Dead Pretty: The 5th DS McAvoy Novel (DS Aector McAvoy)

by David Mark

  ‘I don’t feel like a grown-up,’ Delphine tells her, leaning back against the work surface. Her dressing gown falls open, revealing pale, freckled skin.

  ‘You’re planning on going to university, aren’t you?’

  ‘Dad’s planning on me going. I’m not so sure I want to.’

  ‘No? You’re clever enough. He told me about your grades when we chatted the first time. He’s very proud of you.’

  ‘I don’t think I’d like being around all those people. I didn’t like school much. I always just wanted to get back home. I like the woods. I like helping Dad. I don’t know why I have to go to university when I could just read the textbooks at home.’

  Pharaoh breathes in the scent of the coffee.

  ‘You sound like you’ve had this argument before.’

  ‘We don’t argue. We just have different opinions.’

  ‘And he thinks you should go to university.’

  ‘He wants what’s best for me. We just disagree on what that is.’

  ‘You don’t want to stay here forever, though, do you? What if you meet a boy? You’re pretty and clever and good company. You’d do brilliantly at university.’

  Delphine looks bashful. She jumps up onto the work surface and bumps the heels of her welly boots together, face in her hands, elbows on her knees.

  ‘What is it you’re after Dad for?’ she asks. ‘I mean, with these murders, I’d have thought you’d be here, there and everywhere. There’s no problem, is there? With Dad, I mean?’

  Pharaoh chews her lip. Tries to find the right words and fails.

  ‘There are still some loose ends,’ she says at last. ‘You probably know how seriously Humberside Police is taking what happened. There are people who think he’s going to sue us. I couldn’t blame him if he did, though for his sake I hope he doesn’t. It would be best if it all blew over. The papers are going to make him some sort of superhero otherwise, and then when they get bored of that they’ll turn on him.’

  Delphine’s smile fades a little. She wrinkles her nose. ‘Is this you warning him to keep his mouth shut? Because that wouldn’t go down well with his solicitor.’

  Pharaoh can’t help but give a little laugh. She likes this girl. Admires her devotion and loyalty. Wonders, briefly, how her own girls feel about her. Knows already how they feel about their dad.

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of threatening you or your father,’ she says, finishing the coffee. ‘I’ve explained it to him and I’ll say the same to you – the prosecution could have gone either way. There was no malice. He was found guilty, and freed on appeal. We didn’t know about the conflict of interest. Under different circumstances, it could have all come to nothing. Under others, he could still be inside. We just have to deal with the political fall-out from it all.’

  ‘I don’t know how much he’s enjoying the attention,’ muses Delphine, mollified. ‘The phone doesn’t stop ringing. He’s got another two chat shows booked in for Sunday morning. He can’t say no, that’s his trouble. Can’t say no to women, anyway.’

  Pharaoh’s expression flickers for a moment.

  ‘He told me in interview that he was raised to admire women. His mother died when he was a teenager, yes?’

  ‘Younger than I am now.’

  ‘Does he have brothers or sisters? I can’t recall.’

  ‘No, he was an only child. Just him and his dad, and he’s dead now too. A lot of people around him have passed away over the years. He doesn’t let it get to him too badly. We help each other.’

  ‘He grew up in a place like this, didn’t he?’

  ‘In the countryside, you mean? Yes, sort of. It was a modern house but in an old-fashioned town, surrounded by mountains. It was lovely. He took me and Aramis there once. I don’t know why. Just wanted to share it with us, I think.’

  ‘It can’t have been easy for your mum – his inability to say no to the ladies.’

  Delphine shakes her head, a swift, angry gesture. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. He makes women feel good and likes them liking him but he’s never had a girlfriend since Mum. I don’t think he wants one.’

  Pharaoh says nothing. Feels the colour rising in her cheeks. She swallows down the burning sensation in her chest as she remembers the way Reuben turned his mouth from hers as she tried to kiss him.

  ‘It must be nice, knowing that there’s somebody there to swoop in and save the day when you’re in trouble. I suppose I’ve got a friend like that. He’d hold a building up with his bare hands if he thought I was trapped underneath.’

  ‘Sounds a good person to know. Is he a policeman too?’

  ‘Yes. A good one, though he doesn’t realise it. We’ve kind of swapped jobs since we became friends. He used to be the sparrow with a broken wing. Now he’s a great bloody eagle and I feel like the vulnerable little chick waiting for him. It’s pitiful. Don’t get old, Delphine. Trust me.’

