by Sue Fortin
‘I suppose I could use the library. I take it there is a library here?’
‘In the main town but you don’t have to do that. You can use my laptop. I’ll sort it out for you when we get in.’
Ellen thanked Donovan. She was pretty sure the IP address couldn’t be traced unless she actually sent an email. She had set up a new email account and shared the details with Kate. They had agreed to communicate by email but, rather than sending the electronic messages and thereby leaving a cyber-trail, they were saving the emails to draft without actually sending them. Once Ellen had saved an email, Kate could log onto the account from her own computer and read the draft email. She would then delete it and compose a reply, which would be left in the draft box for Ellen to pick up. This way there was no footprint or record of their communications. Not that Toby was some computer geek who could trace these things, but she wasn’t taking any chances.
Once they had got back to The Lodge, it didn’t take Donovan long to produce the laptop for Ellen. ‘It needs charging, I’m afraid,’ he said.
‘Oh, thank you,’ said Ellen. ‘I really appreciate this. I’ll give it back to you as soon as I’m done.’
‘No rush. I don’t use it that often. I prefer the main computer in my office.’ Donovan passed the laptop to her, wrapping up the lead and placing it on top. ‘My documents are all password protected so you’re safe using it. You won’t stumble across any confidential information or client details.’
Carla came out of the office. ‘Oh, Donovan. I’ve just had DCI Froames on the line. He wants to know if you can go down and interview a suspect. Apparently, he mentioned it to you yesterday?’
Donovan frowned for a moment while he recalled the conversation. ‘That’s right. To do with an attack on a young woman in her home. Okay, tell Ken I’m on my way.’
‘That doesn’t sound very nice,’ commented Ellen.
‘No, it’s not, but if it means it leads to someone’s arrest and conviction, then I regard it as a positive thing.’
‘I suppose that’s the best way to look at it.’
‘Definitely. Something good out of something bad. Justice for the victim and punishment for the criminal.’ He smiled at her. A smile that Ellen found hard to match to the job he was about to undertake.
Chapter Seven
As much as Donovan loved his job, he hated it too. He loved the analysis, the breakdown of potential suspects, the building up of criminal psychological profiles but hated the scenarios; the often skin-crawling and despicable crimes this role brought him into contact with.
He fixed his gaze on Oscar Lampard across the interview desk. Donovan looked for any signs, any body language that would give a clue as to whether Lampard was telling the truth or even uncomfortable with his responses. Lampard held Donovan’s gaze equally, a look of defiance lingering behind his eyes, his arms folded as he sat back in the chair, his ankle casually hooked over his opposite knee. He toyed with a brown asthma inhaler, turning it up one way and then the other. So far Donovan hadn’t managed to get Lampard to so much as break into a sweat. He doubted very much the inhaler was going to be needed.
‘So, how am I doing, Doc?’ said Lampard. ‘Have I passed?’
‘Passed?’ Donovan raised his eyebrows in question.
‘Yeah, passed your tests, like. Have I answered all your questions properly or have I let slip something that can tell you all about me?’ said Lampard beginning to look as though he was enjoying himself. ‘Have you been able to work out if I’m some psycho nutter who had a poor relationship with his mother? Did my mother dress me up as a girl and, as a result, I hate women, which means I attacked my neighbour. That’s how it goes, doesn’t it?’
Gut instinct played a big part in Donovan’s work. Today his gut was shouting loud and clear. Oscar Lampard had something to hide but was he hiding the attempted murder of his neighbour Stella Harris? Time to play hardball.
‘You’ve got the general idea,’ said Donovan. ‘However, I’d probably go down the route of what was your first sexual encounter like? Was it with a girl or a boy?’ Donovan paused looking for a reaction. Yep, there it was. Subtle but it was there. Lampard’s face remained impassive but the inhaler was now clenched in a firm grip, no longer being casually worked up and down on his knee. Donovan continued. ‘A member of your family even. Or one of your mum’s special friends, you know, an uncle who’s not really an uncle.’
Lampard was clearly fighting to prevent his smile turning to a sneer. ‘Maggie Harting. Behind the youth club. I was fourteen she was fifteen. Big tits. In fact, big everything. She wasn’t shy about putting it out.’
