Joker in the Pack

by Elise Noble

  Mickey had a copy spread out on the table in front of him.

  “A crime of passion, it says here. Fenton told everybody she ran off with the gardener so they’d think she was still alive.”

  “Cold,” Maddie said. “You had a lucky escape, Liv. Just think, he could have been your father-in-law.”

  Just think. No, I didn’t want to. “It’s Tate I feel sorry for. I mean, all that time, he thought his mother had abandoned him, when really she was lying six feet under just a few hundred yards away. Nye said he broke down when the police interviewed him.”

  Mickey’s eyes dipped to the paper again. “It says here that Fenton even sent postcards to Tate, pretending to be his mother.”

  I nodded. Nye had told me that much was true. Apparently, Tate had been distraught over what his father did to me as well, especially as it was he who’d told Fenton which evenings we were going out together.

  I’d considered calling him to offer my…sympathy? Condolences? But I wasn’t sure what to say. Maybe I’d leave it a week or two and then try? When my own mother passed, the pain had eased with time.

  “At least Tate can bury his mother properly now,” Maddie said.

  “I guess that might help.”

  Nye had been there yesterday afternoon when they found Helena, right where Ronnie said she would be. Her body had still been wrapped in the plastic sheeting described in the letter.

  “These cakes are good.” Maddie shoved another slice of Bakewell tart into her mouth. “But not as good as yours, obviously. What time is the loss adjuster coming?”

  With Nye’s time taken up with the aftermath of the Fenton Palmer case, Maddie and Mickey had offered to keep me company while I travelled to Upper Foxford to meet the man from the insurance company.

  “Midday. How many more calories are you planning to burn this afternoon? We won’t have any heavy lifting to do—the building surveyor said it’s not safe to go inside.”

  “Maybe I’ll go to the gym when we get back to the city. Or Dave can give me a workout. How are things going with Nye, by the way?”

  I glanced at Warren, who looked away. Dammit, I felt awful for the way he’d been treated in this whole debacle, and I still wanted him as a friend. Thankfully, he’d accepted when I invited him to join us, and the last thing I wanted to do was rub my new relationship in his face.

  “Okay. They’re going okay.”

  “I never put on weight,” Mickey said, munching his way through a giant cookie. “It’s the family curse.”

  We both glared at him, and Maddie huffed.

  “People like you make me sick.”

  He just grinned at her and took another bite.

  Another cake or two later—okay, three—I couldn’t put off my return to Lilac Cottage any longer. Thank goodness I didn’t have to go alone. Not only had Fenton terrorised me there, but Larry Hazell’s nocturnal visits creeped me out. He was still on the loose, and that bothered me. How many other women’s privacy had he violated? They wouldn’t all have a Nye to stick up for them.

  “You okay?” Warren asked. “You’ve gone pale.”

  “I’m just dreading going back to the cottage, that’s all.”

  Mickey gave my hand a squeeze. “I still feel bad about what happened. If I hadn’t tracked you down…”

  “She’d have been sleeping on my couch, baking constantly and tidying everything,” Maddie said. “Actually yes, you should be sorry for tracking her down.”

  I laughed. “Mads, you’d be the size of a house by now if you ate that many cakes. A gym membership wouldn’t cut it. You’d have to hire that boot camp guy off the telly. Besides, Mickey, if you hadn’t found me, I wouldn’t have met Nye.”

  “Good grief, your eyes have glazed over,” Maddie said. “Where is Mr. Dreamboat today, anyway?”

  “In a meeting. He’s taking me out for dinner later, though. It’ll be our first proper date.”

  “Is he splashing out on somewhere nice?”

  Warren and Mickey had gone on ahead to Maddie’s car, but I still lowered my voice. “I don’t know. It’s a surprise. But I can hardly wait—all his other surprises have been amazing.”

  “Ooh, I want details.”

  “You’re not getting any.”

  “But you clearly are.”

  A few minutes later, Maddie drew up outside Lilac Cottage and parked at the top of the driveway. Further up, it was still impassable. This was the first time I’d been back since the night of the fire, and the place looked even worse in daylight. Soot-blackened water had formed into icy stalactites holding on to any part of the building still standing.

