Saffina Desforges' ROSE RED Crime Thriller Boxed Set

by Saffina Desforges

  Harris pushed it back. “What’s the point? It’s all history now. Done and dusted. That’s not Nikki’s handwriting, either.” He downed his second mocha in one. “Anyway, I’d better get back to Rain Man. Tom, Cruise, did you say? I’ll see if I can download it. I found a new pirate site last night.”

  “Has anyone mentioned video piracy is a crime?” Anna tapped her fingers absently on the scrapbook. “Mind if I take this to read through?”

  Harris shrugged. “Be my guest. Ain’t like Rain Man is gonna miss it.”

  Chapter 153.

  “Two weeks?” Ella folded her arms and adopted the classic Pippa-in-a-strop pose. Legs crossed at the ankles, head at a slight tilt. Icy glare. “I’ll simply die of boredom! There’s nothing to do in France.”

  “Darling, it’s a holiday,” Pippa soothed. “You’ll enjoy it. And there will be plenty to do.”

  “I wish I could have gone on exotic foreign holidays when I was your age, Ella” Cynthia said.

  “Dinosaur safari,” Jack said.

  Cynthia playfully whacked Jack with a rolled-up copy of the Telegraph.“I’m only as old as the Pyramids, thank you.”

  “Why can’t we go to Florida like normal people?” Ella persisted.

  “Because your father doesn’t like flying, as well you know.”

  Jack looked up. “So we have to spend half our holiday jammed in the back of Dad’s car with the luggage while all our friends are zooming off on Concorde.”

  Red spluttered into her coffee mug. “Concorde? That was decommissioned just after you were born, Jack. I’m surprised you’ve even heard of it!”

  “It’s on his games console,” Ella muttered. “Dad bought it for him. More favouritism.”

  “Favouritism?” Pippa looked up from her legal folder. “Your father bought you both new games, as I seem to recall.”

  “Yeah but I get,” Ella made air quotes with her fingers, “educational software. Jack gets games to play.”

  “Retro games,” Jack corrected. “But Concorde is cool. It can break the sound barrier. And you get to be the captain and fly it. Look!”

  There was no rush to inspect Jack’s flying skills.

  Red said, “Anyway the holiday will give you a chance to practice your French, Els.”

  Ella stared at Red. “Duh. Cass. I do German and Spanish. Anyway, if France is so wonderful why aren’t you two coming?”

  “Because I have a backload of cases to clear and I simply can’t take two weeks off at the end of the summer,” Pippa said. “Neither can Cassandra. You know how busy we both are.”

  “You’re always busy. Why can’t we all go to France together?”

  Pippa smiled. “Actually, Ella, we will all be together, for part of the time. Cassandra and I are going to have a quiet weekend in Paris to coincide with your return trip. Your father will meet us there. Cass wishes to take you up the Eiffel Tower and pretend you are tourists. How does that sound?”

  Ella managed a reluctant smile. “I s’pose.”

  “We’ll have another day out when you’re back from France, too.” Red squeezed a lid onto a Peppa Pig beaker. “What do you say, Rubes? A trip to the zoo maybe?”

  “Yay! The zoo!”

  “Boring,” said Ella.

  “Can’t we go to the dogs?” Jack wrestled with his games console, not looking up. “Darren says the dogs are well cool.”

  Cynthia Crichton lifted Ruby down from the booster seat. “Five minutes in the garden, then it’s time to go, darling.” To Jack, “I hardly think the greyhound track is an appropriate venue for a family day out, young man.” She leaned across the kitchen table, whispering to Red, “But if you fancy an afternoon there whilst the children are away…”

  “Madame Sin! You certainly know how to live up to your name!”

  Pippa looked up. “What’s that, Mother?”

  “Nothing, darling. Cass and I were just discussing where you could take the children for a day trip in the Autumn half-term.”

  Pippa waved a dismissive hand. “Day-trips can be arranged the night before. They do not require any strategic planning. Not like a proper holiday. Which reminds me, did Cassandra talk to you about the lakes?”

  Red slunk back in her chair.

  “No, dear,” Cynthia said. “What about them?”

  “Well, we’ve decided to have a New Year’s break there.” Pippa watched her mother’s face for a reaction. “As a family. So we’d like you to join us.”

