The Kill (4 page)

‘I’m sorry,’ I said again.

Godley was about to say something else but his expression changed and he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket to get his phone, which was vibrating from an incoming call. He handed me his glass so he could hold the phone and jam the other hand against his ear. I moved a few steps away to give him some privacy, even though his side of the conversation was monosyllabic. Minutes passed and I edged further away, thinking I should find myself someone else to talk to rather than hang around waiting for the boss to remember I was there. He had tucked the phone between his shoulder and his ear so he could scrawl notes on a paper napkin, writing fast, his expression grim. I watched, not sure how I could help or if I should try.

Godley turned around then, looking for me, and I knew it was bad, whatever he was hearing. He snapped his fingers to get me to come closer and shielded the phone so the person on the other end couldn’t hear what he was saying. ‘Go and get Derwent. Right now.’

I went. I dumped the glasses on a nearby table and hurried out to the sweet-smelling garden, going as fast as I could though my heels were slowing me down on the gravel path. After a few steps I slid my shoes off and ran on the grass instead, heading for the car park.

The area where the cars were parked was deserted and badly lit, but I could see straightaway I’d been wrong about the car bonnet. No one was even near Derwent’s car, let alone sprawled across it. I slowed down, looking around. I’d been so sure …

As I got closer, I realised I wasn’t as wrong as all that. They were in the back seat.

Without my shoes I was completely silent. I moved around to the window closest to Derwent’s head, and I used the heel of the shoe I was carrying to rap on the glass, hard. His head came up fast and I saw him swearing as he reached over to open the door. Beth was frantically trying to readjust her dress, tugging the top half up and the bottom half down.

‘What the fuck, Kerrigan?’

‘We’ve got a call.’ For Beth’s benefit, because Derwent already knew, I added, ‘We have to go.’

Chapter 2

‘It goes without saying that I’m sorry for spoiling your evening.’ Godley looked around the small circle of his team, the five of us who had been pulled out of the party to stand and wait for our orders. We were standing a little way from the marquee, on a paved area beside a small pond. Frogs chirped in the darkness. I checked the time: after one and there was no sign of the wedding reception winding down.

Godley went on: ‘We’ve been asked to investigate the murder of a police officer.’

There was an intake of breath from most of us, but no actual surprise. If we were being brought in to investigate in the middle of the night when we were miles from London, it had to be something serious and complicated. That was Godley’s remit after all.

‘Who?’ Derwent demanded.

‘A sergeant who works out of Isleworth. Terence Hammond is his name. Have any of you come across him?’

Five heads shook in unison.

‘Good. That’s a help.’ Godley took a paper napkin out of his pocket and checked the notes he’d taken earlier. ‘He was forty-two. Married, with two children. He was shot in the chest.’

‘On duty?’ Chris Pettifer this time, barrel-chested and gravel-voiced.

‘He was coming off duty. On his way home, around a quarter to one.’

‘While he was driving?’ I asked.

‘No. He’d stopped his car in Richmond Park. His home address is on the Kingston side of the park. I assume he used the park as a shortcut to get home.’

‘But why did he stop?’ I asked.

‘No idea. He was in a side road near the Pen Ponds car park.’ Godley read out the GPS location so we could find it. Richmond Park was the biggest area of open ground in London, a diamond-shaped wilderness that sprawled for more than 2,500 acres. I’d worked smaller crime scenes.

Godley went on: ‘I don’t know any more than that, except that he was found almost immediately so we can be fairly sure about the timings. His family still hasn’t been informed. This came straight to us because of his job.’

‘Are you sure there’s a connection? Was he killed because he was a copper?’ Derwent asked. His face was watchful, his concentration total. I found it hard to imagine he had been up to his elbows in a bridesmaid minutes before. His gaze flicked to me for a second and I cut my eyes away from him, staring at Godley as if I had to memorise every detail of his appearance.

‘Not sure of anything yet. I’m not even sure of the details. That’s why we need to get there. I don’t like getting everything second hand.’ Godley looked around at us, the light from the marquee throwing half of his face into shadow. ‘Does everyone have a way to get to the scene from here?’

