To Die For (DI Sam Cobbs Book 1)

by M A Comley

  Her mouth gaped open for a few seconds. “Are you bloody serious? So you rip out the kitchen and serve up a takeaway at nine o’clock, after we’ve cream-crackered ourselves for a few hours, and expect me to be thankful for you looking out for my best interests?”

  “Well, if you put it like that… maybe I was a bit off the mark. Hey, it’ll be worth it in the end, I guarantee it.”

  “I’ll make sure it’s damn well worth it, matey. And here’s another thing… where exactly is the money coming from to fund this damn project?”

  “We didn’t go on holiday last year because of the pandemic, I thought we could use what we have saved from that and add a little extra to it if we’re short.”

  She sat upright and glared at him. “Oh, you did, did you? For your information, both cars had to have major work carried out recently. Where the heck do you think the money came from to pay for the repairs?”

  “Shit, shit, shit, I forgot all about that.”

  “And that, dear husband, is why I control our joint bank account, because you’re hopeless with money.”

  “All right, there’s no need to be nasty. How much is there in the account anyway?”

  Sam hunted for her phone and opened her banking app. After gaining access to the account, she shook her head and angled the phone his way to see the result. “Not enough for a new kitchen, there’s barely four grand left in the pot. Have you any idea how much a new kitchen costs nowadays?”

  “We could go to Wrens, their adverts are good, the kitchens seem cheap enough to me.”

  “It’s all the added extras we need to take into consideration. If we’re going to do it, I want to do it properly, future-proof it.”

  “Meaning?” He tilted his head.

  “I don’t want to be changing it in five years’ time. There’s lots to consider, which is why you shouldn’t have pulled the old one out yet. Not only that, what if we can’t get an off-the-shelf kitchen? What if we have to wait five or six weeks before we can get it fitted? And who’s going to fit it when it comes? Have you any idea how much a kitchen-fitter costs these days? Do you have the know-how, or the time, to fit it yourself? Bearing in mind, you’ve just signed up to that new contract for the next six months.”

  “Blast! I’ve really screwed up this time, haven’t I?” His head sank low onto his chest.

  She logged out of their account and placed her phone on the coffee table. “You could say that. Come here.”

  They hugged each other tightly. Chris let out a large sigh. “You have every reason to hate me right now and yet here we are, cuddling, you consoling me for messing up our lives for the next three months or so.”

  “What’s done is done, there’s no point arguing the toss about things. What we need to do is keep working hard to try and find solutions. What’s your workload like over the next few days?”

  “Fairly light compared to the past few weeks.”

  “All right. I would try and wangle a couple of days off, but the likelihood of that happening is zilch with a new murder case on my hands, let alone having an abduction case on top. Can you delegate? Get some manual labour in to cover the job?”

  “Not really, it’s a regular, if I start messing Mr Johnson around, he’s likely to go elsewhere. What were you thinking?”

  “We’re going to need to rig up some form of cooking and washing-up facilities in the dining room for a start. Can you do that?”

  “Yes, leave it with me. I’ll have a word with Roger the plumber, see if he can lend a hand after work tomorrow.”

  “Good. All we need to do now is choose a kitchen and get it on order.” Her laptop was sitting on the shelf of the coffee table. She pulled it out and opened it up. Wren Kitchens was the first site she tried. “Five years interest-free credit, that’s an option we could go down, if we get stuck.”

  Chris screwed his nose up. “Goes against the grain, something we’ve always said we wouldn’t do.”

  “I know, maybe we can pay it off earlier as the funds become available.”

  He beamed as her solution sank in. “Okay. You’ve twisted my arm.”

  They spent the next hour looking through the site, getting online quotes for a number of designs which took their fancy. “I’ll give them a ring tomorrow, to sound them out, if I get the chance.”

  “We should go and see them in person, shouldn’t we?” Chris said.

  “We haven’t got time, you’ve seen to that.”

  “Ouch! I asked for that. Sorry, love. It wasn’t intentional.”

