The Bad Things (12 page)

There was a knock and Steve’s head poked around the edge of the door. ‘Sir, we’ve got an incident. At the Harbour Bay caravan site. In Sole Bay. A woman’s been found dead.’

Detective Chief Inspector Grayson Cherry closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose before lifting his head to look Kate in the eye. ‘Looks like we’re already up
shitenstrasse
.’

12

‘So you’re okay? Know what to say?’ Malone looked at Alex, and she knew he was willing her to be strong.

She nodded. ‘Yes. I got here to do the second interview and found her like that.’ She swallowed the bile that kept rising in her throat.

‘And?’

‘And when they ask if I saw a knife I say no. I say it’s exactly as you see inside. I got out as quickly as possible.’

Malone nodded. ‘Good.’

She looked at him, pathetically grateful for his help.

He’d come to her straightaway, taken her in his arms on the seashore and held her for a long time. Then he’d pulled away, stroked the hair away from her face and kissed her forehead. She told him about the caravan, the body, the knife, and her fears.

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Let’s go back there now and I’ll find the knife and get rid of it.’

‘But what about DNA and fingerprints and all that sort of stuff?’ She had watched plenty of
CSI
shows, along with the rest of the country.

‘Yours will be all over the shop, but that’s only to be expected. After all, you’ve been here once before and you were due to be here today. It’s only natural that you’d’ve touched stuff.’

‘And Sasha?’

He gripped her shoulders. ‘Be logical. How would Sasha even know where to find Jackie Wood? Or be in any state to find her?’

‘I don’t know.’ She tried to damp down the panic again. ‘Perhaps she followed me or has been through my things or—’

‘Look. If she has been here, unless she did a good clean up job, her DNA and fingerprints will be everywhere. But at least if we get rid of the murder weapon the plods won’t have that crucial piece of evidence. And I can get in and out without leaving a calling card.’

Alex nodded.

But there was one other thing Alex needed Malone to do for her in the mess of the death in the caravan.

‘Martin Jessop kept a diary.’

‘And?’ said Malone.

‘I don’t know where it is, but it could be in the caravan.’

‘Is it likely? After all, Jessop’s dead and his effects would have gone back to his family.’

Alex bit her lip. ‘I know. But Jackie Wood intimated that she had it or knew where it was, so, just in case, could you have a look?’ It was her first lie to Malone.

‘Why is it so important?’

This was the tricky bit. She couldn’t say that he might have detailed their affair between the pages and it could destroy her, could she? ‘There could be some clue about Millie in there. I need to know.’ That much was true.

‘Wouldn’t the plods have found it?’

‘Possibly. Unless—’

‘Unless what?’

‘Unless he never had it in prison.’ She looked him straight in the eyes, willing him to accept what she said. It wasn’t that she wanted to deceive Malone, but she couldn’t tell him the sordid truth. Not unless she had to.

‘But—’

She could have screamed with frustration, but she took a deep breath. ‘Please, Malone.’

He narrowed his eyes. ‘Why do I feel there’s something you’re not telling me?’ She stayed silent. Then he blew air through his lips. ‘Okay. For you.’

‘Thank you.’

Alex hadn’t thought about CCTV cameras at the campsite. Malone had. He said that it was unlikely they were working at this time of year, if at all.

‘These places put the cameras up to deter trouble; they don’t necessarily have any film in them. And it would be too expensive for them to have the digital sort,’ he said.

‘Digital?’

Malone smiled. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

She was too scared to feel patronized, and supposed she shouldn’t worry. If anyone knew how to dodge stuff like CCTV cameras, and the whys and the wherefores of them, then Malone would.

‘It’s like burglar alarms on houses,’ he carried on, warming to his theme. ‘There’s hardly ever a real alarm in them. Deterrent, that’s all.’

So here she was, perching on the steps, waiting for the police to arrive. Malone had been in the caravan and picked up the knife. What he did with it she didn’t know and didn’t want to know. There was no sign of any diary.

‘Just this,’ he said, handing her a key.

She took it from him. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s a key,’ he said, rolling his eyes.

‘I can see that,’ she snapped.

Malone held his hands up. ‘Whoa, I’m only trying to help.’

