by Ann Bloxwich
Helen turned her attention back to the stove and it wasn’t long before Laura was presented with the biggest fry-up she’d ever seen. Her stomach lurched, and she pushed the plate away, wishing she could eat it but not sure if it would stay down. Helen was attacking her own food enthusiastically, shovelling down eggs, bacon, sausages and mushrooms as if her life depended on it. She looked up when she realized Laura wasn’t eating.
‘What’s up mate?’ she asked, through a mouthful of toast, ‘No appetite? Never mind, I’ll finish that lot off.’
She cleared her own plate then picked up Laura’s and started tucking in. ‘You should eat, a good fry-up is the best cure for a hangover. At least have some toast,’ she said, pushing a stacked plate towards her.
Laura shook her head. ‘Maybe later. I’ll stick with coffee for now.’
‘Your loss, this is terrific, even if I say so myself.’
Helen finished the last forkful and washed it down with orange juice. It was incredible how much Helen could eat yet never seemed to gain an ounce. Laura only had to walk past the cake shop in town and would put on three pounds. To be fair, Helen ran at least five miles a day and swam twice a week. The closest Laura got to exercise was walking to and from the bus stop. Wolverhampton wasn’t brilliant for long-term parking, so Laura used the bus for work and saved the car for the weekends.
‘What time is it?’ Laura squinted at the kitchen clock. ‘Oh God, it’s barely 9.30 a.m. How can you be so chipper at this time of day? I feel like death!’
Helen got up and refilled the kettle. ‘I was drinking beer, it doesn’t give me a hangover. I haven’t had that much fun since that weekend in Blackpool. Remember that young bloke you snogged? You thought he was about thirty but he was only eighteen. And your cousin shagged that black guy? If her husband ever found out about that he’d go mental, he’s the biggest racist there is!’
Laura started looking around the kitchen. ‘What did I do with my coat? I hope I didn’t leave it at the club, it was brand-new.’
Helen shrugged. ‘I think you had it in the taxi. Maybe you dropped it outside, I’ll go and have a look.’ She darted outside and was back in a flash, holding the coat up in victory. ‘Got it, it was in next door’s flowerbed. It’s got sick on it, sorry if that was me. I’ll pay to have it cleaned. Talking of sick, I washed my jeans, I hope that was okay. They’re in the dryer now.’
Laura groaned as she started to recall Helen’s antics from last night. ‘It was definitely you. You were sick twice, once before we got in the taxi and once when we got out. Do you remember anything at all?’
Helen sipped her coffee and thought for a minute. ‘Did I flash my arse at him next door?’ She giggled when Laura nodded at her.
‘You puked in his flowerbed too. I think you’ve got some serious apologising to do there.’
Helen had the decency to blush. ‘Oh no, don’t make me do that, you know he fancies me! He might make me do something kinky to make up for it.’
Laura spluttered into her coffee and Helen had to thump her on the back to stop her choking.
‘He’s sixty if he’s a day!’ Laura said. ‘Whatever makes you think he fancies you?’
‘He asked me once if I was married. When I said no, he suggested that I needed a good strong man to smack my bum occasionally.’
Laura roared with laughter. ‘The dirty old sod! I’ll never look at him in the same way again.’
Laura’s phoned beeped, and the two of them searched for ages before they found it under the sideboard in the hallway. Laura read the message out loud.
‘Hi girls, sorry I left without telling you. Ray is so amazing though. Speak soon xxx.’
Helen raised one eyebrow. ‘Well, it sounds like someone spent the night sliding up and down a greasy pole. I hope she’s got some antibiotics handy.’
‘Oh, come off it, he can’t be that bad. I admit I think he’s creepy, but Vicky seems to like him.’
Helen shuddered. ‘Everyone knows he’s not the cleanest in the business. I knew a woman who went with him and caught crabs. He’s disgusting.’
Now it was Laura’s turn to shudder. ‘Ugh. Why didn’t you say something to her? You know she’s crazy about him.’
