Creed (A Kate Redman Mystery

by Celina Grace

  Forcing herself to step away, she closed the laptop screen again and made for the stairs, more slowly this time. She’d call Tin and see if he wanted to meet up that afternoon, and if not, well, she’d take herself off to the cinema. Put the thought of the Zac Downey mystery out of her head for now. Or try to, at least.

  *

  “Listen,” said Tin, leaning forward over the table and taking Kate’s hand. “I’ve been feeling shit about things ever since the other night. I really hope you didn’t think I was trying to keep things from you – Celeste and everything, because I wasn’t. It just... Oh, I guess it just never seemed the right time to have that conversation.”

  “That’s okay,” Kate said. She squeezed his fingers. “I know we haven’t exactly been able to spend a lot of time together lately.” She paused and then said, “I’d like to say it’s going to get better but I don’t think it will. Time-wise, I mean.”

  “Yeah, I know. There’s probably a reason police officers tend to go out with other police officers.”

  “It’s all very incestuous,” Kate joked. She squeezed Tin’s hand again and then released it, sitting back against the padded back of the chair. This was a new restaurant for both of them, a little French bistro tucked away in the older part of Abbeyford. Kate awaited the arrival of her seafood risotto with some anticipation.

  “Here she is,” said Tin, proffering his phone. Kate looked at the photograph of a beautiful little girl, lighter-skinned than Tin, with a mass of thick black curls and a sparkle in her large eyes.

  “She’s beautiful,” said Kate, sincerely. “I’d like to meet her.”

  “You will. Very soon.”

  Their food arrived then. Kate picked up her fork. She knew that this would be the perfect time to tell Tin about what happened to her in her teenage years, the mistakes she made and the decision she’d undertaken, but it was as if her tongue were being held in a vice. She took a sip of wine to loosen it, but even as she opened her mouth to speak, she knew she wasn’t going to tell him. Instead, she found herself talking about work. “There’s been a bit of a development on the case we’re working on at the moment.”

  Tin looked up from his steak. “Oh, yes?”

  Kate was regretting saying even that much. “I can’t really go into details but yes – something’s come up that I need to check out.”

  Tin was still looking expectant. “Yes?”

  Kate shoved a forkful of risotto in her mouth and chewed, giving herself time to answer. “Sorry,” she said eventually, swallowing. “I’m not sure why I mentioned it, seeing as I can’t even go into any details.”

  Tin half-laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m used to it. Come on, let’s change the subject.”

  So they did, and they talked about other things for the rest of the evening; films and books and future plans, politics and news. Whenever there was a moment’s silence, Kate could hear that little voice inside her urging her to share her past. To be honest. What had Olbeck said? Stop shutting people out. But I don’t know how to, I don’t, Kate thought, and although the food was wonderful, and Tin was as charming and as handsome as ever, a pall lay over the evening for her. I can’t wait to get back to work, she thought, as the waitress brought the bill. At least there I know who I am.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kate walked into the office the next day to find it virtually empty. Olbeck’s office was vacant, Rav and Theo’s desks were empty, and Jane was just heading out the door, leaving Fliss the only person left. Kate waved goodbye to Jane and then sat down at her desk.

  “Morning,” she said cheerfully to her young colleague.

  “Morning,” Fliss said absently. Kate looked at her more keenly, noting the dark circles under Fliss’s eyes, the new thinness of her face. With another guilty stab, she remembered Fliss’s recent bereavement. Do I look like that? She wondered.

  “Want a coffee?” she asked. It was normally Fliss who made them but something about her pulled-down appearance made Kate want to be kind.

  “Yes, please.”

  As Kate waited for the kettle to boil, she thought about the day ahead. She was only working a half day today, so she’d have to fit a lot in this morning. There wouldn’t be time to interview Zac Downey; she’d have to do that tomorrow. Unless she handed that task over to one of her colleagues? Kate pondered, pouring out the boiling water. No, she’d do it herself. She was the one who’d tracked him down overseas – if it was him, she reminded herself. Besides, everyone else was out and Fliss was too inexperienced to handle that sort of interview yet.

