The Keeper of Secrets: A stunning crime thriller with a twist you won't see coming (Detective Arla Baker Series Book 2)

by M. L Rose

  “I’ll check the rest,” Harry said, shuffling over to the bedroom. She heard the bedroom light go on, but her mind was suddenly far away, transfixed on the TV screen. The same programme was on a loop, and it was about the body found inside a deserted house on Clapham Common. The TV news from last year, when it had all happened. When she had found Nicole’s body. Wayne Johnson’s face appeared, giving the TV interview. Arla’s name was not mentioned.

  Her eyes snaked over to the DVD player, connected by a wire to the TV. The screen showed the images repetitively: the house, street, the room… Arla reached over and turned the TV off, then kicked the DVD player on the carpet like it was cockroach. She whipped around to find Harry, a similar shock on his face, having seen the TV.

  “There’s no one here,” Harry said.

  Arla grabbed her hair and pulled. “What the hell is this? What the fuck is going on?”

  She brushed past Harry, not waiting for his answer. She charged into her bedroom, throwing open the wardrobe doors. She riffled inside her long dresses, then opened the sideboard drawers. She didn’t know what she expected to find inside. The bed was made by her before she left, but she pulled the duvet up, finding nothing.

  “Arla,” Harry said from the doorway.

  She stormed into the kitchen and used the key to unlock the garden door. With her torchlight she looked around, at the potted plants, under the barbecue, and the small garden table. Breath heaving in her chest, and an impotent rage gathering steam, she stared at the fence separating her from the house opposite. She rushed to it, shoved the Maglite in her back pocket, and tried to climb the fence.

  She felt a strong arm grab her elbow and pull her back. She fought Harry, kicking, pushing, hissing out the words from her lips.

  “Let me go, damn it! There’s someone over the fence…”

  “There’s no one over the fence,” Harry said between clenched teeth, struggling to hold her. Arla was five-nine, wiry, and worked out when she working. Running and yoga kept her limbs strong. But she wasn’t any match for Harry’s long arms. He gripped her across the chest and lifted her up, turning around to put her back on the ground. He held her as she fought, making them both kneel on the floor.

  “Shh,” he whispered in her ear. “This is what he wants you to be like. He wants you to lose control. Can’t you see that?”

  “Let me go!” she screamed.

  Harry moved his arms away and she stood up, panting, sweat running down her head. Harry stood up slowly, his features set in stone, his chestnut eyes melting. Arla stared at him with fire in her eyes, holding it back, feeling it pulse like a volcano against her throat.

  “Why?” she asked him, and her voice broke. “Why me? What have I done?”

  Harry reached out and she stepped back, feeling her leg hit one of the garden chairs. She sat down on it heavily. Harry joined her, sitting opposite. Arla shivered, despite the heat, sweat cooling her body.

  “Let’s go inside,” Harry said. He held out his hand and Arla took it, lifting herself up. She shut the door securely behind her, locking it. With Harry, they went through every nook and cranny of the apartment, Harry using her screwdriver to remove panels from the wall, checking the heating pipes and stopcock. There was no evidence of a listening device, or a camera. Surveillance cameras could be the size of postage stamps these days.

  When they were done, Harry said, “We need to get SOC to come back. That DVD player will be useful.”

  Arla swept her hair back, scratching her scalp. She was beginning to recover herself. Harry was right. She was being pushed to the edge, but she couldn’t go over. She walked to the kitchen, and took out a bottle of white wine. It hadn’t been opened. She had been good with alcohol recently. She put two more bottles in, and turned to Harry.

  “Drink?”

  They took their glasses and sat down on the sofa, staring at the TV. The familiar black screen now looked weird, teeming with secrets. Arla knocked her drink back and stood up. She felt unsteady. Harry was standing next to her. She stared at him for a few seconds, his eyes unfathomable. She leaned over to him, and their lips met. Harry removed the glass from her hands.

  She grabbed his hand and they stumbled into the bedroom.

