Duplicity

by Sibel Hodge

  ‘I have.’ And as he spoke, my heart raced and a satisfied grin snaked up my lips.

  After I hung up, I had a shower and got dressed. Then I had hours to kill before heading into the office to brief Detective Superintendent Greene, so I surfed the web, looking for flats to rent in London and researching the National Wildlife Crime Enforcement Unit and the types of cases they were expected to handle. An unfamiliar buzzing coursed through me. Something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Excitement.

  At 8 a.m., I was in the fingerprint office, calling in a favour with Amy, one of the techs, to quickly do a comparison with the ones DS Warwick had sent me from the crime scene in Noosa. Luckily, Amy’s department was based at Police Headquarters and not at the station, so she wasn’t aware of the suspension looming over me. I’d managed to wangle my way in without my warrant card, following a civilian who was going into the building. Still, when I dropped my bombshell on Greene, the suspension would be lifted and I could leave in a blaze of victory. I wondered if Ellie would want Becky on her team, too. She was solid. Did all the grunt work thoroughly and conscientiously. She was married, though. Would she want to up sticks or commute? I doubted it.

  I sat in a café, sipping coffee and waiting for Amy to ring. I opened up DS Warwick’s email again and stared at the crime-scene photos attached to it of the apartment in Noosa. Samantha and Alissa were absolutely identical, no doubt about it. But Samantha hadn’t been as clever as she thought.

  I was on my second espresso when my mobile rang. I snatched it up from the table.

  ‘Hi, it’s Amy, over in fingerprints. I’ve got a match for you.’

  If she’d been in front of me, I probably would’ve kissed her. I listened as she talked, then hung up, gathered my things, and headed to the station.

  Someone had very helpfully left the rear door wedged open with a tall metal ashtray, so again I avoided the embarrassment of having to go to the front desk and wait for someone to collect me. So much for security. I slipped inside and took the stairs, spotting DS Greene in the corridor, heading towards his office.

  I followed him. ‘Sir, can I have a word?’

  DS Greene cast a surprised look over his shoulder. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’ve got some information you’ll want to hear.’

  He studied me for a moment, probably wondering how unstable I was and whether I was about to grab him by the scruff and throw him against the wall. ‘OK, you’d better come in, then.’ He stepped into his office, shrugged out of his jacket, and hung it on a coat stand in the corner. Then he sat down behind his desk, eyeing me carefully as he prepared to speak. I knew from the frown in place that it wouldn’t be anything particularly good, so when he opened his mouth, I jumped in there first.

  ‘I need to talk to you about the Max Burbeck murder.’

  He blew out a frustrated breath. ‘Not this again! The case is over. You’ve been suspended! What part of suspension don’t you understand? Have you booked an appointment with the force psychologist yet?’

  ‘With all due respect, sir, ADI Wilmott doesn’t know what he’s talking about with this case. He’s become so obsessed with Alissa Burbeck that he never looked at it objectively from the start.’

  ‘Oh, what, and you have? Come on, Warren. The—’

  ‘Some new evidence has come to light. Evidence that proves what I’ve been trying to tell him all along. Russell Stiles is not guilty. He was framed for Max’s murder. Alissa Burbeck killed him. Except she’s not actually Alissa at all.’

  DS Greene looked at me as if I was talking Arabic. But the more I talked, the more his face turned from disbelief to shocked confusion to intrigue.

  He leaned away from his desk and said, ‘Right, let me get this straight in my head. You’re saying Samantha Folds met her identical twin Alissa Burbeck in Australia, then murdered her, leaving Alissa’s body in her flat, before taking on her identity and returning to the UK with Max Burbeck, where she murdered him and framed Russell Stiles.’

  ‘Well, that’s the short version.’

  ‘That sounds ridiculous.’

  ‘I know.’ I brought up a few files on my laptop and turned it to face him on his desk. ‘I’ve been in touch with our counterparts in Australia. The dead body of who they thought was Samantha Folds was discovered in Samantha’s flat, near to where Alissa and Max had been staying. She was found three days after they returned to the UK. She’d been drugged and smothered. They had no leads and were still investigating. Samantha’s photo driving license was found in the flat with her. It was rented by Samantha, and she was identified by someone who knew her.’