  “We’re going on holiday to the Lakes?” Jack’s thumbs stopped twitching.

  Ella stared at her mother, emotionless.

  Cynthia looked from one child to the other, then back to Pippa. Emotionless.

  Red broke the awkward silence. “Waddaya reckon, kids?”

  “Do you think that is wise, Philippa?” Cynthia asked.

  “Yes, Mother, we do. Cassandra and I have discussed it at some length. We do not intend to let some once in a life time event ruin our future enjoyment. Richard will have the children on Boxing Day as usual, and then we’ll drive up to Cumbria for the rest of the holidays.” Pippa glanced at Ella. “Don’t worry, we’ll hire a bigger vehicle so you can all be comfortable.”

  “What, a Hummer?” Jack asked.

  “Not quite,” Red said. “But something big enough for eight people.”

  Ella did the maths. “I thought Dad and Lucy weren’t coming.”

  Pippa beamed. “That is correct.”

  Ella double-checked on her fingers. “Me, Jack, Tues. That’s three. Mum, Cass, Granma. That’s still only six.”

  Pippa beamed even more. “As a reward for thoroughly enjoying yourself with your father in France, Cassandra and I have decided you may each bring a friend to the Lakes.

  Ella gawped. “For real?”

  “Yes. If you behave in France.”

  Jack sat upright in his chair. “Can Darren come too?”

  “Of course Darren can come.” Red glared at Pippa, daring her to argue. “A friend each. So, Madame Sin, what do you say? The more the merrier.”

  “Wordsworth country… In the company of my lovely grandchildren and their friends too? Just try keeping me away!”

  “That’s settled then,” Pippa said. “I shall make the booking immediately after tea. Mum, it will be so lovely having you along to look after the children. Not that that’s why we asked you, of course.”

  “Of course not, dear.” Cynthia smiled sweetly. “The thought never crossed my mind.” To Red, “Should I pack my vacuum cleaner and potato peeler too? Sounds like I’m going to need them.”

  Red raised her coffee mug in solidarity. “Don’t worry, Madame Sin. I’m sure we can arrange a few hours off for you to get some well-earned sleep now and again.”

  Chapter 154.

  “How about trying to call me Colin,” Superintendent Blake said. “In private, at least. I think you’ve earned that.”

  Red shifted uncomfortably in her seat. A nervous smile. “I’ll try. But I’ve always known you as Sir, Sir. Even Bill, that is, DCI Andrews, called you Sir, and you and he went back years. It comes with the office.”

  Blake nodded. “The higher you go, the lonelier it gets. As I’m sure you’ve already found.”

  “Yes, Sir. I mean, Colin.”

  Blake eased back into his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. “So, what’s on your mind?”

  “I wanted to update you on developments, Sir, and also ask about the IPCC investigation.”

  Blake nodded. “How is DC Harris coping with his loss?”

  “Surprisingly well. He’s taken the Marshall kid under his wing. Helping smooth the transition. Jez is even liaising with the social worker to make sure Kevin gets his entitlements.”

  “Commendable. Most commendable. Community relationships are important for the Force, and it’s especially good that the offender’s family is being helped in this way.”

  “It’s often the villains’ families that bear the brunt, Sir.”

  “Have SOCO
finished at the Marshall residence?”

  “All clear. They have the dresses identified on the CCTV footage, and should be able to match the fibres. But in the circumstances it’s all pretty academic. I’m just waiting on their final report so I can put the case to rest.” Red grinned. “Must say I’m sorely tempted to throw in a few unsolved cold cases to clear the books.”

  “Many a true word spoken in jest, Cass.” Blake gazed into the distance. “I’ve known it happen, believe me. Back when I was a rookie it was quite common. Some bob-a-job tea-leaf villain that had probably managed three or four petty burglaries in his career would turn up in the morgue and suddenly he had a dozen cold-case crimes to his name.”

  “Life On Mars, Sir.”

  “Don’t get me started. Of course back then the IPCC was just the Police Complaints Authority. Even more toothless than it is now.”

