A Tapping at My Door: A Gripping Serial Killer Thriller (The DS Nathan Cody Series) (29 page)

He’s got it. Only too well. Okay, so maybe it isn’t about the operation. But it
is
about her perception of him as someone who doesn’t allow her into his confidence. He refuses to let her into his head – that’s what she cannot abide.

He jumps angrily to his feet, clicks his heels together as he adopts a military posture. ‘Permission to be excused, ma’am.’

She raises an eyebrow. ‘Don’t be a dick, Nathan.’

He slumps a little. She’s right – he is being a complete toss-pot. Doesn’t stop him being annoyed, though.

He leaves her office and strides along the corridor. On the way out, he almost collides with Webley.

‘Cody? Where are you off to in such a rush?’

‘Home. Apparently I’m surplus to requirements.’

Her mouth drops open. ‘Surplus to . . . Cody, what are you talking about?’

He realises then how petulant he is sounding. He shouldn’t take this out on Webley.

‘Nothing. Forget it. I’m taking some time off, okay? Good luck with the case.’

He leaves then, not wanting to get into a prolonged discussion. He meant what he said about taking time off. Maybe more than just today. Maybe a lot more.

37

The first thing he does when he gets home is take his frustration out on the gym equipment in one of the rooms at the front of the flat. He does a lot of jogging, a lot of rowing, a lot of weights. He accompanies this with a lot of sweating. Then, before hauling his exhausted frame into the shower, he lumbers into the bedroom and collapses onto the bed.

It’s at least ten minutes before he can bring himself to reach for the phone on the bedside table. He knows he has to make this call – it would be unforgivable if he didn’t – but he also worries about how it might be received.

He speed-dials the number. It rings eight times before it’s answered.

‘Hello, Cody.’

Her voice is flat, monotone. No cheery notes permitted. The type of response that is intended to make you wish you hadn’t bothered.

‘Hi, Devon. I thought I should just give you a quick call. Make sure you’re all right. You know – because of the murder last night.’

He gets a few seconds of silence, and can picture her trying to decide if there might be more to the call than this. His cynicism is a measure of how badly things have deteriorated between them.

‘Well, thanks,’ she says. ‘It’s good of you. To tell the truth, it did shake me up a bit. I mean, this is Hoylake, for God’s sake. Things like that don’t happen here. It’s awful.’

She sounds sincere. Chatty, even. He feels less edgy now.

‘I know. It’s bad enough anywhere . . .’

‘Of course.’

‘. . . but Hoylake police station is so quiet.’

‘Not anymore. There are police everywhere now. Reporters, too. The place hasn’t had so much television coverage since the Open. The poor man. He was local, you know.’

‘I know.’

‘Yes. I was forgetting. You must know a lot more than I do. Was he . . . Is it . . . ?’

‘What?’

‘They’re saying . . . that it’s connected to the other killings, the ones in Liverpool. Is that true? I mean, I suppose it must be. Four police officers in such a short time – that can’t be coincidence, right?’

He pauses. He can’t confirm her suspicions directly, but at the same time he doesn’t want to irritate her by being obviously evasive.

‘What else are they saying?’

‘Who?’

‘People. In the area.’

‘Loads of stuff. To be honest, I think much of it is just rumour. You know how these things get all blown out of proportion. Not that it isn’t a big enough story already, mind. There is one thing that keeps coming up . . .’

‘What’s that?’

‘They say he was killed with a crossbow. Even on the news they’re saying that. Is it true?’

Cody thinks about this one. It’s a simple enough question. Yes or no is all it needs. If he was there, sitting next to her on the sofa, he would answer it. He knows he would, even in the absence of official confirmation. But right now he feels he has to hold back, and it shocks him to realise that such a substantial piece of his trust in Devon has been eroded.

‘To be honest, I haven’t been very involved with this latest killing. I have no idea. It would be an unusual way to kill someone, though.’

He waits out the silence from the other end, knowing that she is fully aware of his evasion. He’s a Liverpool copper, she’ll be thinking. Working with the murder team. Of course he knows what’s going on. He just doesn’t trust me enough to say. That’s how much of a gap there is between us now.

