The Magpie (Rufus Stone Detective Stories Book 3)

by K. J. Frost

  She nestles closer still, which feels dangerously wonderful. “You’re very fair-minded and grown-up, aren’t you?”

  I laugh and gaze down at her, her beautiful, innocent face a constant reminder of the fact that she is not yet twenty years old. “Well, that’s not surprising, really. I am a great deal older than you.”

  She smiles and raises her arms, so they’re around my neck, pulling herself up, so we’re face to face and she’s sitting on my lap. “Not that much older,” she murmurs, our lips almost touching. “But old enough…”

  “To know better?” I suggest and she shakes her head.

  “To work out a compromise for what we should do on Christmas Day.” She smirks and lets her forehead rest against mine.

  I sigh into her and lean back slightly, cupping her face with my hand. “Why don’t we agree to spend Christmas Eve together, being as it’s a Sunday, and then perhaps we can arrange something for Christmas Day evening?”

  “Wait a minute… I know,” she says, suddenly brimming with enthusiasm. “Why don’t we spend Christmas Eve together, as you suggested, and then you can all come over to us for tea on Christmas Day? That way we can still see each other for part of the day, I won’t have to feel like I’m abandoning Uncle Gordon and Aunt Millicent, and no-one will feel left out, or offended.”

  “That sounds marvellous.” I brush her cheek with my thumb. “See? I’m not the only one old enough to come up with useful compromises.”

  She grins and I lean forward, our lips touching as her sigh meets mine, in perfect harmony.

  Chapter Two

  My dearest Kitten,

  I’m so pleased you managed to get here to see me today. I’d been on tenterhooks all morning, wondering if you’d be able to make up an excuse to leave the house, and when I saw you waiting for me, I don’t know how I didn’t burst with happiness.

  We may have only had half an hour together, but it was a spectacular half an hour, wasn’t it? And the best way to ‘celebrate’ that I can think of! I don’t think it’s ever been that good, my darling. You were wonderful, and fully deserved your little nickname. I think I shall always call you ‘Kitten’ from now on, just because I love to hear the noises you make. I have to admit, I hate the fact that we have to snatch our time together like this, but it does make it quite exciting and it gives us both something to look forward to when we’re forced to be apart.

  I’m reading your letter again now, sitting in the kitchen, because I didn’t have time at breakfast, and only skimmed through it. I was so thrilled at the prospect of our meeting, I decided to save reading it properly until tonight, rather than risk being late for work and having to make up the time at lunch, which would have meant not being able to get back here to see you… what an awful thought!

  Obviously, telephoning would be easier, especially as our arrangements tend to be quite last-minute – like today’s – but I do understand your point of view. You have more to lose than I do, and I see the need to be cautious. The thing is, my love, that I miss the sound of your voice. I miss those naughty little things you say to me when we’re together, but you’re right, having those words in writing is almost as thrilling, and reading them back is extremely arousing. I wish you’d write to me more often like you did last week, and the week before that… you know? When you told me how it all felt from your perspective, without holding anything back. I treasure every word you write, obviously, but there’s something about those letters that makes me come alive. I suppose it’s the recollection of who you really are, and what you mean to me, and that’s why, more than anything, I wish you could be here with me now, so I could remind you how good it really is. Because it is.

  As for spending the night together… I’ll give it some serious thought and try to come up with an excuse for you to stay away from the house. The prospect of having you in my bed for an entire night is a good enough incentive to put my mind to the task, I can promise you that.

  I suppose I’d better get on and make my supper. And then I think I might take some of your old letters, and my memories to bed with me. I’ll leave it to your imagination to work out what I’ll be doing, because I know how creative you are, my purring little kitten.

  Please write back soon and let me know when you think you’ll be able to get away again. I know I only saw you today, but now the thought of your perfect, naked body is in my head, I honestly don’t think I can wait too much longer to touch you again.

  Missing you already,

  D xx

  *****

  As much as I’d hoped to visit Doctor Tierney first thing this morning, it proved to be impossible. Fortunately, I decided to telephone the hospital before we left and was informed that he had appointments all morning, but would be free at twelve-fifteen. I let them know that Thompson and I would be there at that time to question him, and would be grateful if he’d make himself available. I didn’t make it optional and I think they understood.

  As a result of that, we spent the morning in my office, catching up with paperwork, and going over the evidence. We called Detective Constables Gilmore and Deakin in at one stage and they stood before my desk, nervous and on edge. I’d say they’re both in their mid-twenties, with Gilmore being the taller and broader of the two. They both have brown hair, but while Deakin may be more diminutive, his piercing blue eyes make his features more noticeable and, I dare say, more appealing. Thompson set them the task of checking the whereabouts of known felons at the time in question, and then followed them out of my office, taking all the evidence with him to start organising it properly outside. I took the chance, meanwhile, to have a few minutes to myself, and sat back, contemplating how much I enjoyed myself last night with Amelie. I have to say, every time I’m with her is more delightful than the last; but it gets harder and harder to resist her. And I resolve that, as soon as I get the chance I’m going to go and see if any of the other jewellery shops in Kingston have anything to offer by way of engagement rings. Because I’m really not sure I can wait that much longer; and judging from the look in her eyes last night, I’m dubious that she can either.

