Close to the Bone: An addictive crime thriller with edge-of-your-seat suspense (Detective Megan Thomas)

by Susan Wilkins

  Megan turns to Vish and raises her eyebrows. He smiles and picks up the questioning.

  ‘Yesterday,’ he says, ‘you spoke to us about your father. You said that he teased you about your hair. Had a go at you and that’s what provoked you to attack him.’

  Aidan nods, but now he’s avoiding eye contact and picking at the edge of the table.

  ‘Did he tease you often?’ asks Vish.

  ‘Look, I’ve said I did it,’ says the boy impatiently. ‘Why don’t you just accept that? I’m fed up of answering all these stupid questions.’

  ‘We’re just trying to understand your family situation and the background to what happened,’ says Megan.

  ‘Why?’ snaps Aidan. ‘Why? I killed my father, okay? Now I want to be left alone.’

  Tim Wardell clears his throat. ‘Perhaps we should take a break?’ he says.

  ‘I don’t want a break. I just want this to be over!’

  ‘Can you explain to me why, Aidan?’ says Megan. ‘Because when your case comes to court, understanding the context of how this happened is going to be important in determining how you’re treated.’

  Aidan gives her a defiant look. ‘No it’s not,’ he says. ‘I’ve been on the net and looked it all up. I’m seventeen, I’ll get a few years inside because I’m under age and I was traumatised. He was a vicious bastard and beat the shit out of my mother.’ He turns to Wardell. ‘Mitigating circumstances, right?’

  The lawyer shifts uncomfortably in his chair.

  ‘Did he hit you too?’ asks Megan.

  The boy swallows hard. ‘Occasionally.’

  ‘You wanted to protect her? Did you do this to protect her?’

  ‘I didn’t go down there deliberately to do it. It happened how I said.’

  ‘You went down to help him prepare for the launch?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Seems an odd thing to do,’ says Megan. ‘You talk of his teasing, which suggests you didn’t get on that well. Plus he abused your mother. Yet you wanted to go and help him.’

  Aidan sighs. ‘He’s still my dad.’

  She scans the boy. He seems very close to the edge. But the edge of what? She can feel no sense of regret from him, which is unusual. An angry family row leading to violence is usually followed by regret. Megan is beginning to feel that Aidan Porter is playing a part. But who’s provided the script? She glances at Penny.

  ‘Okay,’ she says. ‘Tell us about the weapon you used again?’ Megan looks down at her notes, putting on a puzzled frown. ‘What was it? Remind me?’

  ‘I dunno. I just grabbed it. Some kind of hammer?’

  ‘What did you do with it afterwards?’

  ‘Can’t remember.’

  ‘Did you just drop it there on the floor?’

  ‘Yeah, probably.’

  ‘And you went down there that evening on your own?’

  ‘Yes! I’ve said. Now can we stop? I’ve got a headache.’

  ‘Of course,’ says Megan. ‘Can we get you a drink? And maybe some paracetamol?’

  ‘Thank you,’ says Wardell, with relief. The tension in him is unusual too. A lawyer who doesn’t like the position he’s been put in?

  Megan and Vish stand up and she announces, for the benefit of the recording, the time and the fact that they’re leaving the room.

  Vish holds the door open and follows Megan out into the corridor. They turn the corner and walk upstairs to the incident room.

  ‘What do you make of the aunt’s reaction?’ asks Megan.

  ‘She’s very twitchy. Something’s going on,’ says Vish.

  They arrive at the incident room. Vish keys in the code and opens the door. Laura Slater and Jim Collins are standing in front of the bank of monitors.

  Slater turns to face Megan and Vish.

  ‘Nicely done,’ says Slater. ‘Provoked an interesting little exchange after you left the room. Wind it back, Jim.’

  Collins scrolls the recording back to the moment the door shut behind Megan and Vish.

  Aidan turns on his aunt. ‘You said it’d be all right,’ he hisses.

  ‘Not here, darling,’ she replies, her gaze flying up towards the camera.

  Tim Wardell looks completely ill at ease. Aidan folds his arms and scowls. The three of them lapse into an awkward silence.

  ‘Interesting,’ says Megan. ‘I’m wondering if maybe he’s been persuaded to cover for his mother?’