  ‘But you think this isn’t Samantha Folds’ body?’

  ‘No. This is really Alissa Burbeck. The prints taken from that body match the real Alissa Burbeck’s prints found at The Orchard. When our SOCO collected them, we had no one to match them to, you see. Until now.’

  DS Greene rubbed at his forehead.

  ‘That’s not all, though. When the Australian police dusted for prints, they found a wineglass and bowl in the dishwasher. Fortunately, there had been a power cut and the dishwasher had turned itself off. On the glass and bowl they recovered prints belonging to Samantha Folds. Prints taken by our SOCO when she was at the hospital following Max’s murder, posing as Alissa Burbeck.’

  ‘Bloody hell. You’re absolutely sure about this?’

  ‘The evidence is undeniable. So we have Samantha Folds placed at the murder scene of Alissa Burbeck in Noosa and we can arrest her on behalf of Noosa police for that murder.’

  ‘Right.’ He steepled his fingers. ‘But do we have any proof she killed Max Burbeck? The knife was found at Stiles’ house. What about Stiles’ hair found on Max’s body?’

  ‘The knife was planted at his house by Samantha Folds.’ I explained about Russell’s missing cap.

  ‘You don’t think he was involved at all? As an accomplice?’

  ‘No. He was a convenient scapegoat. I don’t have all the answers yet, but I will. Samantha met Alissa and Max in Noosa, obviously learned a lot about both of them, then planned the whole thing. We can prove she took on Alissa’s identity, and she had the motive to kill Max.’

  He glanced back at my laptop again. ‘Do you think she’ll confess under pressure?’

  ‘I don’t know. She’s very controlled. We’ll have to see what happens. Even if she doesn’t, I think the CPS will get a prosecution based on all the other evidence and circumstances.’

  He leaned back in his chair. ‘Good work, DS Carter. Why didn’t ADI Wilmott pick up on all this?’

  Of course, I took great pleasure in informing him how Wilmott had acted completely inappropriately with ‘Alissa’, disregarding all lines of enquiry because of his apparent obsession with her, the dates and times of his visits to her when he was supposed to be working, the little gifts he’d brought her.

  ‘And I didn’t come to you earlier because my opinion didn’t seem to count for much these days.’ I got that little dig in there and felt a moment of fleeting triumph. ‘Plus, I had no actual proof.’

  His lips tightened into a thin line. ‘Well, DI Wilmott seems to have pretty much fucked up this case.’ He leaned his elbows on the desk. ‘Right, I want you to arrest Samantha Folds. And ask ADI Wilmott to come in here, please.’

  I allowed myself an inner smirk and headed for the door.

  ‘Wait. You’re going to need this.’

  I turned around. Greene opened his top drawer, took out my warrant card, and tossed it in my direction.

  THE OTHER ONE

  Chapter 40

  I could set my watch by Wilmott. He’d turn up every morning on his way to work to ‘check’ on me. Often during the day, and on the way home, too. He was obviously lying about where he was, because when people called him, he’d say he was in meetings or checking out a lead on something. Everyone lies. Everyone wants something they don’t have. Everyone thinks the grass is greener. That’s the law of nature. That’s just how we are. S
ome people spend their lives miserable and bitter because of it, rotting from the inside out. And other people deal with it. Take action. If you don’t like something, then stop moaning and change it! Like I did.

  Of course, I’d encouraged Wilmott. I had to have him on my side. I knew that from the beginning. Recognised the weakness in him. The arrogance and self-gratification. The ego and narcissism. But there are right ways and wrong ways to do things. It couldn’t be so obvious that it looked as if I’d sleep with him right after Max was dead. That wouldn’t do at all. I had to be cunning and calculating, manipulative. So sometimes when he touched me in his accidentally-on-purpose way, or when he was supposed to be comforting the new widow, I let his hand or thigh or arm linger a little too long. I wore clothes that exposed a shoulder, the creamy swell of my tits, a bit of thigh. I knew his gaze followed me across the room, could see him staring out of the corner of my eye. The promise was there, under the surface, lying in wait for him. One day you’ll have me. At least he thought it was. I had him under control, and he, in turn, had that arsehole sergeant under control. I hadn’t seen Carter lately. Hadn’t bumped into him. Wilmott had told me he’d been suspended. Ha ha!