  Doctor Tierney is around fifty years old, wearing a smart grey suit, with salt and pepper hair, a square jaw and very dark brown eyes. By anyone’s standards, he’s an attractive man and I can easily imagine that he and his wife would make a striking couple.

  “Inspector?” he stands as we enter the room and offers his hand, which I shake, and then remove my hat.

  “Doctor Tierney. It’s good of you to see us.”

  He indicates the chairs that are placed in front of his wide oak desk, and Thompson and I sit down. He copies us, and then stares at me.

  “I’m a little confused,” he says, his brow furrowing to emphasise the point. “I’ve already given my fingerprints to your colleague, and I wasn’t at the house when the robbery took place, so…” His voice trails away to silence.

  “Yes, sir. I just wanted to ask you about the telephone call you made to your wife.”

  “Telephone call?” He sounds really bewildered now and leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk in front of him.

  “Yes. The one you made on Sunday informing her that you had an emergency at the hospital and wouldn’t be able to make it home.”

  His face seems to pale. “What do you want to know?” he asks.

  “Just whether anyone might have overheard you?”

  “Overheard me? No, no. That would have been impossible. I was—” He stops speaking suddenly and this time, his cheeks flush bright red and I know Prentice was right; he’s hiding something.

  “You were what, sir?” He sits in silence, blinking a couple of times. “Where were you when you made the telephone call?” I press him.

  “I—I was at the g—golf club.” The words tumble out of his mouth, falling over themselves in the rush.

  “Really? Your wife seemed to think you were at the hospital when you contacted her. She said you’d assessed the patient you’d been called in for, and then
telephoned her.” I stare at him and he closes his eyes, just for a second or two.

  “Yes…” he says, opening them again. “Yes, I was here. I remember now.”

  I sigh and sit forward. “Shall we start again?” I suggest. “And this time, perhaps you could tell me the truth.”

  He goes to speak, to object to my indirectly calling him a liar, and then decides against it and lets his head fall into his hands. “Why did the burglary have to happen last night? Of all the times it could have happened, why last night?” He raises his head and looks at me, seemingly in despair.

  “Where were you when you made the call?” I ask, yet again. “And more importantly, who were you with? You were clearly with someone.”

  His shoulders drop and he lets out a long sigh. “I can see you’re not going to let the matter go,” he says, “so I may as well admit it, even though it’s got nothing to do with the burglaries… I was with Nurse Drummond.”

  “Nurse Drummond?” I prompt.

  “Yes. Sandra.”

  “Can I assume that you and Nurse Drummond weren’t working together on Sunday evening, and that you’re… having some kind of relationship?” I ask.

  He lets his eyes drop to the surface of his desk. “Yes,” he whispers, and then looks up again. “She makes me feel alive again. Completely and utterly alive.” His face lights up as he speaks, and he looks ten years younger. “Don’t get me wrong,” he continues, “there’s nothing really wrong with Ruth, but after nearly thirty years of marriage, things do get a little stale…” He looks at me, as though he expects me to understand, but I don’t, not in the slightest. The thought of spending the next thirty years with Amelie sounds like heaven to me.

  “And Nurse Drummond was with you when you telephoned your wife?” I ask, getting back to the matter in hand.

  “Well, not exactly. She was in the bathroom. I was in the bedroom.”

  “Of her house?”

  “Her flat, yes.” He sits back, clearly resigned to telling us the whole story. “It only started about six weeks ago,” he says softly, a smile forming on his lips and a faraway look developing in his eyes. “I—I mean, we’d been aware of each other before that, and I’d admired her from afar, but… well, I am married, and she’s quite young. I wasn’t sure if I should…” His cheeks flush, but he continues, “Anyway, we had to work together on a very difficult case. It involved a young child and it looked like she might die, but we pulled her through. It was touch and go, though, and very stressful for everyone concerned. Later on that evening, Sandra came to give me an update on the girl’s progress, and… well, before I knew what was happening, we were kissing and… and one thing led to another…” His voice fades and he runs his hands along the top of his desk, smiling to himself, his eyes sparkling. I don’t think Thompson or I need him to explain any further what happened between them.

  “We’ve been seeing each other ever since,” Tierney continues. “We meet on Tuesday and Friday evenings in here.” I glance quickly around the room. There’s no sofa, not even an examining table, just the desk and the three chairs we’re all currently occupying. How romantic. “I can usually stay behind for at least an hour, sometimes two, either by telling Ruth I have paperwork, or an emergency to deal with,” he says. “And then Sandra and I also meet at her flat on Sundays.”

  “When you’re supposed to be playing golf?” I suggest and he nods his head.

  “What about the man you’re meant to be playing with? Can you rely on him to cover for you?”

  He smiles and waves his hand in the air dismissively. “Oh yes. We’ve known each other since medical school.”

  I find it hard not to shake my head in disapproval, but I’m not here to judge, in spite of the obvious provocation.

  “Your wife told us that last Sunday night was the first time you’ve stayed away from home,” I remind him.