  Delphine smiles. ‘You’re not old. You look great. Dad thinks so, anyway. And yeah, you’re right – it is nice knowing he’ll be there. I’ve always known that.’

  ‘I’ve seen the video footage of that day,’ says Pharaoh gently. ‘I saw how scared and upset you were. I’ve read your statement. That must have been horrible.’

  Delphine taps her welly boots together again. Fiddles with the bracelets on her wrist.

  ‘They used to be horrible to Aramis, too. They’re village kids. Inbred morons, Dad calls them. We’re the weird family that lives in the woods. They were one of the reasons Aramis did what he did.’

  ‘One of the boys said that on the day in question, you were the aggressor.’

  Delphine barks a laugh. ‘Me? Oh yeah, I’m forever picking fights with three big lads. Honest, I was just walking back from a friend’s and they started having a go. Started talking about my brother. Then they got really nasty. Talking about Mum. Dad. Me. Saying stuff about us. Sick stuff. I told them to shut up and they started throwing stones. The next thing I was on the ground and bleeding and getting kicked in the stomach. My top got ripped. I didn’t know what to do.’

  ‘But you made it back to your dad.’

  ‘He saw me. Saw what had happened. He did what everybody would want their dad to do.’

  Pharaoh nods. Absorbs it all. Wonders, for a moment, what McAvoy would have done. He has probably asked himself that same question more than once.

  ‘If it were me, I’d have killed the lot of them,’ says Pharaoh. ‘He did the right thing by his family and by his conscience, even if the courts would disagree.’

  ‘He did the same thing later when that bastard turned up and tried to go for him. I swear to God, Dad just pushed him and he fell and hit his head. It was nothing. He shouldn’t have gone to prison for that, and you know it, no matter what you have to say to the papers.’

  Pharaoh realises she has been feeling a little better. Her head has cleared. She’s thinking in straight lines. Might be ready to face Hollow. Might be ready to go to work and pick up the reins of the murder inquiry. Might be able to look at McAvoy without seeing her own shame reflected in his big brown eyes.

  She takes her phone from her top. Wipes the moisture off the screen. The signal is terrible here but she can see she has had several missed calls. The last, from Helen Tremberg, was just moments ago.

  ‘I may have to catch up with your father another time,’ says Pharaoh, sighing. She rolls her eyes. Enjoys the little smile she gets from Delphine in return. She wonders for a moment whether she and Sophia would be friends. Whether Delphine is the sort to go to a party at a big house and not tell her mum there would be boys there. Wonders what Hollow would do to anybody who put their hands on her.

  There is a sudden knock at the door that makes them both jump. Delphine pulls her robe around herself. Crosses over the headstones, skipping over memorials and dates, prayers and psalms, long since chiselled from smooth, unfeeling rock.

  She pulls open the wooden door and begins to ask her father if he forgot his key.

  Then s
he opens the door wider and Pharaoh looks past her at the two familiar figures in the doorway; their tired faces.

  McAvoy and Tremberg: two giant paper cut-outs, blocking the light.

  Chapter 21

  8.38 a.m.

  A small, heart-shaped clearing amid a blanket of trees.

  Three figures, half lost in fog, standing in a loose triangle among the graves and the wildflowers in the shadow of a small, red-roofed cottage; light flickering across their faces as a watery sun plays with the shadows of the looming evergreens.

  ‘We tried to ring. We’ve been trying all night and all morning. We didn’t know what to do when we saw your car.’

  Helen stops talking as Pharaoh turns cold eyes upon her.

  ‘Boss, we couldn’t wait any longer. I didn’t know what else to do. Sophia said you left early and I literally had no clue where to find you.’

  Pharaoh looks into McAvoy’s earnest face. She can see him fighting with his emotions. He wants to ask her what she’s doing here. Wants to know where the hell she’s been. The last time they spoke he was telling her not to come to the murder scene for fear of her bumping into Mallett. Why hasn’t she replied to his messages?

  ‘I do seem to recall that I’m the senior officer,’ snaps Pharaoh. ‘I can follow up lines of inquiry without checking with my sergeant or somebody else’s detective constable, can’t I?’

  McAvoy looks down at the grass. Runs his tongue around the inside of his mouth.

