Avaline Saddlebags

by Netta Newbound

  “I wouldn’t wish how I was feeling on my worst enemy, but there’s no end to it, not when Max turns up out of the blue with these demands, upsets the kids, then swans off leaving me looking like the bitch.”

  “Have you been to see a solicitor yet?”

  “Over custody?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No, not yet.”

  “I know it’s none of my business, but you need to, especially if his actions are upsetting the kids.”

  “I really thought everything would be okay, you know, that he would get all this out of his system, and the Max I fell in love with would come back to me, then we’d put it behind us.”

  “Life isn’t always like that, Layla, but I think you need to take some time off, if only to process what’s happening.”

  “I don’t want that, Dylan.” She looked into my eyes. “Not rattling around home, surrounded by memories of what I used to have. Please, I need to be in work doing something useful.”

  “Okay, but if the time comes when you do need to step aside for a while, promise you’ll come straight to me?”

  “I promise,” she replied.

  “Okay, but for today at least, you need to go home, forget about Dorothy’s tonight. Have a few glasses of wine, and just relax.”

  “No way, I went home early yesterday. And I’ll be there tonight, I’ve already arranged for my mum to watch the boys.”

  “Okay, sounds good to me, if you’re sure.”

  She stood up. “I am. I’ll go and powder my nose, then I’ll need to apologise to everyone for making a show of myself.”

  “You don’t need to apologise to anyone, Layla. We all have our moments and they’ll understand. You know they’re a good bunch of people and have your back, just like I do.”

  “Thanks, Dylan,” she said with a hint of a smile.

  The incident room was deserted when I returned, and I found Will and Joanna in the staffroom. “Pour me a coffee while you’re at it, Jo. I’m still not awake yet.”

  “Today’s the day, hey, boss. Are you excited?” she said, reaching for another mug. She poured out a strong-looking brew, just what I needed, and handed it to me.

  “Thanks. And no—don’t remind me. Changing the subject, do you mind coming to see Jade Kelly’s parents with me this afternoon?”

  “Of course, I will. Is Layla alright?”

  “I’m here,” Layla said, suddenly behind me. “And yes, I’m fine. I’m so sorry for having a meltdown. I’ve just got a lot on at the moment.”

  Joanna hugged her friend and Will winked at her.

  “Get a coffee down you, Layla. I want to go and have a chat with Jade’s ex—the drug dealer.”

  “You mean Darren Wilkes?” she said.

  “Yeah, that’s him. Are you up to it?” I wanted to tread lightly.

  “Yeah, I guess. Although he did have an alibi for Jade’s murder. He was with some other bint from the club.”

  “I know, but I just want to acquaint myself with every aspect of the case. We’re obviously missing something.”

  “Not necessarily. The killer could just be extra careful.”

  “How often do we see that, though? I mean really, every time a crime is solved how often do we say, oh, of course, why didn’t we see that, it was plain as the nose on my face? Hindsight is a wonderful thing.” I turned to Will. “Can you do me a favour?”

  He nodded as he bit on a slice of buttered toast.

  “Can you trawl through the CCTV footage from the night Jade was killed? See if you can spot the van anywhere else now we know what we’re looking for.”

  “Already on it, boss.”

  “I’ll just check my emails, Layla, then I’ll be ready to go.”

  I took my coffee through to my desk and flicked open Jade’s file, stopping at Darren Wilkes’ details. The scummy prick didn’t have a job yet he lived in a penthouse apartment on the waterfront and drove a top-of-the-range Audi—go figure. Why do they think they can get away with blatantly breaking the law? He didn’t even have the sense to create some sort of cover story.

  Twenty minutes later, we left the station just as the heavens opened. We darted between the parked cars to my vehicle and hurriedly jumped inside.

  The streets were filled with commuters and people going about their daily school run or heading to work.

  “Why is it all the dickheads hit the road as soon as it starts raining?” I said, pulling onto the high street and heading to the other side of town.

