A Cold Cold Heart

by John Nicholl

  29

  Charles Turner sat at the back of the packed crematorium as Richard’s light- oak coffin made its final journey into the enveloping flames to the vibrating sound of a favourite rock song that the solicitor didn’t recognise or appreciate. He rose to his feet as the furnace’s door slowly closed and made his way outside to wait for the attendant mourners to say their final goodbyes and join him.

  Turner stood below a dark- grey slate roof as it began to rain and watched with increasing impatience until Emily finally made her way outside, arm in arm with her father, a few minutes later.

  The solicitor caught her eye as she stood in conversation with a morose, middle- aged couple, who he correctly surmised were the grieving parents. He waved and strode into the insistent drizzle to greet her. ‘Lovely service, very moving.’

  ‘Oh, hello, Charles. I didn’t know you were coming today.’

  He gave a half shrug and moved closer. ‘It was the least I could do in the circumstances, such a sad day.’

  Emily was surprised to find herself relaxing as he put his arms around her and hugged her to his chest. ‘I am so very sorry for your loss.’

  She freed herself from his grasp and took a step back. ‘Come on, I’ll introduce you to Richard’s parents. They’re lovely people. They’ll be glad to meet you.’

  ‘It would be an honour.’

  Turner shook hands with Richard’s father first, and then his mother, who didn’t stop weeping during their brief conversation. ‘Emily has told me such nice things about your son. Such a tragic event, I am so sorry, it’s just awful. He was taken far too soon.’

  Both parents thanked him for his kind words of comfort and moved off to speak to distant relatives they hadn’t seen in years.

  Turner opened a black umbrella and held it above Emily’s head, seemingly prioritising her comfort above his own, as the rain got heavier. ‘Have you got any plans for the rest of the day?’

  Emily looked daggers at him. ‘I can come back to work, if that’s what you’re hinting at. I do realise I haven't built up sufficient leave to take any more time off. All you have to do is say.’

  Turner shook his head and smiled. ‘No, it’s nothing like that, for goodness sake. You can take off as long as you need. I was just wondering if you’d like to go into Narberth for a quick bite to eat before you head for home. What do you think? It’s almost lunchtime.’

  Emily was about to say no, but changed her mind. ‘Can you drop me off at my father’s place once we’ve eaten?’

  ‘Of course, I can. I’ve got a new CD I’d like you to listen to.’

  ‘Okay, why not? I’ll just tell Dad what’s happening. I think he’s keen to get back to the station as soon as possible anyway. He’ll be glad of the reprieve.’

  ‘I parked on the road, rather than risk getting stuck in the car park. My mother was late for everything, that’s not my style; I like to plan ahead.’

  Emily felt a sudden pang of doubt, thinking it was a strange thing for him to say, but she pushed it aside as he touched her arm. ‘Are you still with me, Emily? You look as if you’re in a world of your own.’

  ‘Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking about Richard. He was so full of life, always smiling, always laughing. Everything can change in the blink of an eye.’

  ‘You’re so right. Funerals highlight that like nothing else. Don’t hold back, make the most of your opportunities while you can. Suck the juice out of life, as I said before, it’s the only way to live.’

  ‘Dad told me much the same thing after Mum died. One minute we’re here, and the next we’re gone.’

  Turner opened the passenger door for Emily and shielded her from the rain. ‘Do you believe in an afterlife; in heaven and hell, good and evil?’

  ‘I don’t know what I believe. Maybe there is, maybe there isn’t.’

  ‘Let’s talk about it more in the car.’

  She looked up at him and smiled. ‘No, let’s talk about something else entirely, something pleasant, something nice. And we’ll raise a glass to Richard. He’d like that.’

  Emily wound down the window and waved to Grav as Turner jumped in the driver’s seat and started the car’s powerful engine. ‘And we’ll raise a glass to catching the bastard who ran him over and killed him. The sooner he’s locked up, the better for everyone.’

  30

  Emily downed her third glass of red wine, as a young French waitress in smart livery delivered her crème brûlée to the table. ‘Nothing else for you, sir?’