  “Let’s not dwell on the negatives. Promise me you’ll never do anything as foolish as this in the future.”

  His expression was kind of sheepish and he averted his gaze rather than answer her. Sam didn’t have it in her heart to cause an argument. She gathered up the wrappers from their dinner and threw them in the bin. Then she let Sonny out into the back garden to do his business and locked the back door. Chris had turned the TV on, and he looked up when she entered the room. “Want to watch a film?”

  “No, thanks. It’s been a tiring day, I’m off to get some sleep. Goodnight.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “You don’t have to. I’ll see you in the morning. Can you keep the volume down?”

  He reached for the control and the volume instantly lowered. “Anything else I can do to make amends?”

  “Nope, although I’m sure I’ll think of plenty of things over the coming weeks as my irritation grows because of living in a mess.”

  Chris ignored her dig and turned his attention to the TV. Sam left him to it, cursing under her breath as she climbed the stairs with Sonny as her bed companion instead of her husband. The mood she was in suited her fine.

  With her nightly ritual out of the way, she quickly checked in with her mother as promised and then laid down for a cuddle with Sonny, only to find psychiatrist Rhys drifting into her mind. She tried hard to push him aside but failed. He ended up invading her dreams when she finally drifted off half an hour later.

  5

  The birds’ dawn chorus woke Sam at five-thirty the next morning. She eased out of the bed, doing her best not to wake Chris, and took Sonny downstairs to let him out into the garden. She gave him a treat, topped up his water bowl and decided to have a shower in the main bathroom rather than disturb her husband. She had days when she found it impossible to go back to sleep, knew better than to try and fight it, so decided to make an early start on her day. Coming downstairs and seeing the house in a state had been a shocker at first; she’d totally forgotten all that had gone on the previous evening until she stepped on a stray piece of chipboard from one of the cupboards they had stripped from the wall.

  Welcome to my dreaded world for the next few weeks. How on earth am I going to cope? Should we move out until the work has been completed? Nope, not an option, not on a tight budget. Maybe we could stay at Mum and Dad’s for the next two weeks, while they’re away.

  She’d need to run that idea past her parents first before discussing it with Chris. Sam fed Sonny and left the house, didn’t even bother saying goodbye to Chris. It was unusual for her to leave the house without either consuming toast or at least a cup of coffee. She’d stop off at the local café on her way to work.

  It was still only six forty-five, she had plenty of time before her shift started.

  During her breakfast, thirty minutes later, which consisted of two pieces of toast with honey and a cup of strong coffee, she reflected on how painfully slow the case was going. Did they change tack, start investigating a different angle? Were the two crimes connected? Or was David’s disappearance purely a coincidence? Did David have a murky past they should be delving into? She sighed, there were just too many questions for her to try and figure out the answers to, alone.

  With her stomach now topped up again, she set off for the station to start her day in earnest. She pulled into the car park, surprised to find Bob’s car sitting in his usual parking spot. An ominous feeling shrouded her, and she
made her way inside the main entrance and up the stairs to the incident room. He was sitting at his desk, his computer switched on, already working.

  “Bloody hell. Am I imagining things or are you hard at it before eight o’clock?”

  “You missed your vocation, you should have been on the stage as a comedian.”

  “I would probably die several times over during a performance if the crowd were as tough as you. Everything all right at home?”

  “Same as always, except Abigail is still at her mother’s, no sign of her coming back. Milly began playing her music loudly at six-thirty this morning. She refused to listen to me when I shouted at her to turn the racket off, so I left her to it.”

  “Umm… your parenting skills need a little brushing up there, Bob.”

  “Tell me about it.” He shrugged and sipped at his cup of coffee. “I’m out of touch, I realise that now. I’ve been guilty of leaving everything to Abigail for far too long and now it’s coming back to bite me in the arse. Anyway, enough about me, why are you here so early? Oh, if you don’t mind me saying, you’ve got some dust on the bottom of your skirt, just there.”