  ‘There have been developments,’ he says finally. ‘There’s lots to tell, Guv.’

  Pharaoh scowls at him. Sucks half an inch off her cigarette. He holds her gaze. There’s temper in his eyes. She rather likes it.

  ‘Maybe we should go somewhere else and talk,’ says Helen, flicking her gaze between the two. She has never seen them argue. It’s like watching her parents fight.

  ‘No, no, if it was important enough to track me down for then there’s no time to waste,’ says Pharaoh, pushing her hair behind her ear. McAvoy looks away and she enjoys a moment of victory. Then, just as quickly, she feels remorse. Feels as though she has just given a rabbit a Chinese burn. ‘Are you okay, anyway?’ she asks, softening her tone a fraction. ‘Hannah. It must have been horrible.’

  McAvoy stares into the trees. Focuses his attention on the back wheel of the gypsy wagon, peeking out from between the trees.

  ‘Is Roisin okay? What did the kids actually see, Hector? You know I would have been there. It was you that bloody insisted . . .’

  McAvoy manages a little smile.

  ‘It was hard,’ he says. ‘That was supposed to be our home forever. It’s already experienced too much bloodshed. All I want is for the kids to have nice memories.’ He waves a hand, indicating that there is too much to say. ‘I just wish she wasn’t dead. I knew she was but I wish there was still hope.’

  ‘Somebody knows how personally you took her disappearance,’ says Pharaoh. ‘They left her there for you.’

  ‘ACC Mallett asked me for a list of enemies. Where do I start?’

  Pharaoh gives a dutiful laugh. Some of the tension leaves her shoulders. She looks as though she’d like to reach out and give him a squeeze on his forearm.

  ‘I bet he and Roisin got on like a house on fire,’ says Pharaoh, winking. ‘Uncomfortable?’

  McAvoy blinks, long and slow.. ‘She told him a few things he won’t forget.’

  Pharaoh pulls a face. ‘Bet he loved that. I hope to Christ you didn’t apologise for her.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dare.’

  ‘Did you manage any sleep?’

  ‘I’m fine, Guv. What about you? You must have been up and out early.’

  Pharaoh kicks distractedly at a dandelion clock, her boots sending tiny ghosts spinning into the grey air. ‘I got a couple of hours. The girls made me a nest.’

  ‘And Sophia? Any better?’

  Pharaoh shrugs. ‘We’ll talk. Somehow, we’ll talk.’

  Helen stands between them, turning her head from side to side like a tennis umpire. She wishes they’d either hug or have a fist fight.

  ‘Have you read your emails yet, boss?’ she asks diplomatically. ‘There’s a lot to take in.’

  ‘Crap signal here. Are you going to tell me what’s so important that you had to turn bloodhound?’

  ‘We came to talk to Mr Hollow,’ McAvoy says. ‘I should have said. My head’s a muddle, sorry. We didn’t know you’d be here.’

  ‘Reuben?’ The word comes out sharp and shrill and she curses herself for using his first name. ‘Hollow, I mean. Why? You’re not running errands for ACC Mallett, are you? Are you doing some goodwill shit, mending bridges and making Hollow feel less inclined to sue? Because if you’re doing that during a murder investigation I’m going to poke your eyes out with your own thumbs.’

  McAvoy shakes his head. His lips become a thin line.

  ‘Hollow’s DNA has been found on one of Ava Delaney’s possessions. More than that, Helen has established a connection between a possible vigilante and several suspicious deaths. And that vigilante is starting to sound more and more like your friend.’

  Pharaoh stares at her sergeant. She looks more like a wife being told her husband is being arrested than a senior police officer following up a lead. She gives a shake of the head. Tries to become herself again. There is a redness to her cheeks; a flame in her eyes.

  ‘He met Ava Delaney at Hull Royal Infirmary. I’m aware of that.’

  McAvoy looks confused. ‘That information hasn’t been distributed . . .’

  ‘I’m a fucking superintendent, Hector. Me knowing something is often enough.’

  McAvoy looks up, past the trees. Snaps his head to the left as a bird begins its two-note call.

  Pharaoh forces herself to hold his gaze when he finally turns to look at her.

  ‘Well I don’t know how well he got to know her at Hull Royal but we found traces of his saliva on a handkerchief in her pocket.’

