The Dead Dog Day

by Jackie Kabler

  ‘Oh. Sorry,’ she muttered. Of course. Stakeout. Somewhere in Wales. That’s where she was. She massaged her stiff neck and peered out through the windscreen.

  ‘Any sightings?’

  Nathan shook his head. ‘Tea?’ he asked, waving a Thermos flask.

  Cora nodded gratefully, and glanced at the clock on the dash of his car. Three ten in the morning. She pulled the collar of her Puffa jacket up around her face and stared out into the moonlit street. Complete silence, not even a car anywhere in sight. They’d been here since nine last night, parked in a dark lane almost directly opposite the gated entrance to the Cardiff mansion of Arwyn Jones. The Welsh pop sensation was, the Morning Live news desk had been reliably informed, currently in the throes of a passionate affair with Jessie Jarman, lead singer of girl band Sugar Kiss. Jessie had married Burberry model Stuart Stevens in a million-pound extravaganza less than a year ago and, if the rumours about her infidelity were true, this would be on the front pages for weeks.

  If Cora and Nathan could get the first pictures of the illicit couple together, it would be a major coup for the breakfast show. Normally the tabloids got hold of all of these lurid tales first, so a TV show that broke the story would earn serious kudos.

  ‘Sorry for falling asleep. It’s even more tedious doing these things when there’s nobody to talk to,’ she said apologetically, and took a sip of her tea.

  ‘No worries. I need a wee. Back in a mo.’

  Nathan opened the car door, letting a rush of frosty air in. Spring might be almost here, but the early hours of the morning were still bitter. Cora shivered, and watched in the rear view mirror as the cameraman disappeared into the shadows behind the vehicle. It was easy for the boys, she sighed, shifting uncomfortably in her seat and ignoring the fact that she would soon need to go to the loo too. She always carried toilet paper and a plastic bag to put the used tissue in, but finding somewhere to go in the middle of the night was always a challenge.

  ‘Oh, the glamour of telly!’ she said theatrically, as Nathan clambered back in to the car. He slammed the door and turned the key in the ignition.

  ‘Tell me about it. I’ll whack the heater on for a few minutes. Brass monkeys out there. Anything?’

  ‘Negative. No lights on or anything. If they’re in there together tonight, they’ll be tucked up in bed if they’ve any sense. It’ll be the day shift tomorrow who get the pictures of her leaving, mark my words. What time are we being relieved – eight a.m.?’

  Nathan nodded. ‘At least we get a day off tomorrow – I’m spending all of it in bed!’ He stretched his hands above his head and cracked his knuckles.

  ‘Urgh, stop it!’ Cora punched her friend in the arm. ‘Bed though … that sounds soooo good. I might go to London, sleep at Benjamin’s for a few hours. He’s around tomorrow afternoon, and we need to catch up. It’s been impossible recently.’

  ‘How are things going then? Still serious?’

  Cora thought for a moment. A few weeks ago that would have been an easy question to answer. Now, she wasn’t quite so sure.

  ‘I don’t know. We have an amazingly strong connection, and I do love him … we love each other, I think. But – oh, I don’t know. I’ve been spending some time with Adam, and I really like him too. Although that could never go anywhere, because of the kid thing … but I shouldn’t be having feelings for anyone else at all, if I’m in love, should I?’

  Nathan looked at her quizzically.

  ‘To be honest, I always thought that Benjamin was just a rebound thing. And they rarely last, do they? It was SO soon after Justin that you two got together.’

  ‘It was, I know, but he made me smile again. I probably shouldn’t have jumped into something so soon, no. But it just sort of happened. Oh Nathan, I don’t know. I do love Benjamin, he’s sweet and funny and kind. I’ll just see how it goes. It’s not like we’re planning to get married or even live together or anything. There are no decisions to be made, we’re just enjoying each other. I just wish I wasn’t also enjoying Adam.’

  ‘He is gorgeous though. Always did like a man in uniform …’ Nathan sighed.

  Cora laughed. ‘You’re such a slut. And he doesn’t even wear a uniform, you twit. He’s a plain clothes detective!’

  Nathan tittered. ‘He can detect what’s going on in my clothes anytime.’