  Sam swiped the offending reminder off her skirt and walked over to the vending machine to fetch a coffee. “Want another one?”

  “Nope, I’m fine for now. Are you avoiding the issue?”

  “Not guilty, just preparing myself before I tell you.” She settled down in the chair next to his and ran through the debacle the previous evening had turned out to be.

  He listened, shaking his head constantly throughout. At the end, he let out a loud whistle that almost split her eardrums open. “Fuck! What a daft idiot. Fancy ripping it out when you haven’t even placed an order for a replacement.”

  “Hooray! I’m glad it’s not just me who thinks he was in the wrong doing it arse about face, then. I don’t know how I managed to remain so calm last night.”

  “Not sure I would have been able to in the same situation. No wonder you’re all dusty, I bet it’s a right mess.”

  “Yep. The good thing is, we think we’ve sorted out a new kitchen, it’s whether they can deliver it within a reasonable amount of time or not.”

  “That’s the burning question. Is Chris going to install it?”

  “I’m hoping so.”

  “The likelihood of getting a kitchen-fitter to fit it is pretty non-existent right now, due to the pandemic.”

  “Never thought about that. We’re looking at a Wren kitchen, they have installers on site, so we should be covered there.”

  “Still a risky strategy for your old man to take.”

  “Yep, I agree, we had a discussion last night along those lines, too.”

  Bob pulled a face. “Ouch, I bet that didn’t end well.”

  “Better than anticipated. The minute I stepped through the front door and saw the mess, I could have quite easily crucified him and done ten to fifteen years for it, but then I thought, shit, we can’t turn back the clock. So we both rolled up our sleeves and completed the job within a few hours.”

  “You’re amazing! A lot of women would have ranted and raved for days.”

  “Hey, it’s early days yet.” She winked and smiled while making her way into her office. “I’ll be doing my usual—be chained to my desk for the next hour or so. As soon as the team arrive, let me know and we’ll get our proper day underway.”

  “I will. I’ll get on with what I was doing then.”

  She cringed, stopped walking and turned on the spot. “Sorry, so caught up with non-work stuff, I should have asked what you were up to at this hour of the day.”

  “I forgot to do it the other day. I thought I’d better check into the medals, see how valuable they are, for a start.”

  “Shit! I forgot all about those myself, until now. What if the perp was after the medals and David refused to hand them over? What if he’s being tortured right now, to gain the information?”

  “Tell me there’s still a uniformed copper at the farm, watching over Brenda.”

  “There is. I’ll give the desk sergeant a ring to make sure.”

  “Want me to do it?”

  Sam smiled. “I’ll do it. I also need to ask the DCI what we should do about the medals, too, if it’s not too late.”

  She continued on her journey and sat behind her desk, ignoring the pile of post in front of her, for now. She picked up the phone and rang the front desk. “Hi, Nick, it’s DI Cobbs. Just a quickie, is the PC still out at the Chatley farm?”

  “She is, ma’am. I’m about to send someone out there to relieve her, let her get some rest for a few hours.”

  “Good, glad you’re looking after your staff properly.”

  “There would soon be ructions if I wasn’t. Anything else, ma’am?”

  “No, I can’t think of anything. I’ll ring you if I do.”

  “I have no doubts about that.”

  Sam ended the call and immediately rang the chief’s office. His secretary, Kathryn Cooper, answered. “Hi, Kathryn, it’s Sam Cobbs, I don’t suppose the chief is in yet, is he?”

  “No, it’s too early for him, and me normally. I had a lot of paperwork I need to catch up on, hence my early arrival. Can I help at all?”

  “No, not this time. I’ll ring back at about nine. If you can tell him I need an urgent chat with him about the investigation, I’d appreciate it.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Thanks.”

  Sam replaced the phone in its docking station and then attacked the post with vigour, knowing the quicker she dealt with the dross, the more time she would have on her hands to concentrate on the two cases they were dealing with. Forty-five minutes later, she finally dealt with the last envelope, yet another alteration to a procedure that was changed only a few months before. She glanced at her watch—it was still only eight forty-five. Caught in limbo, she decided to rejoin Bob. “Any luck?”

