The Kill: (Maeve Kerrigan 5) Read online

  ‘Yes, he is.’

  For a split-second, the bridesmaid who was not Beth looked disappointed that Rob wasn’t single. As if, I thought, abandoning the moral high ground.

  ‘Well, why were you all over Josh? How do you know him? Or don’t you?’

  ‘I work with him.’

  ‘No you don’t,’ Beth said. ‘He’s a police officer. He investigates murders.’

  ‘So do I.’

  She looked surprised. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘I’m a detective constable.’

  I watched the two of them stare at me, checking out the shoes and the legs and the very fitted dress that was cut to make the most of my chest and the least of my waist.

  ‘I think, even if I was a police officer, I’d be ashamed to be that much of a slut in public while my boyfriend was watching.’ Plain bridesmaid’s tone was biting.

  God, I hated the word slut. I was tempted to snap back, but I took hold of my temper. There was one way to neutralise Derwent, at least for the rest of the evening, assuming he was right and the lady was willing.

  ‘I was just dancing,’ I said. ‘And Josh really likes Beth. Beth, do you like Josh?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Then go and find him. Put us all out of our misery.’

  I’d have warned her to be careful but there didn’t seem to be much point. I left her checking her make-up as her friend redid her hair, shoving in hairpins with thin-lipped concentration. It had to be hard to be the not-pretty bridesmaid, even if Beth’s reward was a short liaison with my DI.

  I walked down the steps to the path that led back to the marquee, not hurrying this time. Light spilled out of the tent across the grass, and the band had gone up-tempo again with ‘Walking on Sunshine’. Gales of laughter rang out and a woman screamed, then cackled loudly. I wished I felt more like partying. I wished I could have a drink and forget the previous twenty minutes had ever happened.

  My eyes were getting used to the darkness. Glancing to my right, I saw a figure standing motionless under a tree. Derwent.

  As I got close enough to see his face I faltered and stopped. It was his expression – dark, undisguised desire. I could tell what he wanted and how he wanted it: a willing partner bent over a car bonnet, right there and then. No preamble. No romance. Just sex.

  And I was scared. Not of him, but of what I might do. There was a reckless, hand-in-the-fire, jump-in-the-river part of me that I kept hidden, but it still existed. I wasn’t to be trusted with my own happiness. I hadn’t wanted to fall in love with Rob because I knew I would wreck it, somehow. Derwent was the ultimate bad idea, on every level. And I loved Rob.

  I knew, though, that if Derwent said my name then, I might be tempted to go to him.

  All of this flashed through my mind like a wildfire in the space of a half-second, before I realised he was looking past me, to where Beth was stepping down from the trailer on to the gravel path. I don’t even think Derwent had noticed me break my stride.

  I walked on, into the brightly lit marquee, where everyone was flushed from the heat of dancing and the good French wine. Nothing about my appearance would make me stand out to anyone, even though my face was flaming. I tacked sideways, away from where Rob was sitting, knowing that his very inconvenient habit of reading my mind would be too dangerous to risk. I was heading for the bar and a glass of water. I had to recover something like self-possession before I went back to him.

  ‘Maeve.’

  I jumped about a mile. ‘Sir.’

  Godley smiled down at me, tall and film-star handsome as ever. ‘You can call me Charles. We’re off duty.’

  ‘I don’t actually think I can,’ I said truthfully and he laughed.

  ‘Give it another couple of years of working with me and you’ll be calling me far worse things than my name. Look at Josh. He has absolutely no respect for me.’

  I flinched a little at the sound of Derwent’s name, and Godley saw it. He frowned, then asked, ‘Are you having a good time?’

  ‘Of course.’ I smiled at him. ‘I was just going to get a drink. Water, I mean.’

  ‘I could do with a refill too.’ He stood back to let me go first, following me to the bar where I waited for the bar staff to notice us. And waited. And waited.

  ‘If you don’t mind, I could try,’ Godley said in my ear.