  Charles Turner shook his head and smiled engagingly. ‘No, nothing for me thanks, I’ll stick to the coffee. What about you, Emily? Do you fancy a brandy to finish?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know.’

  ‘If not today, when?’

  She sighed. ‘Oh, go on, then. One won’t do any harm. It’s been a rough day.’

  Turner reached out and touched Emily’s arm as the waitress walked away. ‘I think you coped with the funeral admirably. Richard’s death was so unexpected, so sudden. It can’t have been easy for you.’

  Emily stroked her chin before responding. ‘In a way, I’d already mourned his passing when we split up. I don’t mean he was dead to me, but our relationship was over; I’d been through the heartache. Does that make any sense to you?’

  The waitress reappeared with Emily’s brandy, placed it on the table, and left quickly, sensing any further interruption would be unwelcome.

  ‘Of course, it does. It makes perfect sense.’

  Emily looked away. ‘You don’t think it makes me seem callous?’

  Turner reached across the table again and held her hand in his. ‘No, of course not. It’s human nature, that’s all. Don’t beat yourself up. You don’t deserve that, not for a second. Life has to go on.’

  She met his eyes and smiled without withdrawing her hand. ‘Thanks, Charles, that means a lot.’

  ‘Drink your brandy. You look as if you could do with it.’

  Emily lifted the glass to her mouth with her free hand and drank a generous measure. ‘Yeah, I must be looking a right mess. Crying can do that to a girl.’

  Turner smiled warmly and released her hand. He relaxed back in his chair and pictured her gasping for breath. ‘You always look beautiful.’

  She felt her face redden. ‘You say the nicest things.’

  ‘It’s all true. I’m so glad I met you.’

  Emily tilted her head back and emptied her glass. ‘I think it’s time we made a move. Funerals can make people do the strangest things.’

  Turner stood, helped Emily to her feet and handed her, her coat.

  ‘Thank you, Charles, it’s appreciated. You're a true gentleman.’

  Turner smiled as they walked to the car park, hand- in -hand. ‘Take your time; I think that last drink hit you rather hard. You look a little unsteady on your feet, if you don’t mind me saying so.’

  Emily turned suddenly and threw her arms around him. ‘Thanks for being such a good friend. I really value your support.’

  He held her tight and kissed her. Gently at first, and then hard with his wet tongue probing her mouth. ‘Some say death is an aphrodisiac.’

  She kissed him back, dopamine igniting her senses.

  ‘There’s a rather lovely hotel in Saundersfoot, with an uninterrupted view of the harbour and the coast beyond, if I’m not being too presumptuous. What do you think? Am I picking up the right signals, or am I deluding myself, driven insane by passion?’

  Emily reached up and kissed him again. More gently this time, but still with fervour. ‘Come on, let’s go before I change my mind.’

  ‘All right, in you get, out of the rain. I’ll put some music on, turn the heating up, and you can tell me how your father’s progressing with the investigation as we go… How does that sound?’

  ‘Can I choose the music?’

  He imagined her pleading for her life and had never felt more aroused. ‘Of course you can. Why do you feel the need to ask? I’m at your service. A slave to your
wants and desires, whatever they may be. You’re in control.’

  31

  DCS Hannah Davies sat at the front of the packed conference room, with Grav and Kesey at either side of her, and waited for the loud chatter and flashing cameras to subside. She watched the seconds tick by on the wall clock to her right, until precisely three thirty p.m., and rose to her feet – resplendent in a navy, two -piece designer suit that was intended to reflect her senior rank. ‘If you can all quieten down, we’re ready to make a start.’

  She waited for a few seconds more, surveying the room, as the attendant journalists, baying for the next big story, finally settled down. ‘My name is Detective Chief Superintendent Davies, head of the force’s Criminal Investigation Department. Also present is Detective Inspector Gareth Gravel, Senior Investigating Officer on the case, and Detective Sergeant Laura Kesey, his second in command. The purpose of today’s press conference is to bring you up to date with developments, as far as we possibly can, within the confines of the investigation. There will be some specific matters that we are unable to discuss for operational reasons, that’s unavoidable, but with that said, I’m sure the afternoon will prove productive for all concerned. I would respectfully ask that you keep any questions for the end of the afternoon.’

