Preface to Murder

by M S Morris

  ‘I’m sorry to hear it,’ said Bridget.

  Now that the murder investigation was all concluded, it would be handed over to the Crown Prosecution Service. Annabel had declined the offer of legal representation and had made a full and detailed confession, explaining exactly how and why she had murdered her sister. She held nothing back, and seemed to find the process of unburdening herself a relief. Her only concern had been about her dog. ‘Who will look after Oscar?’ she asked anxiously.

  ‘He’s safe in the dog warden’s kennels for the moment,’ said Bridget, ‘but I have an idea about what to do with him in the long term. Leave it with me for now.’

  Daniel Dunn was very unsure about her suggestion at first. ‘But I live in a small flat in London. And I have a demanding job. How am I going to look after a dog?’

  Oscar was sitting next to him on Ian Dunn’s sofa with his snout laid on his lap, gazing up at him with big brown eyes. Bridget was glad to see that the Jack Russell had been given a bath and was back to his usual white and brown colouring, his fur neatly brushed and dried. It was hard to believe that the creature had behaved so aggressively in defence of his mistress.

  Ian Dunn stood on the opposite side of the room, eyeing the dog warily. He didn’t look too happy at having Oscar in his house, and the dog narrowed his gaze whenever he made a movement.

  Ian had spoken to Daniel before Bridget arrived, breaking the news that not only was he not his real father, but that Daniel had almost certainly inherited an incurable genetic disorder. It would be necessary to take a test to confirm, but from what Bridget had seen of Daniel herself, she didn’t doubt that Ian’s diagnosis would prove to be correct. Daniel, for his part, was clearly shaken after the day’s events. It would take considerable time for him to come to terms with everything that had happened.

  ‘What about your mother’s house in Oxford?’ Bridget asked him. ‘What do you plan to do with it?’

  ‘I was going to sell it,’ said Daniel. ‘And use the cash to buy a house in London. But now I’m having second thoughts. I need to rethink my whole life.’

  Bridget nodded sympathetically. She may not have warmed to Daniel during the murder investigation, but she would never have wished on him the devastating news that he had Huntington’s. Perhaps a dog was just what he needed.

  ‘Oscar’s a friendly dog,’ she said, trying to dispel the image of the terrier’s jaws clamped hard around Ian’s ankle, ‘and he knows you well. I think that you’d be good for each other.’

  ‘You could be right. I’d like to look after him, for Aunt Annabel’s sake.’

  ‘I’m sure that she’d appreciate that very much.’ The fact that “Aunt Annabel” had murdered Daniel’s mother and done her best to kill Ian too didn’t seem to have dented Daniel’s affection for her. But Annabel wouldn’t be around to help Daniel come to terms with the fact that he was dying. Bridget was sure that a dog would be a great comfort to him in the days ahead.

  ‘I’ll leave him with you then,’ she said, standing up.

  *

  ‘Well done, Mum!’

  When Bridget returned home, Chloe and Jonathan were waiting for her, with Alfie too. Jonathan wrapped his arms around her in welcome.

  ‘Nice one, Bridget,’ said Alfie.

  Bridget had phoned Jonathan earlier to tell him what had happened, and to let him know that she was safe. Now, in his arms, she really did feel safe.

  ‘You’re a hero again,’ Jonathan said with a smile.

  ‘I think the credit needs to go to my team,’ said Bridget, thinking about the way Ffion had tackled Annabel in the field.

  ‘You’re too modest.’

  ‘Yeah, Bridget,’ said Alfie enthusiastically. ‘Take credit for yourself!’

  ‘Come on,’ said Chloe with a smile, looping her arm through his. ‘Let’s give the loving couple some time on their own.’ She took Alfie upstairs, leaving Bridget alone with Jonathan in the kitchen.

  ‘Wine?’ asked Jonathan, pouring a glass of red without waiting for her reply. ‘I have a casserole in the oven.’

  ‘You are the hero,’ said Bridget. ‘I don’t know how I’d survive without you.’

  ‘Takeaway pizza, I expect. Or microwaved leftovers. I’m sure you’d get by somehow.’