  ‘Be my guest.’ I swapped places with him. Instantly two of the girls dropped what they were doing to rush over and take his order. While we waited for the drinks a heavy-set middle-aged man blundered up to the bar and cannoned into me. With tremendous courtesy Godley put his arm around me to move me out of range. For the second time that night, I was aware of getting a completely undeserved glare from other women because of who I was with.

  Which reminded me. As I took my glass from Godley, I asked, ‘Is Serena here? I haven’t seen her.’

  His expression darkened. ‘She isn’t here. I came alone.’

  ‘You and Derwent both did. You should have been each other’s dates.’

  ‘I’ve seen what Josh does to his dates. No thanks.’

  I wondered if Godley had seen what Derwent had done to me. He had moved on, though.

  ‘I should tell you, Maeve … Serena and I are getting divorced.’

  ‘What? Why?’ I realised it was none of my business as soon as I asked. ‘I mean, I’m sorry. Sorry to hear that.’

  Godley grimaced. ‘It’s been coming for a while. Sometimes things go too far and you can’t find a way back to where you used to be.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said again.

  Godley was about to say something else but his expression changed and he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket to get his phone, which was vibrating from an incoming call. He handed me his glass so he could hold the phone and jam the other hand against his ear. I moved a few steps away to give him some privacy, even though his side of the conversation was monosyllabic. Minutes passed and I edged further away, thinking I should find myself someone else to talk to rather than hang around waiting for the boss to remember I was there. He had tucked the phone between his shoulder and his ear so he could scrawl notes on a paper napkin, writing fast, his expression grim. I watched, not sure how I could help or if I should try.

  Godley turned around then, looking for me, and I knew it was bad, whatever he was hearing. He snapped his fingers to get me to come closer and shielded the phone so the person on the other end couldn’t hear what he was saying. ‘Go and get Derwent. Right now.’

  I went. I dumped the glasses on a nearby table and hurried out to the sweet-smelling garden, going as fast as I could though my heels were slowing me down on the gravel path. After a few steps I slid my shoes off and ran on the grass instead, heading for the car park.

  The area where the cars were parked was deserted and badly lit, but I could see straightaway I’d been wrong about the car bonnet. No one was even near Derwent’s car, let alone sprawled across it. I slowed down, looking around. I’d been so sure …

  As I got closer, I realised I wasn’t as wrong as all that. They were in the back seat.

  Without my shoes I was completely silent. I moved around to the window closest to Derwent’s head, and I used the heel of the shoe I was carrying to rap on the glass, hard. His head came up fast and I saw him swearing as he reached over to open the door. Beth was frantically trying to readjust her dress, tugging the top half up and the bottom half down.

  ‘What the fuck, Kerrigan?’

  ‘We’ve got a call.’ For Beth’s benefit, because Derwent already knew, I added, ‘We have to go.’

  Chapter 2

  ‘It goes without saying that I’m sorry for spoiling your evening.’ Godley looked around the small circle of his team, the five of us who had been pulled out of the party to stand and wait for our orders. We were standing a little way from the marquee, on a paved area beside a small pond. Frogs chirped in the darkness. I checked the time: after one and there was no sign of the wedding reception winding down.

>   Godley went on: ‘We’ve been asked to investigate the murder of a police officer.’

  There was an intake of breath from most of us, but no actual surprise. If we were being brought in to investigate in the middle of the night when we were miles from London, it had to be something serious and complicated. That was Godley’s remit after all.

  ‘Who?’ Derwent demanded.

  ‘A sergeant who works out of Isleworth. Terence Hammond is his name. Have any of you come across him?’

  Five heads shook in unison.

  ‘Good. That’s a help.’ Godley took a paper napkin out of his pocket and checked the notes he’d taken earlier. ‘He was forty-two. Married, with two children. He was shot in the chest.’

  ‘On duty?’ Chris Pettifer this time, barrel-chested and gravel-voiced.

  ‘He was coming off duty. On his way home, around a quarter to one.’

  ‘While he was driving?’ I asked.

  ‘No. He’d stopped his car in Richmond Park. His home address is on the Kingston side of the park. I assume he used the park as a shortcut to get home.’

  ‘But why did he stop?’ I asked.

