Faithfully: Chase & Halshaw #1 (28 page)

Be thou
faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life.

Revelation 2:10

“What do you mean, you let him go?” Halshaw demanded.

Fenway looked back at her evenly. “Because we’d finished with
him,” he replied.

“But DCI Hopkins said she’d let DI Chase and me interview
him first!”

“No she didn’t. She said she’d let DI Chase interview him.
But he isn’t around, is he, Lauren?”

Halshaw ground her teeth in frustration.

A slow smile spread across Fenway’s face. “Anyway, Dmitri
will be back soon enough,” he soothed. “Don’t you worry about it, darling.
You’ll have plenty of time to interview him when he’s in custody.”

“You mean he wasn’t in custody earlier?”

“No. We’d just brought him in for questioning, that’s all.
He answered all our questions, and made a formal statement.”

“Voluntarily?”

“Of course.”

“And so you let him go? Just like that?”

“Yes.”

“So when do you expect to arrest him?”

“Oh, very soon, darling. DCI Hopkins has got it all worked out.”

“What do you mean?”

Fenway sipped his plastic cup of coffee-flavoured tea and
looked back at her coolly. “Look. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but...”

“Go on,” said Halshaw, with what she hoped was an
encouraging smile.

“...we’re following him. The guvnor thinks he’ll lead us
straight to where the gear is. Word is, there’s a big shipment due in tonight.”

“So DCI Hopkins wants to catch them red-handed, is that it?”

“You got it.”

“What happened when you let him go?”

“He made a call on his mobile. Five minutes later, some
bloke in a Beemer turned up and collected him. We’ve got a couple of our guys
following him in unmarked cars.”

“Who was driving?”

“Dunno. Some bloke. He didn’t get out of the car.”

“How do you know it was a man if he didn’t get out of the
car?”

“I’ve never seen a woman with shoulders like that,” leered
Fenway.

“Whose car was it?” she asked quickly.

“Dmitri’s. M3 convertible, it was. Sweet.”

“All legal?”

“Of course. I checked.”

“OK. Where’s the shipment due? And when?”

“If we knew that, darling...” replied Fenway, spreading his
hands wide.

“That’s why you’re following him, is it?”

“You got it.”

At that moment Fenway’s phone rang out.

“Hello?” he said. “Oh hi, Sarge. How’s it hanging?”

Tactfully, Halshaw retreated a few paces up the corridor,
far enough away to give Fenway some space, but close enough that she could
still hear his side of the conversation.

“You’re joking!” she heard Fenway say. “Where was that?” He
listened. “OK, I’ll tell her. Are you coming back in?”

He ended the call and walked over to Halshaw.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, innocently.

“That was DS Kirkwood,” Fenway replied. “They’ve lost him.”

“Who?”

“Dmitri. They’ve only gone and lost him!” He thumped the
wall close to where she was leaning. “Wankers!”

“How did they do it?”

“Handbrake turn in a one-way street, Kirkwood said. God,
he’s useless! If it’d been me, I’d have...”

“I understand, Rupert,” said Halshaw, quietly. “Really. And
what about DCI Hopkins? Does she know yet?”

“Not yet, darling. And I’m not gonna be the one to tell her.
I’m gonna let Kirkwood have the honour when he gets back. Mind you, if he’s got
any sense he’ll take his time about it.”

“How do you mean?”

“Ever seen DCI Hopkins in a paddy?”

“Like earlier, you mean?”

He shook his head. “That was normal. Just grumpy, that’s
all. No, I mean a real paddy.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“It’s not a pretty sight, I can tell you. I wouldn’t want to
face her without a few stiff ones inside me, I can tell you.”

Halshaw raised her eyebrows.

“Drinks, darling,” chuckled Fenway. “Stiff drinks. What did
you think I meant?”

*

Back in Chase’s office, Halshaw stared forlornly at the pile
of crime reports. What was the connection? Chase had worked it out, hadn’t he?
Or was he bluffing, hoping that inspiration would strike?

She remembered Darren’s story about the two men in the Green
Parrot. He had been sure Dmitri was the man receiving the money. But who was
the other man? A fence paying him for stolen goods? Perhaps it was to do with
the contraband cigarettes? More likely it was something completely different, a
loan being repaid, or a debt settled. Or a drug dealer, perhaps. Hadn’t Darren
said something about pills?

