‘Thanks for coming.’ He stood up and pulled out a chair for me. ‘What’ll you have?’
‘Tonic water, please.’
‘With gin or vodka?’
I smiled. ‘Not when I’m still working.’
‘Yeah. Of course. Maybe later.’
He headed over to the bar and leaned against it, taller by inches than the men on either side and a good deal broader. He looked as if he’d expect to win an arm-wrestling competition with anyone there. His hair was really properly red, which I happened to like. From the looks Peake was getting from ladies – and quite a few men – all around the bar, I wasn’t alone in noticing that he wore it well.
He came back juggling a beer, a bottle of tonic water, a glass for me with ice and a plate of nuts and crisps.
‘Brain food. Here you go.’
I crunched a pretzel, suddenly ravenous. ‘Do they know you here? How come we’ve got this and no one else has?’
‘I was nice to Magda.’ He looked back at the girl who was working our end of the bar and grinned at her, getting a lopsided smile in return. ‘She’s from Krakow.’
‘I think you made her night.’ She was now polishing a spot on the bar that probably hadn’t needed a two-minute shine but it allowed her an unimpeded view of Peake. It wasn’t altogether surprising, I thought. He was pleasant, handsome, and I found him attractive. I reminded myself firmly that my boyfriend possessed all three characteristics in truckloads, and concentrated on sipping my drink.
‘So what did you do to annoy my boss?’ Peake raised one eyebrow slowly. ‘Anything I should know about?’
‘I didn’t think he remembered meeting me. Why, what did he say?’
‘He said you were arrogant.’
‘Just arrogant?’
‘An arrogant bitch.’
I nodded. ‘Nice.’
‘Sorry.’ He drank his lager. ‘I hadn’t planned to say so much.’
‘Christ, don’t ever commit a crime. The interview would be pitiful.’
‘What can I say? I can’t lie to you.’
I looked away, smiling politely.
He moved on without further comment. ‘So I thought we should get together and have a chat about this case minus my twat of a boss and your … Chief Inspector Burt.’
I wondered what choice phrases he had decided not to use. It was wise of him not to slag her off, as he didn’t know how I felt about her. The funny part was that I didn’t know either.
‘What’s been going on? How did Bradbury get this case when he’s only just been promoted?’
‘No one else wanted it. Everyone assumed it was a domestic gone bad, an easy one that Bradbury could handle. They didn’t make the connection with the other woman until after the post-mortem, when Dr Hanshaw said he’d seen something similar. And then Groves and his fat friend came along and looked over our shoulders.’
‘They’re quite the double act,’ I observed.
‘They’ve been dying to take over. Not that I blame them.’ He finished his beer in one long swallow and caught Magda’s eye, holding up the glass. ‘Changed your mind?’
I’d barely touched my drink. ‘I’m fine. What’s been the problem with the investigation? Why do they want to take over?’
‘Bradbury doesn’t want to listen to anyone. I mean, anyone. He took some convincing to admit it was the same killer.’
‘Hadn’t he seen the crime-scene pictures?’
‘Yeah. He wasn’t prepared to admit they were identical straight away. I think he was afraid the case would get taken away from him.’
‘He must be just delighted at how things have worked out, now that Godley’s taken over the lot.’
‘Actually, I think he is. He’s glad to have an opportunity to impress your boss.’
‘Please, God, don’t let him impress Godley so much that he gets him to join the team.’
‘Godley’s got to know better than that.’
‘You’d think, but he doesn’t filter out the tossers.’ I stirred my tonic water with the totally unnecessary swizzle stick, jabbing the ice viciously. ‘As long as they’re good coppers, they can join the team.’
‘Rest easy. That leaves Bradbury out.’
‘Is he actually fucking it up or is he just dragging his heels?’
‘Fucking up. He put everyone’s backs up at Maxine’s work, asking questions about her sex life and everyone else’s in the office. He upset her parents – did a video link interview with them and they were so steamed up about what he was suggesting that they complained to our boss.’
‘What was he saying, for God’s sake?’
‘He got it into his head that she was working as a hooker to make some extra cash. Don’t ask me what gave him that idea, because there was no evidence that I saw. A hunch, apparently. Gut instinct.’
‘Always reliable.’