  Kate brought the mugs over to the desks and handed one to Fliss. “By the way, I’d like to have a look at the data that IT got off Veronica Stemmicks’s phone. Have you got it?”

  For a moment, she thought Fliss hadn’t heard her. She was about to repeated her question when Fliss looked up at her, flustered. “Sorry – sorry, Kate, I was miles away. What was that?”

  “Can I have the file on the data from Veronica Stemmicks’s phone?”

  “Oh, of course. Sorry.” Fliss started to hunt around on her desk top, lifting up folders and peering at labels. “Sorry, I’m not exactly sure where it is.”

  They both looked but found nothing. Fliss bit her lip. “Maybe I took it home. In fact, I think I did take it home. Sorry, Kate.”

  “That’s okay. You signed it out, yes?”

  “Of course,” Fliss said again, colouring slightly. Kate looked at her keenly but didn’t pursue it.

  “Never mind,” she said. “I’ll look tomorrow. Is Anderton in?”

  “No, he’s not been in all morning.”

  Kate made a sound of annoyance. Then, because she had to tell someone of her discovery, she perched on the edge of Fliss’s desk and told her what she’d found out about Zac Downey.

  Fliss looked shocked, almost upset. She bit her lip again. “You think it’s really him?”

  “I’m ninety-percent sure,” Kate said with honesty. “Anyway, I’m sure enough that I’m going to interview him under caution tomorrow. First thing tomorrow. Want to come with me?”

  Fliss nodded. “I think I should, don’t you?”

  Slightly puzzled by that response, Kate agreed. Then, the conversation at an end, she went back to her own desk and turned her attention to her own work.

  She ploughed through her emails – honestly, take two days off and come back to two hundred emails, was that fair? – sorted out some paperwork and read up on a couple of new cases that had come in. By that time, the clock was striking one and it was time to go. Kate almost decided not to; she was getting on so well but she had to, this holiday time had been booked for a long time and she would lose it if she didn’t take it. She turned off her computer, picked up her bag and said goodbye to Fliss.

  “What have you got planned?” Fliss asked pleasantly.

  “Nothing much, to be honest. A nice lunch somewhere and then home for the evening. I’ve got tons of things to do at home and I’ve got no excuse to put them off now.”

  “Well, have fun.”

  “I will. Thanks, Fliss. See you tomorrow.”

  It was a beautiful day, warm and sunny; the sky was a pale blue and almost cloudless. Kate decided on The Boathouse for lunch, because they had a terrace that overlooked the river and there was nowhere nicer to eat on a sunny day. She bought a local newspaper in the corner-shop opposite the police station and decided to walk there, through the town park.

  On arrival, she ordered her food and made her way out to the terrace, finding a decent table half in the dappled shadow of a weeping willow tree. Kate took a photograph of her glass of wine, beaded with condensation and sparkling in the sunshine and sent it to Olbeck’s mobile with the caption how’s work? ;) Chuckling, she unfolded her paper and read the headline and the smile dropped from her face. A Mother’s Anguish. “We still can’t understand why Veronica did it.” Kate read the rest of the article, an interview with Carol Stemmick, and then dropped the paper, face down. She felt that kind of impotent he
lplessness that is the hardest to bear. We’ve got to solve this case, she thought, so no one else has to go through what Carol Stemmick is going through. But what case, Kate? There isn’t even a case to solve. Or is there? Frustrated, she sighed and turned her attention to her food, which arrived at that very moment.

  Tempting as it was to spend the rest of the day on The Boathouse’s terrace, Kate made her way home an hour or so later. She surveyed her list of things to do with some dismay. I must get a cleaner, she thought, but knew that that was one luxury she couldn’t justify. Besides, Kate had always rather guiltily liked housework; it was refreshing to see something dirty made clean, something untidy made neat. It appealed to that side of her personality.

