Remorseless: A British Crime Thriller (Doc Powers & D.I. Carver Investigate #1)

by Will Patching

  John threw Josh over his shoulder and patted his backside. ‘There’s nothing to worry about. You’re my big boy, and we won’t be going much higher than my office building. Okay?’

  Judy decided his reassurance was aimed at her as much as Josh.

  John carried on explaining. ‘There’ll be plenty of air. Not like in a plane.’ His eyes probed Judy’s face, questioning her as he repeated, ‘Okay?’

  ‘Okay.’ She gave in before the prospect of some sort of tug of war in their love over Josh manifested itself.

  And their son was really excited by the idea.

  But...

  Josh had been almost three years old when they first took him abroad. A short flight to Paris. And he had almost died.

  He had never suffered from asthma before, but like many youngsters these days, had developed the condition at an early age. The thin air in that plane, combined with his hyper-ventilating in excitement, had prompted that first episode. By the time the hostess had popped an oxygen mask over his face Josh was blue. Judy was near hysterical, so shocked at the rapidity of the onset of the attack, the hopelessness she had felt at his distress. When the hostess asked where his inhaler was, Judy had no idea what she meant. The French doctor confirmed it was asthma when they landed. They took the train back to London later that day.

  So much for a second honeymoon, she thought. And ever since then she had been ‘over-protective,’ at least according to absentee father John, fount of all knowledge.

  Arrogant prick.

  Judy’s thoughts stalled. Absentee. Isn’t that what mum just said about me? She shook her head, trying to dislodge that unpleasant comparison.

  ‘Okay, let’s get your things Josh. And John...’ He turned to her, hovering on the threshold, keen to get away. ‘Sunday. No later than eight.’

  ‘Of course... Hon.’

  She followed them to Josh’s room, then the front door. Gran stood in the doorway to the lounge, hands on hips, glaring at John. She had no compunction about letting Josh know how she felt about his father.

  After a long, crushing hug farewell for Josh, she closed the front door on the two men in her life, sagged back against the solid wood, and clenched her eyes shut tight.

  ‘You’re too soft on him love. I know you think you’re doing the best for your boy, but that man has proved he’s irresponsible. A helicopter flight! What is he thinking? Maybe it’s time you got things formalised. A court order restricting his parental visits...’

  Judy sighed, slumped into a sitting position, opened her eyes and looked up at her mother, pleading, ‘Mum. Not now. Please.’

  ***

  After a soak in the bath, a flannel draped over her face, Judy felt refreshed. The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity. Her mother helped her do the shopping, or rather she helped Gran, as the housekeeping role largely fell to her mother. Judy paid for the shopping of course, but otherwise her contribution was to throw a few favourite treats and luxuries into the trolley as they wheeled the cart through the aisles of Waitrose.

  After they’d dropped off the groceries Judy dragged her mother back out for a late lunch, but began to regret it as Gran studied the menu, clucking over the ‘ridiculous’ prices being charged. She insisted she could have prepared something much better for a quarter the price. Judy kept her mouth shut, nodded her agreement and thought to herself, Mum, you’re missing the point.

  Then they hit the shops again and Gran really came into her own. Judy loved shopping with her mother.

  She may be in her sixties but she has an eye for a bargain and she knows what looks good on me.

  They spent the next few hours and a couple of hundred pounds on a new outfit after Judy had tried on most of Oxford Street’s stock.

  ‘I’m whacked, love. Mind if I head home?’

  They were in the cab surrounded by carrier bags full of goodies.

  ‘Course not mum. We’ll drop you off first.’

  ‘Thanks love.’ Her mum squeezed Judy’s thigh and added, ‘So when am I going to meet him?’ She then gazed at her daughter, eyes wide. If there’d been a pat of butter on her tongue it would have hardly melted. Innocence personified.

  ‘Who?’ Judy felt the unwelcome dappling rouge her cheeks. ‘Doc? It’s just work. Hardly a date.’

  ‘Of course not love.’ Her mother’s hand now patted her thigh. Then she started rummaging in her bag. ‘These looked lovely on you.’ A cheeky smirk was dimpling her jowls. ‘Even if it’s not a date...’ She held up some diamond earrings that Judy had dismissed as too expensive, even though she had loved them. It had seemed over-indulgent so she had refrained. Gran must have bought them when she was supposedly using the loo. Crafty old dear.