  We drove the rest of the way in silence.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  “Like shite.” She shook her head and looked out of the window.

  I pulled up outside the flash penthouse apartment building and whistled. “Crime certainly does pay, Layla. I take it all back.”

  “It does in this case. The guy seems to have a Teflon-coated hide, I’m telling you. He’s a smug git, but wily—I’ll give him that.”

  I cut the engine and pulled the collar of my jacket up around my ears. “You ready?”

  Layla bobbed her head and darted from the car.

  I followed on her tail and we stopped only when we were under the cover of the entrance overhang.

  “Shit, I’m soaked,” I said, brushing myself off.

  “Tell me about it.”

  I glanced at her and grinned. “Yeah, I think you managed to get even wetter than me. How is that even possible?”

  She rolled her eyes heavenward and didn’t even crack a smile.

  Suddenly the door swished open and a young business-woman dressed to the nines in a lime green suit and black stilettos burst out, battling with an umbrella.

  Jumping forward, I put my foot in the door and turned to smile at Layla, pleased with myself.

  “Hey!” the woman turned on us, clearly unhappy.

  I held my badge up and she closed her mouth and backed off.

  Once inside, we entered the lift and hit the button for the top floor. Moments later, the doors opened up to a swanky hallway that housed several huge potted palms and stylish artwork. We knocked at the door.

  Darren Wilkes had the exotic good looks of an Arabian prince, with flawless skin, designer stubble and sleek black hair scraped up into a man-bun. He wore nothing but a pair of tight, black, designer boxer shorts. “How the fuck did you get in?”

  “Mr Wilkes, I’m DI Dylan Monroe and this is my colleague—”

  “I know who the fuck she is. What do you want this time? This is harassment, do you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear, Darren. I can call you Darren, can’t I?”

  He exhaled noisily and spun away from the door, leaving it swinging open.

  “I guess that means, ‘Come on in, detectives…’ Oh, don’t mind if I do.” I wiggled my eyebrows at Layla before following him down the hallway and through to the wide, open-plan kitchen/dining/lounge area. The views from the huge picture window were spectacular overlooking the River Mersey.

  Darren had his back to us as he filled the coffee pot from the instant hot water tap beside the sink. While he was preoccupied, I paced the highly polished floorboards, impressed at how clean and tidy everywhere was—he clearly employed a cleaner.

  “So, come on, spit it out. What do you want from me this time?”

  “May I?” I nodded at one of the modern box-shaped, grey marl sofas.

  “Whatever, mate. Just spit it out then piss off.”

  I took a seat and Layla sat beside me.

  Darren perched on the arm of the sofa opposite.

  “I know you’ve already been interviewed regarding Jade’s murder, but I’ve recently taken over the case and I just need to speak to everybody to familiarize myself with everything.”

  “Well, let me tell you, I have a watertight alibi as the last guy discovered.”

  “So I hear.”

  “Then what the fuck are you here for?”

  “I thought I’d just explained that, Darren.” I was being purposefully annoying to try to get u
nder his skin.

  He sucked his teeth and scowled at me.

  “Darren, can I ask you a question?” Layla shuffled forwards in her seat.

  “Ask me what the fuck you like, don’t mean I’ll answer it.”

  “Do you know this woman?” She handed him her phone with a photo of Gina on the screen.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “How do you know her?”

  He shrugged. “Just from the club. She’s there every fucking week, singing the same songs over and over. She’s annoying.”

  “Really?” she said. “Annoying enough for you to kill her?”

  “What are you even on about?”

  “Gina was murdered on Friday night after leaving the club.”

  He sprang to his feet. “Whoa! Don’t start that again. It has nothing to do with me.”

  “Were you there on Friday?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And do you remember seeing her?”

  “I think so. In fact, yes. She was there.”

  “Did you see her mixing with anyone?”

  “No.”

  “Did you speak to her at all?”