  Not that there were many of those.

  The dining room end had collapsed completely, leaving a pile of broken bricks and charred roof timbers. A single chimney breast and part of the front wall rose jaggedly from the debris.

  An involuntary sob escaped. I may not have loved Lilac Cottage, but it had been my home.

  “It’s okay, Liv,” Maddie said, giving me a hug.

  Thank goodness Nye had been with me that night. If I’d been alone, or if Spike hadn’t installed his sensors, I wouldn’t be standing here now. Graham would be puzzling over my murder rather than watching Spike’s video of a black-hooded figure stealing out of the woods to throw firebombs through my windows, and Maddie would be planning my funeral. According to Nye, the police had added attempted murder to Fenton’s list of charges.

  Looking at the devastation in front of me, I hoped he got a good long stay in jail.

  The insurance man turned up five minutes late, then spent twenty minutes poking around, pulling faces and tapping his clipboard.

  “Total loss, this,” he said as he snapped away with his camera.

  One didn’t need to be a genius to work that out.

  “So, what happens now?”

  “We’ll get the place rebuilt. Have you got somewhere to stay in the meantime, or do you need us to find you alternative accommodation?”

  “I’ve got somewhere.”

  He scribbled more notes. “That makes things easier. I’ll get a partial payment issued in the interim so you can start replacing your clothes and whatnot.”

  “Thank you.”

  At least I could offer to pay Nye back for the clothes he’d bought me, although I had a feeling he wouldn’t accept my money. He’d already given me his credit card and told me to buy anything I wanted. His only request was that I bought plenty of fancy knickers so he could tear them off me. I’d been only too happy to oblige.

  Tonight’s were pale pink with black lace, complete with a matching bra and stockings. I planned to cook us a nice dinner, but I wasn’t sure we’d make it through to dessert.

  After the loss adjuster left, we took a last look around ourselves, but there was nothing to salvage. Anything that didn’t succumb to the fire had been covered in water or trodden on. Nye’s dented, windowless BMW was still sitting beside the twisted remains of the two trucks. It had suffered even more damage after we’d left when Graham accidentally reversed his squad car into it.

  “Do you want to head back to London?” Maddie asked. “I’ll buy you a drink before you go to Nye’s. You look like you need it.”

  Coming from anyone else, the comment might have insulted me, but Maddie had a heart of gold. “Make it a double.”

  We’d almost reached her Fiesta when a shiny Mercedes pulled up in front of us.

  “Is that…” she started.

  Warren finished for me. “Tate Palmer? Yes.”

  He looked every bit as awful as I’d feared when he climbed out of the driver’s side. His rumpled clothes and stubble were a far cry from his usual dapper appearance. On Nye, that look worked, but Tate just came across as untidy.

  Even worse were his eyes, swimming with torment as they met mine.

  “Olivia.”

  “Hi, Tate.”

  “I was driving past, and I saw you here… I… I…” He gave his head a little shake, as if he was trying to get rid o
f unwanted thoughts, and glanced at my support team. “I don’t know where to start.”

  “I’m so sorry about your mother.”

  “I just can’t… My father… How could he…”

  I took both of his hands in mine. “It must have been such a shock.”

  A tear rolled down his cheek, and he looked behind me again. “Have you got a few minutes to talk? I need to apologise.”

  I glanced behind and sighed. Maddie had fixed him with a hawk-like stare, and he was withering under it. “Do you want to go somewhere more private?”

  “Would you mind? This is…well, it’s not easy with an audience.”

  Tate was as much a victim in all this as I was. The least I could do was listen to what he had to say, especially as I’d had a hand in his life falling apart, however unwittingly.

  “I won’t be long,” I told Maddie. “Maybe half an hour?”

  I raised an eyebrow at Tate, and he nodded his confirmation.

  “Can you drop me back here?”

  He held the passenger door open for me. “Of course.”

  “We’ll be waiting,” Warren said.