‘I think it was the address that made him think that.’ He went quiet while Magda put a fresh coaster and glass in front of him, with a flourish. She got a smile for her trouble and looked thrilled. Once she was out of earshot he went on, ‘It’s flats, right, and the one upstairs was being used by a part-time prossie for work. Prearranged meet-ups only. She didn’t solicit on the street and bring unknown punters back and she didn’t live there herself. We found her when we were tracing the tenants to do interviews.’
‘How did she advertise her services?’
‘Escort websites. She waited to give the address until she was sure she was willing to go ahead with that particular client. Said she’s good at picking out the wrong ones.’
‘Until the time she doesn’t,’ I said. ‘Did she ever arrange to meet someone there but get stood up?’
‘All the time.’ Peake grinned. ‘Apparently a lot of men lose their nerve the first time. When they’ve been once, they tend to go back. This is what she told me,’ he added. ‘I’m not speaking from personal experience.’
‘I’m just wondering if someone got the address by pretending to be a client and then got the flat numbers confused.’
‘That was something we looked into, but we didn’t get very far with it. Bradbury decided that Maxine got the idea to be a hooker from her and started working the streets without having the local knowledge or the smarts to stay safe.’
I thought of the crime-scene pictures. ‘She really doesn’t seem to have been that kind of girl.’
‘That’s what her parents said. Anyway, the girl said she’d never even seen Maxine, let alone advised her on a career in prostitution. She only saw regulars in the time Maxine was living there. She’s a student, by the way. This is how she’s paying her tuition fees. She’ll probably end up being a lawyer and earning five times what I do.’
‘She could probably earn that now if she wasn’t so picky about her clientele.’ I frowned. ‘If the killer thought Maxine was a prostitute, maybe he was trying to redeem her from her life of sin. Maybe that’s what he’s doing.’
‘Cutting off the hair. Dressing them in white. It’s possible.’
‘Any link with prostitution in Kirsty’s case?’
‘None that I know of.’
‘Did Groves and Burns look into it?’
‘You’d have to ask them.’ Peake looked pained. ‘Bradbury insisted that all queries go through him. I hadn’t been allowed five minutes to talk to them on my own until we got to Anna Melville’s house.’
‘I should always bring Godley along. He’s the highest-ranking officer Bradbury is likely to meet. He made for him like a dog finding the only lamppost for miles.’
‘Bradbury would absolutely piss on his leg if he thought Godley would like it.’
‘Not having much fun working with him?’
‘You know when someone is wrong, and you tell them they’re wrong, and just being told they’re wrong makes them determined to stick to what they said?’
‘All too well,’ I said, thinking of Derwent.
‘He’s a twat.’ Peake took a handful of peanuts and started working through them. ‘I hate coming to work with him. If he’d been more open-minded and less shitty about Maxine, we wouldn’t have to reinterview everyone now. Your chief inspector has got him where she wants him – he’s actually terrified of her. So that’s something.’
‘No better woman.’
‘She worked out that Bradbury was out of his depth about two seconds after she started dealing with him.’ He shook his head. ‘Godley has a good eye for female talent.’
‘She’d made her reputation long before Godley took her on,’ I said calmly, ignoring the implicit compliment.
‘I bet you’re glad she’s there. It’s proof he doesn’t just go on looks.’ He looked down, then up again, pretending to be awkward when he was nothing of the sort. ‘Sorry. But you know, you’re very attractive. You must have had people saying that you got where you are because of that.’
‘Oh, they said it. And then they took it back.’
‘I’m sure they did.’ He leaned forward. ‘I’m glad you were able to come out tonight. I’ve been wanting to get to know more about you since I saw you.’
It wasn’t often that I was aware of the significance of choosing one course of action over another. The images clicked through my head like a slideshow. Option A: go home, be glad you have a nice boyfriend, be grateful that you have the sense to know when you’re in danger of trampling all over the things you care about. Option B: keep talking, keep drinking, allow yourself to flirt just a little bit, here and there. End up getting to know the dashing DS Peake better. Do something you regret just to prove to yourself that you’re still free to make mistakes, even if you are in a serious relationship. Dispel the feeling of being trapped. Behave like the old Maeve. Be the person you used to be.
Option A was safe. Option B had its dangerous attractions. The risk-taking part of me yearned for it. The rest of me was terrified at the prospect.
