The Secret Child (DI Amy Winter #2)(20)

Amy sighed, feeling a knot form between her shoulder blades. What she needed was a good punchbag session to chase the pain away. ‘Maybe Curtis’s ex-wife might be able to shed some light on things.’ It had been on her agenda to visit the first Mrs Curtis, Shirley, as soon as she could. ‘She goes by her maiden name of Shirley Baker now. Lives not far from here, in a flat on St Luke’s Road.’ Amy rose from her chair. ‘Are you all right to hold the fort if I pay her a quick visit?’

‘Sure. Hopefully you can find out what makes Dr Curtis tick.’

As she left, Amy was struck with a deep sense of gratitude for the freedom granted in her job. It was good to escape the confines of her office in favour of a change of scene. Hers was not a traditional role. She still had the responsibility of managing the budget and overseeing the investigation but, luckily for her, DCI Pike enjoyed admin, often completing tasks Amy should have dealt with herself.



A quick introduction and a flash of her warrant card were all it took to gain access to Shirley Baker’s flat. She was a statuesque woman, her wavy auburn hair tied high on her head with a scarf patterned with cherries. Amy stepped over the toys littering the hall as she followed the first Mrs Curtis through to the kitchen.

‘Thanks for seeing me at such short notice,’ Amy said, having called ahead and explained the situation. ‘I wanted to check if you had any correspondence with your ex-husband with regard to your children.’ Shirley and Dr Curtis had a son and a daughter, and had been married for ten years before they divorced.

‘They’re all grown up now,’ Shirley replied. ‘I’m babysitting my grandchildren today. Do you need me to call them down? They’re watching television in my bedroom.’

‘No need to disturb them. Have you spoken to Dr Curtis recently?’

Shirley nodded. ‘Briefly. It’s awful, what happened to Nicole.’

Her words may have been sympathetic but Amy caught a hint of insincerity in her voice.

‘Have you received any unusual correspondence, noticed anything suspicious?’

‘I’d have called the police if I had,’ Shirley replied. Amy was satisfied with her answers for now. She glanced at the kettle as it whistled on the gas stove. It was ages since she’d seen an old-fashioned hob kettle, and it suited the quirky kitchen, which was decorated in a seventies style.

‘Would you like a cuppa?’ Shirley said, following her gaze. ‘I was just about to make one.’

‘I’d love a coffee. White, one sugar, thanks.’ Amy checked her watch, conscious of the time.

She recalled one of the first tasks Paddy had insisted she learn. Back then, her tutor was not quizzing her on police procedures or her knowledge of the law. He was teaching her how to make a decent cuppa. Coffee she could manage, but her tea had tasted like day-old dishwater until Paddy took her to task. ‘You’ll either be offered or be making plenty of cuppas during your time in uniform,’ Paddy told her. ‘Take my advice – don’t accept a drink in a place where your feet stick to the floor. If you find something scummy floating on your coffee, it’s not cappuccino froth.’

Amy gratefully took the coffee and, following Shirley’s lead, sat down at the round kitchen table. It seemed barely big enough to squeeze in a family, but property was at a premium in London and Shirley’s two-bedroom flat would come with a hefty price tag.

Amy began with an open question in the hope of Shirley filling her in. ‘What do you know about what happened to Nicole?’

‘Only that she was poisoned. She didn’t deserve that.’ Shirley relayed what Amy already knew.

‘Do you feel your children are in danger?’ Amy observed her face for clues. But Shirley wasn’t wearing the guarded expression that had been evident on Nicole’s face.

‘You’re the police officer, you tell me.’

‘Nicole mentioned a Luka Volkov. Does the name ring any bells?’

Shirley shrugged and played with a coaster. ‘My ex-husband worked with many people. I can’t remember them all.’

‘What makes you think they worked together?’

‘It’s obvious, isn’t it? Unless this Luka is a clothes designer. The only thing Nicole is interested in is fashion, make-up and shoes.’

Shirley was obviously not a fan but, having seen a breakdown of Nicole’s shopping habits, Amy could hardly disagree. She sipped her coffee, steam rising from the mug as she gave herself a few seconds to think. ‘So you’ve never received any flowers or gifts that you can’t explain?’

‘I wish. The nearest I get to presents are the things my grandkids bring home from playschool.’

Amy’s grip on the mug tightened. Was Shirley being deliberately obtuse? ‘How was your early relationship with Dr Curtis?’ she continued. ‘Did work ever interfere with your personal lives?’

Shirley snorted. ‘Let’s put it this way – Hugh has little time for romance. He uses Mensa to find his conquests instead of dating apps.’

‘Really?’ Amy said. Nicole did not strike her as the academic type.

‘The man’s a sociopath. His only love is his work.’ A tinge of bitterness laced Shirley’s words. ‘Our children were nothing more than lab rats to him.’

Amy frowned at her sudden change of mood. ‘You’re not serious.’