He went to the door.
“What’s next?” she asked him. “The board’s empty.”
“We need to coordinate with DI Goodall’s team in Bristol, pull the two cases together. Make sure it’s all tight enough for the CPS.”
She nodded. “Glad to hear it.” That was the stuff she liked. Building a case, stacking up evidence, making the CPS’s job as easy as she could.
She sat down at her desk. She’d brought a mug from the cottage and a photo of Sharon. She could make herself at home here. The cottage showed potential. It had a damp problem and was smaller than she’d like, but there were flowers outside the front door. Weeds too, but she could dig those up. And here in this office… The building might look like a motorway service station, but at least she had plenty of light, and a new team.
She looked up at Dennis. “Let me know if anything comes up, won’t you?”
He nodded. “Yes, boss.”
Chapter Seventy-Six
Lesley finished wiping down her kitchen cabinets. They’d been sticky and smelt of onions, but now they gleamed. She closed the final door and stood back to survey her work.
It had been years since Lesley had spring cleaned. And now the cupboards needed filling. She hadn’t bought food yet, nothing more than some more Mars Bars and a couple of Pot Noodles. She was hungry. She’d go to the pub.
She closed her front door, turned back to survey the cottage and noticed more weeds growing out of a crack in the paving. She sighed. At least her front garden was small, it wouldn’t take much effort to keep it neat.
She strolled along the narrow lane towards the pub, nodding at a couple that she passed on the way. She picked up her phone and dialled Sharon again. As she pushed open the door to the pub, her daughter picked up. Lesley swallowed, surprised and relieved.
“Mum?”
“Sharon, love.” Lesley hovered by the door to the pub, not wanting anybody to hear her conversation. “I’ve been trying to get you all week.”
“Sorry, mum. I was a bit freaked out. Dad told me you ran off.”
“I ran off for a reason.”
“Yeah. I know about that.”
“You know?”
“Dad told me. Julieta, her name is. She seems alright, but…”
“But,” Lesley said.
“Are you coming home?”
Lesley looked further into the pub. Elsa was behind the bar, sharing a joke with a customer. The place was fuller than it had been last Monday night, and felt livelier. Sunshine slanted through the windows and the place felt cheerful.
She swallowed. “I’m sorry, Sharon. I’ll come home at the weekend. But I’ve got to stay here for six months, it’s in my contract.”
A pause. “Can I come and see you at the weekend instead?”
“Haven’t you got studying to do?”
“I can get the train down on Friday after school and then head back on Sunday. I can study on the train. I want to see you, Mum.”
Lesley softened. “Of course. I’ll check the train times.”
“I’ve already looked. I’ll be getting into Bournemouth station at six twenty.”
“Perfect.”
Lesley glanced at the bar. Elsa was holding up a wine glass, a question in her eyes. Lesley nodded.
“I’ll see you on Friday, love,” she said.
“Looking forward to it.”
Lesley walked to the bar. Elsa filled the glass and handed it over. Her hand brushed Lesley’s as she did so.
Lesley felt a jolt run through her body. She looked at Elsa, startled by her reaction. She’d been attracted to women before meeting Terry, but she hadn’t thought about it in years.
Elsa gave Lesley a smile, her eyes dancing. Lesley returned it.
“You look happy,” Elsa said. “It’s the first time I’ve seen you like that.” Elsa leaned on the bar and looked into Lesley’s eyes.
Lesley leaned in. She could feel Elsa’s breath on her skin. She patted her phone in her pocket.
“I think I could be, you know,” she said. “I think I finally might manage it.”
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Lesley stood at the edge of the Bristol churchyard, watching the mourners emerging from the church.
Susan Weatherton was surrounded by family. A tall blonde woman Lesley recognised as her sister, huddling over her. A little girl, the daughter, gripped her hand tightly, her face running with tears.
Lesley felt herself soften as she watched. She pulled back behind a tree, anxious for no one to see her. As she did so, she became aware of someone standing behind her.
She turned. “Dennis?”