‘Yes,’ she says, but it’s just to fill the space. ‘So, anyway—’

He cuts off what is obviously meant to lead to a termination of the conversation: ‘Yeah, so, what I was trying to ask you was if you’re okay. I mean, with this murder being so close to home for you.’

‘Well . . . You kind of already asked me that when I answered the phone.’

‘Did I? Yeah, okay. So you’re fine, then.’

‘That’s not exactly what I said. I said I was shaken. This was practically on my doorstep, Cody. And it wasn’t just anyone. It was a policeman. One of the people who are supposed to protect us.’

Cody wonders whether that’s a small dig at him, then decides he’s being too defensive. She’s upset and she’s scared. Why would she be scratching at old wounds at a time like this?

‘Oh. Sorry. That’s what I thought – that it might have got to you. So I just wanted to say . . . if there’s anything I can do . . .’

‘I don’t know. Like what?’

‘Well, I’m not sure. Like, do you want me to come round? Or do you want to come over here? I could even come and get you if you—’

‘I . . . Cody . . .’

He can hear her struggling for the best way to reject his offer, and it was only what he expected, so he lets her down gently.

‘Just a suggestion, that’s all. Didn’t want you to think I didn’t care or anything. Didn’t want to think of you sitting there scared of every noise outside and wishing someone would do something to help you.’

‘Is that how you see me? As a frightened little mouse?’

‘Well, not exactly. I just—’

‘I can look after myself, Cody. I’m a big girl. Like I said, I’m just a bit shaken. Besides, I’ve got someone coming round to keep me company.’

So. There it is. The thing he always dreaded hearing. But wait. It might mean nothing. Could be a female friend. More than probably is. He can’t ask, though. Can’t come right out with it and demand to know if it’s a bloke.

‘Yeah? Anyone I know?’

Say it’s Aileen, he thinks. Or that one with the annoying laugh – what’s her name? – Philippa, that’s it.

‘No. Just a friend.’

He hears this, and despite its neutrality believes immediately that it’s a man.

‘Right. So . . . you and your friend . . . you’ll both be okay?’

‘We’ll be fine. I’ve got a nice bottle of wine in the fridge. Soon take the edge off.’

He wonders what else will come off. When they’re both pissed and in need of each other’s company and . . .

No, he thinks. I’m being stupid. It’s none of my business.

‘Great,’ he says, but it comes out practically dripping with sarcasm. He tries to brighten up. ‘Then I’ll leave you to it.’

‘Thanks, Cody. It was good of you to check on me. Really, it was thoughtful.’

Thoughtful is my middle name, he thinks. I can put a lot of thought into things. I just can’t convert them into any actions worth a damn.

‘No problem. Hope you didn’t mind me calling.’

‘No, but as you can tell, I’m really okay.’

Yes, he thinks. So it would seem. You’re right as rain. You and your anonymous friend there, sitting in my spot on the sofa, knocking back the rosé. Lovely.

‘Good. Well . . . goodbye then.’

‘Goodbye, Cody.’

‘Devon—’

But she’s gone. Couldn’t get off the phone quickly enough.

He lies back on the bed. His sweat-soaked neck feels clammy against the cold cotton pillowcase.

He tells himself it doesn’t matter. He was right to make the call, to show he hasn’t stopped caring about her. And Devon is under no obligation to tell him what’s going on in her life. They have separated. She has a right to privacy.

But still he snatches up the phone when it rings, in the hope that she regrets her previous coldness and is calling him back.

‘Devon?’

But of course it isn’t. And now he feels idiotic and needy and angry.

He says, ‘I don’t know who you are, but I will find out. And when I do, I will rip your fucking eyes out of your skull. That’s a promise.’

And then he hangs up.

38

When the intercom buzzes, he looks up from his book and checks the clock on the wall. It’s just after eight o’clock. He’s not expecting anyone, so he returns his attention to his book. He has showered and put on a fluffy bathrobe and has finally managed to lose himself in the pages of Thomas Hardy, so no thank you, he does not want to talk to anyone who just might pull him back into the snapping jaws of the real world.

Another buzz. The electronically generated noise is so at odds with the world of
Jude the
Obscure
. The magic has been broken.

He sighs. Slams the book shut. Pads across the carpet to answer the call.

‘Who is it?’

‘Cody? Is that you? You might have put your frigging name on the doorbell. I’ve rung at every flat above every dentist on Rodney Street. I don’t even like dentists.’