I picked up my bag. ‘It’ll have to wait for another time, I’m afraid. I’ve got to go.’
He looked genuinely surprised. ‘You’ve only just arrived.’
‘I’ve got to meet someone now.’
‘A date?’
‘No. Work. Like this.’
His face darkened, then cleared. Peake had too much pride to admit he was annoyed, or disappointed. ‘Another time, then. Somewhere a bit less formal, maybe.’
‘This is nice.’ I stood up. ‘Quiet.’
‘And there are rooms upstairs if you don’t feel like heading home.’ His eyes held mine, then dropped to my mouth, then skimmed over my body. My cheeks burned.
It was my cue to say
, Actually, I have a boyfriend, so
… I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I hated excusing myself like that –
I’m the property of another man, so I can’t stay in spite of how much I want to
. It wasn’t the only reason I wasn’t going to stay for another drink, so why mention it?
I smiled, composed again. ‘That is convenient. If you find out when Magda finishes work, you might get to try one.’
‘I don’t think so,’ he said softly, and I hoped he didn’t think I was jealous. ‘You pick a place next time. I’ll leave it up to you. Let me know when you’re free again and I’ll be there.’
It was too awkward to say something about Rob now, or make a weak excuse about working late a lot. I hesitated, left it too long to reply, stammered a goodbye that sounded breathy rather than decisive and walked out, wondering why it was so damn hard to tell men to back off when they couldn’t or wouldn’t notice the not-interested signs. Be too brutal and they called you a bitch. Be too nice and you ended up giving them your phone number or agreeing to see them again.
And then there was the one who wouldn’t take no for an answer, who persuaded you to trust him. The one you let into your home so he could murder you and dress you up for kicks.
Suddenly I missed Rob, a lot. I rang his mobile, knowing that it probably wouldn’t work. It clicked through to voicemail which I wasn’t sure he could pick up in the US. I left a message anyway, thanking him for the flowers, telling him I was busy but looking after myself. Coping fine without him. Missing him a bit.
Half-truths.
He knew me well enough to know better.
I hung up and had no regrets at all about leaving handsome, charming James Peake sitting on his own in the bar. He wouldn’t be alone for long, I thought, and he was free to get up to mischief with whomever he liked.
But not me.
Chapter 18
Derwent opened the door with the positive mental attitude of a boxer heading into the last round of a must-win prize fight. His first shot was a haymaker. ‘What time do you call this?’
‘I had to work. Then I had to meet someone. Then I had to go back to the office to collect these.’ I was standing on one leg, my arms full of files, one knee supporting them as they threatened to slide out of my grasp. ‘Can you take these? Or let me come in?’
He grabbed the top two files and started flicking through them. I was still standing on the doorstep.
‘Excuse me.’
‘What is it?’ He hadn’t even looked up.
‘I’m still out here. On the street. And it’s cold.’ I shivered as the wind cut at my ankles. ‘Let me in, for God’s sake.’
‘The choice was between taking the files and allowing you into my flat again.’ Still reading. ‘I have made my choice.’
Seething, I dumped the rest of the files at his feet. ‘Fine. Enjoy. I want them back in the morning.’
I was ten yards down the street when he caught up with me. ‘I was joking. Come on, Kerrigan. I didn’t mean it.’
‘I was going to tell you about everything that’s
not
in the file,’ I said coldly. ‘But you don’t deserve it.’
‘I know. I’m an arsehole. But you love me anyway.’
‘You’re half right.’
‘Come on.’ He took my arm. ‘Don’t make me kidnap you again.’
I pulled away from him. ‘Don’t touch me. I’m here because I choose to be and I can choose to go home just as easily.’
‘I know. I’m sorry.’ He tilted his head to one side, considering me. ‘Why are you choosing to be here?’
‘Because you’re not getting a fair deal.’
‘Lucky for me you love an underdog.’
‘Yeah, it is. And it’s also good for my career if you’re right about Angela’s murder being connected to the three killings this year.’
‘That’s more like it.’ He looked relieved. ‘Ambitious as ever, Kerrigan.’
‘You’d be the same if you were in my position.’
‘Very possibly.’
The wind blew my hair around my face and I pushed it back, shivering. ‘Are we going inside or what?’
‘Of course.’ He hesitated. ‘You know I was only taking the piss.’