  “No, I don’t know her to talk to. Just see her about, you know?”

  Layla nodded and glanced at me before turning back to Darren. “Do you own, or have access to, a white Transit van, by any chance?”

  He shook his head. “Do I look like the sort of bloke who would own a Transit van? Give me a break.”

  “I take it that’s a no then?” I said. “Getting back to Jade—who was it that gave you the alibi?”

  “Ask her.” He nodded at Layla. “She interviewed her.”

  “I’d rather ask you.”

  “Rebecca. I don’t know her surname. We spent the night together.”

  “I see.”

  “Rebecca Preston,” Layla said.

  “Yeah, that’s right.” Darren nodded.

  “But don’t take my word for it. Rebecca lives above the taxi rank in town and your mate saw CCTV footage of me going in and I didn’t leave until the next morning.” He smirked and something about his smug expression made me want to smash my fist in the centre of it—rearrange that pretty boy nose for him.

  But, ever the professional, I got to my feet and smiled. “Right, that will be all for now, Mr Wilkes. We’ll be in touch if there’s anything else. Good day to you.”

  “Tosser!” Layla said under her breath once we were out of earshot.

  “Who me?” I chuckled.

  “No, that other tosser back there. He makes me so mad.”

  “Me too. But it’s only a matter of time before he slips up.”

  “So you think he’s our killer?”

  I shook my head. “No, but he’s clearly screwing the system with his dodgy dealings. He’ll get what’s due to him sooner or later.”

  “It must be nice living in your ideal world. A place where the baddies get caught and the goodies reign supreme. Do I need to remind you, this is the real world, Dylan? Shitheads get away with stuff all the time.” She scowled.

  “For God’s sake, Layla. Straighten your face. If you purse your lips any tighter, you’re gonna swallow your chin.”

  Thankfully the rain had stopped, but the clouds hadn’t lifted, giving the illusion it was much later in the day.

  “Do you mind if we dart around to see this Rebecca woman? I just want to speak to her for myself.”

  “If you must. But isn’t all this a bit of a waste of time? They’ve both been interviewed and ruled out.”

  “Just humour me, okay?”

  She sighed. “Whatever.”

  A few minutes later, I parked the car opposite the taxi rank on the high street.

  “Have you been here before?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  “Lead the way then, detective.”

  Shaking her head, she took off across the road.

  “Hang on. Wait for me.” I jogged to catch up with her. “Are you pissed off with me?”

  “No,” she snapped. “I’ve already told you, I feel like shit. Maybe I’m coming down with something.”

  I wanted to snap back that she should’ve gone home, but I didn’t.

  We walked past the front door of the taxi office and Layla knocked on the shabby, black door beside it.

  Minutes later, a short, pretty, blonde-haired woman answered. The timbre of her voice gave away the fact she started life as a male, but she had stunning good looks most women would give their right arm for.

  “Hi, Rebecca,” Layla said, showing her ID. “Do you remember me?”

  Rebecca’s face dropped as she looked from Layla to me. “What have I done now?”

  “No, nothing. Don’t worry.” Layla smiled. “We just want to ask you a few more questions about Darren Wilkes. Can we come in?”

  She nodded and stepped backwards to allow us access into the tiny hallway and up the steep and gloomy staircase.

  At the first landing, Layla continued through a doorway straight ahead.

  I paused and glanced around, noticing the small landing led to a further flight of stairs, before following Layla into the small, poky living room.

  “Take a seat.” Rebecca swept a flamboyant arm towards the shabby-chic leather sofa.

  “Thanks, this won’t take too long,” I said, sitting down beside Layla.

  “So, what’s Darren done this time?” she asked.

  “What makes you say that?” I was suddenly suspicious.

  “Because she said it was about Darren.”

  “Yes, that’s right. But last time you gave him an alibi. So, with you saying ‘what’s he done this time’ insinuates he’s done something again, in which case you must think he was guilty last time.”