Helen drained her coffee mug. ‘Don’t you think I tried? You’ve known Vicky for as long as I have, so you know what she’s like. She sees a guy, falls head over heels in love with him and starts planning weddings and babies. They know they’ll get what they want for as long as they want it, then drop her. We pick her up, put her back together and the whole scenario starts again.’
Laura knew that Helen was right. Vicky did have a habit of jumping in with both feet. ‘She does know how to pick them, she sighed. ‘I’m going for a shower. Are you staying here for a bit? We can slob around the garden and you can flash your bum at him next door again.’
Helen stood up and headed for the door. ‘No thanks, I’m going home to get changed then go for a swim, try and work some of that breakfast off.’
Laura looked at her. ‘Well at least put your jeans on before you leave.’
10
Alex rubbed his eyes wearily. He’d made the mistake of logging back into his game when he got home and had subsequently lost track of time. He heard movement from upstairs, looked at his watch and saw that it was almost 7 a.m. He hastily logged off, lay on the sofa and closed his eyes just as Jayne came into the room.
Jayne kicked his foot when she came downstairs. ‘Nice try, Buster, the computer’s still shutting down, so don’t try that trick with me.’
Alex opened one eye and smiled apologetically, but she didn’t look amused.
‘That computer will be the death of you. Now, get upstairs and have a shower while I make some tea.’
When he came back down half an hour later, Jayne had already left for work, but there was a mug of tea waiting for him. There was also a plate of toast, but their cat Jack was on the counter, happily licking the butter off it. Alex shooed off the cat and tipped the toast into the bin.
It was a hectic time of year for Jayne, with a selection of authors coming in to do book launches over the next few months. Being a book lover herself, it was as exciting for her as it was for the customers, especially since she got to spend time with the authors she admired. Alex couldn’t remember who she’d said was coming, no doubt he’d find out when a new stack of books appeared on the coffee table.
He gulped down half of his tea, grabbed his keys and headed outside. The temperature had dropped again since he got home, and the road and pavement sparkled with frost. A thick fog had come down, making it impossible for him to see to the end of his road.
‘At least it’s not raining,’ he said, as he unlocked his ageing dark blue Vauxhall Astra and started it up, leaving it to run while he scraped the ice off the windscreen. He climbed into his car and sat listening to his favourite Queen CD as he waited for the windows to clear.
They lived in a quiet cul-de-sac, where you rarely saw anyone apart from the old woman with Alzheimer’s at number 56 who sometimes wandered up and down, and the kids across the road who played with their remote-controlled cars in the road. The house had belonged to his parents and he’d be sorry to move, but Joel’s needs were far more important. The new bungalow was away from the main road, and they’d have Dave and Carol as neighbours, which would be good for all of them.
Driving to work took longer than Alex had hoped because of the fog, so it was after 9 a.m. when he pulled into the car park at the back of the police station. Dawn’s car was already there, as was Gary’s. Both were frosted up, which told Alex that they’d been there some time.
He punched the code into the keypad, went inside and took the stairs two at a time, colliding with DS Craig Muir, who was coming out of the canteen with two mugs of coffee. Craig did a little backwards jig to try to avoid him and managed to spill coffee down the front of his designer suit jacket.
‘Bollocks! I’ve only just got this bac
k from the dry cleaners too!’ Craig complained.
‘Sorry Craig, but technically you bumped into me. You came out of the door backwards and hit me as you turned. Maybe now you’ll take my advice and stop wearing your best clothes to work.’ Alex relieved him of one of the mugs and took a sip. ‘Anything to report yet?’
Craig pulled a green silk handkerchief out of his top pocket and wiped the front of his pale grey jacket. ‘Too early to say. Faz has set up the post-mortem for tomorrow lunchtime, he said that’s the earliest he can do. I hope this stain comes out,’ he grumbled, tucking the handkerchief back into his pocket.
Craig Muir was just over six feet tall, slim and well-toned. He had short black hair, which was always neatly gelled into place, and green eyes which seemed to smile even when he was being serious. Alex often berated him about wearing designer clothes to work, but Craig had told him he’d rather die than wear anything from a chain store.
