Detectives Merry & Neal Books 1-3

by JANICE FROST

  “Thanks, Mr Olson,” Ava said. Her hand shook as she wrote the names down on a napkin — all she had to hand.

  “No need to thank me, Detective. You just make sure you nail whoever killed my brother-in-law, though I don’t know how his death is related to those girls in Colorado. Gray never did get around to telling me why he was so interested in that case.”

  Ava paid for her coffee and grabbed her coat. She texted Ollie to let him know that she would be late home. She was going to the Christmas market after all.

  Chapter 20

  “Bloody Christmas market,” Neal muttered to himself as he changed into jeans and the Jack Wolfskin winter jacket Maggie had bought him for his birthday.

  He would have avoided the market altogether if he hadn’t promised to take Archie this year. Archie was excited about the funfair, and particularly the big white Ferris wheel that looked like Stromford’s version of the London Eye. Maggie had been on it the year before and waxed lyrical about the magical views.

  It wasn’t that Neal disliked the market per se. It was just that the logistics of policing it were something of a nightmare. It killed any enjoyment he might have had. Still, tonight he was off duty. He would make an effort to take off his policeman’s hat for once and try his best to absorb the wonderful atmosphere that everyone kept telling him about. He might even fill himself up with Christmas cheer, he thought glumly.

  “See you later — maybe?” Maggie called to him. She was going to the market with a group of friends and from the sound of it, they were planning to eat and drink their way around the stalls.

  Stromford was twinned with a German town, and the first Stromford Christmas market had been modelled on the traditional German ones. It had been a small affair then, but over the years it had grown to fill the whole of the cultural quarter around the castle and cathedral. Opening night was said to be quieter, and the locals tended to think of it as their night — before the coachloads of visitors arrived the next morning. Nevertheless, it would still be crowded and busy, with plenty of opportunities for pickpockets.

  “Are you nearly ready, Dad?” Archie asked, appearing in his bedroom doorway.

  “I’m ready. Let’s go,” Neal said, ruffling his son’s hair affectionately. “Have you got your wallet in your inside jacket pocket, like I told you?”

  They set off, walking in the direction of the cathedral. It dominated the skyline in all its floodlit glory, the perfect backdrop to the event. Neal had suggested they take a look at the stalls first, and then head for the fair. They walked down the cobbled street to the castle’s east gate, past festive stallholders dressed in Victorian costumes, and welcoming market marshals with luminous green waistcoats pulled over their outer coats. A rich blend of enticing smells beckoned them forward — chestnuts roasting on hot coals, mouth-watering hog roasts, and the spicy aroma of mulled wine wafted on the night air. Neal began to relax, thinking that perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

  They hadn’t eaten yet. Maggie had said they should try out the street food on offer. Neal and Archie queued at a stall selling German sausages, and ate them strolling through the grounds of the castle, pausing to admire the crafts and other goods on sale.

  Neal had to force himself not to survey the crowds for possible miscreants. From time to time he nodded at a colleague in plain clothes. He was surprised at the number of faces he recognised in the crowds, people he’d come across in shops, businesses, or social events. That was the thing about living in a city like Stromford. It was more of a town, really, its city status deriving from the cathedral rather than the size of its population. Stromford was on a small enough scale for its inhabitants to lose a little of the anonymity of larger cities.

  “Inspector Neal!”

  Neal spun round and came face to face with Leon Warrior, a long, black cloak gathered around him. He was wearing a top hat and carried a cane. Warrior bowed and tipped his hat at Archie and Neal introduced his son. Warrior handed Archie a card advertising his ghost tour.

  “Wow, Dad. A ghost tour. Can we do it?”

  Warrior smiled.

  “Maybe,” Neal said and they moved on.

  They had hardly gone any distance when they bumped into Laurence and Maxine Brand with Marcus Collins. More introductions for Archie and the promise of a Roman tour this time. They’re all out tonight, thought Neal. Which of the suspects in the murder enquiry would they bump into next?

  “Jimmy!” His sister Maggie’s voice soared over the sound of a group of carol singers. “Hey, Arch. Having a good time?”

