Before I Say I Do

by Vicki Bradley

  ‘But police and journalists can work well together, can’t they, Alana?’ Alec said. ‘We could help each other out here.’

  Kowalski revved the engine. ‘You should step back now. Wouldn’t want to ruin your shiny shoes.’

  Kowalski pressed on the accelerator and jolted the car forward an inch. Alec jumped backwards, his mouth open.

  ‘Told you to step back, ukłucie,’ Kowalski said over the growl of the engine.

  ‘Ukłucie?’ Alec frowned.

  ‘It means “prick” in Polish,’ Kowalski said as he surged the car forward.

  ‘You crazy Polish twat,’ Alec said. ‘I’ll have your—’

  Loxton didn’t catch the rest as the car raced forward, leaving Alec a tiny figure in the passenger mirror.

  ‘How’d you know that idiot?’ he asked.

  ‘Press conferences . . .’ Loxton lied. ‘He had a few useful sources and could dig up things we couldn’t. But that was a long time ago. I stopped working with him. Unreliable. His need for a scoop was more of a priority than protecting evidence.’ She watched London whizzing past her window.

  ‘Isn’t that all reporters?’ Kowalski threw her a sideways glance as he traversed the traffic.

  ‘Some of them are good guys.’ She couldn’t look at Kowalski.

  ‘But not that prick?’

  ‘No. Not that prick.’

  Kowalski drove in silence, back towards the nick, throwing her glances a couple of times, but she kept her eyes forwards watching the road ahead.

  As they neared Walworth police station, Kowalski pulled into a side street a few roads away and parked up.

  He turned to face her. ‘If we’re going to work together, Alana, you need to be honest with me.’

  Kowalski’s cold blue eyes bored into her. She squirmed in her seat and stared ahead, watching the wipers swishing across the windscreen.

  ‘Alec Saunders is the reason I got shunted out of the murder squad.’

  ‘Okay.’ Kowalski folded his arms across his chest. She took in a big breath and turned to face him. Dancing around it was painful. ‘I met him in a bar. He told me he was an A&E doctor.’

  ‘Christ.’ Kowalski shook his head at her. ‘You’re not a probationer, Loxton.’

  ‘We were together for a couple of months. He started staying over more and more. Then we pretty much lived together; the relationship got serious fast. I fell in love with him. We’d talk about work. His patients, difficult decisions. And, eventually, I talked about my murder case.’

  ‘And he printed it?’

  ‘Not until my murder trial was underway. A husband had killed his young wife when she’d filed for divorce. The media went mad. She was a model whose career had just got going. Saunders’s paper was going for a miscarriage of justice angle. “Innocent man wrongly accused. Police desperate to get a result, no matter what.”’

  ‘And were you?’ he asked.

  ‘No, of course not. The suspect was guilty as sin, but he got off. And it was my fault. There was enough doubt tossed into the mix to throw the jury off. I would tell Alec everything – the decisions we made, the avenues we prioritized, the false intelligence leads we eventually wrote off as misinformation.’

  ‘Are you sure your suspect did it?’

  ‘Yes.’ She put her fingertips on her temples and massaged them lightly. ‘He reported his wife missing. He’d hired a professional hit on her, didn’t want half his estate going to her when she filed for divorce. He’d made the body disappear, but the hitman had been sloppy with the crime scene. We had him.’ She looked at Kowalski.

  ‘So, the suspect had money. He could have hired Alec Saunders to go above and beyond his journalistic duty to get insider information, make sure the police looked bad in the press.’

  ‘Yes.’ She folded her arms across her chest.

  ‘So this Saunders is baying for your blood?’

  ‘We couldn’t prove a connection between Alec and the suspect. All I could do was put in a complaint to the journalist bureau about his conduct and he got fired. He’s had to go freelance ever since.’

  ‘And he’s desperate for the next big scoop.’

  She nodded.

  ‘Strange that Saunders turned up at the fiancée’s address so quick and this just happens to be your case. We better tell Winter.’

  So, telling Kowalski had been a mistake. ‘I know it looks bad,’ she said. ‘That’s why I don’t want everyone knowing about this and gossiping about me. Alec has already ruined my career enough. Can you keep it to yourself?’