Alex’s stomach growled. ‘The cat ate my breakfast, so I’ll need a bacon roll before I do anything. After the briefing, you and Gary go and see the staff at the club. Lean on the manager, she has a lot to answer for. We’ll meet back here after lunch and see what we’ve got.’
Alex walked into the room that housed the Wolverhampton Major Crimes Unit, although to call it a room was an understatement. When Major Crimes had started out, it had been in a cramped office in the basement of the old police station. As soon as a move to new premises had been announced, Alex and his colleague, DI Baldwin, had bagged the top two floors of the new building.
Originally a flour mill, it was a huge, open-plan space, with most of the floor taken up by desks in a double line down the centre. A bank of printers and other technology sat on top of a long surface along the left-hand side of the room and Alex had an office on the opposite wall. The room was partially divided halfway down, with a small kitchen beyond. This area also had sofas and a television where the officers could relax on the rare occasion that it was quiet. Light flooded in from the eight large windows that punctuated the white-painted brickwork at regular intervals at near-ceiling height.
Alex made sure his team were all present before starting the briefing. Once he’d given tasks to each of them, he spent a couple of hours dealing with paperwork, talking to his superiors and liaising with his colleagues in uniform. After lunch he popped along to New Cross Hospital to see how DI Baldwin was doing.
‘Hey skiver, how are you feeling? You lazy sod, lying around in bed all day while we have a murder to solve. Anyone would think you’d planned it,’ Alex said as he strolled onto the ward.
Charlie managed a half-smile and tried to sit up without wincing. ‘Hey Alex, thanks for coming. Trust me, I’d swap places with you any day. This is not a pleasant experience at all. The doctor said my gallbladder was close to rupturing. Still, it’s gone now.’
Charlie’s dark skin made it difficult to tell if he was looking pale or not. He lay back against the pillows, looking older than his forty-eight years. ‘Man, I feel like crap,’ he said.
‘You look like crap,’ Alex laughed.
Charlie rolled his eyes at him. ‘If wit was shit, you’d be constipated mate. Tell me about the case.’
The two friends discussed what Alex had so far, which by Alex’s own admission, wasn’t much.
‘It’s early days yet though, I’m hoping to move forward once Faz has done the PM. Meanwhile we do the legwork, you know how it is. Faz sends his regards and says next time you’re in need of surgery, he’s more than happy to step in.’
‘Faz can fuck right off,’ Charlie said, trying not to cough. ‘I wouldn’t trust him to neuter my dog.’
‘You don’t have a dog.’
‘Exactly. I’m hoping I can get out of here tomorrow, then back at work in six weeks, provided I take it easy. I am sorry Alex; I know you’re up to your eyes at the minute with your house move.’
Alex patted him on the arm. ‘No need to apologise mate, it’s just one of those things. At least it was nothing life-threatening.’
‘It felt like it at the time. I’m just glad that Jackie was home. If she hadn’t been . . .’
‘Stop being a drama queen. You’re fine now, so just concentrate on getting better so I can have my time off.’
‘You’re all heart, Alex Peachey, do you know that?’ Charlie laughed, regretting it immediately. He pressed his buzzer for the nurse. ‘Now bugger off back to work and let me get some rest.’
11
Laura swallowed two high-strength painkillers and finally started to feel human again. Saturday had passed her by in a blur, with only a bottle of paracetamol and a bucket for company. She felt like she’d been hit by a bus, but she used to be able to drink three times what she’d had last night with no ill-effects at all. She was glad she’d got two weeks off work. At this rate she might need that long to recover.
The smell of next door’s dinner wafted through the open back door and Laura’s stomach growled. She knew she probably should eat something but didn’t trust anything to stay down. In the end she made herself a slice of toast and ate it dry, praying it wouldn’t come back up again.
She stood at the kitchen sink and drank another pint of water, wondering why Vicky hadn’t returned her calls. She rang Helen, taking three attempts before Helen answered, sounding out of breath.
‘What’s up?’ she puffed.
‘I’ve still not heard from Vicky and I’m worried. Will you come with me to her flat?’