  It was 8.45 a.m. when Wilmott knocked on my door bearing gifts again. I didn’t comment on his newly whitened teeth, or the fact that his hair was a darker shade of brown than before and the grey at the temples had miraculously disappeared, or his disgustingly overpowering aftershave that made me want to chuck up all over him.

  I smiled. It had been an appropriate amount of time since Max’s death to allow for occasional smiling.

  ‘You’re so thoughtful,’ I said, opening the door. ‘What would I do without you?’

  He grinned, showing too much teeth. It was arrogant and smarmy all rolled into one.

  He held a cardboard tray with two cups of takeout coffee and a paper bag in his hand. ‘Coffee and muffins.’

  ‘You know how to start my day off right. Come on in.’ I led him into the lounge, swishing my hips, letting him take in the lacy thong sitting higher than my short black skirt. Maybe I’d give him a flash of it when I bent over. If he was a good boy.

  I sat on the sofa and curled my legs up to the side, facing him. He’d get a good look from there, anyway. ‘You don’t have to do this, you know. I bet you’re really busy, aren’t you?’ I removed the lid from my coffee and drank it, trying not to gag on the milk. Trying not to think of Jennifer and Lulabelle and the other cows on the farm. I banished the image and put the coffee back on the table. I’d just throw it down the sink when he left.

  He shrugged smugly. ‘I’m the boss now, so I make my own hours.’

  ‘I bet it’s exciting, though, isn’t it? Police work? I bet you come into contact with all sorts of people.’

  He took a sip of coffee and licked his lips. ‘Since I’ve been promoted I’ve been in the office more, dealing with reports and budgets and reviews, instead of running around doing the boring grunt work.’

  I placed my hand on his arm, letting it linger there a moment. ‘You’re great at your job, I can tell.’

  His mobile phone rang then. He pulled it from his pocket and eyed the number, then rolled his eyes. ‘Carter. What does he want? He’s suspended. He’s probably calling me up to beg for his job back.’ He laughed viciously before jabbing the ‘Off’ button, sending the call to voicemail. ‘He hasn’t been bothering you lately, has he?’

  ‘Oh, no, thanks. I’m grateful for what you did. It was just so creepy, him following me. I was worried he was going to turn into another stalker like Russell.’ I glanced down at my knees, my hair falling across half of my face.

  ‘No one’s going to hurt you now. Not while I’m looking out for you.’ Wilmott reached out and moved a lock of my hair away from my face with his fingertips. ‘You know that, don’t you?’ He looked deeply into my eyes. It was an I-want-to-fuck-you look.

  I smiled back innocently, pretending I couldn’t read it. Of course I know, you dirty bastard. I nodded gratefully, demurely. ‘Thank you. I—’ Before I could say anything else, his phone rang again.

  He glanced at the number flashing up. ‘Bloody Carter again! Honestly, I’ve been stuck with the most useless team ever. Ronnie can’t even take a piss without supervision, Becky looks like a dyke, and Carter’s a head case!’ He put the phone on the coffee table and let it ring out this time.

  ‘Maybe you should take it. It could be important, couldn’t it? I mean, you’ve got an important job.’

  Wilmott puffed his chest out slightly. ‘They can do without me for five minutes. And I’m not talking to Carter. He can go through the proper channels if he wants his job back. I’m not listening to his whining. I’ve got better things to do with my time. Now, where were we? What were you going to say?’ He twisted on the sofa to face me, his arm sliding along the headrest closer towards my shoulder.

  ‘I was wondering if there’d been any updates on Max’s case. Is there anything else I should know before Russell’s trial? Because what if . . . what if he gets away with it? What if he gets out and tries to kill me?’

  ‘Please don’t worry your pretty head about that. The case against him is solid. He won’t be getting out any time soon, I can assure you.’

  ‘You’re absolutely sure?’ I bit my lip.

  ‘Definitely. You’re safe, Alissa. You’re safe with me.’ Then he stood up and said, ‘Sorry, can I just use your loo? Coffee always goes straight through me in the mornings.’