  Davies waited for the inevitable murmurs of discontent to die down and added, ‘Detective Inspector Gravel will address you now,’ in her piercing, high -pitched South of England tone, clearly enunciating every word.

  Grav pulled his polyester Caerystwyth Rugby Club tie loose at the collar and struggled to his feet. ‘As most, if not all, of you are aware, five young women have died recently, in the locality, in the most horrendous circumstances. That’s five young women murdered at the hands of a killer who is yet to be caught.’

  Grav pulled his tie a little looser as his face reddened, multiple beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, and damp patches formed under both arms. ‘To date, we’ve identified three of the victims. The first is Stella Worthington, a twenty-two- year-old girl who grew up in local authority care and was working as a prostitute in the Manchester area to fund a chronic drug habit. The second is Carol Lewis, a twenty-six-year-old, working as a prostitute in Swansea at the time of abduction and murder. The third victim is … The third victim is … The … The …’

  Grav coughed as his chest tightened, and the room became an indecipherable blur of tiny stars that made no sense at all. ‘The third victim… The …’

  Laura Kesey jumped to her feet and reached him just as he began to sway backwards and forwards, fighting to keep his balance and gradually losing the battle. ‘Are you all right, boss? I think you need to sit down.’

  Grav’s face contorted as vicious, stabbing pains exploded in his chest and fired down both arms, into his back, as he fell to the floor with a resounding thud that seemed to reverberate around the room.

  ‘Speak to me, boss. What’s happening?’

  A crowd of journalists gathered round them as Grav’s overburdened heart stopped beating.

  Kesey dropped to the carpet and began performing CPR to the insistent, imaginary beat of the Bee Gees disco classic “Stayin’ Alive,” as Davies took control of the crowd. ‘I would ask that you give my officers some space. Back off, DI Gravel needs some air.’

  Davies took her mobile from her handbag as the attendant journalists formed an impromptu circle and looked on. ‘Ambulance, I need an ambulance to Police Headquarters in Caerystwyth. It’s urgent. One of my officers has collapsed.’

  ‘Is the patient breathing?’

  ‘Give me a second.’ She called out above the chatter. ‘Is he breathing, Laura?’

  ‘He wasn’t, but he is now. I don’t think he’s got a clue what’s happening.’

  The DCS pressed the phone to her ear. ‘Yes, he’s breathing, but he’s not conscious.’

  ‘That’s good to hear. Try and get him into the recovery position, if you can. An ambulance is on its way.’

  32

  DS Kesey sat in the detective chief superintendent’s spacious office and waited for her to finish her call. ‘Sorry about that, Laura, it was the chief constable. He likes to be kept fully informed.’

  Kesey fidgeted with her cuff. ‘Of course, ma’am.’

  ‘How about a coffee before we make a start?’

  ‘That would be lovely.’

  ‘The kettle’s on the windowsill; my secretary’s off again. There’s another baby on the way any time now. She’s hoping it’s a girl.’

  Kesey crossed the room and switched on the kettle. ‘Do you still take it black, ma’am?’

  ‘Yes, please, and no sugar. I’ve got another marathon coming up in a couple of months.’

  ‘Rather you than me.’

  Davies smiled. ‘Each to our own. Are you still doing the kick- boxing?’

  Kesey spooned instant coffee granules into two overly fussy porcelain cups, decorated with multicoloured roses, poured in boiling water, and stirred. ‘Yeah, I’m running a class at the leisure centre, once a week, work allowing. A friend covers for me when I can’t make it. I’m planning on fighting again at the end of June.’

  ‘Competition?’

  ‘British Open.’

  DCS Davies accepted her coffee gratefully. ‘Take a seat, Laura. Now tell me, how’s DI Gravel getting on? I’ve had a quick word with him on the phone, but I haven’t had the chance to visit him as yet. Perhaps later this week.’