‘Can it wait an hour? I’m in the middle of something. I’ll meet you there when I’m done.’ The line went dead, but not before Laura thought she heard another person in the background. She dismissed it as noise from the television. Helen was a fitness fanatic, so she was probably doing an exercise DVD.
***
Laura met Helen outside Vicky’s in the car park that served the tall block of flats. These, unlike its neighbouring block, had recently been rendered and looked fresh. Laura used Vicky’s spare keys to open the communal door and headed towards the lift. Helen hung back, saying she’d take the stairs.
Shrugging, Laura stepped into the lift and rode up to the third floor. Helen was waiting outside when the doors opened, only slightly out of breath. As they approached the door to number 17, they could hear a low wailing sound. Laura rang the doorbell then banged on the door a couple of times before using her key. A large ginger cat shot out of the door as soon as Laura opened it and legged it down the stairs.
‘Oh shit, Milo’s not supposed to go out, he’s an indoor cat,’ Laura said.
‘Bollocks!’ Helen retorted. ‘It’s a sodding cat, they go where they like. It’s not natural to keep them cooped up. He’d be a lot healthier if he went out and got some exercise, he’s far too fat. Let’s face it, if you lived here wouldn’t you get stir-crazy after a while? Leave the door open and he’ll come back in a minute when he realises he can’t get out of the main door downstairs.’
Laura shook her head, ‘No, we’d better go back down and get him. Someone might let him out by mistake, and Vicky would never forgive us if he got out and was hit by a car.’
Helen rolled her eyes. ‘Fine. You stay here, I’ll go. He’d better not scratch me though or I’ll run him over myself.’
Helen jogged down the stairs, calling the cat as she went.
Laura called out to Vicky as she walked into the hallway but got no reply. There was a small pile of post on the mat, and Laura scooped it up and put it on top of the low bookcase behind the front door.
The flat was small but well-laid out, with a kitchen and living room on the right side of the hallway and two bedrooms to the left. The bathroom was at the end, facing the front door. Laura looked in each room in the order she came to it, rearing back in horror when she entered the kitchen.
‘Jesus Christ!’ She clapped her hand to her nose to block the smell coming from the litter tray in the corner. It was overflowing and didn’t look as if it had been changed for a while.
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‘No wonder he was grumpy,’ Helen said, sticking her head around the doorframe, Milo wedged firmly under her arm, ‘I wouldn’t want to shit in there either.’
Laura grabbed a bin liner and quickly dealt with the tray. As soon as she put the tray back on the floor, Milo sniffed the fresh litter and looked suspiciously at Laura before walking away with his tail held high. ‘Typical male,’ Laura said.
Helen had never been to the flat before and shrieked with laughter when she saw the lounge. It was very old-fashioned, with peach floral wallpaper, matching floral curtains, a green suite and peach floral-patterned carpet. The sofa had cream-coloured lace cushions at either end, and a row of dolls, all wearing dresses and hats, sitting in the centre.
‘Fuck me, it looks like an old granny lives here. I bet she never brings stripper boy home, he’d think he was shagging Mrs Doubtfire! I wonder what the bedroom’s like?’ She darted off to look and a few seconds later shouted to Laura.
‘Check out this boudoir man, it’s Barbie’s world!
Laura followed her into the bedroom and glanced around, taking in the candy-striped pink walls, pink and white bedspread, cream long-haired rug and crystal-effect lampshades. The top of the bookcase and wardrobe were piled high with soft toys.
‘So? Vicky’s a girly girl at heart. What do you care?’ Laura was annoyed at Helen’s lack of respect for their friend. Helen saw her dark look and looked sorry.
‘Well, it’s like . . . well it seems weird that’s all. It’s like a kid’s room. In fact, the whole flat is like an old-fashioned doll’s house. It’s not what I thought it would look like, that’s all.’
‘Don’t be so judgemental. Vicky inherited the flat from her gran, maybe she wanted to keep it this way to remember her.’
Laura turned around and went to check the bathroom. Finding nothing unusual, she went back to the kitchen to feed the cat and found him taking advantage of the clean litter.