  ‘Oh mum. You spoil me.’ Judy took the sparkling jewels, and clasped them to her chest. ‘You don’t miss a thing, do you?’

  ‘Not as far my own daughter is concerned. And don’t give me that nonsense about it not being a date. You like him, don’t you?’

  ‘Aw mother. He’s a work colleague.’ She was trying to sound earnest, and wondered why she had to try. ‘Colin is very depressed. His wife died only a few months ago.’ And he sounded lonely on the phone last night... Very lonely.

  The old lady turned to stare out the window as Judy replied. When she turned back there was a tear in her eye. Gran was wistful as she spoke. ‘I met your dad at work. Gave it up when I fell pregnant with your brother. Never went back, even after you were born...’

  Judy did not want to talk about her brother, and was surprised at her mother telling her how she had met her father. She had always thought they met socially. Funny that she had never asked her mother about it.

  ‘Let’s not go over that mum. I like my job. Okay? I am not giving it up for Josh. Can we let that drop?’ Judy spoke gently and put an arm round her mother’s shoulders, wondering if the tears now trickling down her cheeks were for her late husband, or for her only son who had died fighting in a war over oil in Iraq.

  They arrived at Gran’s estate, and her mother dried her cheeks, wiping away her grief, before switching into her more familiar role of caring parent.

  ‘You have a good night. You deserve it. Just let your hair down. And don’t let work keep getting in the way of your life.’ With that, nimble, if a little creaky, she hopped out the cab and slammed the door before marching off to her home.

  Well, that told you didn’t it? Judy thought as the cab pulled out and headed for her home.

  ***

  Doc Powers was having an equally hectic day, only he was suffering from a crippling hangover. When Judy had phoned the night before he had been sliding from grey to black as depression engulfed him. Having just got back in the saddle at work, he promptly fell off when he arrived home.

  Alone. The weekend yawning before him, an abyss of black nothingness. That same abyss he had been in for much of the last three months.

  As a psychiatrist he recognised the signs, knew how to handle the symptoms of numbing grief and crushing guilt. But, like many professionals in the health business, he took less care of himself than he would of the most awkward, non-compliant patient.

  So, Friday night had seen him retreat from his empty home to a local pub. He had never been to the place before and immediately started wondering why he was there. It was trendy, too bright and brash, full of well-heeled city types celebrating the end of another busy week in a haze of alcohol tinged with the promise of random sex.

  He took his drink outside and watched the Thames eddying past the beer garden, his mind in turmoil, struggling to achieve some inner peace. But it would not come, so instead he supped his pint. Then another. And another. He was on his fourth beer, feeling its effects combining with the red wine from lunch, when his mobile rang.

  He considered ignoring it, or cancelling the call, just content to sit and wallow in self-pity, letting the beer deepen his mood. He shrugged off the lethargy and finally answered.

  At first he’d struggled to understand why Judy had calle
d. She had made it pretty clear to him that she was up to the job. The lioness surely would not admit to weakness? Yet, what was it she had said that wrenched him out of his fug of booze and blackness? Oh yes, he remembered then, It was confusing. She’d sounded rattled and his heart had responded.

  So today here he was, cleaning, tidying, shopping and cooking. The place was a tip and it was only when he woke, his head thumping and banging with every move, that he realised how much he had let things go. Why he had cancelled his cleaner, he had no idea. It was just too bad that she could not come now when he phoned. It really is something when your cleaner’s schedule is too full to help you out. Oh well, he thought as he finished tidying the lounge, at least it gave him something to do today.

  The only time he had stopped dead and felt the sting of hot tears was when he had dusted off the pictures of Natalie. Long blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, a snub nose, great bone structure and those beautiful bee-stung lips. Gorgeous, and to top it all, easily as bright as him.

  God, he missed her. Her laughter, her radiant smile, that quirky sense of humour, always puncturing his pretensions. And, of course, her loving. He had never felt so loved before. And so in love. It had been almost obscene how happy they were.

  Half an hour passed with him frozen there, weeping, thinking, remembering, suffering his loss over again, the intensity of his grief crucifying him.