  CHAPTER 50

  Cindy was watching with barely concealed glee as the female detective and her lanky boyfriend ran amok in the garden. From her actions, the detective must have found the little gift that Cindy had left behind. The DVD player had been brought from a car boot sale outside London, for cash. There was no chance the police could track it down to Cindy.

  She watched as he restrained her, and then together they went inside. She could see them through the kitchen window, Arla Baker opening the fridge to take out a wine bottle. Then they disappeared from view as they went down the hallway to where Cindy knew the living room was.

  The bedroom curtains weren’t drawn when the light went on, and she saw them kissing feverishly, hands roaming over each other’s bodies, touching and groping. Then Arla broke off and pulled the curtains. There was still a triangle at the top where the two curtains met, and Cindy watched the light shining through till it went off.

  She imagined their bodies entwined on the bed, and a longing for Gary grew inside her. She hadn’t been with him for so long. This operation had better finish soon, and she knew it would be worth the wait.

  Maybe I should have put a camera in every room, Cindy mused to herself as she stole down the stairs of the derelict apartment. That way, she could have sent Arla Baker some juicy photos on the phone.

  As she walked down to the tube station, Cindy focused. The next stage was starting now, and she already had the victim in her sights.

  CHAPTER 51

  James Bennett shifted his position inside the Honda Accord passenger seat, and winced. Lisa was keeping an eye on Mrs Ofori’s house. She glanced over at James sympathetically.

  “Ribs still hurt?”

  James had an expression of pain on his face. “Yup. But it’s getting better.”

  He looked outside at the sunlight-dappled but quiet cul-de-sac. “What are we looking out for?”

  “Anything and everything. DCI Baker thinks Paul could give us clues to who killed Maddy, even though he’s no longer a suspect himself.”

  James nodded in silence. “What he said about Maddy two-timing him was pretty impressive.”

  “Impressive?” Lisa arched an eyebrow.

  James gave a boyish smile. “I mean, you know. She knew what she was doing, right?”

  Lisa shrugged. “If that’s what you want to call it. If you ask me, she brought a lot of this trouble down on herself. Poor girl.”

  James nodded in agreement. “No one deserves to go like that. But at least she had it easy.”

  Lisa frowned this time, facing James. “What do you mean, easy?”

  “She wasn’t tortured, was she? Wasn’t strangled to death, and the path report didn’t say anything about being sexually abused. She went quietly, by an injection.”

  “She’s still dead before she could reach eighteen. I wouldn’t call that easy, either on herself or her parents.”

  James didn’t say anything for a while. Then he spoke. “I was in the Army for one year before I joined the Met.”

  Lisa hadn’t known that. “Really?”

  “Yes. Infantry regiment, stationed at Kandahar in Afghanistan. We used to do all these patrols in our armoured vehicles. One day we saw two men approaching our vehicle. Sounds silly now, but over there, everyone’s a potential suicide bomber. So we called out to them to stop. We kept screaming, but they wouldn’t stop. Before you know it, one of the squaddies opened fire. Both men went down. When we got closer, we saw two kids, neither more than sixteen years old. Their dress and headgear made them look taller from a distance.”

  Lisa shook her head. “That’s pretty rough.”

  “Yes, it was. One of the boys lived, but the other was shot through the chest. And that’s not the first time I’ve seen a kid take a bul
let, either.”

  Lisa said, “That’s why you said Maddy had it easy.”

  “Yes.”

  Lisa remained silent. She sneaked a glance over at young James, wondering how many more deaths he had seen during his time in the Army.

  When she looked back at the road, a man dressed in a suit caught her eyes. He emerged from the end of the cul-de-sac, near Paul Ofori’s house. He walked straight down, past their car, in the direction of the main street. Lisa tried to think where she had seen the man before. Then it dawned on her.

  She turned to James. “What was the principal of Brunswick High doing here? Mr Atkins, I think his name is.”

  James was looking at the rear-view mirror. “Yes, that’s him alright.”

