by Celina Grace
She hurried into The Black Cat, thankful for its warm interior. Chloe was already seated at the back, by one of the woodburning stoves, holding out her hands to the flames. Two glasses of red wine sat before her on the table.
“Oh, well done, bird. Got a round in already, I see.”
Chloe smiled. “I’m just celebrating the fact that we got away on time for once.”
“I know, bloody miracle.” Kate divested herself of coat, scarf, jumper, woolly hat and gloves and piled them in a heap by her chair. “Anyway, cheers.”
They clinked glasses. Kate observed her friend over the top of her glass. Chloe was still too thin, in her opinion, but her friend did look a little healthier. “How are you?” she asked.
“I’m okay.”
“No, I mean, how are you really?”
Chloe looked down at the wine in her glass. “I’m okay. Well, I mean, ups and downs, you know.”
“Are you eating a bit better? A bit more?”
“I’m trying to.”
Kate picked up the menu on the table. “We could order something here. The food’s pretty good.”
Chloe smiled. “But will there be herb crumbs?”
Kate looked at her blankly for a moment and then recalled the conversation they’d had in the restaurant where they’d all met Stuart. She laughed. “Hopefully not.”
Kate ordered at the bar and then Chloe and she talked about this and that as they waited for their food. Kate stopped asking about Chloe for she could see that it made her friend uncomfortable and that was the last thing she felt like doing. The waiter came with their meals and Kate picked up her cutlery, keenly aware she was starving, despite her large lunch. Then one more personal question occurred to her and she knew she had to ask it.
“Chloe, just one more thing and then I’ll shut up and let you eat. I just want to know if you’ve called Magda yet. You know, my therapist?”
Kate was looking directly at Chloe and saw her friend’s gaze flicker upwards and to the left as she answered in the affirmative.
“Yes, I have,” said Chloe.
Kate frowned. “Have you really?”
Another minute flicker upwards. “Yes, I told you.”
Kate sat back, thinking fast. Then she leant forward again. “Bird, you haven’t, have you? You don’t have to lie to me.”
Chloe sighed. “Well, okay, no, I haven’t. I don’t actually want to. Sorry.”
“That’s okay,” said Kate. “I understand. It’s still very painful.”
“It’s not that. I mean, it is, of course, but it’s not that.” Chloe looked directly at Kate and Kate could see the sheen of tears in her blue eyes. “It’s just that I don’t really see the point of talking about it. I mean, all I want is for him to be alive again, and that’s never going to happen, so what’s the point of discussing it?”
Kate felt a spasm of sadness, mixed with pity. It was visceral; it got her in the gut. She swallowed and nodded. “I completely see what you mean.”
They ate in silence for a while, or at least, Kate ate whilst she watched Chloe push the food around her plate desultorily. She said nothing, however, thinking that she’d pushed her friend enough for the evening. There was something else bothering her. That flicker of the eyes as Chloe lied. Sometime recently, someone else had done the same thing. But who? As Kate ate her pizza with prosciutto ham and field mushrooms (she loved wild mushrooms but there was always that slight frisson of fear when she ate them that a stray deadly poisonous one had slipped in), she pondered on the memory. Who had lied to her?
They finished their meal—Kate successfully not falling victim to poisonous mushrooms for another time, result—and ordered another glass of wine.
Kate leant forward and told Chloe what she’d been thinking.
Chloe frowned, her keen, intelligent face reflecting her thoughts. “Well, surely the easiest thing to do would be to go through who’ve you’ve recently interviewed.”
Kate smiled. “Well, yes, that would be the obvious solution.”
“Doofus,” Chloe said, not unkindly. “So who?”
The second Kate began to recall who she’d spoken to recently, the answer came to her.
“Nick Riley,” she said, triumphantly.
“There you go.” Chloe took a sip of her wine. “What were you talking about?”
Kate thought back. “His affair with Rosamund Kite.”
Chloe frowned again. “Really? But why would he lie about that?”
Kate pondered. “I think the most likely explanation is that it’s still happening. I mean, they both said it was over, but is it?”
Both women were silent for a moment, thinking. “It’s possible,” said Chloe. “But I’m not sure why he’d lie about that. I mean, like he said, it’s not actually illegal. Immoral, yes, but that’s not why we were investigating him.”
“I know.” Kate sat back in her chair, suddenly very tired and a little fuzzy headed. “I can’t be arsed to think too much about it at the moment, to be honest. I’ll sleep on it and see what I think in the morning.”
“Good plan.”
Kate finished her wine and set the glass back on the table. “I’m shattered. I’ll get the bill.”
“No, I’ll pay. I’m going to stay here for a bit anyway, read my book.”
“Well, thanks bird.”
“My pleasure.” Chloe’s face clouded. “I don’t really like being on my own at the moment. I just want to be around people.”
Kate felt that same twist of pain. She hesitated, wondering whether she should ask Chloe to come and stay at hers. But selfishly, she didn’t want to. She wanted to go home, make love to Anderton, and sleep. But her friend needed her…
Out loud, she asked, “Do you want to come and stay tonight?”