  ‘Alana, you should tell Winter. Lying about it is only going to make it worse.’

  ‘I’m not lying about it,’ she said, frustrated. ‘I’m just not going to mention it. You have to believe me, I didn’t leak anything.’

  ‘I know you didn’t. I’ve been with you the whole time.’ ‘I just can’t let that man hinder my career again. I won’t let him.’

  ‘All right, have it your way.’ Kowalski said, but he stared at her for just a moment too long. He wasn’t happy. He turned on the engine and they headed towards the police station in silence. It was a risk not telling Winter, yes, but it was an even bigger risk telling him. He might kick her off the case, and she wasn’t ready to give up yet – she needed to find out what had happened to Mark Rowthorn. To prove to herself that she still could.

  Chapter 17

  Julia Talbot

  Tuesday

  I kept seeing Mark. Every single time I closed my eyes. There was no rest. It didn’t matter how many sleeping pills I took, I couldn’t knock myself out. I just couldn’t believe I’d never speak to him again.

  My mobile pierced the silence. A Facebook Message from ‘Chantelle’ flashed up on the screen. My stomach churned. Jonny.

  Lucy looked up, a quizzical expression on her face.

  ‘It’s Elizabeth,’ I said quietly. ‘She’s asked me to call her. I’ll go in my room.’

  Lucy pulled a confused face. ‘But she only just called an hour ago? And it’s getting really late.’

  ‘She’s distraught, maybe she forgot to ask me something.

  I don’t know, I need to be there for her.’

  ‘Yes, of course, you’re right.’ Lucy nodded at me. ‘Sorry.’

  I retreated to my bedroom, closing the door behind me. I took a deep breath in to calm myself and then read Jonny’s message.

  ‘I can’t find your husband,’ Jonny’s message read. ‘I’ve tried everything, but he’s done a great job of disappearing. This will shock you, but I found out he owes a few drug dealers some money. A lot of money. Maybe he’s had to do a runner?’

  ‘Mark’s dead.’ I messaged back.

  There was a long pause and then he typed. ‘I’m so sorry. What happened?’

  I pressed the video call on Facebook Messenger. I wanted to see him try to deny he’d killed Mark to my face. He accepted the video call.

  ‘The police found his body in the river this evening.’ ‘I’m . . . I’m sorry.’ His voice faltered and he looked genuinely shocked. I couldn’t figure out if it was an act or not.

  ‘You did this.’

  ‘No, Jenny. I didn’t.’ He shook his head as if in disbelief. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘You fucking did this and you’re going to pay.’ I hissed, clutching the mobile tighter.

  ‘No. Jenny, I swear. I didn’t touch him.’ Jonny’s words rushed out of him, panicked.

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ Tears pricked my eyes. I wanted this all to stop. I wanted him to leave me alone.

  ‘He was in the river?’ Jonny said. ‘Did the police say what happened?’

  ‘They don’t know yet, but they’ll find out.’ Why was I even speaking to him? But once I started saying the words out loud, I just couldn’t stop.

  ‘I don’t think it’s suicide,’ Jonny said. ‘Mark was in a lot of debt. Sounds like he had quite a drug habit. Let me see if I can get you some names of the people he owed money to.’

  ‘He didn’t take
drugs.’ The lie was out of my mouth before I could stop it. He did take drugs. You know he did. But only at the weekends, as a social thing.

  ‘Jenny, his drug debt died with— They won’t bother you. There are rules.’

  Tears choked me. I needed to keep him talking. Try to find out if he was lying or not. ‘How did you find all this out?’

  ‘I told you, I work for this guy who needs background checks done on people. I did some digging to try to find your fella, and this drug stuff came back. People were after him. I think they caught up with him.’

  My back straightened. He’d let something slip he shouldn’t have. ‘You already know who he owed money to. Tell me their names.’

  ‘I don’t know their names, I just heard he owed people some money for drugs. But I’ll find out who they are. I’m risking a lot here, though. These people are dangerous. If they ever find out I passed their names to you, they would kill me.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ I should call the police right now. Tell them everything.

