To Die For (DI Sam Cobbs Book 1)

by M A Comley

  Tom stared at him, and he focused on the eyes peering at him through the slit holes in the fabric, to see if he could recognise the intruder. He didn’t. The mask was doing its job, disguising his features. “Who are you?” You know how to load a gun!

  “Stop asking dumb questions and tell me.”

  “I refuse to.”

  “Very well. Take your last breath, make it a good one.”

  Tom raised his hands higher. “No, wait!”

  But it was too late. The gun went off.

  1

  Detective Inspector Samantha Cobbs was running late for work that morning, mainly due to her husband choosing to pick a fight with her first thing, about something so trivial—she’d already forgotten what topic had initiated Chris’s outburst. She knew by the time they both got home from work that evening, he would have calmed down and the argument would be regarded as just one of those things.

  Sam had a lot on her plate at present, too much, in fact. What with her parents going on holiday at the weekend and her brother, Mike, already making them regret booking their week-long escape to Barbados. Mike was a needy sibling; along with her sister, Crystal, they both managed to drive her parents to distraction, hence their need to throw caution to the wind after the pandemic restrictions had been lifted to travel and book a well-deserved break to a sunnier climate.

  She drove through the country roads on the outskirts of Workington. As usual, the surrounding views of the hills and the brief glimpses of the sea over to the left had a calming influence over her. She regarded herself lucky, rarely getting rattled as such but, when she did, a drive out in the Cumbrian countryside did the job of repairing her equilibrium and putting her world back on its axis again.

  Around fifteen minutes later, she pulled into the station car park and spotted her partner of five years, Bob Jones, getting out of his vehicle. She beeped her horn and drew up alongside him. He leaned over and peered through her window.

  “I might need to go home and get a change of underwear before I start work, boss, you did a good job of scaring the crap out of me.”

  Sam suppressed the giggle and bit down on her lip. “Oops, sorry, I forgot myself there for a second, but I was so pleased to see your bright, cheery face.”

  Bob rolled his eyes. “And you talk a lot of bullshit at times, too.”

  Sam exited the vehicle and punched his upper arm. “I do not. What’s up?”

  He groaned and they walked towards the whitewashed building that was their second home for forty-plus hours a week, usually longer of late, due to the rise in crime in the area since the tourists had descended upon them, now that the restrictions had been lifted. “The usual,” he sighed. “Teenage angst on full alert, especially first thing. To tell you the truth, I was glad to get out of the house this morning. Abigail and Milly were at it from the second they laid eyes on each other.”

  Sam didn’t respond. One person’s angst was another person’s regret. She and Chris had been trying to have kids for over ten years now. Five failed fertility attempts later, they’d finally agreed to put the subject to bed and get on with their lives, being known as one of the few childless couples in the village where they lived.

  “Did you hear me?”

  Sam turned to Bob and shook her head. “Sorry, I was in a world of my own there for a second. What were you saying?”

  Bob waved a hand and opened the main entrance door for her. “It doesn’t matter, I get I was boring you rigid.”

  “You weren’t. Ignore me, I’m sorry. I’m always here if you need to vent, you know that.”

  “Clearly. It’s fine. Truthfully, I come to work to forget my troubles at home. We all do, right?”

  “Some of us do.” She grinned and smiled at the desk sergeant as they passed through the reception area. “Morning, Nick. How’s things?”

  “Fair to middling, ma’am.”

  Bob followed her through the security door and muttered, “I’ll shut up then.”

  “Why? I’ve told you before, if you need to get something off your chest, I’m always around to listen.”

  “Except you’re not listening.”

  “Sorry. I apologise for being distracted this morning. My head isn’t in the right place yet, I need a good dose of caffeine to get me going fully at this time of the day, you know that.”

  “Yeah, okay, I’ll give you that one. I’ll get them in today, it’s my turn.”

