Deadly Suspicions (Alexandra Best Investigations Book 3)

by Jean Saunders

  Deadly Suspicions

  Jean Saunders

  Copyright © Jean Saunders 2001

  The right of Jean Saunders to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  First published in the United Kingdom in 2001 by Robert Hale Ltd.

  This edition published in 2014 by Endeavour Press Ltd.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Extract from Thicker than Water by Jean Saunders

  Chapter 1

  In Alex’s opinion, it was the office party from hell. In any case, she had never been part of the scene where workmates gathered together for their annual jollities in an entirely false environment from the norm.

  The unreal situation was compounded by the inclusion of spouses and girlfriends, who were definitely not part of the in-crowd. And that included Alex. She worked alone and liked it that way. And she wasn’t sure, even now, why she had accepted Nick’s invitation to the pre-Christmas party.

  And now he had wandered off, Lord knows where, leaving her with a drink in her hand and fair game for all the creeps who thought they were God’s gift, in or out of uniform.

  ‘How’s my favourite Private Dick?’ she heard a well-oiled voice slur.

  She turned slowly, giving him the full benefit of her green eyes at their grittiest, and moved neatly away from his groping hands. That was another thing: these parties always seemed to bring out the lech in even the mildest nerd, and this guy was a nerd, yes, but mild, no.

  ‘I was never your private anything, Sergeant Thomas,’ she said, as cool as ever.

  He gave a boozy chuckle. ‘Oh, come on darling, loosen up and be friendly for once. I hear you’re leaving us soon.’

  She looked at him coldly.

  ‘That’s right, but I doubt that you’ll miss me.’

  ‘Can’t take the pace, eh?’ he sniggered. ‘I always said you’d take fright sooner or later.’

  ‘I am not taking fright.’

  Bastard, she thought, making her rise to his bait.

  His arm slid around her more tightly.

  ‘How about a dance for old times’ sake, then?’

  ‘We don’t have any old times, creep. And by the way, your wife’s looking for you, so piss off.’

  She had the satisfaction of seeing his head swivel around as if it were on a spring, and she moved quickly away from him, searching for Nick, and wondering how soon she could decently suggest that they get out of here.

  She groaned, seeing him deep in conversation with the Chief Constable’s wife. He had to do his social bit, of course. DCI Nick Frobisher was always on duty and aware of his responsibilities. This was very much his scene. The three Services had combined for this year’s annual shindig instead of having the usual exclusive Policemen’s Ball (other guests invited). But glancing around, the groups were still very much in their separate factions: Police, Fire, Ambulance ...

  Somebody bumped against her, knocking her glass and spilling a little of her drink on her black cocktail dress. In such a crush these things happened, and thank God she was drinking her usual vodka and lime, so it was unlikely to stain, Alex thought, with more hope than certainty.

  The woman who had bumped into her apologized profusely.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Alex said. ‘It will soon sponge off —’

  ‘I’m so sorry, and that dress looks wildly expensive.’

  There was a note of almost desperate envy in her voice. It wasn’t a local accent. More West Country, Alex noted.

  ‘I’ll be mortified if you won’t let me see to it in the Ladies’ Room,’ the woman rushed on.

  ‘Really, it’s not necessary —’ and if she didn’t catch Nick’s glance soon, she had the feeling she was going to be trapped with this one for ages.

  Next minute she felt the hand squeezing her arm.

  ‘It would make me feel so much better. You are Alexandra Best, aren’t you? The Private Investigator?’

  The way she said it made Alex look at her more sharply. There was a hint of pleading in the faded eyes now, and Alex knew at once that the collision hadn’t been accidental.

  She hid a small sigh. This wasn’t fair. It was out of office hours, and she was nobody’s unpaid Agony Aunt. A doctor friend had once told her of his feelings when people discovered his identity on holiday, and he’d be presented with all manner of minor ailments for an instant consultation ... all for free, of course.

  ‘I had a dress made out of similar material to yours once,’ the woman went on wistfully, with an apparent change of tactic. ‘So I know it will spot if it’s not attended to right away. And I really must buy you another drink as well.’

  There was no way she was going to let her go, Alex realized, and with one last raging look in Nick’s direction, she followed the woman to the grandly named Ladies’ Powder Room, praying it would be too busy for private conversations.

  But it was temporarily empty with no sign of an attendant. Just her luck. Like policemen, attendants were never around when you wanted one, she thought, wincing at her own feeble attempt at a joke.

  ‘I’m Jane Leng, by the way,’ the woman said. ‘My husband Bob’s about to retire from the Fire Service. Now let’s get to that mark on your lovely dress.’

  She became fussily attentive, but Alex’s intuition told her it was only a matter of time before the real reason for contacting her came out, and she didn’t have long to wait.

  ‘I always hated my husband’s job,’ Jane Leng said, with a definite catch in her breath.

  ‘Well, that’s understandable.’ Alex was brisk, hoping this wasn’t going to be a weep on the shoulder half-hour, and that someone would appear soon to break up the unwelcome twosome. She wasn’t uncharitable, but there were limits.