And where did Dmitri fit into the picture? He had said
something about using boys. That would make sense. Only a small child would fit
through an open vent window. They could climb in and look around, and let
Dmitri or whoever in when the coast was clear. They would probably have a
lovely time messing the place up, throwing clothes around, drawing on the mirror
with lipstick, and spreading dog muck everywhere. And if an alarm did go off,
the child would be on its own, in a strange room in a strange home. Terrified
and alone. He or she would never dare betray Dmitri. What did Jake and Ahmed
say? Nobody needs to mind his car. Come to that, did Dmitri ever use Jake and
Ahmed?

Then there was the Di
Rodway
connection. A coincidence, maybe, but still... Wasn’t the first burglary about
the time that she started working there? And didn’t some of the victims work
for Logistical Group? Not all, though...

Impatiently, she flipped through the crime reports until she
found the one she was looking for. She picked up the receiver of the desk
phone, dialled the number, and drummed her fingers on the desk as the phone
rang. Eventually a female voice answered.

“Ms Curtis? DC Halshaw again. From River Road. Sorry to
trouble you again, but I have one further question for you.”

“All right,” said the sleepy voice in her ear.

“You said you were a PA at the time of the break-in. Is that
right?”

“Yes.”

“Where were you working?”

“Hertz UK, in Uxbridge. Just temping.”

“OK. Did you ever work at Skyline Place, the Logistical
Group offices?”

“No. Sorry.”

Halshaw clenched her fists in frustration. “OK, Ms Curtis,” she
sighed dejectedly. “Thank you very much. Sorry to have bothered you.
Goodnight.”

She had almost replaced the receiver when she heard a tinny
voice say, “But my husband did...”

“That was delicious, Anna,” beamed Chase, sitting back in
the dining chair and sighing contentedly.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, fiddling with an
infinitesimal mark on the sleeve of the blue and white striped shirt. “I’m
sorry it wasn’t quite up to my usual standard – it’s never easy cooking in a
strange kitchen.”

“You’ll just have to keep practicing, then.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she teased. “Home cooked
food waiting for you every night.”

He smiled.

“Though I bet you have to work late in your job.”

“Not if I had a dinner like that to look forward too.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls!”

“They don’t wander around the flat in a shirt, high heels,
and not much else.”

“Nothing else, to be precise,” Anna grinned. Then she
sighed. “Come on. Let’s sort out the washing up.”

Chase shook his head. “Jumping up too quickly is bad for the
digestion,” he said. “And anyway, we haven’t finished the wine yet.” He divided
the last of the bottle between their two glasses, then stood and took her hand.
She picked up her glass and let him lead her to the old but comfortable sofa. He
sat at one end, she at the other, with her bare legs stretched out across his
lap.

“What would you be doing this evening if you weren’t here?”
he asked.

She sipped her wine. “Tuesday evenings? That’s my Pilates
class.”

“I didn’t know you did Pilates.”

“There’s lots you don’t know about me, Al,” she grinned.
“Yes, I do Pilates. I used to do it years ago, but when Chris and I started
getting into difficulties I let it slip. It was Lucy Faith, actually, who
suggested I should do more exercise. So I started doing Pilates again
regularly. I go to Amy’s gym once a week, too.”

“Where do you go?”

“
Totally Toned!
Near South Bourne Tube.”

Chase frowned. “Is that what used to be
Gym’ll
Fix It
?”

“That’s right. They changed the name a few months ago, for
obvious reasons. Want to hear something terrible?”

“Go on.”

“I had to explain to Amy where the name came from. She’s too
young to remember Jimmy Savile. I mean, can you believe that?”

Chase groaned. “Makes you feel ancient, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” she chuckled. “I’m nowhere near as serious about
keeping fit as Amy is, but it’s a good way to work off your frustrations. And
some calories, too.”

He patted her toned thigh. “You look pretty good on it, I
must admit.”

“Thank you,” she smiled. She sipped her wine again, then
leant forward and kissed him with succulent, merlot-moistened lips.

The doorbell rang.

“Better go and see who that is, I suppose,” he sighed,
reluctantly slipping out from under Anna’s bare legs.

She stretched out languorously on the sofa. “At least I get
the settee to myself for a few moments,” she grinned. “But don’t be long. We’ve
still got washing up to do, remember?”

Chase looked over his shoulder and smiled back, before
flinging open the front door of his flat.

Standing there was Jim, clutching a heavy plastic carrier
bag. “I’m not stopping, Al,” he said. “I’ve just come to give you your drill
back.”