  Bridget took a sip of the wine. ‘But I don’t want to get by. I’ve been just getting by for years, and now I’m nearly forty!’ She knew that she ought to be happy, but for some reason a tear was trickling down her cheek. ‘After Diane was killed, I thought my career was over. I stared into the abyss and everything looked black. You were in New York, Chloe was in London. I didn’t know what to do.’

  Jonathan took her hands in his. ‘But you did know what to do. You solved the case and caught the culprit. Now you’re vindicated. Chloe’s back home, and I’m here too. So what’s the matter?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s just…’

  He studied her carefully. ‘Is this about Ben and Tamsin?’ he asked. ‘After everything you’ve been through, are you still worrying about the wedding?’

  Bridget looked at him hopefully. ‘Do you think we could get away with not going to the wedding ourselves? You could arrange another business trip and this time I could go with you. Paris, New York, Tokyo. We could go anywhere, except London.’

  ‘You know we can’t. We have to be there for Chloe’s sake. It’s important for her to know that her parents can still get along like civilised people.’

  ‘Is it?’ Bridget thought of Diane Gilbert and Ian Dunn and their so-called amicable divorce. That had turned out to be a seething mass of concealed resentment and bitterness. But perhaps that was what civilisation was for. To put a gloss over the surface and try to keep the bad stuff hidden. She only had to keep her feelings at bay for one day. For Chloe’s sake. And for her own too.

  ‘Don’t give Ben the satisfaction of knowing how much he still rattles you,’ said Jonathan.

  Bridget nodded slowly. ‘You’re right. I can’t let him think that he’s so important. Because he isn’t.’

  ‘That’s decided, then,’ said Jonathan. ‘See it as an opportunity to enjoy some good food and wine, at Ben’s expense. And besides,’ he added, ‘I’ll be there with you.’

  *

  Jake was running late. By the time they’d got Annabel back to the station, interviewed her – she admitted everything immediately – and charged her, it was already gone seven. He hurried home, had a quick shower, and put on a fresh change of clothes.

  After his date with Lauren he had come to the realisation that although Ryan meant well his advice was hopeless. The problem was that Jake had allowed Ryan to write his dating profile for him, and he could see now that it wasn’t authentic. There was far too much emphasis on his supposed good sense of humour and wanting to have a good time. No wonder it had attracted a woman like Lauren who just wanted a bit of fun on the side.

  That wasn’t what Jake was looking for. He wanted a steady, long-term relationship with a woman he felt comfortable with. And so he’d completely rewritten his profile on the dating app. Instead of simply highlighting his good points, he had tried to write a full and honest assessment of himself. There was no point hiding his true nature from a potential partner. If tonight’s date turned out to be as bad as the previous two then he was going to delete his account and learn to accept his single status with stoicism.

  Amy had agreed to meet him at a pub down the Cowley Road so at least he didn’t have far to go this time. He checked the photo of her once more to make sure he knew who he was looking for – frizzy red hair and freckles. He wouldn’t have looked twice at her if he’d passed her in the street, but after he posted his new profile on the app, Amy was one of only two women who contacted him. He was a little nervous, as she worked at the Bodleian. He hoped she wouldn’t want to talk about books all evening otherwise it was going to be a very one-sided conversation.

  The rain had stopped but the roads were still wet and were full of reflections of car headlights. J
ake pushed open the pub door and stepped inside into the warm, fuggy atmosphere. It didn’t take him long to establish that there was no one matching Amy’s description anywhere in sight. He felt rather relieved. Now he could go home, stick a pizza in the oven, and watch TV. His safe routine.

  He was just about to step back outside when the door flew open and a short figure in a bright yellow high-vis jacket burst into the pub. She removed her cycle helmet, and her frizzy hair sprang back to life. Her face was bright red from the effort of cycling. She looked at him for a moment.

  ‘Jake?’

  ‘Amy?’

  She laughed a hearty laugh that showed off her front teeth. ‘Sorry I’m a bit late! Bellringing practice went on longer than usual tonight.’

