maybe Katerina had a problem. She was only a slip of a thing…