  Finally he had roused himself and focussed on the future.

  Tonight. Okay, I know I need to look ahead, not back.

  He was under no illusion regarding the reason Judy wanted to see him. Just work, after all. Even so, her call had been something of a lifeline for him, pulling him back from the abyss.

  Judy seemed sharp as a knife. And incredibly cute. How could he fail to enjoy her company? Even if their chosen topic for discussion was a prisoner convicted of multiple murder.

  He finished the cleaning and stood under the shower, the hot needles stimulating his flesh, massaging his scalp, rinsing away the remnants of his hangover.

  As he towelled himself dry he spotted himself in the mirror. Fat, forty-four, pasty and past it. Nothing to be depressed about then! He twitched a smile at the thought, and consoled himself. Oh well, at least I still have my mind. Though some weeks ago he’d started to wonder if he was losing that too. He wagged a finger at his naked torso as he spoke to the image in the mirror.

  ‘You will not let yourself get in that state again.’

  As he crossed the landing to his bedroom he sucked in a breath of fragrant spicy curry, the aroma wafting up the stairs, warming him inside. He wondered then, for the first time since Natalie had left him, is it possible that tonight might move him beyond neutral white to a bright sunny yellow at last?

  ***

  ‘Wow! Judy, you look fantastic. Have you popped by just to tell me you’ve changed your mind and decided to go out clubbing instead?’ Doc did not mean to embarrass her as he held the door open, but realised his feeble attempt at humour had rather more than fallen flat when he saw her cheeks redden. ‘Sorry. I’m such an arse sometimes. Forgotten how to treat people. Please come on in.’

  Doc had ironed his best shirt and chinos but felt decidedly shabby as she brushed past him. She was a knockout.

  Well, that’ll set the neighbours’ tongues wagging, he thought as he pushed the door to.

  ‘I bought some wine.’ Judy’s voice was strong, no evidence of the fleeting embarrassment of a moment before. ‘The food smells fabulous Doc.’

  He ushered her through to the kitchen, sorted out their drinks while he tried to undo the damage of his faux pas. What had he been thinking?

  ‘I’ve been cleaning and cooking all day. Didn’t realise what a slob I’d become since...’ He bit his tongue rather than let the words dribble out. What was happening to him tonight? He had lost the art of making conversation.

  ‘It’s a beautiful house.’ She crinkled her eyes at him, a smile finally emerging from the corners of her mouth. ‘You must have robbed a bank to afford this place!’

  As ever the subject of house values, or rather house price inflation, was the popular topic of conversation at any London social gathering.

  ‘No. I bought it a few years back before the area became trendy. Fortunately, my book sold rather better than I, or my publishers for that matter, ever expected. It seems I managed to hoodwink a lot of people into buying it. Including you I think. Didn’t you say I signed a copy for you at Cambridge?’

  ‘I didn’t buy it. I stole it from the library... And I still haven’t read it!’ She giggled as she teased him.

  Touché.

  ‘I doubt most of the people who bought it finished it either. Insights into the Criminal Mind isn’t exactly bedtime reading is it?’

  ‘That’s as may be, Doctor Powers, but I just wish I had re-read the sections on psychopaths before I went to see Leech... And I’m sorry for snapping your head off yesterday. It’s just – ’

  ‘You’re well used to arrogant men treating you like an inadequate girly. And I’m sorry for calling you kid. It was a particularly stupid figure of speech and certainly no indication of how I view you professionally.’ He let his face smile and for the first time in months it felt natural. The sensation was good. ‘So now we’ve got that out of the way, let’s eat. I’m starving. Housework is very tiring and builds up an appetite.’

  ‘Really? I wouldn’t know.’ They both laughed at that as she went on to explain, ‘My mum does pretty much everything for me I’m ashamed to say. I’m no superwoman juggling career and home life. Strange as it may seem, but I’m not genetically conditioned for it. I take after my father in that respect.’ Her laughter was a joyous bubble straight from her belly. ‘Actually I’m not really ashamed, though I can barely cook and have no clue where anything is in my own kitchen. Three months after we moved in I had to phone my mother to ask how to get the oven to work!’