  “So-so. I’ve made a list of all the pawn shops in the area, also the local people selling medals and war memorabilia.”

  “Okay, what’s your line of thinking?”

  “I know the Chatleys have the medals tucked away safely, or Brenda has, should I say, but I thought I’d give the people in the business a call, just to see if anyone has broached the subject with them in the past few weeks.”

  “You mean so the perp can sell the items once he’s located the goods, paving the way, rather than sit on them in case he’s caught red-handed with the stolen goods?”

  He winked and pointed at her. “Exactly.”

  “Good thinking. Outside of the box is always a great path to go down. Well done, you.”

  Alex and Oliver walked into the room. They were sharing a joke about something and stopped laughing once they spotted Sam looking sternly at them. “Good morning, gents, see you’re both in fine form this morning, let’s hope it lasts.”

  Suzanna barged through the door next. “God, damn car only just got me here before it decided to die on me this morning. Thought I was going to be late. Sorry, boss, you don’t want to hear my problems. Would it be all right if I ring my local garage first thing?”

  “Go for it. Sorry you’re having to deal with such shit.”

  “It’s been coming for a few weeks, the signs were there and I chose to ignore them, so I only have myself to blame really.”

  “Women and cars, not a good mix,” Alex chipped in, earning a glare from both Sam and Suzanna.

  “Don’t start, Alex. For your information, statistics tell us that it’s the women who take more care of their cars than men.” Sam couldn’t help putting him in his place.

  “Oh, right, who am I to argue with statistics?” He grinned and made his way towards the vending machine.

  “Just for that, you can buy us both a drink. Coffee, white with one for me. Suzanna?”

  “The same for me. That’ll teach you to keep your mouth shut, won’t it?” Suzanna offered her colleague a cheesy grin.

  Alex returned with two cups in hand. “I migh
t as well shout everyone a cup, what do you want?”

  Oliver and Bob put their orders in. Liam was the last to arrive. He smiled and his cheeks turned crimson when everyone watched him enter the room.

  “Morning, Liam,” Sam shouted. “Tell Alex what you want to drink, he’s feeling unusually generous today, so we’re all taking advantage of the fact.”

  “I’m also a dab hand with a gun, but I never hear you touting that around, boss,” Alex chuntered from the other side of the room.

  “I bet you do your own ironing, too,” Sam countered, enjoying the banter with the ex-military man.

  “I have to. Always done my own ironing when I was married, that’s hardly going to change now.”

  Sam chuckled. “I’ll send round mine to do on Sunday, if you enjoy it that much.”

  “Sorry, busy on Sunday. I’ve got a date.” He closed his eyes and bit down on his lip, realising what he’d just revealed.

  “Don’t stop there,” Bob urged.

  “Nah, I’ve said too much already. I’ll let you know, if and when, anything worthwhile happens; at the moment, we’re just going out for a pub lunch.”

  “Wishing you well with that, mate,” Sam called over, genuinely pleased for him. He was a good man, despite being a rough diamond around the edges.

  “Thanks,” he mumbled, seemingly embarrassed by being in the limelight about his love life.

  The phone in Sam’s office rang. She left her coffee and ran to answer it. “DI Cobbs, how may I help?”

  “DCI Armstrong, you wanted to speak to me, Inspector?”

  “I did. Thank you for getting back to me so soon, sir. I have a dilemma and I’m not sure what I need to do about it.”

  “I’m listening; if I can help, I will.”

  “It’s come to our notice that the victim left some of his possessions with a neighbour, securely hidden. I haven’t come across anything like this before, and I’m wondering if I should collect the items and lock them up as evidence.”

  “Are they relevant to the crime?”

  “Possibly. We’re going along the lines that the murderer was after some medals and a large sum of money which the deceased possessed.”