‘I’m all right,’ Chris said, and Dave Kemp nodded too. Chris was divorced and Dave had come on his own, just like Derwent. I wondered if he’d had his eye on Beth too. Dave was young and good-looking in a boyish way. Blue eyes, fair hair and a ready smile would give him a shot with most girls. He hadn’t had a chance, once Derwent decided he wanted Beth. Dave was just too safe. I shivered as the breeze sighed across the garden, rustling leaves around us.

‘I’ll need a lift,’ Colin Vale said. ‘I’ll be in even worse trouble with the wife if I take the car.’

‘You can come with me,’ Godley said. ‘Maeve?’

‘Oh. I should probably get a lift too.’ I hadn’t even thought about how Rob was going to get back to London, but of course I wouldn’t be back before he needed to leave. He’d cancel the second night in the hotel. He was practical about these things. He wouldn’t mind as much as I did.

‘She can come with me,’ Derwent said, as if he was conferring a tremendous honour on me.

‘There’s room in my car,’ Godley said after a couple of seconds, and I realised everyone was staring at me. I should have said thank you immediately. I should have been more guarded about my expression.

‘No, that’s fine. Thank you, sir,’ I said to Derwent, who glowered back at me. He wasn’t placated. He didn’t know the meaning of the word.

‘All right. Drive carefully, everyone. It’s late and he’s already dead. They’re preserving the scene until we get there so I don’t want anyone to break the speed limit. And for God’s sake stop if you need to get coffee. It’s going to be a long night.’ Godley nodded to Colin and the two of them set off towards the sleek black Mercedes that was Godley’s pride and joy. I wished I was going with them. Chris and Dave followed, heads down, hands in their pockets. It wasn’t how any of us had wanted the night to end.

‘Do you need to say goodbye to your bloke?’ Derwent asked.

‘I should,’ I said.

‘Be quick.’ He was already walking away and I hurried to catch up. ‘You’ll need to get changed too.’

‘I was planning to.’

‘Can’t crawl around a crime scene looking like that.’

‘I’d already come to that conclusion myself.’

‘So hurry up.’ Derwent kept walking, away from the marquee, and I watched him go for a second before I remembered what I had to do.

Rob was standing up when I went to find him. He’d sobered up somehow, and I could see from the other side of the dance floor that he was fully aware of what was going on.

‘Bad luck.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘There’s nothing I can do.’

‘I understand. Is it bad?’

‘Police officer.’

He frowned. ‘On duty?’

‘He’d just come off late turn. He was on his way home.’ Which reminded me. ‘I’ll leave you the car, okay? Can you pack for me?’

‘No problem.’

I leaned in and kissed him, but briefly. ‘I’ll see you back in London.’

‘Fine,’ Rob said, his mind obviously elsewhere. ‘Is Derwent driving you?’

I wondered why he was asking. ‘Yes. He offered.’

Rob picked up my hand and kissed the palm. ‘I’ll miss you. Be careful, Maeve, all right?’

I couldn’t tell if it was my guilty conscience or his gift for mind-reading that made me think he wasn’t talking about road safety. Not that I needed telling. That moment with Derwent earlier had been like looking through a doorway into a dark room. Like every heroine in a horror film, I’d been tempted to go in. And every horror film I’d ever seen proved that that would have been a bad idea. At least, and thank God, he hadn’t actually been thinking that way about me. The awkwardness was all on my side, and if I could hide it well enough, no one need ever know.

Travelling at that hour of the morning, the traffic was light. There was nothing moving on the little country roads that tracked through farmland and forest until we reached the main road, nothing except an occasional rabbit or fox streaking across the tarmac, a blur in Derwent’s headlights. I caught my breath at one near miss and it was all too audible in the silent car. Derwent’s hands tightened on the wheel.

‘Just so you know, if the choice is between going into the ditch and running over a rabbit, it’s going to be rabbit jam.’

‘Fine.’

‘They get plenty of warning. You must be able to hear the engine from a mile away at this time of night. If they’re stupid enough to run out in front of the car, it’s their problem.’

‘I didn’t say anything.’

‘No. You didn’t.’