  ‘I’m thinking exactly the same thing,’ says Collins. ‘Maybe we’ll find her prints on the murder weapon.’ He grins at Megan. ‘The grieving widow. I guess she’s our next port of call.’

  Megan returns the smile. There’s a smugness about him which irritates her. Aidan Porter may be putting on a performance for them, but Jim Collins is doing exactly the same for Slater.

  The DCI sighs. ‘I think we’ve gone as far as we can with this. I know we haven’t got DNA confirmation that this is the murder weapon. But it probably is and his prints aren’t on it. The confession still sounds dubious. I’ve spoken to the CPS and they don’t think there’s enough to charge him. I’m going to release him under investigation. Are we agreed?’

  Both Megan and Collins nod.

  ‘Gives us a chance to rattle a few cages,’ says Megan.

  Thirty-Five

  Sunday, 3.05 p.m.

  As they walk out of the office and across the pock-marked concrete yard towards the car, Megan is careful to keep Vish between herself and Collins. Out of sight of Slater, Collins’s cheeriness has evaporated. He looks washed out and weary, hands in his trouser pockets and a glum expression. The strain of trying to maintain a front is obvious. And this worries Megan. With a DI who’s not up to the job, the whole inquiry could go pear-shaped again.

  Aidan Porter, his murdered father, his angry grandfather, his squirrelly aunt: there’s much more going on than meets the eye. She’s been tasked with helping Collins unravel this toxic family. But it’s clear that won’t be easy.

  Vish is the designated driver, a relief to Megan. She doesn’t much fancy going out with Collins on her own. Or being driven by him. She exchanges a covert smile with the young DC. Vish has a breeziness and a resilience about him that she knows she’s going to need. He’s been a detective for less than a year, but he’s sharp and a fast learner. He clicks the fob as they approach the car. This is when Megan notices Ted Jennings lurking. Collins is opening the front passenger door, relegating Megan to the back seat as Jennings steps forward.

  He ignores Megan.

  ‘Can I just have a quick word, guv,’ he says.

  His appearance takes Collins by surprise.

  ‘For Christ’s sake, Ted!’ says Collins, wheeling round and shooting an embarrassed look at Megan and Vish. ‘Get in the car, you two,’ he says briskly. Vish gets into the driver’s seat. But Megan takes her time as Ted Jennings hovers awkwardly.

  ‘Make this quick, mate,’ says Collins.

  Megan is surprised by the gentleness of his tone, given that Jennings has caused him a ton of trouble.

  ‘I’ve put you in a tricky position,’ says Ted. ‘And I’m sorry.’

  As she slides into the back seat and slowly closes the door, Megan is well placed to eavesdrop on their conversation.

  Ted has a sorrowful look on his face. ‘I know I overstepped the mark,’ he says. ‘But I really didn’t think it would do any harm. I thought we had the case pretty much sewn up. Porter just wanted some assurance that we were doing our job and I thought that’s what I was giving him. Then when the boy came in…’

  Collins sighs. ‘Yeah, but you know what it’s like nowadays. Rules and box-ticking. But listen, if I get the chance, mate, I’ll put in a word for you with Barker.’

  ‘Thanks,’ says Ted. ‘Really appreciate that.’

  Collins turns towards the car.

  ‘But that’s not what this is about,’ says Ted. ‘Remember on Wednesday, the DCI told me to go and pay a visit to Dennis Bridger.’

  Dennis Bridger. Megan’s ears
prick up. With everything else that’s been going on she’d almost forgotten about Bridger. A seriously nasty villain, released on licence and back in Devon. But far worse than that, he could be connected to Zac Yilmaz. Zac Yilmaz! Even the name sends a chill through her. She strokes the scar on her forearm; the cross he carved in her flesh so she could never forget.

  ‘I did what she said,’ says Ted. ‘Made sure the little runt got the message that we’ve got our eye on him. He acted as if butter wouldn’t melt. Still, I think we both know what a complete tosser he is.’

  ‘Ted,’ says Collins, ‘can we wrap this up because I’ve got things to do.’

  ‘Yeah, right. Sorry,’ says Ted. ‘After Slater hauled me over the coals yesterday, I wanted to do something to make amends. I know that little toerag must be up to something, so I thought I’d keep an eye on him.’