  ‘No idea. He was in a side road near the Pen Ponds car park.’ Godley read out the GPS location so we could find it. Richmond Park was the biggest area of open ground in London, a diamond-shaped wilderness that sprawled for more than 2,500 acres. I’d worked smaller crime scenes.

  Godley went on: ‘I don’t know any more than that, except that he was found almost immediately so we can be fairly sure about the timings. His family still hasn’t been informed. This came straight to us because of his job.’

  ‘Are you sure there’s a connection? Was he killed because he was a copper?’ Derwent asked. His face was watchful, his concentration total. I found it hard to imagine he had been up to his elbows in a bridesmaid minutes before. His gaze flicked to me for a second and I cut my eyes away from him, staring at Godley as if I had to memorise every detail of his appearance.

  ‘Not sure of anything yet. I’m not even sure of the details. That’s why we need to get there. I don’t like getting everything second hand.’ Godley looked around at us, the light from the marquee throwing half of his face into shadow. ‘Does everyone have a way to get to the scene from here?’

  ‘I’m all right,’ Chris said, and Dave Kemp nodded too. Chris was divorced and Dave had come on his own, just like Derwent. I wondered if he’d had his eye on Beth too. Dave was young and good-looking in a boyish way. Blue eyes, fair hair and a ready smile would give him a shot with most girls. He hadn’t had a chance, once Derwent decided he wanted Beth. Dave was just too safe. I shivered as the breeze sighed across the garden, rustling leaves around us.

  ‘I’ll need a lift,’ Colin Vale said. ‘I’ll be in even worse trouble with the wife if I take the car.’

  ‘You can come with me,’ Godley said. ‘Maeve?’

  ‘Oh. I should probably get a lift too.’ I hadn’t even thought about how Rob was going to get back to London, but of course I wouldn’t be back before he needed to leave. He’d cancel the second night in the hotel. He was practical about these things. He wouldn’t mind as much as I did.

  ‘She can come with me,’ Derwent said, as if he was conferring a tremendous honour on me.

  ‘There’s room in my car,’ Godley said after a couple of seconds, and I realised everyone was staring at me. I should have said thank you immediately. I should have been more guarded about my expression.

  ‘No, that’s fine. Thank you, sir,’ I said to Derwent, who glowered back at me. He wasn’t placated. He didn’t know the meaning of the word.

  ‘All right. Drive carefully, everyone. It’s late and he’s already dead. They’re preserving the scene until we get there so I don’t want anyone to break the speed limit. And for God’s sake stop if you need to get coffee. It’s going to be a long night.’ Godley nodded to Colin and the two of them set off towards the sleek black Mercedes that was Godley’s pride and joy. I wished I was going with them. Chris and Dave followed, heads down, hands in their pockets. It wasn’t how any of us had wanted the night to end.

  ‘Do you need to say goodbye to your bloke?’ Derwent asked.

  ‘I should,’ I said.

  ‘Be quick.’ He was already walking away and I hurried to catch up. ‘You’ll need to get changed too.’

  ‘I was planning to.’

  ‘Can’t crawl around a crime scene looking like that.’

  ‘I’d already come to that conclusion myself.’

  ‘So hurry up.’ Derwent kept walking, away from the marquee, and I watched him go for a second before I remembered what I had to do.

  Rob was standing up when I went to find him. He’d sobered up somehow, and I could see from the other side of the dance floor that he was fully aware of what was going on.

  ‘Bad luck.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘There’s nothing I can do.’

  ‘I understand. Is it bad?’

  ‘Police officer.’

  He frowned. ‘On duty?’

  ‘He’d just come off late turn. He was on his way home.’ Which reminded me. ‘I’ll leave you the car, okay? Can you pack for me?’

  ‘No problem.’

  I leaned in and kissed him, but briefly. ‘I’ll see you back in London.’

  ‘Fine,’ Rob said, his mind obviously elsewhere. ‘Is Derwent driving you?’

  I wondered why he was asking. ‘Yes. He offered.’

  Rob picked up my hand and kissed the palm. ‘I’ll miss you. Be careful, Maeve, all right?’