  Helen looks away as Pharaoh starts forward. For a moment, she seems about to slap him.

  ‘What?’ asks Pharaoh, so softly that it comes out as little more than a growl.

  ‘A handkerchief,’ he repeats. ‘Trace DNA evidence.’

  ‘He probably wiped her eyes! That’s the sort of bloke he is. And this is from Jackson-Savannah, yes? Probably bullshit. What else is there in her house? What connection have you found between them?’

  ‘Between Hollow and Ava Delaney? Nothing. But Helen has been investigating several suspicious deaths. Men who appeared in the newspapers having got away with something. Whenever there’s a vulnerable woman seeking justice he seems to swan in like a superhero and the next moment somebody is dead. We’ve got a growing number of cases in which men who have escaped justice have been killed not long after, and always when there’s a vulnerable woman to impress along the way. Ava’s boyfriend was a bully. He ended up dead in a ditch. Hannah Kelly received a video message from David Hogg’s mobile not long after he killed a horse she used to own and love. Yvonne Turpin’s sister, Toni, was killed in a hit and run and he all but got away scot-free. Next thing he’s dead too. And the whiff of Reuben Hollow is all over at least one of the cases. Raymond O’Neill had a connection to him. And Ben is pulling Jez Gavan’s prison records right now and I already have a pretty damn good idea what he’ll find . . .’

  Pharaoh rubs a hand across her nose. Makes fists. She shakes her head. Fumbles in her bag for her cigarettes and tries to light another. She can’t turn the wheel on the lighter. She curses, shaking like a drunk going through withdrawal. McAvoy takes the lighter from her and lights the cigarette. She gives a small nod of thanks and breathes deep. Regains some composure as she smokes.

  ‘Whatever you think you’ve got, you don’t have enough to talk to him,’ she says, in a voice more like her own. ‘Not now. He’s right in the eye of the storm, Hector. Humberside Police is being called every name under the sun and I’m having my name dragged through the mud because he got sent down for a mu
rder when the press think he’s a hero. Now is not the time to start questioning him over the murder of a young girl or a bunch of random bastards from all over the place. Trust me.’

  McAvoy opens his mouth to speak but clams up when Pharaoh shakes her head.

  ‘People know how loyal you are,’ she says, some warmth creeping into her voice. ‘If word gets around that you’ve come and hauled Hollow off for questioning on some other charge it will seem like a vendetta. Like we’re closing ranks. You know I trust you and your judgement but have you considered the fact that maybe you’re looking for stuff against Hollow because you don’t like him?’

  ‘I don’t know him!’ splutters McAvoy, reddening. ‘I just know what’s he costing you.’

  ‘I’m a big girl,’ says Pharaoh, smiling. ‘Maybe, just maybe, there’s more going on than you know. I’m not saying we won’t ask him some questions. I’m just suggesting that softly-softly might be better. Mallett would go spare if he knew you were here.’

  ‘And what about you being here?’ asks McAvoy, his nostrils flaring. ‘Where is he, anyway? Off carving you a bunch of white roses in his fucking caravan?’

  Pharaoh’s face tightens. Helen gives a little hiss of surprise. Neither woman has heard him speak this way before. Neither has ever seen him look so much like he wants to hurt somebody.

  Pharaoh grinds out her cigarette. Straightens her back and looks at the side of McAvoy’s face until he looks at her.

  ‘Tell me about Hannah, Detective Sergeant. The injuries.’

  ‘It’s the post-mortem this morning,’ says Helen, when McAvoy does not reply. ‘But her armpits were scalped.’

  Pharaoh does not turn her head. ‘You can’t scalp an armpit. Scalping involves the removal of the scalp.’

  ‘Okay then, the armpit was removed with a knife.’

  ‘A sculptor’s knife,’ says McAvoy, under his breath.

  Pharaoh gives a laugh that contains no mirth.

  ‘I’m going to go and get in my car and have a little think,’ she says, after a moment’s silence. ‘Then I’m going to go and do my job. I suggest you two follow up some of these leads and concentrate on finding a link between Hannah Kelly and Ava Delaney. I suggest you do your jobs like professionals. I will have my phone with me for the rest of the day and I will be putting out some fires at HQ. If you need me, ring me, but make damn sure that it’s worth my time. And Hector, if you knock on Hollow’s door when I’m gone, I will suspend you. Are we clear?’