  ‘I don’t see the need for that,’ says Collins. ‘Barker’s got a surveillance team on him 24/7. Whatever he’s up to, they’ll be on it.’

  ‘Oh come on, guv,’ says Ted. ‘Standing off? You know what that means. Some idiot sitting in front of a computer screen in Exeter. All this bloody technology can’t replace boots on the ground. They do it because it’s cheaper. They haven’t even got anyone boxing the routes to Bridger’s place. I’ve looked.’

  ‘So what are you telling me?’ says Collins. ‘You’ve been keeping him under surveillance too?’

  ‘Nah, he’s a professional. Sitting outside his house won’t crack it either. So, last night, I climbed over the fence into his back garden.’

  ‘What?’ says Collins. ‘Are you mad?’

  ‘That’s what he’s not expecting. And guess what I found?’ says Ted. ‘He’s got a little shed at the bottom of his garden. Tucked away. You’d never know it was there. And that’s where he goes to do business. Barker may have his phone tapped and trackers on his car but they’re missing the essential thing. He’s down in his shed, talking on a burner. He’s definitely got something going on. Maybe a deal, I dunno.’

  ‘What sort of deal?’ says Collins.

  ‘I couldn’t get close enough to hear any details. But the thing is, you know and I know that we’re not going to be able to get the likes of Bridger playing by the book.’

  Collins huffs. ‘Listen, Ted, whatever you’re thinking, I don’t want to hear it. Okay? Christ, you’re already in enough bother.’

  ‘But I thought you said…’ Ted lowers his voice. ‘Point is, we’ve both got something to prove, haven’t we?’

  ‘I’ve got a murder inquiry to run. And it takes me all my energy at the moment just to get through the bloody day,’ says Collins sourly.

  ‘What if he’s talking to this London mob? He’s definitely talking to someone. If I can get something concrete, will you take it to Slater?’

  ‘Ted, you’ve done one daft thing, don’t do another. Don’t go sticking your neck out. Dennis Bridger is not a fool.’

  ‘But you will go to Slater for me? If I get something? That’s all I’m asking.’

  Collins exhales, opens the passenger door of the car and gets in.

  ‘Let’s go!’ he says to Vish.

  Vish starts the engine and they drive off, leaving Ted Jennings standing.

  Megan says nothing.

  Collins cranes round in his seat to glance at her. ‘I don’t know how much you heard of that. And I don’t know what you’re thinking’ – he looks at Vish – ‘either of you. But I’m going to presume that neither of you wants to be known as the sort of officer that goes snitching to the boss.’

  ‘Are you threatening us, Jim?’ says Megan coolly.

  ‘I’m just saying.’

  The rest of the journey takes place in silence. Megan is grateful.

  Her brain’s in overdrive. She’d thought Collins was her main problem but that pales into insignificance beside this. She moved to Devon to escape the fallout from her previous life as an undercover officer in London. This place has saved her and become her haven. But perhaps it was too good to last.

  Her nemesis may be in jail, serving a life sentence for drug trafficking and multiple homicides. But his gang is still in business and the authorities seem powerless to prevent him running it from his prison cell.

  Bridger could be talking to Zac Yilmaz.

  Megan reminds herself that she needs to stay calm. Bridger doesn’t know her so at present the connection and threat are indirect. And Zac has no reason to suspect she’s living in Devon now. But that could all change.

  Her chest feels tight and she’s finding it hard to get her breath. This is the last bloody thing she needs. A panic attack!

  She winds down the window and tries to remember what the shrink told her: breathe.

  Breathe! Oh fuck!

  Thirty-Six

  Sunday, 4.15 p.m.

  The Porters’ home looks like something from a glossy design magazine and is set on rising ground overlooking the River Dart. It’s approached via a winding drive with high hedges surrounded by farmland. The location could be peaceful and idyllic or it could be lonely and isolated, depending on your point of view, thinks Megan.

  She’s feeling better. The fresh air streaming in through the car window and a tight focus on her breathing helped her avoid a full-blown panic attack. It was touch and go for a while. But she’s managed to force her fears back into their box. As she gets out of the car she’s still pale and shaky.

  ‘Are you okay?’ says Collins with a frown.

  ‘Fine,’ Megan replies. ‘I get a little carsick in the back.’