  Doc’s kitchen was massive and well kitted out with stainless steel equipment and Shaker style furniture. It was straight from the pages of House and Home magazine.

  ‘My mum would love his place.’ She peered out the window as Doc put on the patio lights, dispelling the hint of dusk in the garden.

  ‘I’d planned to eat inside, but we can dine on the terrace if you prefer.’ The evening was pleasantly cool, and the flowers were in bloom. ‘Rather stupidly I sacked my cleaner when I came out of hospital. I don’t know why. Maybe I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone in the house.’ He realised then that Judy was the first person he’d allowed inside his home since Natalie had died. ‘At least I didn’t sack the gardener. If you could grab the cutlery and plates I’ll bring the food.’

  ‘It’s a lovely spot Doc. You could almost believe you were outside of the city, in the countryside. My Josh would have a field day here, literally. Your garden looks the size of a football pitch.’

  Doc cast his eye round the garden, noticing it as if for the first time. It was huge, even if Judy was exaggerating somewhat. He would admit the land alone was worth a fortune here in the heart of the city. His gardener, an old boy who popped round for a few hours most days for not much more than the price of few pints and a packet of cigarettes, had transformed it with shrub borders, flowering blooms, ornamental trees and vines. It was an oasis in a desert of concrete.

  ‘How old is he?’

  ‘Josh? He’s six. He’s with his father, which is why I am footloose tonight.’

  ‘He’s home babysitting? Your husband?’ Doc was serving food and paused, mid-spoonful, as he waited for the answer he hoped was coming. He remembered then, the Judge had called her a single mother, and the way she had said his father had sounded as if something noxious had slipped onto her tongue. Were they divorced?

  ‘Can I pour another?’ Judy tipped some wine into both their glasses as Doc stood waiting. ‘My husband is no longer my husband. Not since I surprised him one night at his office.’ She swigged her wine, looked off at the lawn, avoiding Doc’s eyes. ‘You see, he
had been working late so often I decided to go to his office to drag him out for supper. A romantic gesture on my part. A surprise.’ She twirled the glass, her concentration now on the red liquid swirling, she gulped another mouthful and then her violet eyes glistened at Doc as she added, ‘Surprise, huh! It certainly was... I caught him screwing his secretary on his desk. We’re divorced now.’

  Doc finished serving and sat, letting the moment pass as Judy composed herself. He was used to revelations from his years in psychiatry, and this was fascinating. ‘You suspected him, of course?’

  ‘Not really... This food is excellent Doc. I’m impressed.’

  ‘You think so? I’m a little out of practice. At many things it seems.’ He grinned at her as a cool breeze floated a whiff of fragrant perfume from the flowers surrounding them, mixing with the aroma of exotic spices steaming from their bowls of curry. Doc was feeling... what exactly? Better, at least a little, he decided. ‘You may not have suspected him on a conscious level, but your subconscious is an entirely different matter. Sometimes we refuse to see the obvious around us, to analyse things honestly and logically. It’s a self-protective, and sometimes self-deceptive, mechanism.’ Doc realised she was staring at him. Bugger. ‘Sorry. Did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean to lecture you or offer you therapy! Oh lord... I seem to be putting my foot in my mouth every time I open it tonight.’

  ‘No. Far from it. I think you’ve hit the nail on the head. I should have been shocked, devastated. But I wasn’t. At the time I put it down to my incredible self-control.’ Her smile was sardonic. ‘It was as if I was above having a tantrum, screaming and shouting. I cried a lot later of course. I don’t know. It seems I’ve always striven to stay in control, not show weakness.’ She pursed her lips, pensive now. ‘It probably comes with the territory. A woman working in a man’s world. And my ex, John, was so competitive.’

  ‘Really? How so?’ This time Doc topped up their glasses.

  ‘I didn’t take much note of it at first, when we met at university. I just assumed he was pitting himself against all comers. We married when we graduated. I went on to do my Masters and he was snapped up by a merchant bank I’d never heard of. One of the top five in the country by all accounts.’ She cleared the last of her curry, wiping naan bread round the bowl before popping it in her mouth. ‘Delicious. When I told him I planned a career in the civil service he actually sneered at me. Told me it was a waste of talent. I should’ve realised then...’