  She came over to join them and ruffled Archie’s hair. Archie made a face. Neal made a mental note not to ruffle his son’s hair in future. Maggie was tipsy. She called her friends over and introduced them one by one, saying, to Neal’s mortification, “What do you think, girls? Told you he was a looker.”

  He hoped his sausages hadn’t left a film of grease around his mouth. One of Maggie’s friends looked familiar under her red beanie hat. It was Angie Dent. She gave Neal a half-smile and he nodded, surprised to see her with his sister. Maggie had mentioned a new friend a few days ago — hadn’t they been going to the cinema? Neal was sure he would have remembered if his sister had told him her new friend’s name was Angie Dent.

  “Cheers, bro,” Maggie said, toasting Neal with a plastic cup of gluhwein. See you at the fair, Archie.”

  Neal wondered what state of inebriation his sister would be in by the time she got there. He watched her until she disappeared into the crowds. After all, he was not his sister’s keeper.

  They were well into the grounds of the castle now, stalls to the left and right and all the way down the middle. For the next hour, father and son strolled from stall to stall, browsing, and occasionally making a purchase — some German biscuits, or Christmas decorations. Archie bought a star engraved with Maggie’s name, which he planned to hang on their tree as soon as they got home and see how long it took for his aunt to spot it. Christmas lights twinkled all around them and the tinny sound of a group of carol singers alternated with that of a brass band playing carols over the loudspeaker system. Neal found himself being drawn in by the festive atmosphere and even beginning to enjoy himself.

  Suddenly he felt his mobile vibrating in his inside jacket pocket. He pulled it out and peered at the text on his screen. It was from Ava, asking if she could meet him. Neal glanced at Archie with a twinge of guilt. It was his night off and he was supposed to be spending it with his son. Ava was aware of this and wouldn’t have called him unless it was urgent.

  Neal drew his son aside and told him he needed to make a call. They retreated to a relatively quiet spot behind a row of stalls. Ava answered immediately.

  “Sir, I’m sorry to disturb you when you’re with your son, but there’s something I need to talk with you about urgently.” There was excitement in his sergeant’s voice.

  He sighed. “This had better be good, Sergeant. Where are you?”

  “Just by the back of the castle. You know where the drawbridge is, there’s a stall selling Christmas lanterns. I’ll wait there.”

  Neal looked round. Archie had taken out his phone and was playing a game.

  “Arch, I’ve just had a call from Sergeant Merry. I need to meet her for a couple of minutes. That okay?”

  “We’re still going to the fair, right?” Archie looked crestfallen.

  “Aye, we’re going to the fair.” Neal hoped he would be able to keep his word.

  Ava was waiting for them across the drawbridge beside a stall lit up with candles flickering prettily in an assortment of containers. She was wearing skinny jeans tucked into those boots — the sheepskin ones that Maggie also liked. She was also wearing some kind of animal hat, but it looked entirely normal here. Half the people milling around were wearing some sort of silly headgear. Or maybe not so silly, Neal thought, feeling the chill of the frosty December night nip his ears.

  Ava greeted Archie with an enthusiastic high five. They had met before when Neal
had invited Ava to go bowling with his family in an attempt at bonding with his new partner. Archie was a big fan.

  “There’s a school just round the corner where they’re doing teas and coffees in the sports hall. It’ll be warmer there,” Ava said. Her nose was red with cold and from the way she was moving from foot to foot, it appeared that the boots were not up to their task. Neal nodded.

  They followed Ava to the primary school and into the hall, where school dinner tables had been laid out and set with plates of mince pies. There were those utilitarian green cups and saucers that always seem to appear in schools and village halls whenever refreshments are called for. Neal bought tea for himself, instant coffee for Ava and a hot chocolate for Archie. Mince pies came with the drinks. They managed to find an unoccupied table and Archie took out his phone. In a low voice, Neal asked Ava what was so urgent that it couldn’t wait.