  Maddie took a step towards her own car. “Not here. The café. We’ll be waiting in the café.”

  CHAPTER 39

  NYE LEANED BACK in his chair and glared at his laptop screen. This was the part of the job he hated. The admin. Jannie did her best, but there were always things left over that he had to deal with, especially when he took a couple of weeks off at the last minute.

  For years, he’d resisted promotion to a managerial post, preferring the challenges of being in the field, but the directors had kept asking him, and in the end they’d come to a compromise—he’d take the job, but he’d have an assistant and a big enough team that he didn’t spend his whole time stuck behind a desk.

  He had to admit the role had grown on him, and being Head of Investigations for Blackwood’s London office was a good career move. Even his mother had been grudgingly impressed by the title.

  The screen full of emails in front of him was a worthy trade-off for what he’d gained in the last fortnight. Sure, he’d missed out on a hell of a lot of sleep and had to flee a burning building, but that was nothing compared to his past escapades.

  And now he had Olivia.

  He took out his phone and snuck a glance at the last photo he’d taken of her, blonde hair spread out over his pillow as she’d slept beside him. That was exactly where he wanted her to stay. She wouldn’t be moving back to Upper Foxford, not if he could help it, but there was still so much she didn’t know about him. How would she react when she found out?

  No, he didn’t want to think about that, not at the moment.

  Instead, he shoved his chair back and headed to the kitchen. The coffee machine was burbling away as Max wandered in, whistling a remarkably tuneful version of “Love is in the Air.”

  “Knock it off, would you?”

  Max shrugged. “Tell me it’s not true.”

  Nye couldn’t, not when Liv had taken over his heart and mind. “You wait. It’ll happen to you one day.”

  “Not likely. I’ve got enough on my plate with work and house renovations.”

  “Fifty quid says I’m right.”

  Max held out his hand, and they shook.

  “Easy money,” he said as he disappeared with an apple.

  One meeting left until Nye could escape for the rest of the day. If it had been anything but the monthly conference for all the heads of department, he’d have sent his apologies and gone to find Liv already, but one of the directors was in the UK, and an excuse wouldn’t work with her.

  Back at his desk with an espresso, he wondered how the hell to tell Liv how he felt. He’d never declared his love for anything more than a prime beef burger with bacon and extra cheese, and that only happened after a few beers.

  Should he buy her flowers? Chocolates? Jewellery? His previous girlfriends had liked those things, but Liv was different. The vacuous socialites had been pretty on his arm but not so pretty inside, while Liv was real and beautiful to her core.

  He pressed the intercom on his desk. “Did you confirm the reservations for tonight?”

  “For the third time, yes.” Jannie’s voice came through loud and clear and just a little bit peeved. She hated it when he questioned her efficiency. “Quiet table for two, candles, music, the works.”

  For his first proper date with Liv, Nye had chosen a mid-range Italian place that served excellent food without being overly pretentious. Unlike most of the women he’d dated, Liv actually liked to eat. His hand strayed to his lap. Yeah, she definitely liked to eat. He’d hit the fucking jackpot with that woman.

  Twelve thirty. Finally! He could get the meeting over with and finish up the rest at home. Blackwood allowed staff to work flexibly, and he’d done enough overtime during the past nine years to justify a couple of easy days.

  In the conference room, the table was stacked with snacks. Apple slices, pita bread with houmous, celery sticks—where was the proper food? He picked up a chicken satay and bit into it. Yuck. What the hell was this?

  “Sorry. It’s tofu,” Emmy said from behind him. “Toby flew over with me.”

  That explained it. As Special Projects Director, Emmy had to stay in tip-top shape and often brought her nutritionist when she came to the UK. So now they all had to eat weird shit.

  The man himself bustled in carrying a plate of pineapple pieces. “And if you even think of bringing biscuits into this meeting, I’ll put decaf in all the coffee machines.”

  Emmy clenched her teeth. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Watch me.”

  “For fuck’s sake… Guys, we need to hurry this up so I can go and find cake.”