Silence settled on the car again. I was thinking about whether I had remembered to pick up everything I needed from the little hotel room with its smooth unused bed. I’d changed at lightning speed, leaving my dress in a heap on the floor with my heels as I struggled into the trouser suit I’d brought with me. Footwear was a problem; I hadn’t brought much that was suitable for scrambling around in the woods. I’d pulled on the boots I usually wore with trouser suits, hoping they would survive, wishing I had wellies. Mindful of the chill in the early morning air, I wore a thin jumper under my suit jacket. I’d brushed my teeth and scrubbed at the make-up that had settled under my eyes so I looked a little bit less like I’d been partying when the call came. I’d picked up my bag, which I’d left ready to go, complete with notebook, pen, gloves, torch and radio. Then I let myself out of the room and locked it. I hurried as quietly as I could through the dark up-and-down corridors that ran through the mismatched old buildings that made up the hotel. Then down the creaking stairs to the front door, where Derwent’s car sat with the engine running. I’d paused to hide the key in a flower pot where Rob could find it, then ran to the car. Five minutes, no more than that, and Derwent had still been frowning when I opened the passenger door and got in.

‘Leave your stuff on the back seat,’ was his only comment, as I arranged my jacket across my lap and tucked my bag into the foot well.

‘I’d rather not.’

That got me a raised eyebrow first and a wolfish grin second as he worked out why I didn’t want anything belonging to me anywhere near the back of his car. I didn’t smile back.

So, silence. Derwent whistled under his breath, a habit that always annoyed me, and I looked out of the window. He kept the car moving at a steady hundred wherever he could and I hoped we wouldn’t attract any bored traffic officers. It wasn’t that we’d get in trouble; it was just that it would hold us up. I wanted to get there quickly, but not because I was feeling particularly keen to find out what had happened to Terence Hammond. I wanted to get out of the fast-moving metal box where I was trapped with a man I—what? Disliked? I certainly felt uneasy around him. The Met didn’t believe in partnering up its detectives; it was pure chance that I ended up working with Derwent so often. Chance and a suspicion I had that Godley liked me to work with the inspector, believing, despite much evidence to the contrary, that I was a good influence on him.

The A303 merged with the M3 and Derwent took up his rightful position in the fast lane. I didn’t dare look at the speedometer. Rob drove fast too, but I always knew he was in control of what he was doing. With Derwent, I had no idea if he was being careful or not. I wasn’t going to challenge him about the speed he was doing because it would only make him go faster, so I sat completely still and hoped he was concentrating.

After a few miles, without warning, Derwent swooped from lane three to lane one in a single move. No indicator, but then there were no other cars on the road. I felt the seatbelt press against my sternum as we slowed.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Stopping.’

‘Why?’

‘I need a piss.’

We’d passed a sign for services a little way back. Now another flashed by: one mile to go. Derwent eased off the accelerator some more. I checked the time and bit my lip.

‘Sorry. I didn’t realise you were in a rush. You took long enough about getting changed.’ His voice was soft but I didn’t make the mistake of thinking that meant he wasn’t angry.

‘It took me five minutes.’

‘More than that.’

‘No.’

‘Are you arguing with me?’

I didn’t answer.

The car park was almost deserted, with just a few cars dotted here and there. Derwent parked in the space beside the one reserved for police cars, right in front of the main building, making a point that he could have used the dedicated space but he chose not to. I’d already opened my door before he turned off the engine, desperate to get out and stretch my legs. When Derwent got out, he didn’t even look at me. He locked the car and walked away, into the building, and I had no idea if he was planning on leaving immediately or if he needed a longer break. I followed, leaving him plenty of space.

The services were always bleak, but especially so at that time in the morning. Most of the shops and catering concessions were closed but one of the coffee shops was open.

Derwent was in and out of the gents in record time. He headed for the counter and I came to stand next to him while a yawning teenager sold him coffee.

‘And a chicken sandwich.’

‘Is that breakfast?’ I asked, and got no answer. He paid and took it to one of the tables, sitting down, which I took as a clue that we’d be there for a while. I got coffee for myself. I had no appetite for food. My stomach ached and so did my jaw. I had been clenching it, I realised.

I sat down and watched Derwent picking the meat out of his sandwich. ‘No bread?’