  I couldn’t tell if it was my guilty conscience or his gift for mind-reading that made me think he wasn’t talking about road safety. Not that I needed telling. That moment with Derwent earlier had been like looking through a doorway into a dark room. Like every heroine in a horror film, I’d been tempted to go in. And every horror film I’d ever seen proved that that would have been a bad idea. At least, and thank God, he hadn’t actually been thinking that way about me. The awkwardness was all on my side, and if I could hide it well enough, no one need ever know.

  Travelling at that hour of the morning, the traffic was light. There was nothing moving on the little country roads that tracked through farmland and forest until we reached the main road, nothing except an occasional rabbit or fox streaking across the tarmac, a blur in Derwent’s headlights. I caught my breath at one near miss and it was all too audible in the silent car. Derwent’s hands tightened on the wheel.

  ‘Just so you know, if the choice is between going into the ditch and running over a rabbit, it’s going to be rabbit jam.’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘They get plenty of warning. You must be able to hear the engine from a mile away at this time of night. If they’re stupid enough to run out in front of the car, it’s their problem.’

  ‘I didn’t say anything.’

  ‘No. You didn’t.’

  Silence settled on the car again. I was thinking about whether I had remembered to pick up everything I needed from the little hotel room with its smooth unused bed. I’d changed at lightning speed, leaving my dress in a heap on the floor with my heels as I struggled into the trouser suit I’d brought with me. Footwear was a problem; I hadn’t brought much that was suitable for scrambling around in the woods. I’d pulled on the boots I usually wore with trouser suits, hoping they would survive, wishing I had wellies. Mindful of the chill in the early morning air, I wore a thin jumper under my suit jacket. I’d brushed my teeth and scrubbed at the make-up that had settled under my eyes so I looked a little bit less like I’d been partying when the call came. I’d picked up my bag, which I’d left ready to go, complete with notebook, pen, gloves, torch and radio. Then I let myself out of the room and locked it. I hurried as quietly as I could through the dark up-and-down corridors that ran through the mismatched old buildings that made up the hotel. Then down the creaking stairs to the front door, where Derwent’s car sat with the engine running. I’d paused to hide the key in a flowe
r pot where Rob could find it, then ran to the car. Five minutes, no more than that, and Derwent had still been frowning when I opened the passenger door and got in.

  ‘Leave your stuff on the back seat,’ was his only comment, as I arranged my jacket across my lap and tucked my bag into the foot well.

  ‘I’d rather not.’

  That got me a raised eyebrow first and a wolfish grin second as he worked out why I didn’t want anything belonging to me anywhere near the back of his car. I didn’t smile back.

  So, silence. Derwent whistled under his breath, a habit that always annoyed me, and I looked out of the window. He kept the car moving at a steady hundred wherever he could and I hoped we wouldn’t attract any bored traffic officers. It wasn’t that we’d get in trouble; it was just that it would hold us up. I wanted to get there quickly, but not because I was feeling particularly keen to find out what had happened to Terence Hammond. I wanted to get out of the fast-moving metal box where I was trapped with a man I—what? Disliked? I certainly felt uneasy around him. The Met didn’t believe in partnering up its detectives; it was pure chance that I ended up working with Derwent so often. Chance and a suspicion I had that Godley liked me to work with the inspector, believing, despite much evidence to the contrary, that I was a good influence on him.

  The A303 merged with the M3 and Derwent took up his rightful position in the fast lane. I didn’t dare look at the speedometer. Rob drove fast too, but I always knew he was in control of what he was doing. With Derwent, I had no idea if he was being careful or not. I wasn’t going to challenge him about the speed he was doing because it would only make him go faster, so I sat completely still and hoped he was concentrating.

  After a few miles, without warning, Derwent swooped from lane three to lane one in a single move. No indicator, but then there were no other cars on the road. I felt the seatbelt press against my sternum as we slowed.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Stopping.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I need a piss.’

  We’d passed a sign for services a little way back. Now another flashed by: one mile to go. Derwent eased off the accelerator some more. I checked the time and bit my lip.