Death in the Sunshine (Retired Detectives Club, #1)(41)

Still angry, Philip shoves his phone into his pocket and walks back through the house to the others. He grabs a beer from the fridge on the way. Twists off the cap and takes a long drink.

He thinks again about Golding’s tone; such a smug, know-it-all bastard. Thinks of the warning to stay out of the investigation that the detective gave him and the lack of respect he’d shown. Golding hadn’t even given him the chance to tell him about the phone or the man following Moira for God’s sake. It beggared belief. What kind of detective shuts down a caller with potential evidence in a murder case before they’ve even had the time to talk about what they’ve got? Philip takes another swig of beer.

He – they, as a team of four – need to keep working the case, that much is crystal clear. And he refuses to feel bad about breaking the rules for a single moment longer. Golding doesn’t give a damn, and that young woman in the pool deserves justice. If the police aren’t going to get it, then it’s up to them. Philip takes another swig and makes a solemn vow.

No more fair and reasonable.

No more sharing of information and trying to help.

They’ll solve this case and that bastard Golding can go to hell.





22


MOIRA


She can see things didn’t go well from the expression on Philip’s face as he stomps on to the patio and plonks himself down on his chair. Moira knew it was a long shot – after the way Golding treated Philip earlier, they all knew that – but she’d hoped for better, for his sake, and for hers. If Golding had stepped up and made Philip feel the police were taking proper care with the murder case, he’d stop investigating and she’d be able to step away from this group of ex-law enforcement types and reorientate any contact they had into something a lot more casual. She could stop watching what she said for fear of giving herself away. It’d limit the risk, and make her feel a lot less tense than she’s feeling right now.

Rick leans towards Philip, earnest expression on his face. ‘How’d it go?’

Philip shakes his head. His cheeks are flushed and he’s holding his beer in a death-grip. ‘He didn’t let me speak long enough to tell him about the phone, the hairclip or the bloke spying on Moira. Told me to back off and then hung up on me again.’

‘What, he didn’t even . . .’ Lizzie looks furious.

Moira knows the feeling. Victims of crime deserve justice, but the way Golding’s behaving he doesn’t seem to give a shit. ‘What’s the matter with the cops in this place?’

‘Damned if I know.’ Philip blows out hard. Takes a gulp of beer and looks at Rick.

Rick shrugs. ‘Look, I’ve not met the man myself, but the word from my police contacts is that Golding is a known asshole. He likes the glory of a closed case, but he doesn’t like the legwork. I guess that’s some of what we’re seeing here.’

‘But I was offering him information,’ says Philip. ‘You’d think he’d have heard me out at least.’

‘Yep,’ says Rick. ‘That you would.’

None of them speak. Everyone is lost in their own thoughts.

‘So what’s our next move?’ says Rick, breaking the silence. ‘You still want a crack at this thing?’

‘Of course I do,’ says Philip. ‘We all do, don’t we?’

Lizzie and Rick nod.

Moira hesitates. This could be her way out. She shakes her head. ‘Look, I’m still not feeling great, and my ankle is pretty busted up. I think it’d be better if I bow out at this point and leave you guys to—’

‘We need you,’ says Lizzie. ‘You chased after that man on the trail. You found the phone. Even if you’re not feeling on top form you’re still essential to the team.’

The team. Shit.

Moira takes a sharp inhale. She doesn’t want to be part of a team. That’s not what coming here is about. She needs to keep herself to herself. Build a new life, away from law enforcement, away from trouble. ‘I just—’

‘You can’t back out. We won’t let you,’ says Philip. His tone is no-nonsense. It makes what he’s saying sound non-negotiable. ‘You’re one of us now.’

‘Well, I . . .’ Moira looks at their faces. Lizzie’s nodding. Rick looks keen. Impatience radiates from Philip. She knows she can’t back out now, however much she might think she wants to. Because although she knows it’d be safer if she stopped investigating with them, a big part of her wants to see it through. She needs to find out who killed that young woman, and she wants them to face the consequences of their actions. She can’t leave justice to someone as indifferent as Detective James R. Golding. ‘Okay. I’m still in.’

‘Good,’ says Philip. ‘And, for my part, there’ll be no more trying to engage Golding in any more pieces of evidence or leads that we find. He’s had his chance and he’s blown it.’

‘Agreed,’ says Lizzie. ‘The way Golding’s going that poor young woman will end up an afterthought on an unsolved crime database for the next however many years. We can’t let that happen.’

‘Totally,’ says Rick. ‘We need to work this, and if we find the perpetrator we can deliver them gift-wrapped to Golding.’

‘When,’ says Lizzie. Her voice is determined. The anxiety of earlier seems forgotten. ‘When we find the perpetrator.’