  “Yes, that’s quite right,” he replies, nodding his head. “I’d been with Sandra since mid-morning, and really it was time for me to leave. But she got upset about it and begged me to stay a little longer.” His voice drops to a whisper and he leans forward. “She’s very innocent, you see, very inexperienced.” I stare at him for a moment, wishing I could find an excuse to arrest him… or just punch him. Either would suffice to wipe that self-satisfied smile off his face. “And I didn’t want to leave myself, if I’m being honest, so while Sandra was in the bathroom, I telephoned Ruth and told her an emergency had come up at the hospital, that I’d been summoned from the golf course, and that I’d be here all night. You should have seen the smile on Sandra’s face when I told her.” He grins. “She was very grateful.” I can just imagine.

  “What if your wife had called you at work?” I ask, intrigued by his willingness to risk being caught.

  “She rarely does that,” he replies. “Especially when she knows I’m working on an emergency case. She knows I won’t be able to take her call.”

  I suppose that explains why she telephoned her brother, rather than her husband, when their house was burgled.

  He sits forward all of a sudden, his face much paler. “Will you need to tell her?” he asks. “My wife, I mean?”

  “No, sir,” I reply, although I rather wish I could find a reason to. His wife is sitting at home, extolling his virtues as a doctor, and praising him to the heavens as a husband, while he’s using his office desk for wholly unprofessional purposes.

  He sighs out his relief, and smiles. “Thank goodness for that.”

  “We only came to enquire, because we wondered if someone might have overheard your conversation about staying out all night, that’s all. As it is, that’s not possible.”

  “No,” he replies, still beaming in the knowledge that he can continue his elicit relationship, without hindrance from either us, or his wife.

  I get to my feet and Thompson follows suit, just as the door opens behind us and we turn around and see a very pretty, petite young nurse come in through the door.

  “Leo,” she says, then stops dead, blushing to the roots of her reddish-blonde hair, which is captured in a white cap atop her head. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought you said you’d be free now. I didn’t realise…”

  Doctor Tierney stands and comes quickly around his desk, going straight to her and taking her hands in his, kicking the door shut at the same time. “Don’t worry, my dear. These men are from the police. They just came to talk to me about Sunday, but you don’t have to worry, they’re just leaving.”

  She glances up at him, fear crossing her eyes. “Sunday? You mean, they know?”

  “Yes, but it’s perfectly alright, they won’t say anything.”

  She looks up at me and then Thompson, giving us both a smile. “We’re not doing anything wrong,” she whispers. “We’re in love.”

  I think she honestly believes that, and I want to ask her if she actually thinks that being in love makes adultery acceptable, whether she doesn’t sometimes think that Mrs Tierney might also love her husband, and consider the damage they might be doing to her, but I don’t bother. They’re too wrapped up in each other to even care about anyone else.

  “Good day,” I say with as little feeling as I can muster. “We won’t need to trouble you again.”

  The couple step to one side, still holding hands, and Thompson and I move out into the corridor. He closes the door behind us and we both breathe out deeply, and then turn to our left and walk slowly towards the exit.

  It’s only once we’re in the car and on our way back to the office that he speaks.

  “Are you sure we can’t find a reason to tell his wife?” he asks.

  “Positive. I’m just as tempted as you, but it’s nothing to do with us, or with the investigation. And we’re not going to tell the chief super, either.”

  “Oh God… I’d forgotten about him.”

  “I hadn’t.” I sigh and look out of the window. “I don’t want any of this in the notes.”

  He nods his head and we continue our drive in silence
.

  It’s after two-thirty by the time I get back to my desk, and once I’ve removed my coat and hat, I go and sit down for a moment. I’ve met some reprobates in my time, but I think the good doctor ranks up there with the best of them. Of all the things he said to us, I think his boasting of Nurse Drummond’s innocence and inexperience was perhaps the most shameful – especially given that he’d already explained the circumstances of their first sexual encounter, and I wonder for a moment whether that was how she’d imagined it might be – on a desk, in a darkened office, with a man old enough to be her father.

  I wish I could pick up the telephone and speak to Amelie. I need to hear her voice, to tell her about that conversation and how it’s made me feel, and to reassure myself that not everyone is disloyal. I suppose it doesn’t help that my first attempt at entering into marriage ended disastrously, when my fiancée, Victoria, unilaterally decided that waiting until our wedding night to consummate our relationship wasn’t all it was cut out to be. At the time, that was devastating, although with hindsight, she did us both a favour, because I’ve met Amelie, and I’ve never been happier. I know I’d never betray her, no matter what, but I could just really do with hearing her tell me that she’d never be unfaithful to me either, because I’m starting to doubt human nature at the moment.

  “Sir?” I look up, the urgency in Sergeant Tooley’s voice making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, as he comes into my office without knocking, followed by Thompson, who looks as confused as I feel.

  “Yes?”

  “We’ve just had a report come in over the telephone,” Tooley says, clutching a piece of paper. “There’s a little girl gone missing.”

  I get to my feet, my good hand resting on the table, leaning forward as Tooley approaches my desk, while Thompson takes a couple of strides and comes to stand beside him. “Where?” I ask.