‘Too big for you?’ said Donovan. He continued without giving Lampard a chance to voice his obvious displeasure at the innuendo. ‘Did she have a laugh at your expense afterwards? Tell everyone what a little boy you really were?’
The sneer broke free and Lampard leaned forward in his chair. ‘Piss. Off.’
Donovan didn’t flinch. ‘All the other kids laughed at you after that, I expect. You were the spotty, lanky kid who none of the girls fancied and you only got a chance with Maggie because, as you said yourself, she wasn’t shy putting it out. Kind of backfired didn’t it? Instead of the girls thinking you’re some sort of hotshot, turns out Oscar Lampard is, in fact, a let-down.’
Lampard sat back in his chair, apparently in control again. He waved a dismissive hand in Donovan’s direction. ‘Whatever you say, Doc.’
Donovan flicked open the file in front of him. He didn’t really need to look at it but he wanted to give Lampard a few moments to let what had been said settle in his mind.
‘So, Oscar, it’s all right if I call you that, isn’t it?’ Oscar shrugged. Donovan continued. ‘Stella Harris, the girl who was attacked. You told my colleagues that you were on first-name terms with her and chatted when your paths crossed, but that was about it.’
‘Yeah and what of it?’
‘Fancy her, did you? She’s quite a looker, well she was, before her face became a punch bag. Lovely blonde hair, pretty delicate features, great figure. Come on, you must have fancied her.’
‘She’s pretty. So what? Doesn’t mean I attacked her,’ said Lampard. He put his leg down and shuffled in his seat. ‘She’s stuck-up anyway. Not my type.’
‘Snotty bitch, eh, Oscar? Is that what you thought? Prissy cow. Marching in and out of the flat like Lady Muck, parading around in her short skirts and high heels. Flashing her thighs. I bet she was asking for it really.’
Lampard thumped his hand down on the table, the plastic inhaler clashing with the Formica. He jumped to his feet. Donovan matched his action and the two men leaned across the desk, their faces inches apart.
The police officer, who had been patiently standing by the door observing, took a step towards them, ordering Lampard to sit back down. He cast Donovan a disapproving look. Donovan cursed under his breath. He was just about to move in for the killer blow in his verbal assault. Lampard was on the brink of cracking, then the sodding PC had taken it upon himself to act as a referee. Brilliant.
Oscar Lampard was sitting back down. Composed. Calm. In control. He slid the inhaler into his pocket and in an angelic-like way, brought his hands together on his lap. Donovan took his seat, throwing the PC a scowl as he did so. He’d have a word with DCI Ken Froames later to make sure this plod wasn’t in on future interviews. A rookie who didn’t know Donovan’s style. He turned his attention back to Lampard, who appeared relaxed, a smile settling on his face. Lampard leaned in and gestured with his hand for Donovan to move forward. Donovan obliged.
‘You’re going to be sorry you messed with me,’ he muttered quietly so only Donovan could hear.
Donovan remained unruffled. It wasn’t the first time he had been threatened in this line of work. It held no fear for him. It was all talk. However, sensing he had lost this particular battle, but certainly not the war, Donovan stood up. A coffee was definitely needed. He was sure Lampard was guilty. He matched the profile
but without any hard evidence from the police, it wasn’t enough to charge him.
‘Oi, Doc,’ said Lampard as Donovan reached the interview room door. ‘Watch your back now. It’s dangerous out there.’
Chapter Eight
With the laptop charged, Ellen sat propped up against the headrest of her bed. She logged onto the email account she and Kate had set up. One message in the draft box. Ellen clicked it open.
Hi lovely
Just wishing you good luck in your new job. So glad you’re back in the UK now. When things have settled down for you, we will have to meet up. Sussex is only a train ride away. I’ve got some post to send off today so you should get it tomorrow or the day after. I think it’s only bank stuff.
There is one thing. Toby. Don’t be alarmed, everything is okay. He called by the other day and left a card and present for you. I told him I didn’t know where you were and he seemed to accept it. What do you want me to do with the gift?
Right, I must go and get ready. It’s Patrick’s 13th birthday today and we are all going out for a family tea. Thanks for his card and the money, he was delighted with it. I can’t believe my little brother is a teenager now! Hormones, testosterone – ew!
