‘I’m not confused,’ she answered.
That wasn’t strictly true. Nick was attractive. More importantly, he wouldn’t be put off by her dedication to her work. He would understand her. She decided that if he asked her out again, she would say yes.
‘How about a drink then, if you don’t fancy supper? Just a drink, Geraldine. Look, I’ll come clean, because we seem to have got off on the wrong foot, and maybe I’ve come across as a bit pushy. The truth is, I think you may need to talk to someone who’s not working on your case, someone you can bounce ideas off. That’s all. There’s no shame in that. We all need some help with hard cases. And as luck would have it, I’m not actually snowed under right now – well, nothing pressing. Take advantage of my availability and spend a little time offloading. It might help you formulate your ideas if you talk about it. You can do the same for me when I’m on my next case, if it makes you feel any better.’
There was no reason to refuse to go for an occasional drink with a colleague.
As soon as she agreed, he turned away and busied himself with a report he was writing. Somehow Geraldine felt uneasy. He wasn’t unattractive, and he was married. Unable to settle, she went to find Sam, keen to get to the bottom of the sergeant’s hostility towards Nick. Sam was in the visual images identification and detection office chatting to a middle-aged constable. She looked up when Geraldine entered. ‘We’ve seen Marco leaving Gower Street. Like he said, he was on foot. He didn’t go into the station but crossed Euston Road and walked to Camden where he went straight to the pub.’
‘There’s no way he could have legged it over to Holborn, no time even to have taken a taxi there and back,’ the constable confirmed.
Geraldine wanted to challenge Sam about her antagonism towards Nick but this wasn’t the time. In any case, the squabble was between them and nothing to do with her, just as it was none of Sam’s business if Geraldine chose to go for a drink with him. She left them to it.
After working late they drove in separate cars, north out of London. Geraldine followed Nick along the Edgware Road and on to the Watford bypass. They had been driving for over half an hour when they reached a country pub in a village, off the beaten track. Neither of them acknowledged out loud that Nick had chosen to bring her somewhere they wouldn’t be recognised. The interior of the olde worlde black and white pub was dimly lit and quiet. Nick bought the first round, while Geraldine selected a table in as well lit a corner as she could find. When Nick sat down she shifted in her seat to avoid any contact with him.
They chatted idly about their colleagues for a few minutes. Nick described Sam as ‘a fire cracker’, but didn’t volunteer any explanation for her animosity beyond what he had already offered. Geraldine didn’t pursue the subject. He was more forthcoming about Reg, for whom he professed admiration.
‘Don’t you find him a bit heavy handed?’ she probed cautiously.
‘He’s the boss. It’s best to do things his way, and hope we get results.’
‘And if we don’t?’
He shrugged when Geraldine said she suspected Reg would never take the rap for failure.
‘You can’t blame a bloke for covering his own arse,’ he said.
Respecting Nick’s refusal to be drawn into any further discussion about their senior colleague, Geraldine muttered in agreement.
As soon as he raised the topic of her investigation, Geraldine launched into a detailed account of the disappearing killer. The case had been nicknamed Houdini by the team working on it.
‘You keep talking about “him”,’ Nick pointed out, putting down his pint, ‘when surely everything you’ve told me so far points to the killer being a woman?’
‘You don’t think the killer – or killers – were motivated by jealousy, because Piers was sleeping with the victims?’
‘Quite possibly, yes. But doesn’t that make it all the more likely the killer’s a jealous woman, systematically eliminating her rivals for his attentions? Or else she’s taking revenge on him. Using his own van suggests someone wanted to frame him, which all points to a jealous ex-lover hell bent on revenge.’
‘When you put it like that, it sounds so obvious, I don’t know why I never thought of that. The reporter who was first on the scene of Anna Porter’s crash was a woman, and a woman was seen following Bethany shortly before she was killed.’
She turned to Nick, excited. Perhaps the reason they hadn’t found the killer was because they had been looking in the wrong place all along.
‘Nick, I don’t know how to thank you –’ she began, and broke off, flustered.