  Neal glanced at his son from time to time throughout Ava’s account of her meeting with Carrie Howard and her subsequent conversation with Carrie’s ex-husband. Unable to resist a melodramatic flourish, Ava produced the crumpled napkin inscribed with the names of the girls who had been involved in the folie à deux case twelve years ago in the US. She placed it face down on the table, provoking an impatient scowl from her DI.

  The two names were not entirely familiar.

  “Evangeline Dent. Katrin Forest,” Neal read aloud.

  Ava met his eye, cocking her head to the side. “Not a leap, is it?” she said.

  “Give me your thoughts,” said Neal.

  “They killed Gray Mitchell,” Ava said. She glanced in Archie’s direction and lowered her voice. “They’d killed before. The method was similar — they worked together to lure their victim to a quiet place. They must have found out that Gray was counselling Nathan Elliott and texted Gray, pretending to be Nathan. What I don’t know is whether Angie and Caitlin knew Gray in the States twelve years before. My guess is that Gray posed some kind of threat to them, so they got rid of him. Remember Laurence Brand’s claim that Angie and Caitlin fell out at Gray and Leon’s soiree? It’s possible it had something to do with Gray — something he said, maybe?”

  “And Caitlin. Who do you think killed her?”

  “Angie?” Ava said, more uncertainly. “We need to bring her in for questioning, sir.”

  Neal sighed. His evening with Archie was slipping from his grasp. Suddenly his face darkened.

  “What is it?”

  Neal leaned across the table and whispered, “Angie Dent is with my sister.”

  Chapter 21

  He enjoyed the Brands’ company, but Marcus Collins kept thinking that he could be having more fun with Angie. He finally made his excuses to leave them and go in search of her. Laurence gazed at him protectively. Marcus knew that Laurence was still suspicious about Angie Dent, but he couldn’t let his sympathy for Laurence spoil his chance of having a good time this evening. Maxine, as always, had stepped in to reassure her husband. She also told him that his obsession with Angie had to stop.

  Marcus weaved through the crowds, looking for Angie. She’d told him she was going to the market with some friends. He didn’t want to call her. He was looking forward to sneaking up behind her and encircling her waist, surprising her and hoping she’d be pleased to see him. She had been a bit off with him over the incident with Laurence Brand, and he was anxious to repair their relationship. If it could be called a relationship.

  Marcus had assumed that finding Angie would be easy. He had not banked on the crowds. Everyone looked alike in their dark-coloured winter coats, but he knew that Angie would probably be wearing her red beanie hat. He hadn’t seen her outdoors without it since the cold snap started.

  Leaving the castle via the drawbridge, Marcus caught sight of the detectives who were investigating Gray Mitchell and Caitlin’s deaths. They were walking in the direction of the primary school, with a young boy in tow. Marcus wondered briefly if they were a couple, envying DI Neal his luck.

  The market stalls spilled out across the street and into the parkland, where they were gradually replaced by long white marquees selling local produce and crafts. The area beyond that was occupied by the funfair and game stalls. Marcus headed there, reasoning that by now, Angie and her friends were most likely hitting the rides.

  It wasn’t long before Marcus caught sight of a red beanie hat spinning round and round in a giant yellow teacup. As the ride slowed down, he made out Angie’s face looking a shade pinker than those of her companions. He waved to her as she stepped down, calling her name over the loud music.

  Angie seemed pleased to see him. She introduced her friend, Maggie, and they became a trio. The other girls in the group claimed that the rides were making them queasy. They declared they would be in the Stag if anyone cared to join them later.

  “Been on the Ferris wheel yet?” Marcus asked.

  “I promised to go on with Maggie,” Angie said. “Sorry.”

  Marcus was disappointed, but he followed them to the spot where the giant white Ferris wheel dominated the fairground. He decided to wait and go on with Angie next time around. He took his mobile out, ready to take pictures.

  * * *

  Angie and Maggie climbed into a car together. Maggie felt slightly nervous but bolstered by Dutch courage. The wheel began to turn, and within seconds they were soaring above the marketplace, looking down on the fairground — the gardens and the castle, the floodlit cathedral, and a seething mass of people below. Their car moved slowly, stopping every now and again so that those at the top could enjoy the view. As they neared the apex, Maggie’s mobile rang.