  ‘Oh for goodness’ sake!’ Cora yawned. ‘More tea please.’

  They settled down into a companionable silence, sipping from their plastic cups, eyes glued to the driveway opposite. Only another four and a half hours to go. Then bed. How heavenly that would be.

  The person who had brought Jeanette Kendrick’s life to a premature close was already in bed, but sleep would not come. Mind racing, the murderer stared at the ceiling. It couldn’t wait much longer. The police were clueless, but care would still be needed with the second killing. The plan was coming together perfectly, though, and it was almost ready to be put into action. The killer’s heart raced. It was very nearly time. One more, then it would all be over.

  42

  One week later – Wednesday 4th April

  ‘I’ve got something really interesting for you to listen to … hang on, I’ll get it.’

  Benjamin bounded off the sofa and started rummaging in the leather Paul Smith bag he’d flung carelessly on the floor earlier. Cora stretched lazily and watched him, admiring the tightness of his bottom as he bent over the bag. He really was the most extraordinarily fine specimen of a man. She smiled as he returned to his seat, clutching his iPhone.

  ‘Now – remember last week you said you overheard Alice in that café, talking about feeling guilty about something?’

  Cora nodded. She sat up, suddenly intrigued.

  ‘Well, have a listen to this. Recorded it when I was on that magazine shoot yesterday – you know, the ‘Sexiest Bods on the Box’ one?’

  ‘Yes – the one Alice was on too, silly cow?’ Cora was even more interested now. What on earth had he recorded?

  ‘Yep. Agreed, she’s a silly cow. Got a smoking body though.’

  Cora rolled her eyes.

  ‘But not as smoking as yours, obviously,’ he smiled.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, get to the point!’

  ‘OK, well – we were sitting around, waiting for the lights or something to be fixed up, and she gets a phone call. Wanders off to take it. I’m dying for a wee so I head into the toilets, and suddenly I can hear her, clear as day, through the wall. She’s in the ladies’ loo next door, but it was only a sort of temporary partition thing, so I could hear every word. And it was so peculiar, what she was saying, especially after what you told me about last week in the café. So I hit record on the phone. Here, listen.’

  He pressed play. Agog, Cora leaned forward as Alice’s unmistakeable voice filled the room.

  ‘Yes, I feel really guilty. I feel awful. I can’t stop thinking about it.’

  Her voice was echoey and slightly distant, but Cora could hear every word. Her eyes widened. Yet again, the guilt thing. What on earth had Alice done? There was a pause, presumably as the person on the other end of the newsreader’s phone responded. Then:

  ‘But that’s what’s even worse. She was – well, she was nice to me. I know I can be a bitch, but I’ve never done anything like this before. Not something this bad. You know that, don’t you?’

  There was desperation in Alice’s voice, and Cora clapped her hands over her mouth as a shocking suspicion entered her head. Benjamin raised his eyebrows and nodded as the recording continued.

  ‘Look, got to go. Talk soon. Sorry to lay all this on you. Bye.’

  Benjamin pressed stop. ‘See what I mean? Pretty weird, huh? She’s obviously done something majorly bad …’

  Cora slumped back on the cushions in disbelief. ‘Bloody hell. Could she – I mean, could she be talking about something as serious as murder? Could she, Benj? Could she have killed Jeanette? Seriously?’

  Benjamin shrugged. ‘Can’t really imagine it. Can you
, honestly? But – well, I don’t really know her, babe. You work with her. What do you think? Something’s happened though, that’s for sure.’

  Cora felt slightly sick. She thought for a moment. Horrifically, it did sort of make sense.

  ‘That bit about someone being nice to her. Jeanette was nice to her – about the only person she was nice to – and Alice was nice back. They seemed to get on, for some reason. But no – hang on. Why would she kill the only person who was actually on her side? She wouldn’t, would she? Unless they’d fallen out or something? Oh, I don’t understand. And what should we do? Anything?’

  Benjamin took her hand. ‘I’m not sure. Tell your copper friend, see what he thinks? I’ll make a copy of the recording for you. Then at least you’ll have done your bit, even if it comes to nothing.’

  Cora nodded. ‘Yes, I’ll do that. It’ll just prey on my mind if I don’t. Thanks, darling.’