  CHAPTER 52

  Arla couldn’t remember the last time she had a lie-in. Good job the team had been briefed last night. She lifted herself on one elbow and peered at Harry. He had an arm draped over his eyes. Memories of last night came back, making her blush. He had been good, much better than she had hoped. She had reciprocated as well: it had been too long. She felt content, warm, basking in the residue of a busy night’s lovemaking.

  “What you looking at?” Harry asked without removing his arm. She tickled him in response, at the tuft of hair on his belly, extending down his midline. He grabbed her arm and she fell on his chest, her naked breast brushing against his chest.

  “For that, DCI Baker, I might just have to arrest you,” Harry murmured as they kissed.

  “And put me in handcuffs?” Arla teased.

  “As I recall, you quite liked that last night,” Harry said, beginning to kiss down her neck onto her chest.

  Arla panted, “Maybe we should try it again, then.”

  And they did. When it was over, they lay in each other’s arms, getting their breath back. Arla looked at the watch. Almost 9 am. Her head was a nice, fuzzy blank, a big change from the pressure, the hard edge she had been walking recently.

  That thought brought the present back, crashing. Maddy’s killer was still out there. Some lunatic was still out to get her as well. Maybe they were the same person. Arla sat up in bed, the thin bedsheet wrapped around her midriff.

  “You OK?” Harry asked.

  “Yeah.” She turned around to face him. “How about you?”

  He nodded, holding her eyes. Arla said, “This stays between us.”

  “Definitely.”

  “I don’t want any hassle,” Arla said softly.

  Harry picked up her hand and kissed it. “Last night was great. And yes, I do care about you. I always have, Arla.”

  “Me, too. But we keep it simple, OK? We both have jobs, lives.”

  “I know. All I want is another night like last.” Harry smiled.

  As they were getting ready, Arla said, “Will you take me over to the Burroughs house? I need to speak to Mrs Burroughs once again.”

  Arla rang the station, and got the phone number of the Burroughses and rang in advance. It would be on their way back into work. Arla looked around in her apartment in the unflinching morning light. Nothing had changed, and apart from the DVD player on the carpet floor in the living room, there was nothing to suggest her home of the last several years had been violated yet again. Twice in the space of one week.

  Harry found the number of an alarm company, and called them to make an appointment.

  “If you can’t be here,” he said, “then I will. Either way, we get the CCTV and your alarm sorted now. It’s beyond a joke.”

  Arla wrapped the DVD player in a plastic bag, as the specimen bags weren’t big enough. Harry was talking to someone in the kitchen, and he came out presently.

  “I called for a uniform car to be present in front of your house,” he said.

  Arla frowned. “There was no need for that.”

  “Oh yes there is. You could get a nasty surprise when you come home late one night. Don’t want that on my conscience.”

  They drove to the Burroughs house. Mrs Burroughs was expecting them. She took them inside a different room on the ground floor. The sofa in the corner alone was probably the size of Arla’s apartment. There was a huge, flat-screen TV on the wall. Mrs Burroughs picked up three DVDs and handed them to Arla. Her features were more haggard than before.

  “These are some of the videos of her play at school, and the final of the inter-school volleyball tournament. Can I have them back when you are finished, please?”

  Arla took the DVDs with thanks. “Are you coming to the morgue?”

  Mrs Burroughs bit her lower lip. “Just waiting for my husband to come back.”

  Arla nodded. “We will see you there.”

  All life seemed to have been sucked out of Mrs Burroughs. She stood there, withered like a winter leaf as Arla said goodbye. Banerjee was hovering inside his office, dressed in a suit.

  He glanced at Arla and Harry as they walked in. “Is the family here?”

  “They will be soon,” Arla said. “While we are waiting, can we use your TV and video player? Want to look at some videos of Maddy.”

  “Feel free.” Banerjee waved them towards the TV in the corner.

  Arla grabbed a chair while Harry put the DVDs into the player. The first video was of the school play, where Maddy had played Lady Macbeth. She looked stunning in the costume, much older than her seventeen years. She acted convincingly, but it was a home video, taken mostly from an angle. Harry fast-forwarded through most of it.

