Deadly Secrets (Detective Erika Foster #6)(76)

‘You say he asked for these photos to be taken?’ said Moss. She jumped as a kettle began to whistle out the back.

‘Yes. This is a photographic studio,’ said Taro, getting up. ‘I’m often asked to take strange pictures, although I always draw the line at photographing nudity.’ He looked at her for a moment, as the kettle continued to scream. ‘I won’t be a moment.’

As soon as he’d vanished through the door. Moss took her phone out of her coat pocket. She had dialled Peterson’s number when Taro popped his head around the door.

‘Milk and sugar?’

‘Yes.’

‘This road has a bit of a black spot when it comes to mobile phone coverage. Perhaps it’s the trees.’

Moss had the phone against her head as she heard the no signal tone. Taro smiled at her again, so amiably, and disappeared off to the screaming kettle. Moss was completely thrown by his behaviour. She moved to see through the door and noted that behind it was a long corridor. She heard the clank of the kettle and a spoon in a saucer at the end of the hall. She moved to the till and picked up the landline. It was dead. She then moved to the door and found it was locked. There was no key. Had Taro locked it when she came in? Hadn’t she noticed?

This is ridiculous, she thought, trying to calm herself. She had been so concerned about doing her best, about being in charge of the investigation. She moved around the room with her phone held high, trying to get a signal.

As she crossed behind the two chairs where they’d been sitting, she noticed that Taro’s folder lay open on his seat. There was a form inside from the Jobcentre, neatly filled in with spidery blue handwriting. Then there was a blank page of handwritten notes, and rows of figures. In the bottom right hand corner, in the same ink, there was a drawing. With shaking hands, Moss picked up the folder. It was a sketch of a face wearing a gas mask, intricately done and shaded using a black biro.

Moss had her phone in her other hand, and she scrolled through to the image of the gas mask, drawn above the note to Joseph. Both the handwriting and the image matched: they had been drawn by the same hand.

There was a faint rattle. Moss turned. Taro was standing behind her, holding two china tea cups.

‘Did you draw this?’ asked Moss, turning and taking a step back. The folder shook in her hand.

‘Yes. Yes, I did,’ Taro said softly. The tea cups rattled again as he gently placed them down on the small table.

Moss opened her mouth to speak, but Taro moved swiftly to the door and flicked off the lights, plunging the room into a murky gloom. Moss hurried towards the front door, where a dim light came through the huge plate glass window, but she felt something hard hit her on the back of her head, and then everything went black.





Fifty-Six





Erika and Isaac had been to visit Edward again, and he had shown great signs of improvement. The nurse had got him up and walking, and he said his leg felt brand new, after years of having dealt with a twinge of pain in his hip. He’d said goodbye to Isaac, who had to return to London for work the next morning.

On the way back to Slaithwaite, Erika asked Isaac to take a detour through a series of pleasant avenues with detached houses.

‘Can you stop just here,’ she said. He pulled the car to a halt outside a detached two-storey house. The front lawn was covered in snow, and a snowman sat close to the front door with a carrot nose, two black eyes and a red scarf. Christmas lights were strung around the eaves, and through the front window they could see a Christmas tree.

‘This is nice,’ said Isaac. ‘Why have we stopped here?’

‘It’s my house,’ Erika said, staring up at it sadly. ‘It’s the house Mark and I lived in for fifteen years.’

‘Oh.’

Erika stared at it. A tear formed in her eye and she wiped it away.

‘I haven’t been back since the day he died. I had all my stuff packed up and put in storage, and I had an agency rent it out.’

‘Do you know the people renting it? Do you want to get out and knock on the door?’

‘No.’

Isaac nodded. ‘How long are you planning to stay up here?’

‘I need to get Edward settled back in at his home. Find him a carer.’

Her phone rang. She didn’t recognise the London number, but answered.

‘Erika?’ asked a woman’s voice, sounding worried.

‘Yes.’

‘It’s Celia, Kate’s wife. Moss’s wife.’

‘Hi Celia, sorry. I don’t have your number in my phone, I didn’t recognise it.’

‘Have you heard from Kate?’

‘No. I left her a message a while back but she hasn’t replied.’

‘It’s just that she usually calls me in the day. We had a silly row this morning, nothing serious, but she’s the kind of person who’ll ring and smooth things over. I phoned James and John McGorry, but they don’t know where she is. I’ve left her six messages.’

‘She’s now running a huge case. Believe me, it can make you lose track of everything.’

‘I know. Kate’s been very stressed out about taking over this case from you…’

‘She’s probably picked up bad habits from me. I tend to lose track of time working on an investigation…’ Erika’s voice tailed off. She only lost track of time because she never had anyone waiting for her to call. ‘She’s probably been called into a briefing meeting. She’ll have to be attending them now she’s acting DCI, and they can go on and on.’