  Prey on my mind like withholding the information about Justin lurking outside the building does, she thought guiltily. But she was still sure there was a rational explanation for that, whereas this Alice thing – this felt different, somehow.

  ‘OK, I’ll run off a copy onto a memory stick now. Then – nice glass of white?’

  ‘Definitely!’ Cora perked up instantly. Nothing like a crisp Pinot Grigio to instantly improve an evening!

  The next morning she was regretting the crisp Pinot slightly as she waited for Adam to appear so she could hand over the recording. She perched gingerly on the edge of a hard and not altogether clean chair in the police station reception and massaged her throbbing temples, thinking enviously of Benjamin who was off today and, no doubt, still sprawled under his fluffy duvet.

  Still, it had been worth it. A soppy smile crept over her face as she recalled the events of the previous night. One bottle of wine had turned into two, the second of which had been sipped in bed between no fewer than three sessions of rather delightful sex. Benjamin had been extra loving and tender for some reason, and she’d found herself falling for him all over again. He really was so damn …

  ‘What’s got you so smug-looking this morning then?’

  Adam’s amused voice interrupted her reverie. Cora jumped. He seemed to have materialised out of nowhere and was standing right in front of her, grinning down at her surprised face.

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ she muttered, feeling slightly flustered. ‘Er, look – here it is. It could be absolutely nothing, and I feel a bit bad for even doing this to her, but it’s just a bit eerie, you know, after what we overheard in the café.’

  She stood up and thrust the memory stick into his outstretched hand, still a little embarrassed.

  ‘No, you’ve done the right thing, thanks, Cora. We’ll have a listen, see what we think. Thank you.’

  He paused. ‘Everything good in your world, then?’

  Cora, rapidly regaining her composure, smiled. ‘Everything’s great, thanks. Fine and dandy! So – well, keep me posted, yes?’

  ‘Always. Well, as far as I can, anyway,’ Adam smiled back. ‘See you soon.’

  ‘Bye.’ Cora watched for a moment as his broad back disappeared behind the counter and out of sight, then glanced at her watch. Bugger. She was supposed to be filming in Reading at 10 a.m. and she was running extremely late. Rummaging in her bag for some headache pills as she went, she walked quickly to her car.

  43

  Friday 6th April

  ‘OK, if they don’t come to us RIGHT NOW I am walking away, live or no live,’ hissed Rodney viciously.

  Helpless with laughter, Cora wiped tears from her cheeks, while behind the camera Nathan’s face was puce, his shoulders shaking with suppressed howls. In Cora’s ear, she heard the director’s voice:

  ‘I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you there on the South Bank, Cora, but pull yourself together. With you in twenty seconds. Think you can manage that?’ he spat, sarcastically.

  Not trusting herself to speak, Cora nodded furiously, trying not to look at the boys. In particular, she tried very hard to avert her eyes from Rodney, the subject of their uncontrollable giggles, but she couldn’t help it. She glanced at him again and once more subsided into hysteria. Nathan managed to last another three seconds and then joined her, clutching his stomach and guffawing.

  Rodney glared at them both, stinking white and green seagull droppings gently running down his forehead from his hair, where they had landed a minute before. Hands full of sound equipment and mere seconds from broadcasting live to the nation, there’d been absolutely nothing he could do to clean himself up.

  ‘Shut up, idiots,’ he hissed again. ‘Get a grip, Cora. You’re on any second now …’

  With a valiant effort, Cora composed her face and stared resolutely into the camera lens. Behind it, she could see Nathan with his fist in his mouth, tears rolling down his cheeks.

  ‘Nathan, please,’ she begged, biting the inside of her lip in an effort to curb a fresh wave of mirth.

  ‘Sorry,’ he squeaked, and stuffed his fist back into his mouth.

  ‘And Cora joins us now from the South Bank. So Cora, what’s happening?’ Alice’s perky morning voice filled her ear, and Cora took a deep breath, digging her nails painfully into her palm as out of the corner of her eye she saw the slime sliding down towards Rodney’s eye. He blinked furiously.

  ‘Well, Alice …’ With an almost super-human effort, Cora launched smoothly into her broadcast. Thank goodness it was Friday. Rodney would need a couple of days to wash that smell off.