Chloe shook her head. “I’ll be fine. I just want to read my book and be anti-social for a while.” She looked around the busy bar and smiled. “While still being surrounded by people.”
Kate hoped the relief wasn’t too obvious in her voice. “That’s fine, then.” She kissed her friend on the cheek and squeezed her arm. “You relax and enjoy yourself.”
“I will. Thanks.”
As Kate went to leave, a thought occurred to her. “Actually, when’s the Bucklesbury House search?”
Chloe looked surprised. “Did no one tell you? It’s tomorrow. We meet there at nine am sharp.”
Kate nodded. “Thanks. I’m coming along too.”
“Then I’ll see you then.”
“You certainly will. Goodnight, bird.”
“Goodnight, my darling.”
Chapter Thirty Two
Kate had been praying for the good weather to hold for the search: everything was made so much harder when you had to plod about in driving rain and fierce winds. For once, her prayer was answered. She drove to Bucklesbury House in glorious golden sunshine, that low winter sun that illuminates but gives off little heat. It was ferociously cold, and she was glad for her car’s efficient heater.
Quite a crowd had gathered on the forecourt of the stately home, stamping their feet and blowing into their cupped hands to keep warm. Kate parked the car and joined Olbeck, Martin, Theo and Chloe. Rav was holding the fort back at the office. There were also five uniformed officers; not a bad haul, given that Abbeyford (along with almost every police force in the country) was permanently understaffed.
Olbeck, as the senior officer there, took charge. “Right, everyone, I want a good and thorough, fingertip search. I should remind you that we still don’t have the murder weapon and it would be better than good if we could find it today.”
“Fairly unlikely,” Theo said with a grin.
Olbeck shrugged. “We can but try. Anyway, I appreciate that it’s bloody cold, so don’t get too chilled. The café here’s open so go grab a hot drink before we start.
Make sure you keep the receipts.” He drew out a map of the estate on which he’d marked various sections and proceeded to allocate people in pairs to each part. Chloe and Kate were paired and had the formal gardens and the church to search.
“Shall we grab a coffee first?” Chloe asked, shivering.
“Absolutely.”
The café had once been the stables but had been converted sometime in the eighties, according to a notice board on the wall behind the counter. It was a pleasant place; the walls painted duck-egg blue and the floor retained the original flagstones, now polished and sealed. Pale wooden tables and chairs offered plenty of seating. All were empty; there were no members of the public there today. Olbeck had requested the closure of the estate for the duration of the search.
“Mr Roland wasn’t very happy, apparently,” Chloe said, as they gave their orders to a very young girl who eyed them with some disquiet.
“Tough. This is a murder inquiry.” Kate smiled at the teenager reassuringly. “It’s only for a couple of days. Anyway, they’ll be inundated with visitors once they reopen. All the rubber-neckers will flock here.”
“True.”
They collected their coffees in cardboard cups and went back outside. The air felt as if it were laden with ice and both women sipped their hot drinks gratefully.
“Do you think we’ll have snow?”
“It feels like it.” Kate wrapped both hands around her coffee container. “Would be nice to have a white Christmas for a change, wouldn’t it? What are you doing for it, by the way?”
Chloe looked miserable. “Probably back to Mum’s.” She hesitated and added, “It’s not as if I’ve got anyone else to spend it with.”
Kate glanced at her, feeling a drop in the pit of her stomach. After a moment, she said, “You could come and spend it with us.”
Chloe gave her a weak smile. “That’s kind, bird, but no. No, I couldn’t.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. But thanks for asking.”
Kate detached one hand from her coffee cup to give Chloe a one-armed hug. “The first year after…after a bereavement is the always the worst. You’ve got all those firsts to get through: first Christmas, first Easter, first birthday…”
“I know.” Chloe tipped the remainder of her coffee down her throat and chucked the empty cup in a nearby recycling bin. “Come on, let’s get started.”
It was slow, frustrating work. Hands gloved (unfortunately not in warm wool or leather but in standard issue latex), Chloe and Kate combed the gardens, treading over frostbitten flowerbeds, poking around in the undergrowth towards the edge of the garden, carefully sifting through leaf mould and shrubberies. There was a series of ponds, each slightly lower than the last, so that—when not frozen solid, as was the case here—water would trickle downwards until the stream left the last pond and disappeared under the boundary brick wall, into the wilderness where Samir’s body had been found.
“We’ll need to drag the ponds,” pointed out Chloe.
Kate was hugging her icy fingers under her armpits, trying and failing to warm them up. “There is no way I am putting my hands in there with the weather like it is. We’ll have to thaw out and come back later.
“Let’s get another coffee. I’m half frozen.”
Kate concurred. They trudged back to the café, where they found Theo and PC Paul Boulton crowded against the radiator, shivering theatrically.
“Any luck?” asked Kate.
Theo shook his head. “Nothing, mate. Just about freezing my balls off, though.”