  ‘It’s not all London’s Burning and cute nicknames, you know,’ she went on accusingly, as if Alex thought it was. ‘More like The Towering Inferno at times, and some of the things Bob’s had to deal with in his day would turn your stomach.’

  ‘I can imagine. Well, thank you for your help, Mrs Leng, but I really should be getting back to my escort.’

  She elevated Nick above the status of friend and sometime lover, in the hope that her own cut-glass accent would deter this rather annoying woman.

  ‘He has nightmares.’ The voice was jerkier now. ‘After ten years he still has nightmares. Dreadful nightmares. They won’t go away. They keep tormenting him.’

  ‘Ten years?’

  The question left Alex’s lips before she could stop it. She groaned inwardly, knowing she shouldn’t ask. She didn’t really want to know, but was unable to resist her curiosity about something she knew instinctively this woman was bursting to share. And there had to be a reason why she had chosen a Private Investigator to confide in. That she had been chosen, Alex was perfectly sure now.

  A group of giggling young women came into the Powder Room, glancing at them oddly, and as Alex looked back at their reflections in the large mirror, she realized what an unlikely couple she and Jane Leng made.

  She was tall and willowy — except for th
e hips that Nick generously said only emphasized her slim waist. Her colouring was dramatic — pike-straight red hair and green eyes enhanced by the long emerald earrings and slinky black cocktail dress. And there was Jane Leng, small, middle-aged, worried, wearing a blue crimplene dress of uncertain vintage. A highly unlikely confidante for a 27-year-old career woman with a classy up-market voice, and a growing reputation for doing the business as far as her PI clientele went.

  Even as she assessed them both, Alex was angry at herself for being so mean-minded. The woman and her husband clearly had a problem, and should be seeking the help of a social worker or counsellor, not herself.

  As they left the Powder Room and joined the throng of revellers in the hotel ballroom, she spoke firmly.

  ‘If your husband’s having these problems, I’d say he should get professional help. Has he seen his GP?’

  ‘Oh yes. GPs, specialists, counsellors, head doctors. None of them do any good. No, it’s you I need to see.’

  ‘Well, this obviously isn’t the time or place, Mrs Leng,’ Alex said more gently. ‘I don’t see how I can help, but if you think I could, why not make an appointment at my office for an hour’s consultation at the usual rates?’

  That would surely put her off. Most casuals backed off at once if they thought there was payment involved.

  ‘Would one day next week be all right? I want to get Bob sorted out before he has too much time on his hands to brood.’

  Alex groaned. It was nearly Christmas, she had wound up everything at work, and had intended spending the next couple of weeks clearing out her flat and office in preparation for moving down to Bristol and the new Shopfront Premises with Self-contained Flat above.

  She still thought of it all in capital letters in estate agent’s jargon — and her heart would still give a little blip every time she thought of the move she was making. And it was nothing to do with getting cold feet, or the sleazy characters you met in this kind of work. They were everywhere, anyway, and you expected to take the rough with the smooth ...

  ‘How about Tuesday afternoon?’ she heard Jane Leng say determinedly. ‘I’ll be doing some last-minute Christmas shopping so Bob won’t expect me home for hours. He knows what I’m like when I’m dithering about what to buy.’

  Alex gave in. ‘Tuesday will be fine. I’ll give you my card and I’ll expect you at two-thirty. Does that suit?’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Best. I’m ever so grateful —’ but Alex had twisted away quickly to avoid having her hand wrung.

  *

  ‘Where the hell have you been?’ Nick said, grabbing her. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I began to think you’d run out on me. I know you don’t care for this kind of thing too much, but it’s our last chance for a big night out, Alex, and I wanted you to enjoy yourself.’

  ‘I am enjoying myself,’ she said mechanically, ‘now I’ve got rid of your Sergeant-bloody-Thomas’s clutching hands.’

  ‘Take no notice of him. He’s had too much to drink, and it’s a sure bet he’ll get tongue pie from his wife when he gets home tonight. Who was that woman you were with earlier?’

  She smiled up at him sweetly as the conversation took a swiftly different turn. He really did look terrific in evening dress, dark and slightly foreign-looking, almost James Bondish in a Pierce Brosnan eat-your-heart-out kind of way.

  And she might have known he wouldn’t have missed a thing. He might have said he’d lost sight of her, but he had an uncanny way of registering exactly who she had been talking with and for how long. His super-keen detective brain had a way of mentally picturing a scene and storing it away for future use.

  ‘I thought you knew everything that went on around here. She was a fireman’s wife, a bit out of her depth, like me.’

  Nick laughed. ‘You were never out of your depth, darling, not since you left AB behind in Yorkshire, anyway.’

  As the band struck up an old-fashioned waltz, he swung her on to the dance floor and pulled her close. She was tall, but he was taller. As she felt his warm breath on her cheek her heart beat faster, and not only because she was aware of every horny part of him.

  ‘What made you think of her?’ she asked.

  ‘Just the hope that when you go down to the sticks you’re not going to revert to being sweet little Audrey Barnes again. I much prefer the feisty Alex Best I’ve come to know and love.’