  Sam stopped walking halfway up the flight of stairs. “Bloody hell, I must be hearing things. I could’ve sworn you just said you were going to buy the coffees.” She whipped out her mobile and shook her head.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Checking my birthday hadn’t crept up on me without me realising it.”

  “Ha-bloody-ha.” Bob continued to trudge up the stairs. “I don’t have to take this bullshit, you know.”

  Sam caught him up. “You don’t?”

  “I could easily put in for a transfer, that would wipe the smile off your face.”

  “In an instant. Don’t even go there. You know how much I detest change around here.”

  He pulled a face. “Exactly. So be kind to me.”

  Sam sighed. “Your sense of humour is lacking today, partner.”

  “Yeah, it has packed its bags and gone on holiday for the foreseeable.”

  She stopped at the top of the stairs. “Being serious here now, are things really that bad at home, Bob?”

  “Kind of.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I need to do some serious thinking over the next few days or weeks.”

  Sam inclined her head. “Meaning what?”

  He hitched up his shoulders again and stared ahead of him. “Whether or not I’m prepared to put up with the rowing for much longer.”

  Her mouth dropped open and closed again. “You’re not joking, are you?” she asked, realising the significance in his expression.

  Bob looked her in the eye and shuddered. “I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

  She bit down hard on her tongue, her thoughts lying with Abigail for also having to put up with their teenage daughter’s moods and vile temper at times. His wife couldn’t up and leave, could she? Would she even want to? Sam had a soft spot for Bob, she wasn’t going to start to think badly about him just because he couldn’t handle the strain of his home life all of a sudden. However, she was slightly taken aback by the wayward thoughts apparently running through her mind, right now.

  “Bob, I’m stunned. I had no idea things had got so bad between the three of you. This is the first indication you’ve given me that something major is wrong at home.”

  “You know me, I tend to bottle things up, rather than moan about them all the time.”

  “Maybe that’s your downfall, mate. Does Abigail know this is how you feel?”

  “Not really. I’ve hinted, but she hasn’t picked up on the inference in my words. Hey, we’ll figure things out. I didn’t mean it to come out and land on your shoulders, forget I’ve said anything. I come to work to forget my personal problems.”

  “Okay, I understand what you’re getting at. What I said still stands, though: my door is always open, don’t forget that, ever. If you feel yourself drowning, speak up for God’s sake.”

  He wagged a finger at her. “Hey, I’m not about to do anything daft, like Morrison.”

  “Good, I should hope not.” The copper he was referring to had hung himself from a beam at the local community centre where he helped out at the weekends, unable to live without the wife who had run off with one of his colleagues.

  “You have my word. Now, can we get on with our day? I’m in desperate need of that drink.”

  She smiled and nodded. “Go on, you’ve twisted my arm.”

  They entered the incident room to find the rest of the team all hard at work. Sam loved the fact her colleagues never felt the need to sit around first thing, waiting for her to instruct them to get on with their day. Yes, she held a daily brief, of sorts, but they were th
e best in the business in her eyes. “Good morning, everyone. Hope you’re all well on this bright autumnal day?”

  Claire Owen, who had been newly promoted to sergeant, smiled and raised her cup of coffee at Sam. “All good from where I’m sitting, boss.”

  “Good. Has the promotion sunk in yet, Claire?”

  “Not really. Still having to pinch myself periodically throughout the day.”

  “You’ll get used to it, eventually.” She moved towards her office and caught the conversation going on between Liam, Oliver and Alex. The latter, aged forty-three, was offering dating advice to the two younger men.

  Sam shook her head. “Don’t listen to him, guys. No, what I should have said was, listen to him if you want to spend most of your spare time either visiting the maternity unit or changing nappies for the rest of your lives.”

  “Hey, that’s uncalled for, guv,” Alex declared, mortified by her suggestion.

  “Is it? With eight kids to your name.”

  He coloured up under her intense gaze. Liam and Oliver both chuckled and then Oliver pointed at Alex. “Yeah, I think I’ll give your advice a miss, man, if it’s all the same. That would tarnish my name as a playboy.”