  ‘Should’ve said. I don’t mind riding in the back,’ he replies.

  Megan wonders if this is true. But he’s giving her a concerned look, which may or may not be genuine. Perhaps he’s nervous. Staying one jump ahead of Collins’s mercurial moods takes a lot of energy. And the near panic attack has left her blitzed. But the DCI has been precise in her instructions: a low-key approach. Slater’s expecting Megan to take the lead.

  The front door is heavy oak and looks like it could’ve been nicked from a medieval church. Vish presses the bell, which is set below a small electronic screen and keypad. A singsong chime echoes through the large house.

  Several moments pass and Penny Reynolds opens the door.

  Her lips pursed, she gives them a curt nod. ‘Come in.’

  ‘You got home all right, then?’ says Collins with a smile. Aidan Porter was released under investigation around two o’clock and his lawyer was advised by the custody sergeant that he should stay close to home.

  ‘Yes,’ says Penny. ‘Aidan’s having a swim in the pool with his brothers and sister. I trust that accords with the conditions of his release.’ There’s a sneer in her tone. But Jim Collins doesn’t react. Megan has to admit that he does seem to have changed his approach.

  He smiles and says, ‘It’s certainly a lovely day for it.’

  The three police officers follow Penny through the house. The hallway has a honey-blond wooden floor which stretches into all the other ground floor rooms. They pass through a double-height atrium and Megan is struck by the neatness. For a house with four children it’s remarkably tidy.

  ‘Well,’ says Penny, ‘do you want me to get him?’

  ‘We’re here to speak to Mrs Porter, not to Aidan,’ says Collins.

  She merely nods. This can’t be a surprise to her, thinks Megan.

  And it isn’t.

  They find Yvonne Porter waiting for them in the sitting room. She’s perched on the edge of one of three huge rose-pink sofas, set at right angles to each other in the middle of the spacious room. She wears a flowery summer dress that wouldn’t look out of place at a posh garden party.

  Megan’s first impression is of a fragile woman. She’s extremely skinny. Her hands are clasped in her lap but there’s still a visible tremor. She’s carefully made up with her hair neatly pinned in a French twist, the style that Laura Slater favours.

  ‘Do please sit down,’ says Mrs Porter in a soft voice. ‘Can I offe
r you some tea?’

  Collins is about to refuse, but Megan pre-empts him.

  ‘Thank you, that’s lovely,’ she says. It’s the fastest way to get Penny Reynolds out of the room.

  Yvonne Porter shoots a nervous glance at her sister.

  ‘Yes, of course, I’ll get it,’ Penny says. There’s irritation in her tone. Then she heads, rather slowly in Megan’s opinion, for the kitchen. But at least the first box is ticked; Yvonne is on her own.

  Collins and Megan sit down, Vish remains standing. He walks over to the window. Yvonne’s gaze follows him anxiously around the room. Another simple technique but effective.

  ‘Things have moved on a little since we came to speak to you last week, Mrs Porter,’ says Collins.

  Yvonne nods and swallows. She’s still distracted by Vish.

  He continues, ‘I’m sure you know that your son came to talk to us.’

  Yvonne’s attention shoots back to Collins.

  ‘He didn’t do it,’ she says abruptly. ‘The whole thing’s nonsense.’

  ‘You sound very sure of that,’ says Megan.

  ‘I know my own son.’

  ‘He did give us a convincing account, Mrs Porter,’ says Collins.

  She shrugs. ‘Well, he was here with me all evening. And in any event, Greg wouldn’t have wanted him down there at the flats.’

  Collins glances at Megan and she picks up the baton.

  ‘Aidan says he went to help his father prepare for the launch. Why wouldn’t your husband have wanted that?’ she asks.

  Yvonne raises her chin defiantly and says, ‘Because in all probability he’d have been fucking some woman down there.’

  Is this meant to shock? The meek manner, the flowery dress, then bang, straight into this.

  Megan scans her; the bony hands are clasped so tightly that the knuckles are white.

  She waits a moment then says, ‘You think your son would’ve known that?’

  Yvonne gives a scornful laugh. ‘Of course he did. He’s seventeen, he’s not a child. He’s well aware of what his father got up to. Greg used to boast about it to him.’