‘Megan, what do you want?’

‘To persuade you to change your electricity provider. What do you think I want? I want to talk to you.’

‘What about?’

‘Liverpool’s chances against Southampton next Saturday. Stop fannying about and open the frigging door, will you?’

Cody sighs again. Presses the button to release the door lock.

He knows that as soon as she pushes open the front door she will be faced by a wall of eerie blackness on the ground floor lobby. Even if she can find a light switch, she won’t know where to go, and will be stymied by the locked door leading up to his flat. So he slides his feet into a pair of slippers and heads downstairs, flicking lights on as he goes.

When he gets to the top of the final flight of steps, he finds Webley staring up at him and grinning.

‘What’s so funny?’ he asks.

‘Slippers,’ she says. ‘I can’t believe you’re wearing slippers. And a dressing gown. Have you taken up smoking a pipe, too?’

‘If you’ve come here just to have a laugh at me, you can leave now.’

She shakes her head. ‘I haven’t. Honest.’ But she’s still grinning.

He beckons her with a flick of his head. ‘Come on up.’

She starts up the wide staircase, her fingers sliding admiringly along the polished wood of the banister.

‘Nice place you’ve got here. Like being in a stately home. You should have stags’ heads on the walls. Or maybe paintings of your ancestors, all looking like you but dressed in silly clothes.’

‘Sillier than a bathrobe and slippers, you mean?’

‘That’s what you could wear in
your
portrait. I expect to see it next time I’m here. Pipe and all.’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

He leads her up to the first floor, then along the corridor to the door leading up to his flat.

‘Blimey,’ she says. ‘This place is huge. Do you have this whole building to yourself?’

‘At night, yes.’

‘Doesn’t it get scary?’

‘Only when the resident ghost comes out, but he never appears until after eight o’clock. What time is it now? Oh, ten past eight.’

She slaps him playfully on the arm. ‘Pack it in. You know I don’t do ghosts and scary stuff.’

He steps aside, allowing her to go up the stairs ahead of him. She is wearing a short quilted jacket and tight jeans, and from here he gets a wonderful view of her rear end. The rear end upon which he once wrote a love message, all those years ago.

She pauses at the top of the stairs, her eyes darting from door to door. ‘I’m spoilt for choice. Where to next?’

‘Do you want a coffee?’

‘I wouldn’t say no.’

‘In here then.’

He opens the first door on the right, and shows her into the kitchen. She takes a quick look around, then jumps onto a stool at the breakfast bar.

‘I’ve only got instant,’ he says. ‘That okay?’

‘Fine. Can’t be any worse than the stuff I’m used to.’

Cody switches the kettle on. ‘So, what brings you here at this time of the day? Not got enough going on in your life?’

‘I was worried.’

‘Really? Then you’ve come to the right place. Dr Cody’s surgery is open for business. What troubles you, young lady?’

‘I’m worried about
you
, soft lad.’

‘Me? Why?’

‘Because things haven’t exactly been normal with you, have they? Ever since we started working together you’ve been like a puppy on springs. You never seem to relax. And then today you just go walking out of the building, like you’ve had enough of the place.’

Cody fills two mugs, passes one across to Webley.

‘Maybe I
have
had enough. Don’t get me wrong, MIT is great most of the time, but every job has its rougher side too. Maybe it’s finally got to me.’

She sips her coffee. Doesn’t grimace, so it can’t be too disgusting.

‘What happened last night?’ she asks, out of the blue.

‘Oh, so they’ve been talking, have they? The rumours have started already.’

‘No. No rumours. Just . . . Okay, yes, there are rumours. They’re saying it all went a bit weird last night. That something in that building spooked you. Something nobody else could find.’

‘Uh-huh. Okay, fine. If that’s what you want to believe, then—’

‘No. Cody, no. I don’t believe anything yet. Not until you tell me what I should believe. You were there. Nobody else was. Only you know what really happened in there.’

‘Nothing happened in there, okay? Nothing
weird
, as you put it. I thought I heard someone, I chased after him, but I was wrong. I was mistaken. End of story.’

He hears the increased volume in his own voice, the touch of bitterness.

She puts her hands up in surrender. ‘Okay. Fine. I didn’t come to interrogate you.’