  She spent the afternoon working her way methodically through her chores. She wouldn’t bother cooking tonight, she decided; she’d just heat up a ready meal and probably have an early night. She thought of tomorrow’s interview with Zac Downey with a surge of anticipation. Perhaps I should have run it past Anderton first, she thought and even reached for her phone to give him a call before thinking better of it. It’s a lead, it’s something odd, and it needs to be followed up – no reason not to. Fliss would probably mention it to the others anyway.

  At eight o’clock, after spending the last twilight hour weeding the garden, Kate got to her feet wearily, stretched and made her way indoors. Washing her hands, she was surprised by the ring of the front door bell. Had she made an arrangement with Tin for him to come over and then forgotten it? She didn’t think so. Wiping her hands on the kitchen towel, Kate went to answer the bell.

  “Fliss!” she exclaimed upon opening the door. “What a surprise. Come on in.”

  Kate hoped she didn’t sound too taken aback. She wasn’t even aware that Fliss knew where she lived – she’d never visited before. Oh, wait, yes she had; Theo had picked Kate up for work one morning and Fliss had been in the car with him, and they’d both come in for a coffee before Theo had driven them all in together. Fliss had wanted to see Kate’s house and Kate had given her what she jokingly referred to as the grand tour. That had been a month or so ago, Kate recalled, and only then did it occur to her to wonder exactly why Fliss had been in Theo’s car that morning.

  For a moment, her colleague stood unmoving on the doorstep, a supermarket carrier bag dangling from one hand. Kate could see the outline of a bottle of wine through the misty plastic.

  “Are you sure?” asked Fliss. Kate thought that she looked a little bit strange – there was something not quite right about her gaze. Had Fliss been drinking already? Kate swallowed down a rising unease and repeated herself.

  “Come on in. Of course it’s fine.”

  She held the door open wider and Fliss, after hesitating a moment, entered. Kate saw her swallow as she walked past her, and the expression on her face hardened for a moment. Kate thought she looked like someone bracing themselves for an ordeal, and her heart sank a little. Was this going to be an evening of bonding over their dead mothers? Why on Earth would Fliss have dropped in on her in this odd way, if not for a serious talk?

  She led Fliss through to the living room, talking cheerfully about how at least the house was tidy enough for visitors, thanks to her afternoon off. She remembered the conversation she’d had with Fliss that morning, about the file of data from Veronica Stemmicks’s phone. Of course, perhaps Fliss had thought to drop the file round once she’d retrieved it from her own home. Kate felt unaccountably relieved. Then she looked at the shape of the wine bottle in the carrier bag. Well, perhaps this was a social call after all...

  Trying not to let her puzzlement show in her face or voice, Kate settled Fliss on the sofa and asked her if she wanted a drink.

  “I’ve bought wine,” Fliss said in a monotone. She held up the carrier bag, as if to demonstrate the evidence.

  “Oh, good,” said Kate. Even to her own ears, she sounded slightly too hearty, overcompensating. “I think I’ve got a bottle open somewhere. Do you like white?”

  Fliss nodded. Now that Kate could see her in the light of the living room, she could see how thin her workmate had become. Her collarbone showed bluishly under the pale skin of Fliss’s sternum. There were hollows in her cheeks that Kate was sure hadn’t been there even a month ago.

  She fetched them both a glass of wine and put both glasses on the coffee table. Fliss stared at hers as if she’d never seen a wineglass before. Kate wondered whether she should just come straight out and ask Fliss what was wrong, but before she could open her mouth, Fliss suddenly jumped up with a start.

  “Sorry. I just need to make a phone call.”

  “Oh, okay.” Kate had almost jumped herself when Fliss had moved so suddenly. She was feeling quite uneasy now, without being unable to say why that was.

  “I’ll go outside.”

  “Okay,” said Kate. She remained sitting tensely on the edge of her seat while Fliss pulled her mobile from her handbag, which she’d left on the floor, and muttering something that Kate couldn’t quite hear, sidled from the room. Kate heard the front door open and then partly close and then the low murmur of Fliss’s voice.

  What was going on? Kate sipped her wine, letting her eyes roam over the room, coming to rest on Fliss’s bag which stood, partly open, on the floor. Kate could see the edge of a notebook, a tuft of woolly gloves and something else, something rectangular and pink. She leaned closer. It was a smartphone, in a pink cover.