  ‘Give me twenty-four hours and then you can go to the police,’ he said. ‘Just twenty-four hours and I’ll get you those names. If I don’t, then you can call the police. But it wasn’t me. I wouldn’t have contacted you if I’d killed Mark. Think about it, it doesn’t make sense. Please. I’ll be in touch soon.’

  Then silence.

  He’d managed to avoid telling me the names, if they were even real. But the police had talked about drugs and Mark hadn’t been paying the mortgage for months. He’d been in trouble at work. Had he got into debt with drug dealers? Had it got him murdered? Mark had hidden all of this from me. I needed to look at our lives again, but with my eyes open this time. To find out what happened to him.

  I needed to find the password for Mark’s accounts. Would he have hidden them in the flat or memorized them?

  I lay on our bed, trying to put myself in Mark’s head, but I realized I had no idea. I rolled over to face his side of the bed. The sheets weren’t ruffled, that half not slept in.

  Grief seeped into the spaces where emptiness had been. I’d felt pain like it once before. When Rachel had died. Everyone I loved was stolen from me. I was cursed. But then the Mark I’d loved had never existed. He’d been a fantasy.

  Now I had to work out where this stranger had hidden his bank passwords. Where he’d been spending his time when he’d told me he’d been working. It might lead me to his killer.

  Jonny had asked for twenty-four hours. After that I’d tell the police about him. There was a chance he was telling the truth and I couldn’t risk the opportunity of getting the names from him. I knew he’d never tell the police. What difference could twenty-four hours make?

  Chapter 18

  Alana Loxton

  Wednesday

  Southwark’s mortuary was no different to any other Loxton had been in; the corridors were white and bathed in a cold, bright light, throwing every defect into the forefront. Beside her Kowalski checked the time on his mobile, turning the shadows under his eyes a deep purple. It was ten past nine in the morning, and they hadn’t seen a soul since the receptionist had first let them in.

  ‘Update from Patel,’ Kowalski said. ‘The mobile that sent the threatening text to Rowthorn has been turned off since Rowthorn disappeared, as has Rowthorn’s personal mobile. Patel’s getting the techs to download the historic cell-siting and phone data, but we won’t get anything current until those phones are turned back on.’

  ‘We might get an idea of the location of this person from the historic data.’ Loxton doubted it, however. And if the mobiles were never turned back on, how would they ever find the person who had threatened Rowthorn? She didn’t want to dampen Kowalski’s enthusiasm, though; it was the only thing making the day bearable as she waited for the post-mortem to begin.

  A bald man in pristine white overalls came over. He looked in his early sixties. ‘Here for the special post-mortem?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  ‘I’m George, assisting for today,’ the bald man said. ‘Right this way.’

  Loxton and Kowalski followed George. For an odd moment, it was as if he was leading them to their table for dinner.

  The comparison ended once the smell of rancid meat and formaldehyde hit her as she entered the next room. It was ice-cold and she shivered, pulling her coat tighter and buttoning it up. The room had several steel tables around its perimeter, on top of which rested the dead. No one had bothered to cover them up; this was their domain. She was both fascinated and repulsed in equal measure.

  George strode past it all, not looking at the bodies once.

  ‘You’ve got a lot in,’ she said.

  ‘Not much gets done at the weekends; they just shove the bodies in the fridges. Those porters haven’t got a clue. If you’re not careful, Mrs Miggins’s cause of death will be prostate cancer.’

  ‘Please tell me you’re taking the piss?’ Kowalski said.

  ‘I wish I was,’ George replied. ‘Here’s your one.’ George stopped by the last table. In this sterile room, the body looked more surreal.

  ‘Have you formally identified him yet?’ Loxton asked.

  ‘Waiting on the dental records to match up with your missing man. We tried fingerprints but all of the skin’s been eaten away.’

  ‘What about DNA?’ she said.

  ‘Your DCI declined DNA. Said it’d cost a fortune. Dental’s slower but it’s all about saving money these days. The dead man was wearing your missing man’s watch, wasn’t he?’