“Thanks,” replied Chase, taking the bag. “Come in for a
moment. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

“OK,” said Jim, stepping over the threshold. While Chase
shut the front door and stowed the carrier bag in the hall cupboard, Jim
entered the living room and stopped dead in the doorway, admiring Anna’s
shapely legs, her spectacular curves, her shining eyes and broad smile. “So you’re
the lovely Lauren, are you?” he asked, before Chase could say anything. “Al’s
told me all about you.”

Anna smiled politely.

“We were talking about you in the pub only the other day,”
he ploughed on, staring unashamedly at her sumptuous figure. “I told Al he’d
get his end away with you, and now he has... you are the lovely Lauren, aren’t
you?”

“No, I’m Anna,” she replied. “You must be Jim. Pleased to
meet you.” They shook hands, and then she turned to Chase. “Who’s Lauren, Al?”

“My assistant. Detective Constable Lauren Halshaw.”

She frowned. “I thought your assistant was a man. What did
you say his name was? Ken something, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right. Ken Thomas. He’s in hospital at the moment.
He was hit by a car last week. DC Halshaw’s standing in. She’s on secondment
from Avon and Somerset Constabulary. Just for a few weeks, probably.”

She nodded. “And why, exactly, is Lauren so lovely?” she
asked sweetly.

Jim finally noticed the dangerous look in her eyes and
cleared his throat sharply. “I’d better be going, then,” he said. “Nice to meet
you, Anna. Cheers, Al. See you on Saturday. Don’t bother, I’ll see myself out.”

He scuttled off. Chase waited until he heard the front door
slam before saying, “Listen, Anna. I can explain.”

She swung her bare legs off the sofa and ambled slowly to
the window at the far end of the lounge. She stared out at the sunlit backs of
the houses opposite, at the gardens, some neat, some neglected. Chase stood
rooted to the spot, watching her tense shoulders and waiting for an outburst,
an explosion of fury. But it never came.

 “You don’t need to explain anything, Al,” she said
eventually, in a flat, despairing voice. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

“How do you mean?” he asked, his stomach sinking.

“This. All of it. I mean, why drive a tatty old second-hand
car when you can have a shiny new one?”

“Pardon?”

At last she turned and looked at him. He noticed with dismay
the tears streaming down her cheeks and forced himself not to break eye
contact.

“I know you’d prefer a younger woman,” she went on. “No, let
me finish. I know what men are like. You’re not like my ex-husband, not really,
but in one way you’re just the same. Men always want young, beautiful women.
Women they can mould, perhaps. Women who will help them fulfil their sad,
puerile, middle-aged fantasies. Women, God knows, who can put a bit of lead
back in their drooping pencils. I’d just hoped, prayed even, that you were
different. But I was wrong. I know that now.”

He stepped forward and grasped her shoulders. She looked
down. “No, Anna, you’re not wrong,” he insisted.

“I’d better go,” she murmured, attempting to twist out of
his grip.

He let his hands fall. “Look at me, Anna,” he said, softly.

“Why?”

“Just look at me. Please.”

She peered up at him through tear-soaked eyelashes. “What?”

“I don’t know what your ex did to you, Anna,” he continued,
gently but insistently. “But everything I said yesterday was true. You’re so
beautiful, and I love being with you. I’ve never met anyone like you. I’m not
interested in anyone else.”

She said nothing.

“Honestly,” he went on. “Not DC Halshaw, not Amy, not
anyone. Just you.”

She raised her eyebrows sceptically.

“It’s the truth, Anna. Whether or not you believe me is up
to you. But I can’t prove it to you if you leave. Can I?”

She gazed back at him steadily.

“Can I?” he repeated.

For several minutes they stared wordlessly at each other.
Eventually, she looked down and buried her face in his shoulder. He felt her
tears soaking through the fabric of his shirt.

Chase blinked back his own tears, wrapped both arms
protectively around her shoulders, then closed his eyes and kissed the top of
her head tenderly. For some time they stood there, swaying together as if in a
slow dance, her breasts crushed against his chest and her pelvis grinding
gently against his groin.

When he opened his eyes again the setting sun had turned the
backs of the houses golden and cast the gardens into deep shadow. He reached
down with one hand and stroked the smooth inside of her cool thighs. She
shuffled slightly to one side, without losing the rhythm of their imaginary
ballad, and gasped softly as he slipped one, then two fingers inside her.

Some while later, she lifted her head off his shoulder and
sighed. Chase was terrified that he had caused some terrible offence, but when
her eyes met his there was no mistaking her look of drowsy tenderness. They
gazed at each other for a few seconds, before she took his head in both hands
and kissed him, long and deep.

“Where have you been all my life, Al?” she whispered,
resting her cheek on his shoulder again.