  ‘Of course, you know where it is,’ I said, wondering if he thought that statement would get me wet. What a loser. He had a lot to learn about women.

  His phone bleeped with a text while he was out of the room. I picked it up, wondering if it was Carter again. I clicked on ‘Messages’. Yes, it was him.

  I opened the message and a blast of heavy heat pressed against my spine.

  New evidence re Alissa Burbeck. DO NOT approach. Call me URGENTLY.

  THE DETECTIVE

  Chapter 41

  I walked into the office, my mobile pressed against my ear, listening to Wilmott’s phone ring.

  ‘Sarge! Are you back?’ Becky glanced up from some paperwork and her face lit up. At least someone was pleased to see me.

  ‘Yeah, I’m back.’ I grinned. ‘Where the hell is Wilmott? He’s not answering, as usual.’

  ‘He said he was in a meeting at Headquarters.’ Ronnie stopped making coffee. ‘Nice to have you back.’

  ‘Thanks. Ronnie, can you keep trying to get hold of him?’ I handed him my mobile phone.

  ‘What’s going on, Sarge?’ Becky asked.

  ‘It’s a long story, and I don’t have time to explain everything now. But Alissa Burbeck isn’t who we thought she was. She killed Max and framed Russell. I’m heading out to arrest her.’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘It’s what you thought all along, isn’t it?’

  ‘If only Wilmott had listened to me in the beginning.’ I glanced over at Ronnie, busy dialling numbers and trying to get hold of Wilmott. I paced up and down.

  ‘No luck,’ Ronnie said eventually.

  ‘I was waiting for Wilmott out of courtesy, but I’m not waiting any more. If you see him, Becky, tell him DS Greene wants a word. Ronnie, you’re coming with me.’ I took my phone back. It was too complicated and time-consuming to explain everything, so I rattled off a brief text to Wilmott that he’d understand.

  Ronnie jumped up, excitement plastered all over his face, hurrying to keep up with me as I strode out of the building and into the car park.

  I got in the unmarked pool car, reversed out of its spot, and pulled out of the nick on to the main road, tyres squealing. I drove up the dual carriageway, undertaking a car hogging the fast lane and sounding my horn at them.

  Ronnie held on to the door handle as I swung back into the fast lane and approached the roundabout. The queue was about half a mile long. Rush hour traffic. Great. Just bloody great. I slammed my foot on the brake.

  ‘You should’ve
gone the other way,’ Ronnie said, trying to be helpful.

  ‘Yes, I know that now, thanks very much.’ I glanced at him. ‘Get the blues out, then.’

  He opened the window, reached out his arm, and fixed the blue light on to the roof.

  I turned on the siren, waiting for the cars to part enough for me to get through, shouting at everyone to move, even though they couldn’t hear me.

  THE OTHER ONE

  Chapter 42

  A hundred thoughts ran through my mind as I deleted the text. I’d always had an escape plan. You have to, don’t you? So I was prepared. I wasn’t prepared for Wilmott being here when I needed to run, though.

  I couldn’t waste time thinking about it. I had to move. Right now. Right fucking now! They would not arrest me.

  I turned Wilmott’s phone off and slid it down the side of the sofa. I heard the toilet flushing from out in the corridor and rushed into the kitchen. A knife. A knife. That’s what I needed.

  By the time Wilmott came out of the toilet, I was prepared.

  ‘Where are you?’ he called from the lounge.

  ‘In the kitchen.’ I didn’t need to say more. I knew he’d follow me.

  He poked his head round the door and smiled.

  I faced him, leaning my back against the worktop, the knife handle gripped firmly in my hand behind me. The neckline of my top had slipped down my shoulder, exposing my red, lacy bra.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Wilmott stepped into the room, his gaze darting between my bra and my face.

  I smiled back at him. This time it was brazen. I moistened my lips with my tongue. My eyes hooded with desire. ‘I really want you to hold me. I need you to make me feel safe again.’ I tilted my head. Watched him walk towards me. Saw the greed light up his face.

  He got closer.

  Closer. So we were a few inches apart.

  Stopped.

  His gaze danced over my face, down my body. ‘Are you sure?’