  Kate sat up again. She put her wineglass down with slightly shaky fingers. Whose phone was that, if Fliss was even now talking on her mobile outside Kate’s front door?

  With an exclamation, Kate realised she’d got it wrong. That pink phone was Fliss’s phone – Kate had seen her use it daily. She remembered walking past Fliss talking to someone unknown in the corridor and remembered, too, that feeling of unease she’d had about the memory ever since. Staring at Fliss’s open bag, Kate now realised why. Fliss had been talking to someone on another phone, not her usual pink iPhone. A different phone.

  A secret phone.

  Kate stared at that innocent pink rectangle in the depths of Fliss’s bag. She remembered heaving up the mattress in Veronica Stemmicks’s bedroom with Rav, the heavy weight going up and the phone there on the mattress, a slender grey box. Had there been anything of significance on that phone, something that might have solved the mystery of Veronica’s suicide. Kate recalled asking Fliss that very question and what had her answer been? Nothing, negative. Nothing untoward at all.

  And now Fliss was talking on a phone just like the one they’d found in Veronica’s bed. Fliss, who’d said there was nothing suspicious about the data recovered from that phone.

  Kate frowned, thinking hard. What did this mean? She could feel her heartbeat begin to pick up a little, and unconsciously raised a hand to press against the thudding she could feel in her chest. She became aware that the low murmur of Fliss’s voice had stopped and a second later, the front door creaked open.

  Chapter Nineteen

  When Fliss came back into the living room, Kate could see her making a big effort to smile and act more normally. She said something light like “Sorry about that, I had to take that, very rude of me, I know,” and sat back down on the sofa. Kate couldn’t see the grey phone. Fliss must have slipped it into the pocket of her jacket, which she still hadn’t taken off.

  They sat making small talk for a couple of minutes, each nervously sipping their wine. Then Kate thought to hell with this.

  “Is there something wrong, Fliss?” she asked.

  “How do you mean?” For a moment, the hostility showed itself again in Fliss’s tone.

  “Well, not that it’s not nice to see you but it’s a bit unexpected. I thought you must have something really specific to ask me – or talk to me about?”

  Fliss was silent for a moment, her eyes downcast. The silence stretched on while Kate waited patiently. She noticed that Fliss had already emptied her wine glass. “Let me get you another drink,” she said eventually, when it
became obvious that Fliss wasn’t going to say something.

  Kate carried the empty glass through to the kitchen and refilled it. It was fully dark now and she could see the ghostly reflection of her face in the uncurtained kitchen window. She looked worried.

  Kate remained in the kitchen for a moment, glass in hand and thinking. She had a sinking suspicion that she knew what this was about. Remembering that visit of Theo and Fliss’s had done it. She could see it now – Theo and Fliss had slept together – what a slut that boy was! – and now Fliss was here to sob into Kate’s shoulder over the fact that he’d rejected her. Kate sighed and turned to make her way back to the living room.

  But what about the phone? The thought slowed her footsteps as she neared the half open living room door. The secret phone. She kept thinking of it like that. Kate shook her head impatiently. If she could just have five minutes to herself to think it all through, she knew everything would become clearer. But fat chance of that with Fliss sat like a wraith on her sofa... Kate pushed open the door with her free hand.

  Fliss was still sitting where she had been but there was something else about her now, a kind of simmering, nervous energy that Kate noticed right away. Thoughts of Theo fled. By now, Kate was starting to think that there was something seriously wrong with her colleague. Was Fliss having some kind of breakdown? Kate gave her the glass and sat back down opposite her, resolving that she’d try and get to the bottom of this. She reached for her own glass, noticing how Fliss’s gaze flicked to the movement and then away again, almost immediately.

  “So, how are things at work?” Kate thought she’d ease her way in slowly, get a feel for what was wrong. She wondered whether to mention the file of data from Veronica Stemmicks’s phone and decided not to. Surely Fliss wasn’t this upset because she’d been caught out taking a file home without officially signing it out?