Deadly Secrets (Detective Erika Foster #6)(4)

‘Who’s that, love?’

‘Paul; Paul Marsh…’

There was a pause on the line.

‘Yes, of course. Young Paul. Has he had any luck selling that Ford Cortina?’

‘What?’

‘I doubt he’ll get much for it. It’s such a rust bucket. You can poke your finger through the body work.’

‘Edward, what are you talking about?’ said Erika. Marsh had owned a red Ford Cortina, but that was years ago, back in the early nineties.

‘Oh, course. I’m being daft… I didn’t get a very good night’s sleep. How are things with them, after what happened?’

Erika didn’t know what to say. She twisted the phone wire in her fingers. Edward was almost eighty, but always so sharp and on the ball.

‘It’s early days. I haven’t seen them since…’

She heard the kettle whistle in the background.

‘You give them my best, will you?’

‘Of course.’

‘I’ll be off, love. I just need my morning cuppa, and to wake up. And open my presents. You take care, and happy Christmas.’

‘Edward, are you sure everything’s okay?’ she started, but he’d hung up.

She stared at the phone for a moment, then went to the window. The Victorian manor house opposite was large and ornate, and like the rest of the houses on the street had been converted into flats. Several lights were now on, and she could see in one of the windows a couple with two small children opening their presents around a large Christmas tree. A woman in a thick coat struggled past on the pavement, her head down against the driving snow, pulling along a small black dog behind her. Erika went back to the phone and picked it up, then put it down again.



* * *



Erika got ready, and left the flat just before eleven. The snow was coming down thick, and there was a sleepy quality to the day, with all the shops closed, and she saw a few children playing outside, having a snowball fight.

As she drove past the row of shops by Crofton Park train station, the traffic began to thicken and slow, and then things ground to a halt. The windscreen wipers squealed as they cleared the dry snow. Up ahead she could see the flash of blue police lights. This cheered her a little; it made her think of work. The traffic crept forward, and just past Crofton Park School, one of the roads on the left was blocked by two squad cars and a line of police tape. Detective Constable John McGorry was talking to two officers by the fluttering tape. As Erika drew level, she honked her horn and they looked over.

‘What’s going on?’ shouted Erika, winding down her window. A flurry of snow poured in, but she took no notice. McGorry pulled up the lapels of his long black coat and hurried over. He was a handsome young man in his mid-twenties, with dark hair which fell over his face with a floppy fringe. His skin was smooth and pale, and his cheeks flushed from the cold. When he reached her window, he swept back his hair with a gloved hand.

‘Merry Christmas, Boss. Going somewhere nice?’ he asked, noting that she was wearing make-up and earrings.

‘Lunch… What’s going on?’

‘A young woman, found stabbed to death on her doorstep. Whoever did it went crazy on her, blood everywhere,’ he said, shaking his head. The traffic in front started moving, and he stepped back onto the pavement, expecting Erika to drive off. ‘Have a nice lunch; I was hoping to be off duty by now. You on tomorrow?’

‘Who’s the DCI on call today?’

‘Peter Farley, but he’s out at a triple stabbing in Catford. People don’t seem to stop killing each other just because it’s Christmas.’

The car in front pulled away, and a van behind sounded its horn. Erika thought how much more appealing a brutal murder scene was than Christmas lunch with Marsh. The van behind honked again. She put the car in gear and pulled up onto the pavement, causing McGorry to jump back. She grabbed her warrant card and coat and got out.

‘Show me the crime scene,’ she said.





Three





Erika flashed her warrant card, and she and McGorry ducked under the police cordon. They started along the street, passing the rundown houses where neighbours watched from their doorsteps in various states of early morning dress, gawping at the police tape at the end of the road, and craning up the street to where uniformed officers milled around another police tape cordon.

Erika struggled to keep up with McGorry, finding the heels she’d put on for Christmas lunch had no grip on the icy pavement. She wished the weather was warm so she could take her shoes off and go barefoot.

‘It’s the worst day to close off the road; we’ve already had to turn people away who are coming to visit relatives…’ He glanced back and saw Erika gripping a nearby wall as she carefully picked her way along.

‘What?’ she said, when she’d caught up, noticing McGorry staring at her.

‘Nothing. You’re wearing heels,’ he said.

‘Great work, detective.’

‘No, you look great. I mean smart, really good…’

Erika scowled and went to move off, but slipped. McGorry grabbed her just as she was about to fall.

‘Do you want to take my arm?’ he asked. ‘The house is a little way down the end.’

‘Not really, but it might be quicker. And I don’t want to go arse over tit in front of uniform.’