He gave her a tight smile. “I thought you’d be here, boss.”
“I just wanted to…”
He nodded. “I know.”
It was common for police officers to attend funerals, or at least to lurk around the periphery. Sometimes the killer attended. Perhaps because they were a friend or family member, or perhaps because they wanted to bring themselves closer to the consequences of their crime.
But Crystal Spiers, Lesley knew, was in a police cell. She would be charged today.
She walked away from the church, keeping step with Dennis.
“So what brings you over here?” she asked.
“I’ve got a meeting with DI Goodall,” he said. “Part of the wrap up.”
She nodded. “I’ll come with you.”
“Boss.”
They walked quietly back to her car. His was parked right behind her. The hearse was further along the road, with the black vehicle Susan had arrived in. Lesley spotted Tony Goodall standing next to a car beyond it. She gave him a small wave which he returned.
She got into her car and opened the window as Dennis bent to speak to her. “I’ll see you at the Fraud Office, boss.”
She nodded. “Can I ask you something?”
“You can.”
“DCI Mackie,” she said. “What happened to him?”
His face tightened. “He died. I don’t like to talk about it.”
She looked at him. “How did he die?”
“I don’t like to talk about it.”
“I heard he killed himself.”
A shiver ran through Dennis’s body. “Please.”
“OK.” She gave him a tight smile. “Sorry to remind you of unpleasant memories. See you shortly.” She pushed the button to close the window.
DCI Mackie had supposedly thrown himself off a cliff just north of Swanage. But she’d had a call from Zoe that morning. Ever tenacious, Zoe had been hunting through records. She’d discovered that DCI Mackie had shown no signs of depression, had not been in any trouble at work, and had been looking forward to retirement. He’d even booked a cruise for the summer.
So why would a man who’d booked a cruise and hadn’t been to his doctor about depression or any other illness, throw himself off a cliff?
Lesley started the car. She looked in her rear view mirror to see Dennis talking to Tony Goodall.
Susan came out of the churchyard, her daughter still gripping her hand and the other mourners behind her. She looked across the road at Tony, gave him a nod and then walked in the other direction. Lesley wondered how much Susan knew about Tony’s investigation into Crystal. Would their relationship work out, or would it be forever tainted by how it had begun? It wasn’t her business.
She checked her rear view mirror and pulled out. She’d sit in on this meeting, but she’d let Dennis take the lead.
After that, she wanted to talk to Zoe. She was still concerned about DCI Mackie. If her predecessor had died in suspicious circumstances, did that put her at risk?
Stop it, she told herself. You’re not in the West Midlands now.
She’d moved here for peace and quiet. No more conspiracies, no more corruption. The quiet life. “A quiet life indeed,” she muttered as she drove across the suspension bridge, wondering if she’d ever get used to it.
Read a free novella, Deadly Origins
It’s 2003, and Zoe Finch is a new Detective Constable. When a body is found on her patch, she’s grudgingly allowed to take a role on the case.
But when more bodies are found, and Zoe realises the case has links to her own family, the investigation becomes deeply personal.
Can Zoe find the killer before it’s too late?
Find out by reading Deadly Origins for FREE at rachelmclean.com/origins.
Read the Dorset Crime Series
The Corfe Castle Murders, Dorset Crime Book 1
The Clifftop Murders, Dorset Crime Book 2
The Island Murders, Dorset Crime Book 3
…and more to come!
Also by Rachel McLean: The DI Zoe Finch Series
Deadly Wishes, DI Zoe Finch Book 1
Deadly Choices, DI Zoe Finch Book 2
Deadly Desires, DI Zoe Finch Book 3
Deadly Terror, DI Zoe Finch Book 4
Deadly Reprisal, DI Zoe Finch Book 5
Deadly Fallout, DI Zoe Finch Book 6
Deadly Origins, the FREE Zoe Finch prequel
Copyright © 2021 by Rachel McLean
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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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The Corfe Castle Murders (Dorset Crime Book 1) Page 25