Alex noticed he was wearing thin latex gloves, the sort that doctors wear, or criminals. She guessed he probably had a stash of them somewhere left over from his undercover days. For some reason the sight of them sent a shiver down her spine. She supposed it brought the reality home to her of what they were doing. She’d found a dead body and Malone was clearing up the mess. If only she’d got there sooner, would Jackie Wood be alive? When was she murdered? And was Sasha involved? It all went round and round in her head like some sort of horrible mantra. She rubbed her forehead. ‘Sorry. Sorry. I …’ Inexplicably, her eyes filled with tears. She composed herself. ‘You think it’s important?’

Malone shrugged. ‘I thought it might be. It was hidden away at the back of the cutlery drawer and it’s a key to one of the left-luggage lockers at the Forum in Norwich.’

‘The Forum?’

‘Yes, that place that houses the BBC and the library and some sort of café.’

‘I know what the Forum is,’ she said, testily. ‘How do you know the key is from there?’

‘Because it says so. On the fob.’

She peered at it. ‘Right.’

‘Worth a look, I reckon. Don’t you? As you’re so anxious to find this diary. You never know, it could be there. I could come with you, if you like.’ His expression was neutral, as though he knew she wasn’t telling him the whole story.

She closed her fist around the key. ‘Thanks,’ she said, leaning her head on his shoulder, trying to regain some of that feeling of safety she’d had when he’d embraced her on the beach. He put his arm round her, and she snuggled even closer – just as she heard the sirens in the distance. She realized she was shivering. She felt sick. What the fuck was she doing?

‘Okay, here we go,’ he said.

Then it was as if she was looking through a veil, everything was a blur. An ambulance, a police car, a van: all turned up. Why so many? The sirens which had gradually filled the air as the vehicles made their way down the harbour road had brought the few people in the other caravans out to gawp. Then a scene reminiscent of a television show unfolded, with a woman in a long black leather overcoat seeming to be in charge. Police officers scurried around her, following instructions, going back to the van, taking out boxes of equipment, all of them moving towards them.

‘Alex Devlin?’

‘That’s me.’ Alex stood up and clenched her jaw to stop her teeth chattering.

The woman in the coat frowned. She had coal-black eyes and black hair cropped close to her head, making her look like a hawk. High cheekbones, pale skin. Slash of red lipstick. As tall as Alex. She reached inside her coat and flashed her warrant card. ‘Detective Inspector Kate Todd.’

Alex nodded.

‘How long have you been here?’

‘About half an hour. Maybe less. I’m not sure.’

She turned and looked at Malone, hesitated for a split second, eyes narrowing as if she knew him. ‘And you are?’

‘Malone.’

‘Anything else?’

‘No.’ Belligerent. Alex sighed inwardly. ‘Just Malone.’

Detective Inspector Kate Todd looked impassively at him for a moment before turning back to Alex. ‘I would be grateful if you could both come down the steps, please.’

They did as she asked.

‘You found the body, Alex, did you?’ Her voice switched from brisk professional to professional kindness.

Alex nodded. Behind her an officer was tying blue and white tape from one bush to another, sealing off the caravan, the body, Jackie Wood, from prying eyes. Men in shapeless white suits and masks ducked under the tape and went into the caravan. She suddenly thought of all the police shows she’d seen, the crime books she’d read, and wondered about clues and fingerprints and contaminating the scene. She started to burble. ‘Yes, I’d come to interview her for the magazine I work for. It’s Jackie Wood in there.’

‘We know.’

Well, they would, wouldn’t they?

‘Is it the first time you’ve been here?’

She shook her head. ‘It was the second part of the interview.’

‘Interview?’

‘I’m a journalist. I do news features. Sometimes about people who’ve been in the news or who just have something to say. You know.’ She felt stupid.

‘And the magazine?’

‘It’s called the
Saturday Magazine
. Part of the
Saturday Herald
. Here.’ She fished about in her pocket and took out a rather dog-eared business card. ‘My number’s on there.’ She dug into her pocket again and brought out a pen and wrote on the card. ‘And that’s the number of the magazine.’

The DI took it. ‘Thank you.’

‘Look, Alex is exhausted and needs to get home.’ Malone had that determined look on his face.

Kate Todd looked him up and down. ‘I am well aware of how Ms Devlin must be feeling,’ she said.

Was she? How could she be? How could she know about the way her guts were churning and how she felt as though she was about to throw up?

‘I’ll get someone to take a witness statement from you now, Ms Devlin, and perhaps you could come down to the police station later.’