  Kesey frowned hard. ‘I’ve been trying to call at the hospital most days, even if it’s only for a few minutes. There’s only me and his daughter. It seems like the right thing to do; I don’t think he’s over his wife’s death.’

  ‘Yes, I think you’re probably right… Is he making reasonable progress?’

  ‘He hasn’t really told me very much. You know what he’s like; always putting on a brave face and hiding his true feelings with a smile and a joke.’

  The DCS sipped her coffee. ‘He could have died. You saved his life.’

  ‘Yeah, I guess I did. I don’t think he realises that. I just hope he makes a full recovery.’

  ‘That’s what I wanted to speak to you about.’

  ‘Ma’am?’

  ‘I’ve spoken to the inspector’s consultant. He’s a family friend. He’s assured me that Grav’s not going to be back at work for several weeks, at best, and that’s if he makes it back at all. Maybe retirement would be the most sensible option.’

  Kesey shook her head. ‘That’s the last thing he’d want. He loves the job. It’s what he lives for.’

  ‘Well, that’s something I can discuss with him in due course. There’s no need to rush things in that regard, but we need to think about how we manage his cases in the interim. That’s why I asked to see you.’

  ‘I’m happy to do all I can to help, ma’am.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it… Remind me, Laura, how long have you been with us?’

  ‘I transferred from the West Midlands force about two years ago.’

  ‘And you’ve settled in well enough?’

  Kesey forced a smile. ‘I like to think so.’

  ‘DI Gravel’s evaluations have been extremely positive. He has a very high opinion of you.’

  Kesey smiled again, spontaneously this time. ‘Really? He hasn’t said anything.’

  ‘That’s not his style.’

  ‘No, I guess not.’

  ‘How would you feel about covering in his absence? Are you up to being an acting detective inspector? You’ve got the relevant qualification.’

  Kesey brushed non -existent fluff from her sleeve before responding. ‘Yeah, I guess so. To be honest, I thought you’d appoint somebody with a bit more experience, or perhaps bring in an existing DI from another division.’

  Davies nodded. ‘Yes, I did consider both options, but DI Gravel persuaded me otherwise. You come recommended.’

  Kesey laughed nervously. ‘He’s a dark horse.’

  ‘So, what do you say? Do you accept?’

 
Kesey wondered why her mouth felt so dry. ‘Would I be heading up the murder investigation?’

  ‘Yes, but with my direct input; I can’t stress that sufficiently. We’d meet regularly, and I’d be available to provide you with support and advice, as required.’

  ‘I’d love to do it, ma’am. Thank you for putting your trust in me.’

  Davies smiled without parting her lips. ‘This is an opportunity, Laura. Acting up won’t guarantee you a future promotion, but, if you perform well, if you impress, it makes progression significantly more likely.’

  ‘I’ll do my best, ma’am.’

  DCS Davies stood, reached across her desk, and shook the newly appointed acting detective inspector’s hand with a surprisingly firm grip. ‘Chances like this don’t come along all that often in small forces like ours. Make sure you take full advantage.’

  ‘I will, ma’am.’

  Davies walked to her office door and held it open. ‘I hope so, Inspector. There’s a killer out there. If we don’t catch him, and quickly, this could come back to haunt the both of us.’

  33

  Emily Gravel looked up from her newspaper and waved as Kesey entered the bijou vegetarian cafe in Merlin’s Lane, glad to get out of the rain. ‘Sorry I’m late, Emily, work’s been hectic.’

  Emily smiled. ‘It’s good of you to come at all. Fancy a coffee?’

  Kesey sat herself down on a comfortable black leather settee, and ordered an almond milk latte and a dark chocolate brownie from an attentive waitress, with red and blue hair, who had suddenly appeared. ‘It’s good to see you, Emily. How’s your dad doing?’

  ‘You’ve seen almost as much of him as I have. The ward sister told me he was lucky to survive. I’ve got you to thank for that.’