  ‘You can’t say that,’ she said with crushing logic. ‘You never knew me when I was Audrey Barnes.’

  ‘I know damn well that the softer part of Alex that listens to sob stories has more to do with being born Audrey Barnes than a sophisticated PI,’ he said. ‘But I’d hate it if she ever lost that gentler quality too. And whatever you’re looking for, you won’t find it by running away.’

  ‘Don’t do this, Nick,’ she said, in TV-script lingo.

  ‘Do what?’ he asked innocently.

  ‘Don’t start making me want to stay, when you know very well I’ve made up my mind to go. I need to make a fresh start, and there’s no going back on it now. New year, new beginning.’

  ‘Until the next bad case comes along, and you can’t handle it. Give it up, Alex, and marry me.’

  She ignored his comment on her ability, hearing his voice become rougher with passion, and she knew that lower ranks weren’t the only ones who’d had too much to drink. She also knew that Nick wanted her had always wanted her — but marriage wasn’t on the cards, and in their sober moments, they both knew it. He’d know it in the morning too, and be thankful she hadn’t said yes.

  ‘We’ve gone through this before, Nick. You know I love you, but not enough to marry you, no more than you’d want to marry me if you were thinking straight.’

  ‘OK,’ he said, infuriatingly cheerful. ‘I’ll just have to sleep with you then.’

  ‘And from the state of you, that’s probably all you could manage,’ she said with a grin.

  ‘Don’t underestimate the power of the law, sweetheart,’ he said meaningly. ‘So if you’ve had enough, let’s go.’

  *

  It was pouring with rain by the time a taxi got them back to her flat, and she didn’t have the heart or the strength to turn him away. It was the last big social occasion she would share with him, and maudlin thoughts of how much she was going to miss him were starting to infiltrate, despite herself.

  They spent the night in her bed, wrapped in one another’s arms, as close as two peas in a pod, and as chaste as nuns, until the incessant rumble of the early morning traffic awoke her. And alerted her to the fact that he was leaning up on one elbow, looking down at her.

  ‘Time to get up,’ she croaked, her throat dry from breathing in too much second-hand cigarette smoke last night.

  ‘No, it’s not. It’s Sunday morning,’ Nick reminded her. ‘And that woman you were with last night was Bob Leng’s wife.’

  Alex blinked into the daylight, realizing they were both naked, and that one of his fingers was idly circling her nipple. She pushed his hand away at once, annoyed that he was disgustingly awake so early in the morning, when she still felt in need of a hundred years’ sleep.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ she asked huskily.

  ‘Bob Leng. Fireman. Screwed up to hell after an incident ten years ago.’

  It was the phrase ‘ten years ago’ that did it. And why did they always mention incidents in that brush-off way, when Jane Leng obviously thought that whatever had happened to her husband was of volcanic proportions?

  ‘His wife said something —’

  ‘I’ll bet she did. She’s been around every copper on the force trying to make somebody listen to her ramblings. You don’t want to let her get at you, Alex.’

  ‘She won’t. I’m leaving town, remember?’

  She threw off the duvet and marched to the bathroom, ignoring her kimono in her annoyance. She took an ultra-quick shower, and came back swathed in a large towel, to find Nick still lounging in her bed.

  ‘So what did she want?
’ he said, never one to let go easily. Like a cat with a mouse, Alex thought. Only in Nick’s case, more like a tiger stalking its prey ...

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ she said airily. ‘She was worried about her husband having nightmares and wanted somebody to talk to, that’s all.’

  ‘I hope you told her you’re too busy.’

  The words were too casual. He was clever, but so was she, and this was more than idle curiosity. In her desire to avoid a direct answer, she let herself slip.

  ‘Alex might be, but Audrey wasn’t ever too busy to resist letting someone confide in her. I’ll be glad to get away from here to where life is more normal and people don’t question every motive.’

  She fumed, even as she heard the cutesy words leave her lips. She had left her old persona behind in the Yorkshire Dales years ago, and it had been Nick who had dredged it up again last night. He leapt out of bed, rampant with anger if not morning-glory libido, and shook her.

  ‘I knew it. You really did let that last big case get to you, didn’t you? The bastard’s not around any more, Alex. He can’t harm you, and he’s never getting out of that prison.’

  ‘Well, thanks for reminding me. I never even think of it any more, and he’s not the reason I want to get out of London. Do you think I’m going to be constantly on the move every time a lunatic tries to kill me?’

  ‘You tell me.’

  ‘I’m not that stupid. I know it’s part of the price we pay in this kind of job, so don’t soft-soap me, Nick. If it had anything to do with all the unwelcome publicity that case attracted I’d have given up long ago.’

  He bent down and kissed her lips, and she made no more than a token resistance. He was a bloody gorgeous man, she admitted. So why the hell was she letting him go?

  ‘God, you’re beautiful when you’re angry,’ he said, stifling a laugh. ‘I suppose sex is out of the question?’

  His humour got her back on track.

  ‘Right out. Go and take a shower and let me get dressed,’ she said, giving him a shove.

  ‘All right. And then you can tell me exactly what Bob Leng’s wife said to you.’