  “Speaking of which, Sir…”

  Blake sat forward. “Let’s put your mind to rest on that one, Cass. Obviously the IPCC have to go through the motions, as with their interview with you this morning. But that’s purely routine. Bottom line is, we have a dozen news crews who filmed the incident. Nikki Marshall fired a weapon at a Police helicopter, in full public view. C019 acted to safeguard the officers on board and the public on the ground below. There’s no worries at all on that count. No worries at all.”

  “That’s good to hear, Sir.”

  “It’s Colin, don’t forget. And I have to say, Cass, you did an excellent job separating the woman and the brother, and forcing her out into the public area. Both the Chief Super and the DAC have expressed their admiration.”

  Red felt herself blushing. “It wasn’t quite that straight-forward, Sir.”

  Blake put up a dismissive hand. “Things never are, Cass. What matters is what goes into the report.”

  “Like the suicide jumper, Tahlia.”

  “Precisely. By the way, don’t think I’ve forgotten your interest in that inquiry. Nor have I overlooked that memo about your au pair’s missing sister. But with the best will in the world, Cass, I do not see how I can ask questions about an overseas missing persons investigation in which we have no jurisdiction.”

  “Thanks for considering it, anyway, Sir.”

  “I also spoke to DI Silver, in passing, and clearly there’s something big going down in relation to the suicide jump woman. But Special Branch are not very liberal with information, as you can appreciate.”

  “Understood, Sir. Okay. I’ll let you get on.” Red stood to leave. Leaned over and picked up a photo fame on Blake’s desk. “This must be your son. Bill told me about him.”

  Blake puffed up proudly. “Commander John Blake, Royal Navy. Looks a bit like Roger Moore in The Spy Who Loved Me, don’t you think?”

  Red thought nothing of the sort. She said, “Spitting image, Sir. By the way, how’s young Peter doing?”

  “Kind of you to ask, Cass. He’s coping well. Still on probation, of course. But I think my grandson’s learned his lesson.”

  As Red reached the door Blake added, “I’ve a meeting with the Chief Super and the DAC next week.”

  Red stopped, fingers on the door handle. “Sir?”

  “All hush-hush at the moment. But you’re carrying a lot of brownie points with Cedric just now. So I was wondering…”

  Red held her breath.

  Blake asked, “Is your passport up to date?”

  Chapter 155.

  “Your passport?” Pippa’s eyes sparkled. She put her legal folder to one side and turned to give Red her full attention.

  “Then his effing phone rang and he waved me off.”

  “And he’s said nothing since?”

  “Not a sausage.”

  “Well obviously you’re being sent abroad.”

  “Duh. Why didn’t I think of that. Of course I’m being sent abroad, Counsellor. It’s probably some Brit tourist gone missing in Afghanistan or Iraq and yours truly has been selected as the sacrificial lamb. I go out there, get myself beheaded, and the Met looks good because it sent a senior female officer to try solve the problem. I get a posthumous sainthood and a name-plaque on some park bench somewhere no-one ever goes. Great.”

  “I wouldn’t mind having a bench somewhere with my name on it.”

  “I’d rather be sitting on the bench with someone else’s name on it, thank you very much.”

  Pippa refilled the glasses. “Don’t be so melodramatic. This calls for a celebration.”

  “What, me being sent to some war-zone?”

  Pippa pushed a replenished glass in front of Red, undaunted by such trivia. “Really, Cass, I sometimes wonder how you ever got to be a detective. It’s quite obvious what is coming.”

  Red settled back onto the sofa. “Of course. Silly me. Come on then, Mystic Meg. I could do with a good laugh.”

  Pippa raised her glass. “It’s all very simple. You’ve just resolved a triple murder case involving a,” fingered air quotes stressed the point, “serial killer, right here in London, and suddenly the Super wants you to be on first name terms, is talking about,” fingered air quotes again, “brownie points with Chief Superintendent Edwards, and is asking about your passport.”

  Pippa beamed. “Cass, you’re being sent to Virginia! I do believe I’m almost jealous.”

  Red pulled her cheek muscles down with her fingers, the better to stare mystified at Pippa. “Virginia? As in, Virginia, USA?”

  “Well I’m sure there must be other Virginias in the world, but yes, Virginia, USA. Of course.”

  Red grinned. “What, you think I’m being sent to Langley to help the CIA foil some terrorist plot against the president?”

  “Not Langley, Cass. That’s Tom Clancy. I mean the FBI. The Behavioural Science Unit, Virginia.”