The last thing she wanted was to be in his debt, but despite her best intentions she felt herself warming to him. When he stood up, she felt a flicker of disappointment. She reminded herself fiercely that he had a wife waiting for him at home, estranged or otherwise.
‘Same again?’ he asked and she smiled, relieved.
She wasn’t ready for the evening to end yet. ‘It’s just a casual drink,’ she reminded herself, watching him going up to the bar.
The evening passed quickly. They were both hungry so they enquired about food. Nick grumbled at the limited menu and asked Geraldine if she wanted to go somewhere else, but she was content to stay. If they had been on a date, she might have expected something better, but what they ordered was entirely appropriate for an evening spent with a colleague discussing work. In any case she was too engrossed in discussing the investigation to pay much attention to the menu. Despite her preoccupation with the case – or perhaps because she was able to talk freely about it – she enjoyed Nick’s company. All in all they spent a pleasant evening, and she told Nick as much when they were standing in the car park taking leave of each other.
‘That was a very nice evening, thank you,’ she said, suddenly rather formal. ‘And thanks for listening. It was a great help.’
As he leaned forward she turned her head so that he kissed her softly on her cheek. If she hadn’t moved, his dry warm lips would have met hers. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Confused, certainly, and cautiously exhilarated. Given his marriage, it could be no more than a frivolous distraction from the case. But it would be foolish to embark on such an affair with a colleague. What was more important right now was that Nick had given her a new line of enquiry to consider. The killer might be a jealous woman, possessive about Piers. Focusing fiercely on that, Geraldine did her best to forget the memory of the soft touch of Nick’s lips on her cheek.
While she was on her way home, her phone rang. Glancing down she saw Ian Peterson’s number. Although she was on speakerphone, she preferred not to chat in the car and said she would call him back when she got home. Sitting on her sofa with a mug of chocolate she phoned him.
‘You were working late,’ he said.
‘I wasn’t working, actually.’
‘Ha, a date?’
‘No. Well, maybe.’ She laughed. ‘What’s up?’
‘Nothing’s up.’ He sounded slightly put out. ‘I thought you’d like to know I got my promotion, that’s all.’
‘Ian, that’s brilliant! Congratulations, Inspector!’
‘Thanks. I thought you’d be pleased.’
‘Are you sure nothing’s wrong? You don’t sound very happy about it.’
He didn’t answer.
‘Ian, what’s wrong? How’s Bev? How did she take the news?’
He didn’t answer straight away. ‘I’m not sure,’ he said at last.
The pause told her more than his halting words.
‘Ian, what’s wrong? What’s happened?’
‘I’m not sure,’ he repeated miserably. ‘Oh, she was pleased about the promotion, of course, but she’s not keen on moving.’
‘Do you know where you’re going?’
‘York.’
‘York? How exciting!’
Doing her best to sound pleased, she was glad he couldn’t see her dismayed expression. York was a long way off. She had secretly been hoping he would move closer
to London.
‘I wish Bev thought so,’ he was saying. ‘She’s pissed off at having to leave her job, and the house. She loves our house. She’s worked really hard to get everything right.’
‘But you both knew a move was on the cards. It can hardly have come as a surprise to her, after all your hard work.’
‘She doesn’t see it like that.’
The sudden rancour in his tone warned her to choose her words with more care.
‘I’m sure she’ll be fine once she gets used to the idea.’
‘I hope you’re right.’
It was a difficult conversation and for once Geraldine was relieved when he said he had to go. What with Nick and Ian, she wondered if anyone she knew was happily married. She fancied Nick, and was flattered by his attention, but she wasn’t sure if she actually liked him. She certainly didn’t trust him the way she trusted Ian. Not for the first time, she decided she was better off on her own. Relationships were too complicated.