‘The one in the town? Why?’ She tried not to look as panicky as she felt.

Kate Todd gave a small smile. ‘I know it’s not glamorous, but I’ll be setting up an incident room there. And we’ll need to take your fingerprints, please.’

‘Fingerprints?’ Now her heart was racing and she began to feel light-headed. Her fear must have shown on her face, because Kate Todd put her hand on her arm. ‘It’s just to eliminate you.’ Her voice was kind. ‘You’ve been in there. Your fingerprints will be in the caravan, we’ll need to cross them off our list, as it were. You too, Mr Malone.’

‘I didn’t go in there.’

‘Nevertheless.’

Alex could feel the stand-off building but instinctively knew the DI was not a woman to cross. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘Would you like someone to take you home after Steve here has taken your statement?’ She signalled to a stocky man in a uniform who came hurrying over.

‘It’s all right,’ said Malone. ‘I can do it.’

Kate Todd inclined her head. ‘Very well. But while Ms Devlin is talking to my DS, perhaps you and I could have a word?’

‘Sure.’ They walked away.

It didn’t take too long. Alex recounted her story to the police officer, as agreed with Malone. It was a version of the truth, much easier, he’d said, to keep the story as near to the truth as possible, then she wouldn’t trip up in the telling. So she did just that. She said nothing about the knife or her fears about Sasha.

‘So you didn’t see a murder weapon then?’ Detective Sergeant Steve asked, licking the tip of his pencil. She wondered what his surname was. Perhaps that was his surname. Perhaps—

‘Ms Devlin?’

She shook herself. ‘No.’

‘And Mr Malone?’

‘What about him?’

‘Did he see the murder weapon?’

‘He didn’t go in. I told you he came along after.’

‘When you phoned him.’

‘Yes.’ Alex was getting irritated. ‘I thought it was my statement you’re supposed to be taking?’

Stocky Cop Steve shrugged. ‘Just want to get a picture, that’s all.’ But he didn’t ask her any more questions about Malone.

‘Okay?’ DI Todd and Malone came back over to where she was standing, Stocky Cop Steve having gone away with her statement.

‘Yes, fine thanks,’ Alex said, looking at DI Todd, knowing she was familiar; the name was familiar. Then it struck her. How could she have forgotten? Although now she was older, more severe-looking. Her hair cut short, whereas then it had been long, passed her shoulders, in fact. She had been a young officer when— ‘Excuse me, Detective Inspector, but we know each other don’t we?’

DI Todd gave a brief smile, her expression softening. ‘Yes, Ms Devlin, I’m afraid we do.’

‘Come on,’ said Malone abruptly, taking her elbow. ‘We’re done here.’

‘But—’ said Alex, wanting to talk more to the detective.

‘Now, Alex. Please.’

‘Good to chat with you, Mr Malone. As I said to you before, I’m sure we’ll see one another again.’ Kate Todd stared at him, then looked over Alex’s shoulder, frowning. ‘No Sergeant,’ she shouted, ‘not there.’ She shot Alex a glance. ‘Sorry, I have to go. See you at the station.’ She looked at Malone once more, a slightly quizzical expression on her features. ‘As I said, Mr Malone, I look forward to seeing you again.’ She hurried off.

‘Maybe,’ muttered Malone. He began to frogmarch Alex away, just as she saw Nikki come round the corner, laden down with carrier bags. She stopped, mouth agape at the sight of the ambulance and police activity.

Alex had forgotten about Nikki.

‘What’s all this?’ she called out.

‘Don’t say anything to her,’ Malone said in her ear.

Alex pulled her elbow away from him. ‘Malone, I have to say something. She saw me go into the caravan. I answered the door, for God’s sake, when Jackie was lying dead in there. How am I going to explain that away?’

‘You didn’t say in your statement?’

The panic started again and her head began to hurt. ‘No. I…but I told Nikki that Jackie had a migraine. How am I going to get around that? The police are bound to talk to her. She’ll tell them I was there.’ Oh God, what was she going to do?

‘Okay.’ Malone took charge again. ‘Tell her you panicked. About the migraine. You’d found Jackie Wood on the floor and didn’t know what to do when she came to the door.’

‘She’s not going to buy that, is she?’

‘Try it. You never know. She’s probably got something to hide, too. There must be some reason why she’s holed up in a caravan in the middle of winter on the Suffolk coast.’