  ‘Bellringing?’ Jake had never before met anyone who rang bells.

  ‘I’ve just come from Mary Mags.’

  ‘Who?’

  She laughed again as if he’d made a joke. ‘The church. St Mary Magdalen. We call it Mary Mags.’

  ‘Oh, right. If you don’t mind me saying, that’s a very Oxford kind of thing to say.’

  ‘Is it? I expect it is. Where are you from?’

  ‘Leeds.’

  ‘Yes, I thought you were probably from Yorkshire. Do you play cricket?’

  ‘No, sorry.’

  ‘Never mind. I don’t really like cricket anyway.’

  Amy was quite unlike any woman that Jake had ever been out with. But he liked her down-to-earth manner and her forthright way of talking. Now that she’d cooled off a bit, her face was less red, and her freckles were starting to become visible. Of the three women he’d met via the dating app, Amy was the only one not wearing make-up. She didn’t look like she’d gone to any special effort to make herself look nice for him. But despite that, she really was quite pretty. He found that he wanted her to tell him more about bellringing.

  ‘So,’ he said, ‘would you like a drink?’

  ‘Oh yes, please. I’m parched after all that ringing and cycling. I’ll have an Old Speckled Hen. What are you having?’ She pulled a rucksack off her back and reached inside for her purse.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I’ll have the same.’

  ‘Two pints of Old Speckled Hen, please,’ said Amy to the barman. She turned to look at Jake. ‘So, the most important thing you need to know about bellringing is this…’

  *

  Candlelight. Wine. Soft music. After being tied up at work for such long hours this week, Ffion knew she needed to make it up to Marion, and this restaurant was an inspired choice. French, of course. No one did romantic dinners quite like the French. The Italians did passion, the Spanish did flamenco, and the Swedish did meatballs. But the French excelled when it came to intimate one-on-one dining, and Marion deserved Ffion’s full attention now that the investigation was finally over.

  Ffion was happy to let Marion choose the food and wine, knowing that she was in the hands of an expert. They had started with Mediterranean fish soup, moved on to a main course of pheasant served with chestnut and mushroom sauce, and were now awaiting their pistachio soufflés.

  Ffion had divulged a few edited highlights of the case, and they had swapped anecdotes about their times travelling and dining around the world. Now a hush descended over them, pregnant with anticipation. Last time they had spoken, Marion had hinted at some big announcement she wanted to make. Ffion was itching to invite her to Wales, to meet Siân and the rest of her family. But it was only fair to allow Marion to go first with whatever it was she wanted to say. ‘So,’ she said. ‘Do you have some news to tell me?’

  Marion lifted her wine glass to her lips and sipped. ‘Yes. Exciting news. I have been waiting all week to tell you.’

  ‘Is it about work?’ Marion was a junior research fellow in the Department of Engineering Science specialising in renewable energy. Ffion found it exhilarating to discuss her work and learn about the latest developments in wind and wave power, and to hear about the transformative effect they would have in preventing climate change. And Marion always took an intelligent interest in Ffion’s own line of work, particularly the computer skills that enabled her to unearth so much information from a person’s phone or laptop. Marion had been particularly impressed by how Ffion had worked out Diane Gilbert’s password through the process of steganography.

  Marion nodded her elegant head, a faint smile playing hesitantly on her lips. ‘It’s good news. At least, I hope you think it is good.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Ffion cautiously. ‘Don’t keep me in suspense.’

  ‘So, I have been here at Oxford for three years now,’ said Marion. ‘My position will expire at the end of this year.’

  ‘Right,’ said Ffion. ‘You told me you’ve been applying for vacancies.’ Marion was hoping to get an offer of a permanent position at her college, but competition for faculty and college posts was fierce. Nevertheless, Marion had an excellent track record of research. She was always travelling abroad to present her work at international conferences.

  ‘So,’ said Marion. ‘I’ve been offered a job. A full-time lectureship.’

  Ffion reached across the table and squeezed Marion’s hand. ‘That’s fantastic news.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Marion. ‘The job is in Edinburgh.’

  Ffion’s smile faltered. ‘What?’