  “Playboy image my arse, just because you flit between girlfriends every few months. Now let me tell you, back in the day when I was starting out on the dating circuit—”

  “Enough, already. Give the lads a break, old timer,” Sam interrupted and headed towards her office, aware of Alex staring after her, probably with his mouth hanging open in shock at the harsh way she had addressed him. She breezed past the last member of the team, Suzanna Witchell, and whispered, “Is he shooting daggers at me?”

  Suzanna cleared her throat, doing her best to suppress the laugh desperate to escape. “Yep, and some.”

  “He’s so easy to wind up.”

  “You’re not wrong,” Suzanna admitted.

  Sam entered her office, and her mood altered significantly when she saw what lay ahead of her—brown envelopes galore littered her desk. Instead of confronting the dreaded post, she paused briefly to obtain another dose of calming influence from the hills she could see from her office window. Without this magnificent view on offer every day, she pondered how dreary and mundane her role as an inspector would be.

  The phone rang, startling her out of her reverie. She quickly removed it from the docking station and answered it. “Hello, DI Cobbs. How may I help?”

  “Ah, I’m glad I caught you, Sam. Do me a favour and join me at a crime scene, will you? This one has your name written all over it.”

  Sam smiled, recognising the local pathologist, Des Markham’s subtle timbre. “Hi, Des, I haven’t had the notification come through yet.” With that, her mobile rang.

  He laughed. “Haven’t you?”

  “Hang fire a sec, let me take the call.” She placed the phone on the desk and answered her mobile. Bob came into the office at the same time and put a cup of coffee in front of her that she knew was going to go cold. “Thanks, stay there, I don’t think we’ll be hanging around long.”

  Bob eased himself into the chair, blew on his coffee then took a sip. “We’ve got time to finish this, I hope.”

  “Not sure. Hang fire,” she mouthed. “Yes, I’ve got that. Thanks, my partner and I will attend ASAP.” She ended the call, raised a finger, telling Bob to wait a second, and picked up her main phone again. “Crikey, it’s all go at this end. Right, I’ve had the call. Des, Bob and I will be with you soon. We’ll even be forgoing our first cup of coffee in the process.”

  “Whoa, I’d rather you didn’t, I know what you’re like without caffeine running through your system. Anyway, it’s not like this guy is going anywhere, for the time being.” Des snorted.

  “Cheeky bugger. We’ll be with you shortly.”

  “See you soon.”

  Sam ended the call and reached for her coffee. After taking a sip of her tepid coffee, she said, “Suspicious death at a farm in Mosser.”

  Her partner frowned and blew on his drink again. “Pretty rural, that is. Unusual to get any sort of crime in that area.”

  “I was thinking the same. Can’t remember anything coming from that area before. I suppose there’s always a first time. Sup up. It’s what? Fifteen or twenty minutes from here?”

  “Depends if we use the siren or not. We could always sit around, finish our coffee and then use the siren to make up for lost time.”

  “You amaze me at times, Bob Jones.”

  “Do I? Thanks, that’s good to know.”

  Sam laughed. “I meant in a bad way.”

  “Oh, I see.” He winked at her, downed the rest of his coffee and stood, ready to go.

  Sam set her own drink to one side and followed him out of the office. There, she announced, “We’ve had the heads-up about a new case. Suspicious death, that’s all we have right now. Guys, I need you to finish up any lingering paperwork to do with the other cases we’ve solved recently so that we can put a combined effort into this one.” The team either nodded or gave her the thumbs-up. “We’ll be off then. As usual, Alex, you’re in charge. That doesn’t give you the go-ahead to dish out useless dating advice in my absence, got that?”

  Alex stared at her, his eyes widening to the size of beach balls. “I’ll be as professional as I always am while you’re out of the office, guv.”

  “Why does that statement considerably unnerve me?”

  The rest of the team laughed. Sam and Bob left the station. “We’ll take my car, I’d like to get there in one piece, if it’s all the same to you.” Sam grinned.