  “The FBI?”

  “Of course. That’s where they train all their specialist officers. Obviously Colin Blake and Cedric Edwards feel you are the right person for the job. As do I.”

  Red affectionately took Pippa’s hand. “There are so many reasons why I love you, Counsellor. Your overwrought imagination is just one of them. How come you know about the FBI training centre anyway?”

  Pippa stared at the ceiling.

  “And Langley, come to that? And Tom Clancy?”

  Pippa’s fascination with the ceiling continued.

  Red’s mystified face broke into a knowing smile. “So what do you think of Kay Scarpetta?”

  “Who?”

  “The game’s up, Counsellor. I’m the detective here, not you. And my little grey cells tell me you’ve been at my e-reader. Found many typos?”

  Pippa held her arms out for the handcuffs. “It’s a fair cop, as they say. But it was your fault, Cass. Yours and Ella’s. Don’t worry, I’ve ordered one of my own. It should be here any day. But I’ll need to borrow yours until then, to find out what happens to Lucy and her girlfriend. I never realised they wrote thrillers with lesbian characters in.”

  Red shrugged. “That’s America for you, Counsellor. Always ahead of the game. It will never happen here.”

  Chapter 156.

  “Thomas Bristow. The missing link.”

  Metcalf made a face. “That’s not very nice, Anna. Whoever he is, I’m sure he can’t be that bad.”

  Anna produced the scrapbook Harris had left with her. “SOCO found this at the Marshall flat. Gave it to Jez. I was looking through it last night.”

  “Why would SOCO give evidence to Jez?” Red asked.

  “It’s not evidence as such,” Anna explained. “It’s something Nikki put together about what happened to Kevin as a kid.”

  “Charming,” said Red. “And it connects to this investigation?”

  “I know it’s pretty academic now Nikki Marshall’s dead, but I thought it would be nice if we could tie up the loose ends.”

  Red shrugged. “Fine by me, so long as there’s no OT required.”

  “Typical DCI,” Mackenzie said. “No offence, Guv.”

  “Speaking of
which, Guv,” Metcalf interjected, “where do me and Lee stand now? Are we being shipped back to Wandsworth?”

  “Give me a day on that one, Pete. It’s just possible we’ll be short-staffed again very soon and will need you here.”

  Taylor looked up. “Is Jez not coming back?”

  “Don’t worry, Bazza. You two will be back in harness from Monday. No, there’s just something on the horizon. Can’t say any more than that at the moment. I don’t know any more myself.”

  “Woman of mystery as always, Guv,” Terri said.To Anna, “So who’s this Bristow you were on about?”

  Anna flipped open her laptop. Aligned it with the whitewall. “Guv?”

  “Be my guest. I’m as much in the dark as everyone else.”

  “I did some homework last night,” Anna said. “I put a little display together for the benefit of Terri, who won’t know anything about it. And it was a few years ago now, so probably a useful refresher for all of us.”

  She clicked a button. “Thomas Martin Bristow. Paedophile. Deceased.” Bristow’s image appeared on the whitewall. “Specifically, Kevin Marshall’s abuser.”

  Taylor shrugged. “Good riddance to the sick bastard.”

  Anna clicked again. “Uncle Tom.” To Terri, “Britain’s most notorious child killer. Currently serving life, no parole.”

  “Now there’s an argument for capital punishment if ever there was,” Red muttered beneath her breath.

  “No argument here, Guv.” Metcalf sat forward. “Anna, wasn’t Bristow in the frame for those kids at one stage?”

  Anna flashed up the news reports. “He was. Picked up by the Met and allegedly coerced to signing confession. He was on remand in Canterbury when another body turned up. Died before he could substantiate the allegations against the Met. The real killer, Uncle Tom, went on to kill again.”

  “I heard about Uncle Tom, in the States,” Terri said. “That was huge news everywhere. But what’s this got to do with Nikki Marshall?”

  “Quite a lot, it transpires.” Anna flashed up scans from the scrapbook. “Nikki put together some quite meticulous detail on Kevin’s story. By the look of it she was angling to sell the story at some stage, maybe once she made a name for herself modelling. The bookstores are full of abuse-survivor stories, and Kevin’s is as bad as any.”