  Despite Emmy rattling through the agenda, Nye was still fidgeting by the end of the meeting. Had Liv finished up at Lilac Cottage yet? He’d seen the charges from Agent Provocateur on his credit card statement, and he kept his fingers crossed she’d be trying out one of those skimpy outfits tonight.

  Finally, Emmy finished up. “Anything else?”

  Everyone shook their heads, thank goodness. Nye would have cracked a tooth if he’d clamped his jaws any harder.

  “What’s up with you?” Emmy asked as she followed him out. “Didn’t you get enough last night?”

  Oh, if only she knew. Liv may have been inexperienced, but she was an excellent pupil and made up for it with enthusiasm. The fact that Nye had been late for work was a testament to that.

  “I got plenty.”

  “Are you coming out for pizza?” one of their colleagues asked.

  Emmy shook her head. “I’ve got mayhem to plan. But if you can sneak me a deep-pan pepperoni past Toby, I’d be eternally grateful.”

  “Nye?”

  “Not today, sorry.”

  Three o’clock. Liv should be on her way back by now, which would give them time for a quick trip to the bedroom before dinner. He just needed to pick up the gift he’d ordered for her on the way back. A pair of oven mitts, go figure. She’d mentioned wanting them.

  He’d got one arm in his jacket sleeve when the phone on his desk rang. Sod it—Jannie could answer.

  “Nye, wait a second,” she called.

  He paused, halfway through the door. Dammit. “What is it?”

  “Inspector Carling from Hertfordshire Constabulary is on the phone. You know, the guy dealing with the mess in Upper Foxford? He says it’s important.”

  Nye huffed, but he couldn’t ditch work in favour of visiting a bakeware shop. “Transfer it through, will you?”

  He stomped back into his office and perched on the edge of his desk. A second later, the phone beeped.

  “Nye Holmes.”

  “Rory Carling. We met briefly the other night.”

  “Yes, I remember.” Nye wished he’d get to the point.

  “We’ve got a problem here, and I wanted to bounce it off you, if you’ve got a few minutes?”

  Nye didn’t want problems. He wan
ted sex, a chilled Peroni, and pizza. In that order. “What kind of problem?”

  “Well, we’ve got Fenton Palmer in custody, and we’ve got a statement, a body, and a murder weapon. But forensics just called, and the fingerprints on the knife don’t match the suspect.”

  “You’re kidding me? No way the lab could have screwed up?”

  “They’ve checked it twice. There’s one set of prints, in blood, and they don’t belong to Fenton Palmer.”

  “Have you run them through the database?”

  “We did that right away, but we didn’t get any hits.”

  Shit. What the fuck was Ronnie playing at?

  “Can you send a copy of the prints over? And a set of Fenton’s? I’ll get our tech guys to take a look too.”

  “On their way. I’m going down to talk to Palmer next, but he’s been hiding behind his lawyer so far.”

  “Has he said anything at all?”

  “Not a dicky bird.”

  Nye thumped his fist down on the desk then yanked his chair out. It looked as if he wouldn’t be going home yet after all. And what was he supposed to tell Liv?

  Nothing. He’d tell her nothing for the moment. She’d only get worried.

  He fired off a quick message.

  Nye: Something’s come up at work. Do you want to go home with Maddie and I’ll meet you there when I’m done?

  “Everything okay?” Jannie asked.

  “Not really. I’ll be in the lab if anyone needs me.”

  An hour later, Test-tube confirmed what Carling had already told them—the fingerprints weren’t Fenton’s.

  “Then who the hell left them on that knife?” Nye growled.

  “If the police database hasn’t found anything, it’s not someone with a criminal record, at least in the UK. I’ll run them through Interpol just in case.”

  The call-waiting light flashed, and Nye jabbed at the button to switch to the other line. Today was turning into a nightmare. He’d need to move the restaurant booking and call Liv to apologise.

  “Carling here again. I’ve spoken with Fenton Palmer.”

  “And?”

  “He’s giving us some bull about walking in and finding his wife dead on the floor. Now he’s claiming a mystery man broke in and killed her.”