Chapter 45
MEGAN LET OUT AN involuntary whimper. Clapping one hand over her mouth she wriggled right down into the bed and pulled the covers over her head. She lay very still, alert to the slightest sound. With luck the intruder wouldn’t realise there was anyone there, although if he looked in the room it would be pretty obvious someone was concealed under the duvet. It was stifling in the bed, yet she was shivering. She strained to listen through the bed covers. Someone was clattering about in the kitchen. Silence. All at once her heart began pounding as she heard the bedroom door creak open. Too late she realised she should have grabbed a weapon of some kind before hiding herself in the bed. As it was, she had nothing with which to try and defend herself against her attacker. Her worst fear was that he might slash her face. She wasn’t as pretty as most of the other girls in her year yet Dirk still fancied her, and he wasn’t the only one. If her face was disfigured, her career might be over before it had even begun.
She kept her eyes tightly closed, hardly daring to breathe as something thumped down hard on the bed.
‘Megan! Are you asleep?’
She let out a sob of relief. Dirk pulled back the covers and leered down at her. His breath stank of beer and stale cigarette smoke. At least he had probably been telling her the truth about going to the pub.
‘Lauren’s here,’ he announced very loudly.
‘You’re not going to throw up are you?’ She scrambled over to the other side of the bed. ‘Get into the bathroom, you stink.’
‘Angela’s here.’
‘You said Lauren just now.’
‘I know. That’s what I’m telling you. Lauren’s here.’
‘Who’s Lauren?’
‘Listen.’ He spoke very slowly, and his speech was slurred. ‘I brought Lauren back here because she had nowhere to go. Missed her train, you see.’
‘But who is she?’
‘She’s a girl. She’s Lauren.’
Without any further explanation he fell back on the bed, laughing uncontrollably.
Megan didn’t mind who was with him. He could have brought a whole harem of girls back to the flat for all she cared, she was so pleased to see him. Without warning she burst into tears.
‘Oh for fuck’s sake,’ he grumbled, sitting up and scowling. ‘She only came back with me because she missed her last train. What was I supposed to do? Leave her on her own in the middle of London? I was being chivalrous.’ He stumbled over the word. ‘You should be proud of me. I’m a gentleman.’
‘I am proud of you.’
She flung her arms round his neck.
‘So why are you crying?’
‘I’m just happy to see you.’
‘Well, make us a cup of tea then. It’s freezing out there.’ He leaned forward suddenly. ‘Oh God, I’m going to hurl.’
Megan helped him to the bathroom and sat on the side of the bath while he threw up. She stared at her face in the mirror. Pasty-faced, with no make-up, her hair a mess from hiding under the bed covers, she hoped Dirk was too pissed to notice how awful she looked. At last he finished and followed her submissively back to the bedroom.
‘I’ll go and make the tea then.’
He grunted in reply. While the kettle was boiling, she went back to the bathroom and cleaned up. As she passed the living room she heard laughter.
Recovered from his bout of vomiting, Dirk was sitting on the sofa beside a girl who was laughing at something he was saying. Neither of them noticed Megan, standing in the doorway, watching them. She stared at the stranger. Lauren was very thin. Long skinny legs stuck out beneath her short skirt, and she waved her hands in the air when she spoke, displaying sparkly pink nails. Her blonde hair was dark at the roots, her huge blue eyes emphasised by thick black make-up. She looked like a cheap little tart, and worryingly young. Megan fought against her resentment. She gave Dirk somewhere to live, spent hours going through his lines with him, looked after him when he was sick and cleaned up after him, shopped and cooked for him, and he repaid her devotion by openly flirting with some skinny little bitch who was gagging to shag him.
‘Here you are,’ she said forcing herself to sound cheerful as she handed them their tea.
Lauren took a sip and screwed her face up in disgust. ‘It’s got sugar in it.’
Dirk gulped and grimaced. ‘This one’s yours. It’s disgusting.’ He and Lauren swapped mugs, laughing. ‘Trust Megan to get it wrong,’ he added.
Lauren looked up and met Megan’s eye, seemingly noticing her for the first time.
‘Thank you for the tea,’ she said politely, as though Megan was Dirk’s mother.
Megan wondered if she was even sixteen. One of these days, Dirk was going to get himself into a lot of trouble, and serve him right.