Love, hugs and kisses.
xx
Ellen smiled at the thought of Kate’s little brother becoming a hormonal teenager. Patrick, a rather late addition to the Gibson family, was doted upon and thoroughly spoilt by everyone. A small chord of homesickness plucked at her. She wished she could be there.
Deleting the email from the draft box, Ellen began a new one.
Hello yourself!
I can’t believe it either, little baby Patrick is 13 already – wow! Wish him happy birthday from me. Glad the card got there safely. By the time you read this, you will have already been out for his birthday. Hope you all had a lovely time and I’m really sorry I couldn’t be there.
As for Toby and his card/present – do with it what you like. I don’t want it at all. I hope he was okay when he called round and didn’t give you any trouble. It goes without saying, don’t trust him, you know what he’s like.
Everything is good here. My boss, Donovan, seems really nice, his daughter Izzy is lovely, so sweet. The PA on the other hand – can’t say I’m won over yet, but it’s early days. It’s great being by the sea. I am glad to be back in the UK. We will definitely catch up soon. Give me a few weeks and we will sort something out.
Love, hugs and kisses coming back your way.
Xx
Ignoring the frostiness from Carla, Ellen soon began to feel comfortable and at ease in the Donovan household. Despite her reluctance at the word routine, she had to acknowledge, she had settled into a regular pattern of getting Izzy ready for school and driving her in before taking a stroll along the seafront or around the village and then returning to the house. There wasn’t a great deal to do while Izzy was at school and once the playroom was clean and tidy, she had time on her hands. In recent days, Ellen had found herself in the kitchen with Mrs Holloway, helping to prepare the tea. Again, this was despite her statement that she wasn’t there to do domestic duties. Ellen liked Mrs Holloway and from chatting to the older woman she had learnt more about the Donovan family.
‘Mrs Donovan, oh she was a right one,’ said Mrs Holloway, as Ellen helped her peel the potatoes. ‘Liked a tipple or two, I can tell you.’
‘Don’t we all?’ said Ellen with a smile.
Mrs Holloway put down the potato peeler. She eyed Ellen. ‘That’s as may be, but not quite to the extent that Mrs D drank. It caused no end of problems between her and the boss. He hated her drinking. She used to get legless. Many a time, he’d have to put her to bed and cancel guests at the last minute or worse still, sit through the whole meal while herself was upstairs in a drunken slumber.’
‘How awful,’ said Ellen. ‘Couldn’t she get any help for her drinking?’
‘Didn’t want none.’ It was said with disdain. Mrs Holloway picked up the peeler and began stripping another potato. ‘It all came to a head one day when Mrs D insisted on driving up to the school to collect Izzy. Been on the G&T all afternoon. Luckily, the class teacher had the sense to call Donovan. Apparently, he got up there with Carla just as Mrs D was bundling Izzy into the car. Had every intention of driving off in that state. The teacher had tried to stall for time but Mrs D had got fed up. Dread to think what would have happened if Donovan hadn’t got there when he did.’
‘Oh, my God, that’s terrible,’ said Ellen, genuinely shocked at the thought.
‘The next day, Donovan had Mrs D checked into a private clinic, changed the locks and applied for sole custody of Izzy.’
‘I suppose Mrs Donovan couldn’t object, not after what had happened.’
‘Oh good God, no. Best thing for the poor child too. Not wishing to speak out of turn, but that Mrs D isn’t fit to be a mother.’
‘Is she still like it?’
Mrs Holloway shrugged as she dropped a halved potato into the pot of water. ‘Says she’s not. She got herself sorted and then ran off to Paris with some French bloke. More fool him.’
‘I’ve yet to have the pleasure of meeting her,’ said Ellen.
‘Don’t rush yourself on that score.’ Mrs Holloway lifted the saucepan of potatoes over to the hob. ‘Now, a little birdy tells me it’s your birthday tomorrow.’
‘I didn’t realise anyone knew,’ said Ellen in surprise.
‘That will be Carla for you. She’s extremely organised. Nothing gets past her.’
‘I’m not sure she would worry about my birthday.’