“Yeah, maybe rain would have been better.” Kate joined them at the radiator and pressed herself against its warmth with gratitude.
Paul shifted over so she could fit more comfortably. “Do you think we’ll be done in two days? It’s such a huge place.”
Kate concurred. “We’ve still got the house to do, too. I think we might need longer.”
“The manager isn’t going to be pleased.”
“I know. Like I said to Chloe earlier, he’s just going to have to suck it up. This is a murder inquiry.”
“Right,” sighed Theo. “I suppose we’d better get out there.”
“Come on, troops.” Kate thought of the nice pub in Bucklesbury village. “We’ll take a break at lunch and go to this great little pub I found. Courtesy of work. Roaring log fire. Good food.”
“Good beer?” Theo asked hopefully.
“Almost certainly. Come on, let’s get cracking.”
Chapter Thirty Three
The good weather held for the next day, although, thankfully, it was considerably warmer. Kate ate a bowl of steaming porridge at her kitchen table, looking out over her garden. It was looking very sorry for itself at this time of year; the trees denuded of leaves, the grass sodden and muddy, the shrubbery frostbitten and brown. Oh well. Spring would come, one day.
Anderton had already left, a previous appointment with one of his golfing buddies to be upheld. Kate was rather relishing the peace and quiet of being alone. She finished her breakfast, rinsed out her bowl and stacked it in the dishwasher. A quick wipe of the kitchen table and work surfaces, and a check of Merlin’s water bowl and litter tray. Kate washed her hands and pulled on her coat.
She was just locking up the house when her phone rang. It was the station’s main reception number.
“DI Redman here.”
“Hi, Kate.” It was PC Dai Willams, manning the main reception desk. “I’ve got a visitor for you.”
“Oh?” Kate wasn’t expecting anyone. Had she forgotten an appointment or something?
“Yes, got a Ricky Khan here to see you. I’ve put him in one of the upstairs interview rooms.”
Kate gulped. “Right—right. Thanks, Dai. Did he say what he wanted?”
“No, just that he had some information for you.” Dai hesitated and added, in a lower tone. “He’s the MI5 guy, isn’t he?”
“Yes he is. Thanks Dai, I’ll come in. I’m on my way now.”
Once she ended the call, Kate hurried to her car. What did Ricky want? Surely, a face to face meeting—and especially an unplanned one—meant he must have some significant information? Kate turned the heater of the car up and headed for the station. She recalled their last conversation. Would you be able to give us any more information about the other group members? Only if I get to give the details to you personally…
He surely wasn’t just coming down to see her. Surely not. He had a busy job, for a start. Don’t flatter yourself, Kate. Well, she’d know more shortly. All the same, she couldn’t stop herself from giving her hair a hasty brush and reapplying her lipstick in the car’s rear view mirror when she got to the station.
Ricky Khan looked as good as he had the last time she saw him. He was dressed casually again in jeans and a black sweater, a leather jacket slung over the chair next to him. He got up when Kate knocked on the interview room door and opened it. Kate smiled and held out her hand firmly, much as she wanted him to kiss her again. Let’s keep this as professional as we can…
“This is a nice surprise,” she said honestly.
“Sorry to spring myself on you,” Ricky said, sounding not in the least sorry. “But I’ve got some information for you and you know I like to do these things face to face.” He looked her directly in the eyes as he said that, and she couldn’t help smiling back.
“Well,” Kate said. “It’s very nice to see you.” Not a lie.
“Same here.”
“Thanks for making the journey down. I know how busy you are.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Ricky said, holding her gaze again, and this time it was more difficult to look away.
Come on, Kate. She coughed and sat down opposite him. “Can I get you a drink of something? Coffee, tea?”
Ricky refused all refreshments. He seated himself and leant forward. “I’ll com
e straight to the point. We’ve located Mohammed Abib.”
Kate’s stomach somersaulted, this time in excitement that was work related. “That’s amazing. Fantastic. Is he under arrest?”
Ricky smiled. “MI5 can’t arrest anyone, Kate. Only the police can do that.”
“Really?” Kate was shocked. “Wow. Okay, so presumably you’re working with the Met on this?”
“Yeah. At this very moment in time, he’s under permanent surveillance. The Met will pull him in for questioning and then he’ll be tagged.” Ricky sat back a little. “They’ve also recalled one of his associates—and Samir’s—who’s back inside.”
“Who is that?”
“His name is Aquib Abdullah. He was sentenced to six years in 2017 for a conspiracy to commit a terrorist act. Got early release for good behaviour and he did several de-radicalisation programs when he was in prison.”
Kate frowned. “But he’s been recalled?”
Ricky looked grim. “Let’s just say we have our doubts about the effectiveness of those programs. His was also the more serious crime—given the current situation, I’m pretty happy he’s behind bars again.”
Kate nodded. “Yes, I understand.” She thought for a moment and added, “What would be really good for us is establishing if either of them have an alibi for the night of Samir’s murder.”
It was Ricky’s turn to nod. “I can give you the name of my contact in the Met who’s overseeing the case.”