  “That’s Jimmy’s ringtone,” she said, laughing. “Hi, Jimmy, where are you?” Then, “I’m on the big wheel with Angie. It’s amaaazing!”

  Maggie smiled at her new friend. They’d met only a few days ago and already Angie had made her feel special.

  As she listened to what her brother had to say, Maggie suddenly went quiet. She turned to face Angie, who was watching her closely from her side of the passenger car. Maggie wished she wasn’t feeling so drunk, then, she might have managed to conceal her shock from the woman sitting beside her, her leg touching hers. But she was drunk and her horror at what her brother was telling her was written all over her face. Angie only had to look.

  * * *

  Ava listened as Neal asked Maggie where she was. She could see the fear in his face. She hoped that Archie, engrossed in a game on his phone, wouldn’t look up and see it too. Was it a mistake for Neal to tell his sister that she might be in danger? How would Maggie react, particularly if she’d had a couple of glasses of gluhwein?

  He was telling Maggie to get off the ride as soon as it stopped and make some excuse to get away from Angie. There was a pause. Neal looked at Ava and she was appalled at his stricken expression.

  “Tell me,” she pleaded.

  “Angie knows,” he said, not even bothering to lower his voice. “She just pulled a knife on Maggie.”

  “Oh no!”

  “Who’s pulled a knife on Auntie Maggie?” Archie asked. “Dad, what’s going on? Is someone going to hurt Auntie Maggie?”

  Neal looked at Ava, dismayed.

  “N . . . no, no Archie. Auntie Maggie’s fine, but Sergeant Merry and I need to check on her. I’m going to need you to stay here for a bit. Is that okay?” He said to Ava, “Go outside, grab the first uniform you come across and tell them to come in here and watch Archie.”

  Ava was on her feet and out the door in seconds. The market was well-policed and she spotted a couple of community police officers immediately. She showed her badge and explained that there was an emergency, and one of them quickly followed her inside. Neal handed over Archie to her care. His face was streaked with tears.

  It was a two minute walk to the fair from where they were, but the crowds made running impossible. Ava called for back-up as they pushed their way through the press of people, shouting, “Police! Move aside!”

  As they neared the slow-movi
ng Ferris wheel, they could hear screams. Neal was shoving people out of the way.

  As soon as they approached the big wheel they could see that something had happened. The crowds had cleared a space around a small group of people beside the gate leading to the passenger cars.

  “Maggie!” Neal yelled, sprinting over towards the gate.

  “Police! Out of the way!” Ava shouted, but she could already see that they were too late. The small group round the gate made way, revealing a prone figure and another, stooped over it. A third figure knelt by its side.

  Ava slowed her pace. She dreaded finding Maggie Neal lying injured on the mud and grass. In front of her, Neal had slowed too. He was almost upon the stooped figure, ready to drag him out of the way. Ava covered her mouth, stumbling forward.

  And now Neal was on his knees beside the stooping figure. It was Marcus Collins, and his hands were covered in blood. Ava looked down in horror, but the blood on Marcus’s hands did not belong to Maggie Neal. Lying on the ground, bleeding from a wound in his chest, was Laurence Brand.

  “Oh, my dear boy,” Brand was saying, as Marcus tried to help him. “I told you that young woman was trouble.”

  From somewhere in the distance sirens wailed — police back-up, an ambulance. Ava was awash with relief and dismay at once. Looking at Neal she could see the same mixture of emotions on his face.

  “Sir?”

  Neal looked around, bewildered. “Where did they go?”

  Maxine Brand, at her husband’s side answered, “They tried to stop her — she stabbed Laurie.”

  “Which way?” yelled Ava at Marcus. The boy lifted a shaking, bloody finger to point their way forward.

  * * *

  Maggie Neal stumbled through the crowds. Angie Dent was gripping her arm and pressing the blade of her knife, covered with Laurence Brand’s blood, into Maggie’s side. Maggie’s head was reeling with the horror of what had happened — her brother’s phone call on the Ferris wheel, and then Marcus Collins stepping towards her as Angie dragged her out of their car, knife at her throat.