  Loxton nodded. ‘Yes, but you can’t tell on the last CCTV images we have of him that he was wearing the watch the day he went missing, as he had a coat on. And his fiancée couldn’t remember.’

  ‘Thorough, I like that.’ George nodded his approval and then took hold of one end of the table the body was laid on. ‘Whilst we’re waiting for Dr Reynolds, might as well set up. Miss, could you grab that end of the table and help me wheel him to the post-mortem room?’

  ‘Sure.’ Loxton took the other end of the table.

  George led them into a large rectangular room lit by fluorescent white lighting, giving the impression that they were all on stage. They pushed the trolley into the centre of the room where Reynolds was already waiting for them, snapping on his plastic gloves.

  ‘Is this one your case, DC Loxton?’ Reynolds said. ‘Nice to have you back, you were missed.’

  ‘It’s good to be back,’ Loxton said. She liked Reynolds. He was a good pathologist. Quick but thorough. And he had the grace not to mention her suspension and demotion.

  ‘Excellent, we have the dream team assembled then. George, start the recorder. Officer, the hacksaw, please.’

  Loxton passed Reynolds the hacksaw and he moved towards the head. She steeled herself for the smell. It was unbearable now, but it’d be worse when the body was split open.

  ‘Trauma noted to the back of head. Unknown if this is the cause of death yet.’

  Kowalski flinched beside her as the first incision was made into the forehead. That was the worst bit. If you could get through that, you’d make it.

  Loxton reached into her pockets and held up a packet of mints. ‘Here.’

  Kowalski took them and ripped open the packet. Loxton went over to George and leaned towards his ear. ‘I’ll be the exhibits officer.’

  ‘Are you sure, Missy? It’s a messy job.’

  Loxton glanced back at Kowalski who was furiously sucking on the mint and George’s gaze followed hers. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘For the best.’

  The pathologist was already examining the brain and taking his samples. She hurried over and labelled the test tubes and exhibited them.

  No one had told her when she joined the police that she’d be handling body parts. It had never occurred to her what an exhibits officer meant, until she’d gone to her first post-mortem. What a wake-up call that had been.

  Loxton navigated through the post-mortem, Kowalski helping where he could.

  ‘Inte
resting lesions to the brain.’ Reynolds pointed out the scar tissue.

  ‘Cause of death?’ Loxton’s eyes met Reynolds’s.

  ‘Oh no, he’s had these for a while. Could be substance misuse of some kind.’

  ‘Could it be from cocaine?’ she asked.

  ‘That would explain the lesions. He must’ve had quite a habit. Or it could be alcohol abuse. I’ll know more when the toxicology report is back and I’ve checked the liver.’

  ‘And the brain trauma at the back of the skull?’

  ‘He was alive when that happened. I can tell by the blood that’s gathered around the injury and the swelling of the brain. If he was dead, you wouldn’t get this reaction in the brain material. The impact was a blunt trauma.’

  ‘Consistent with hitting his head from a height?’ she asked.

  ‘Unlikely, but not impossible. I’d expect the neck to be broken and it isn’t. Also the head trauma would be more severe and widespread.’

  Reynolds looked perplexed as he carried on with the examination. He noted the preliminary findings for the cause of death as drowning and that the liver did have significant lesions. She knew they’d have to wait for toxicology and his final report before it was confirmed.

  They stood by the car for a moment, taking in the fresh morning air, both relieved to be out of the morgue. She carefully packed the samples in the icebox for transportation to the toxicology laboratory.

  ‘So there’s still a chance our man jumped after a bit of Dutch courage?’ Kowalski asked.

  ‘He didn’t jump very far. If you wanted to kill yourself, you’d pick a higher bridge. Drowning’s one of the worst ways to go. He could have fallen in by accident, but we still can’t rule out murder.’ Loxton found herself more and more convinced that Rowthorn had been killed.

  ‘Murder will be hard to prove.’ Kowalski shook his head. ‘Suicide’s more likely.’

  ‘He was in debt and about to lose his job,’ Loxton conceded. ‘And he was struggling with a drug addiction.’ It was all laid out like a trail for her to follow. But it was too easy. She wasn’t seeing all the other signs along the way.

  Chapter 19