  Her face drained of all colour and she shook her head rapidly. “No. I just meant what is he being accused of this time?”

  “Really? Nice save.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what the problem is here.”

  “The problem is, Rebecca, you gave a known drug dealer an alibi.”

  “I gave a man an alibi because he came home with me. I don’t remember much about that night but your colleague checked the CCTV and was happy he’d been here all night.”

  My ears pricked up. “So you can’t actually vouch for him being here yourself?”

  She shook her head. “I never said I could. He was here when I went to sleep and he was here when I woke up. End of.”

  Layla suddenly jumped to her feet. “Do you mind if I use your bathroom?”

  “No. Not at all. It’s up the next flight of stairs, the first door on the left.”

  “Thanks.” She moved fast. I suspected she was going to be sick and hoped she made it in time.

  Rebecca turned back to me. “What you said about Darren Wilkes being a drug dealer—wasn’t it murder he was being investigated for?”

  I nodded. “Yes, that’s right. But he’s dealing too. I’d steer clear of him if I were you.”

  “I’ll bear that in mind.”

  “Very wise.” I got to my feet, wondering where the hell Layla had got to. “Thanks, Rebecca. You’ve been very helpful.”

  “Have I? I don’t know how. I didn’t do anything.”

  “Oh, on the contrary. You were more than helpful.”

  Layla returned looking a little worse for wear.

  “You ready?” I said, easing myself past her and down the stairs.

  We arrived back at the station and Will met us in the corridor. “Bingo, boss. I’ve found the van on the outskirts of town just as you said we might. I’ve sent the footage to IT to see if they can make the image of the driver any clearer.”

  “Good. Have you alerted ANPR?”

  “Yes. Hopefully the next time he takes the van onto the motorway, the Automatic Number Plate Recognition cameras will nab him.”

  Layla scowled again and shook her head storming past him into the incident room.

  “What’s up her arse?” Will said.

  “I suspect
she thinks we put too much faith in the system.”

  We followed behind her.

  “Come on then, Layla. What do you suggest we do?” I asked.

  “This individual is one step ahead of us at each turn. We can’t underestimate him. Think about it—if we wait until the van is out and about again it probably means another murder is in process and that’s far too late. We need to catch him before that.”

  Joanna appeared in the doorway. “Janine wants to see you, boss.”

  I groaned. “Okay, thanks.” With a heavy heart and even heavier boots I trudged to Janine’s office, preparing for a bollocking.

  “Come in,” she called as I was about to knock.

  “Hi, Ma—erm Janine, you wanted to see me?”

  Janine’s smile was a welcome relief. “Yes. I want to make sure you’re all set for tonight?”

  “I am, although I’m trying to put it to the back of my mind right now. I’ve been stressing about it all night.”

  “Oops, sorry.” She grinned. “Shame I’m busy tonight, I’d pay good money to see you perform.”

  “Don’t you dare! It’s bad enough Layla and Will are gonna be there—if I see any more familiar faces you can just forget it.”

  “Okay, okay, spoilsport. Now, where are we up to with the case? Joanna said you’d gone to interview someone.”

  “Nobody new. Just the ex of the first victim. But he’s already been cleared by Savage.”

  “So why waste your time? Do you think Savage was wrong?”

  “No. I just want to familiarize myself with every aspect of the case. I’d hate to miss something just because I think it’s already been covered.”

  “Good man. I knew we’d made the right decision promoting you.”

  The familiar feeling of self-doubt settled in the pit of my stomach. We were two bodies deep into a case and absolutely nothing to go on, bar the licence plate of a deregistered van. “Thanks, Janine,” was all I said.

  “Good luck for tonight. I’m dying to hear all about it. Oh, by the way, do the club management know you’re undercover?”

  I shook my head. “No. I thought it was best to try to get in organically, that way nobody will be able to blab. I’ll arrive and leave in full make-up—hopefully no-one will recognize me.”