  ‘I will start there next term.’

  ‘So you’ve already accepted?’ said Ffion, her voice tight.

  ‘I had no choice. An opportunity like that… it is too good to refuse. In Oxford, I might wait years for a permanent position.’

  Ffion pulled her hand away in confusion. ‘But what about us? You said that this was good news!’

  Marion tipped her head to one side. ‘Well, it is good news. For me, anyway. But I hope it can be good for both of us. Ffion, I want you to join me. Come to Edinburgh! I promise it will be a great adventure. What do you say?’

  ‘Move to Edinburgh? And leave Oxford?’

  ‘Why not?’ said Marion. ‘You have no family in Oxford. Nothing is keeping you here.’

  ‘I…’

  ‘I know this is a big surprise. But the university needed a quick answer. They want me to start in the summer term. Another lecturer is taking early retirement because of bad health. I tried to talk to you sooner, but you were always too busy at work.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ said Ffion. Only a few hours earlier, Bridget had praised her actions in apprehending Annabel Caldecott and preventing a second fatality. She’d strongly hinted that promotion to Detective Sergeant might soon be in the offing, given her good work in helping to solve the case. She would need to pass the relevant exam, but that would be easy for someone of Ffion’s ability. Her career was just about to take off.

  The waiter brought the soufflés to the table, depositing them with a flourish, but suddenly Ffion wasn’t hungry.

  ‘I hope you will say yes,’ said Marion. ‘Come with me to Scotland! You can get a job with the police there easily enough, can’t you?’

  ‘I expect so.’ But Ffion knew that she didn’t want to leave Oxford, even if staying meant that she would lose Marion. It wasn’t just the prospect of promotion that was keeping her. She had good friends in Oxford, like her housemates, Claire and Judy. Work colleagues too – Bridget, Andy, Harry and even Ryan.

  And then there was Jake. The two of them had been through so much together. First as colleagues, then as friends, then, briefly, as lovers.

  The thought of leaving him and the rest of the team behind and going somewhere brand new felt like a punch to her gut. She pushed away her dessert untouched.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ asked Marion.

  Ffion could hardly remember the last time she had cried. She hadn’t cried when she left Wales. She hadn’t even cried when she split up with Jake. But now tears were streaming down her cheeks.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘But I can’t go with you. I’m not leaving Oxford.’

  38

  ‘I do think I deserve s
ome credit for solving the case,’ said Vanessa.

  ‘Oh, really? What makes you think that?’

  Now that the investigation was over and Bridget had been given some time off, she had made good on her promise to accompany Vanessa to visit their parents for a few days. The drive down to Lyme Regis was giving the two sisters some much-needed time to talk and to try to settle their differences.

  ‘Well,’ said Vanessa, ‘if it hadn’t been for me, you would never have worked out how the victim was killed. I think I made a rather decisive contribution.’

  ‘I think I was the one who worked out that Diane Gilbert was poisoned with plant food,’ said Bridget. ‘I don’t remember you telling me that.’

  ‘Perhaps I would have done, if you’d given me the facts. I think that perhaps you overlook my usefulness.’

  ‘You know that I can’t discuss my work with you,’ said Bridget. Vanessa had never previously paid the slightest attention to her work, and had always turned her nose up at any mention of the word “murder”, so perhaps this newfound interest could be interpreted as a growing acceptance of her job as a police detective. As gratifying as that might be, Bridget certainly didn’t want to encourage Vanessa to start poking her nose into her investigations. ‘Let’s just say that a serendipitous set of circumstances came together just at the right moment.’

  ‘Well, all right,’ said Vanessa. ‘But it wouldn’t hurt to say “thank you”.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Bridget grudgingly.

  They lapsed into silence as the Range Rover swallowed up the miles on the dual carriageway.

  ‘So, are you looking forward to the wedding?’ asked Vanessa.

  ‘Chloe is,’ said Bridget, sidestepping the thorny issue of Ben and Tamsin. ‘But she has her exams coming up in the next month or two. She ought to be revising, not thinking about weddings and clothes. And I don’t think she should be spending so much time with Alfie either.’