  The volleyball match was boisterous, hordes of screaming girls and their families jumping up and down in the stands. Arla spotted the form of Charles Atkins, the principal. He was shouting encouragement from the sidelines. Brunswick High won, and the girls went into a prolonged group hug. Mr Atkins had a flushed, happy face, and he spent some time talking to the girls. The video changed to more images of the girls, singing and waving.

  “Wait, go back,” Arla said. Harry rewound.

  “Stop, stop.”

  “What are you looking at?” Harry demanded.

  “Give me the remote,” she said, and took it from his extended hand. She rewound, then forwarded. She stilled the image on where Mr Atkins was talking to one of the girls.

  “Isn’t that Maddy?” Harry asked.

  “Looks like it.”

  Something about the image bothered Arla. It was a teacher speaking to a student, but they were standing very close. She pressed the play button and saw it immediately. For a second or two, so fleeting it would have been missed in all the bodies rushing around, Atkins’ hand touched Maddy’s waist. The fingers of his right hand snaked around her waist, and were visible on the camera from behind. Then they were gone.

  “See it?” Arla asked, her voice tight. Her head felt dizzy. She rewound, then paused it.

  Harry stared at the screen. “Son of a bitch,” he said under his breath. He got closer to the screen. “There’s something on his fourth finger. Like a ring. Wrong hand for a wedding band. He’s married, right?”

  “Yes.” Arla was seething. She thought back to the way Atkins had been the second time she went back to see him. Tired, stressed. Had he known Maddy was dead? Arla scolded herself for not being more alert to his body language.

  “We need to send that image to the AV guys, see if they can blow up the finger to see what sort of ring it is.”

  “Then bring him in?”

  “Not sure: we need his DNA first. But as soon as we do that, he might know the game is up.”

  Harry stared at the TV, then back at Arla. “You think he could be the other lover that Paul mentioned?”

  CHAPTER 53

  A buzzer penetrated the silence in the office before Arla could reply. Banerjee, seated behind his desk, rose to answer it. A minute later, Mr and Mrs Burroughs walked in. Harry switched the TV off. Banerjee introduced himself, then took them around to where Maddy’s body lay. They would only be shown the face. The sound of a wail reached their ears in a few minutes, and Arla knew the dreadful formality was over. A really useless part of her j
ob, and also one of the cruellest. But it had to be done.

  The couple appeared soon, Conrad supporting his wife as they walked back. Arla nodded at them and they walked off outside, holding each other.

  Arla said goodbye to Banerjee, and they raced back to the station. James was back, Arla noted happily. She gave him a peck on the cheek.

  “Back to normal?” she asked.

  “Is this place normal?” He grinned. “Thanks for asking. Getting better by the day. By the way, Lisa and I were trying to get hold of you.”

  “I was in the mortuary basement. No signal there. What’s up?”

  Lisa had walked around, her face excited. “Guess who we saw near Paul Ofori’s house?”

  Arla’s face tightened when she heard. She told them about the video. Harry was still with the AV guys, getting a blow-up done while he waited.

  “We still need to keep an open mind. Atkins could be checking up on Paul. There could be a number of reasons, in fact, why he was there.”

  James shrugged. “To score drugs? I mean, it’s the wrong side of town for someone like the principal of Brunswick High, isn’t it?”

  He had a point. Why was Atkins there? And Arla knew what she had seen in the video. The earnest, almost emotional look on Atkins’ face, and then the touch on the waist. Maddy had her back to the camera, but she hadn’t made any effort to move away.

  Arla sighed and closed her eyes. Could this really be happening?

  Harry came up behind them. He had an envelope full of photos in his hand. He took them out and handed one to Arla. The photo was a close-up of Atkins’ hand when it had appeared around Maddy’s waist. The ring was more visible now. It was a steel ring, with the shape of a skull on it.

  Arla’s heart raced and her mouth went dry. The ring that Mrs Burroughs had told her about. A ring that Maddy used to wear every day. A steel ring, shaped like a skull.