  “Blimey, you’re on one today, aren’t you? What with giving poor Alex a dressing down in front of the others and dissing my driving skills.”

  “I did no such thing on either count. Are you forgetting the close shave we had last week when you almost rear-ended that bike?”

  “No, he was in the wrong, pulling out of nowhere like that.”

  “Yeah, yeah, if you say so. Get in the car.” She smirked at him over the roof of her Nissan Qashqai.

  A whoosh of breath left his body and he slipped into the passenger seat. Sam passed him her notebook in which she’d jotted down the address and he entered the postcode into the satnav. She drove off and turned on the radio.

  “Mind if we have Gold on rather than Smooth today?”

  “The choice is yours.”

  Bob found the station he was after and leaned his head back while she drove. At one stage, she thought she heard him snoring. She decided to let him rest and drove in silence to the crime scene.

  Three vehicles were parked on the large drive at the farmhouse, all belonging to the forensic team. Sam dug her partner in the ribs. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty, we’re here.”

  Bob sat upright, stretched and yawned. “Sorry, didn’t realise I was so exhausted.”

  “Hey, no problem. The next time you request a certain radio station, at least have the decency to stay awake and enjoy the damn music.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Yeah, you’ve said that already. Get on your phone, I want to know why there isn’t a patrol car here.” Sam left the vehicle and went to the boot of her car to retrieve a protective suit and shoe coverings.

  Bob joined her moments later. “They’re on their way. The desk sergeant sent his apologies for not organising it sooner, short staffed or something.”

  “Yeah, I’m not buying that one. We’re all understaffed, we just need to knuckle down and get on with the task in hand. Suit up, I’ll sign the Crime Scene Log.”

  “You’ll have a job, without an officer present,” he muttered.

  She slammed her fists against her thighs. “See, the system is already bloody messed up. I’ll be having a word when I get back. I’ll check with Des, see if he’ll give us the all-clear to view the scene from a distance.”

  “Good idea. I’ll be with you shortly.” He lost his balance, pulling on the suit and bashed his hip against the side of the car. “Shit! That hurt.”<
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  “Diddums. Get a grip, man, and hurry up.”

  Sam crossed the driveway and peered through the open door to the farmhouse. “Des, are you here?”

  “I’m upstairs.”

  “Okay, one problem, we haven’t got a Crime Scene Entry Log Sheet to hand.”

  “There’s one just inside the door. Can you see the clipboard?”

  “I’ve got it. I’ll be right up.” She filled in the relevant boxes and signed the form, then passed it behind her to Bob for him to do the same. “Glad to see someone is on the ball with regard to procedures.” Task completed, Sam made her way up the stairs, leaving Bob to fill out the form.

  “At the end of the hallway, on your left,” Des called out.

  Sam followed his voice, peering into the other rooms as she passed. Her perception of the farmhouse thus far was that it was slightly dated—tired wallpaper, tearing up at the edges in parts along with badly scuffed skirting, and that was just the hallway.

  Pausing at the final room, Sam took in the scene, her eye immediately drawn to the black and white dog to one side of the room. She gasped. “You’re bloody kidding me. Who the hell would kill a ruddy dog?”

  Des glanced up from his crouching position close to the body. “A sick bastard. My guess is she was probably trying to defend her master and was dealt with first before this guy was killed. Shocking either way, can’t say I’ve come across many scenes like this before, you know, where a pet is harmed, or should I say killed.”

  “Bloody hell! All right to come in?” Sam asked.

  Des nodded and gestured for her to join him. He was the best pathologist she’d ever worked with. Most of the others were usually so far up their own backside, and they also tended to baffle her with scientific facts and figures that generally went over her head. Des was different, he was open to any daft question either she or Bob flung at him. He had a wicked sense of humour as well, which definitely helped when dealing with some of the most gruesome crimes they’d had to deal with in the past four or five years, since he’d moved to this patch from Manchester.