‘I’m going to bed,’ she announced. Turning to Dirk, she asked him if he was going to bring his tea with him. ‘I’ll find a sleeping bag for Lauren if she wants to stay on the sofa tonight.’
Lauren reached out a small hand and placed it on Dirk’s arm. He didn’t move.
‘Good night,’ Lauren said firmly, looking straight at Megan.
Without another word, Megan turned on her heel and left the room. Lying in bed, alone, she promised herself she would throw him out in the morning. He could find some other mug to put up with his selfish carrying on. But by the time he joined her in bed later, she had her jealousy fiercely back under control. However many girls he flirted with, Dirk invariably came back to her. She was going to make sure he always did.
Chapter 46
‘WE NEED TO LOOK at Piers’ previous lovers – maybe his ex-wives,’ Geraldine announced to the borough intelligence unit the next morning.
She sounded so enthusiastic that several officers looked up from their screens in surprise. Reg and Sam were both in the room and the detective chief inspector stopped what he was doing.
‘What’s your thinking, Geraldine?’ he asked.
She explained the theory Nick had put forward. Sam raised her eyebrows. She looked narked.
‘Nick suggested it? What’s it got to do with him? He’s not even on the case.’
‘We were discussing it last night,’ Geraldine answered shortly.
There was no reason why she shouldn’t talk about the investigation with another officer, in general terms. He had been helpful, and his idea might even lead them to solve a case that had been going nowhere. The fact that Sam didn’t like him was of no consequence. Reg was more positive.
‘That makes sense. Come on, I’m meeting Jayne in my office in five minutes, we can see what she has to say about it.’
‘This just gets better and better,’ Sam muttered.
Geraldine didn’t answer. Like Sam, she found the psychological profiler irritating, but any opinion could prove useful when they were floundering.
Jayne listened intently to Geraldine’s theory. With her head tilted to one side, her long curly hair reached down to her waist. Dressed in her usual ankle length skirt and floaty scarf, the profiler reminded Geraldin
e of an art teacher she had at school. She struggled to understand how Reg could take her seriously.
‘What do you think?’ the detective chief inspector asked.
‘It’s possible,’ Jayne agreed.
‘Anything’s possible,’ Sam mumbled.
Geraldine glared at the sergeant, irritated that her colleague felt able to express the thought Geraldine had kept to herself. As an inspector, she felt obliged to conduct herself with some dignity and restraint. But if Sam ever intended to seek promotion, she needed to be more careful. Geraldine had already reprimanded her about her offhand attitude. Jayne scowled, clearly understanding that Sam was sniping at her. Geraldine suspected Sam was annoyed that Nick’s idea was being taken seriously. Reg agreed they should investigate Piers’ ex-wives, while Sam drew up a list of women with whom he had been involved.
‘It’s going to be a long list,’ she pointed out, but she sounded more cheerful now she had something to do.
‘What is it about Nick?’ Geraldine asked Sam as they walked down the corridor, away from Reg’s office.
‘What about him?’
‘What’s between the two of you?’
‘Nothing at all.’
‘Why the constant bitching about him then?’
‘You know why I don’t like him.’
Geraldine nodded. Sam had told her about a stupid sexist remark Nick had once made about an alleged rape victim. But anyone could blunder. Now that she knew him better, Geraldine genuinely believed he had been thoughtless rather than nasty. The comment might have been unforgivable at the time, but Sam couldn’t hold it against him forever.
Sam followed Geraldine into her office, where Nick was seated at his desk fiddling with a pen. He looked up and smiled.
‘Fancy a drink after work, ladies?’
‘No thank you. As if we’d want to,’ Sam added to Geraldine, lowering her voice, yet making sure Nick could still hear her.
‘I think you’ll find Geraldine already has,’ he retorted. ‘In fact, it was more than a drink. How about supper again tonight, Geraldine? My treat.’
Sam stalked off without a word. Geraldine watched her go but didn’t follow or call after her. She had no time for the sergeant’s immature antics.
Fatal Act Page 20