  ‘We questioned Alice Lomas for nearly three hours last night. Kept it discreet, didn’t arrest her or anything, just asked her to come in for a chat. She was very reluctant, but once we got going she was pretty open with us, and well – there was just nothing there. No motive, claims she got on very well with the deceased and had no reason at all to want her dead. And of course, we have no forensics anyway. To be honest, she put on a fairly convincing display of innocence. She was pretty horrified and angry about that telephone recording – we didn’t tell her where it had come from, by the way, although it seemed she instantly assumed it had been made by that blonde ex-model who’s now a sports presenter? Agnes somebody? She was on the shoot that day too, and apparently there’s no love lost …’

  ‘They can’t stand each other. Had an actual cat-fight in a nightclub a while back,’ confirmed one of the younger detectives, who spent rather a lot of her spare time reading the showbiz gossip mags.

  Adam nodded. ‘Anyway, Lomas flatly denied the phone call we had on tape was anything to do with murder, insisted it was just about a silly row with a friend that she’s feeling guilty about. And we can’t prove otherwise. If she’s our killer, she’s doing a damn good job of hiding it.’

  Adam looked round the room, and sighed. Everyone in the now seriously depleted team looked like he felt – seriously fed up. Normally a cheerful sort, he was becoming heartily sick of feeling like this, but there was nothing he could do about it – he knew from experience that the only cure for his blues would be cracking this case. Maybe cleaning up the incident room would help clear his mind. The big table was covered with the detritus of an early breakfast meeting, takeaway coffee cups jostling for space with bacon sandwich wrappers, half-empty instant porridge pots and a couple of browning banana skins. Adam poked at his barely touched sausage bap for a minute, then stood up.

  ‘I’m not giving up on this one. We’re going to tidy this place up, and then we’re going to keep digging. We’re nailing this bastard if it’s the last thing we do. Right?’

  The response echoed around the room. ‘Right!’

  ‘She’s in the toilets now, throwing up. Ugh. Don’t go in there, it’s revolting.’

  Christina gave an exaggerated shudder, grinned at Cora and walked off, staggering slightly under the weight of an enormous, wobbly pile of scripts topped with a large wooden cactus that had been a prop on that morning’s show.

  Cora, who’d popped in to the studio after her broadcasts
to collect her post and have a quick gossip in the make-up room, swung round in her chair and looked expectantly at Sherry.

  ‘Throwing up? Alice? In the morning? Now that’s very interesting, isn’t it, young Sherry? Go on – spill!’

  Sherry looked coy.

  ‘And what makes you think I have anything to spill?’

  ‘Sherry, you’re her make-up artist. You know everything.’

  Sherry smirked and busied herself with her big, black holdall, tidying away brushes and bottles into their neat compartments. Cora continued to stare at her, moving closer and closer until her nose was almost touching her friend’s ear.

  ‘Spill, spill, spill,’ she chanted.

  ‘Och for goodness’ sake!’ Sherry batted her away and giggled. ‘OK – look, you cannot breathe a word, alright?’

  ‘Deal.’

  ‘Right then. Well – yes, you’ve guessed it, she’s preggers. Only a few weeks, she says. And before you ask, no I don’t know who the father is. All I know is she hasn’t told him yet, not sure how he’ll react, so I’m guessing it’s not very serious.’

  Cora was wide-eyed. ‘Wow. So – is she keeping it? Surely she won’t want a baby scuppering her career? Has she even got a maternal bone in her body?’

  ‘Ah come on, Cora, she’s not that bad.’

  Cora snorted. Sherry ignored her and continued. ‘She’s just insecure, seriously. And she’s been very upset recently, what with Jeanette’s death, and now being questioned by the police, even though she’s obviously got nothing to do with it …’

  Cora nodded slowly, but said nothing. It seemed that Alice was in the clear for now, but she wasn’t convinced. That phone call had been so very odd.

  ‘… she didn’t have much of a family life growing up, from what I gather. So I think, from the little she’s said to me, that yes, she will be keeping it. Start a little family of her own, with or without the father, whoever he is. Now – shove off, I need to run the vacuum round, had to cut Kerry Katona’s fringe this morning when she came in and there’s hair everywhere.’