‘She wouldn’t want to let Donovan down. He’s been very good to her,’ said Mrs Holloway, turning to look at Ellen. ‘Besides, she’s not that bad really. Her bark is worse than her bite. Right, clear those peelings away for me and I’ll show you how to make puff pastry.’
The next morning, Ellen was practically dragged downstairs by Izzy and was greeted in the kitchen by the rest of the household singing Happy Birthday. Even Carla appeared to join in.
‘Thank you,’ said Ellen, a smile stretching across her face. ‘What a lovely way to start the day.’
‘We’ve bought you presents,’ said Izzy excitedly. She grabbed a beautifully wrapped pink box from the table. ‘It’s chocolates.’
‘Izzy!’ chorused Donovan, Carla and Mrs Holloway.
‘What?’ said Izzy looking round.
‘You’re supposed to wait for Ellen to open the present herself otherwise there’s no surprise.’ Donovan gave a laugh and turned to Ellen, mouthing sorry across the top of Izzy.
‘It’s fine,’ said Ellen. She bent down to Izzy, who was looking embarrassed. ‘Hey, want to help me unwrap these lovely chocolates then?’ Awkward moment over.
‘Happy birthday,’ said Mrs Holloway, taking a chocolate from the box Ellen offered round. ‘Don’t mind if I do.’
‘Not for me, thank you,’ said Carla. ‘Too early in the day. Oh, and happy birthday.’
‘Donovan?’ Ellen held the box towards her boss.
‘Well, seeing as it’s your birthday.’ He took a chocolate and then slipped it to Izzy with a wink and a stage whisper. ‘Don’t let Ellen see I’ve given you another chocolate.’
‘Are you going to give Ellen the other present?’ said Izzy as she stuffed the second chocolate into her mouth. ‘You know the …’
‘No! Don’t say anything. Remember, it’s a surprise.’ Donovan pressed his finger to his daughter’s mouth. ‘You concentrate on eating.’ He picked up another beautifully wrapped box and held it out to Ellen. ‘This is from all of us. Happy birthday.’ He stepped forward and leant in, kissing her on the cheek.
Ellen hoped she hadn’t blushed as much as she felt she probably had; her face definitely warm. ‘Thank you.’ She took the box and unwrapped it. ‘Oh, I can’t believe it. Really, you shouldn’t have. I can’t accept this. It’s too much.’
Donovan held up his hand. ‘Shhh…’
‘No, really Donovan, it�
�s very generous but I couldn’t possibly …’
‘You’re as bad as Izzy.’ Donovan picked up a chocolate and popped it in Ellen’s mouth. ‘Be quiet, eat your chocolate and enjoy your present. You haven’t got a laptop and this is only a small notebook. It’s not expensive, but it will do the job for what you need. Now I don’t want to hear another word about it.’
Ellen guessed that objecting any further would be futile and might possibly offend. She concentrated on swallowing the chocolate before speaking. ‘Thank you. I’m delighted and extremely grateful. It’s very kind of you.’
‘Right, well I must get off. I’ve got a very important meeting with the local constabulary this morning.’
‘One that might involve eggs and bacon?’ said Ellen.
‘You’ve got the idea. A breakfast meeting with the DCI.’ He scooped Izzy up and kissed her. ‘That’s Uncle Ken to you. Now be a good girl, have a lovely day at school and when I get home tonight, we will all have birthday cake!’
It was a touching scene, if you liked that sort of thing. If you didn’t know any better you’d think they were one big happy family. He shifted from his spot in the bushes, his legs beginning to get pins and needles where he had stood still for so long observing the early morning birthday celebrations. Time to take his leave. He’d seen enough. His suspicions were confirmed. He now had plans to make. He was going to enjoy himself.
Chapter Nine
‘Morning, Ken,’ said Donovan, shaking his friend’s hand. ‘Are we going for a full house today?’ Donovan sat down at the table of the café with the DCI. ‘The sea looks calm this morning.’ He looked out of the window. It was a bright day for October and the sun was warming through the glass nicely where they sat. Donovan could see a lone figure standing on the edge of the seafront promenade. The fact that the man had his hood up and a scarf covering his mouth and nose belied the warmth that Donovan felt. ‘Nippy out there though, nevertheless.’