Knife Edge (22 page)

Marcus had pulled up a chair by Jane’s desk and the pair of them were working through a large set of spreadsheets.

Served him right.

She waved to them as she walked towards the door. ‘See you tomorrow.’

‘Er, Kim?’ Marcus was looking at her wretchedly.

Trying to summon the courage to ask her to stay behind and help.

‘Don’t worry, Marcus,’ she smiled brightly. ‘I got all the figures done for you.’

Wrong-footed, he blinked at her for a moment, then nodded.

‘Yes, of course.’ A resigned smile. ‘Thanks for doing that.’

‘No problem,’ she replied, moving towards the exit. ‘Bye.’

Marcus looked crestfallen as she turned away, but there had been no uncomfortable confrontation and she knew she’d done the right thing.

Hurrying down the stairs, she paused to dig out her umbrella before pushing the door open to look out at the rain. It was still quite heavy. Bracing herself, she stepped outside and raised the umbrella, hurrying to the car and watching her feet to avoid the puddles.

Rob’s car wasn’t there when she got back to the house. She scampered round to the front door, keys in hand, and shook the rain from her jacket as soon as she got inside. Gathering up the post from the mat, she pushed a hand through her hair and walked into the front room, where she picked up the remote control and switched on the TV. She was going to sit down, but the rain had left her feeling cold, so she turned and went back through to the kitchen and filled the kettle. A hot drink would warm her up.

As she waited for the water to boil, she sifted through the envelopes but there was nothing with her name on it – everything was for him.

She left the post on the kitchen table, made her coffee and went into the hallway to go upstairs and change.

‘… have launched a murder investigation following the discovery of a woman’s body in Bristol yesterday.’

The voice came from the TV. Kim paused and glanced through into the front room, where the picture changed from the newsreader to a view of a solid-looking man in a grey suit, his serious face lit by the flicker of photographers’ flashguns. He cleared his throat and spoke with a strong London accent.

‘Officers were called to an address in Redland at half past six yesterday evening by the husband of a woman who was discovered at their house in Alexandra Park. Officers attended with an ambulance but unfortunately the woman – Lesley Vaughn, aged forty-six – was pronounced dead at the scene.’

A caption at the bottom of the screen read:
DCI Raymond Pearce, Avon and Somerset Police
.

‘Upon attending the scene, a murder enquiry was immediately launched. It was obvious that the woman had been assaulted and most likely died of her injuries. However, a forensic post-mortem is taking place at the moment, and the results of that will confirm the actual cause of death.’

The man paused and glanced up from his notes. He had a no-nonsense look about him, with dark grey hair worn short, and a faint scar down his left cheek.

‘We currently have a number of detectives working on this case, and we’re drafting in additional resources from other parts of the Avon and Somerset area. The team are working round the clock to catch whoever is responsible for this appalling crime and bring them to justice.’

Another pause, another barrage of camera flashes.

‘We’re appealing for witnesses or anybody with any information. We believe that Lesley spent much of yesterday at home, where her body was discovered at approximately six thirty p.m. We’re appealing for anyone who may have seen anything suspicious in the Redland area of Bristol to come forward with any information they might have …’

Kim leaned against the door frame. She was annoyed at herself for even considering the idea, but she couldn’t help it.

He couldn’t have done something like this, could he?

No, thank goodness – Rob had been here all day yesterday. She’d taken his car and left him to work from home. Her body unknotted itself a little. It couldn’t have been him.

Behind her, the metallic rasp of a key in the lock made her jump.

Rob!

She gasped and turned towards the front door, then hesitated. Stepping quickly into the front room, she snatched up the remote control and changed the channel. It was stupid, but somehow the thought of him coming in to find her watching a police press conference made her deeply uncomfortable. She dropped the remote on the sofa and hurried back into the hallway.

‘It’s really coming down out there.’ Rob was standing there by the front door, dark hair dripping, shaking the water from his jacket.

‘You’re soaked. Let me get you a towel.’ Kim turned away from him quickly, walking into the kitchen, not trusting herself to make eye contact. Behind her, she heard him chuckling appreciatively.

‘Always thinking of me, aren’t you?’

She stopped in the middle of the kitchen floor and bit her lip.

Yes
, she told herself.
And that was the problem.

The afternoon sunlight was streaming in through the windows, throwing long shadows across the upstairs office. Mendel leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

‘Alexandra Park,’ he muttered. ‘Just round the corner from Redland Station, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, a couple of streets away.’ Harland stood with his back to the wall, staring down into his coffee cup. ‘Nice area – last place you’d expect something like this to happen.’

Mendel shook his head.

‘Not good,’ he mused.

‘I know.’ Harland looked up from his coffee. ‘Apparently she was stabbed six times.’

‘Bloody hell.’ Mendel looked at him. ‘And they don’t fancy the husband for it?’

Harland shrugged. ‘Early days, I suppose.’

He pushed himself away from the wall and walked across the room to gaze out of the window. Things were too quiet just now, and he was suddenly restless.

‘Did they find the weapon?’ Mendel asked.

Harland frowned, trying to recall what Jamieson had told him.

‘I think it was at the scene,’ he replied, turning back to face into the room. ‘They’ve found a knife, anyway.’

There were footsteps in the corridor outside, and Josh leaned around the open door.

‘Ah, there you are,’ he called to Harland. ‘The Superintendent wants you, sir.’

Blake’s door was closed and Harland stood outside for a moment, taking a calming breath before knocking.

‘Enter.’

Grasping the handle, he assumed a neutral expression and opened the door.

‘Graham.’ Blake looked up from his desk and his face brightened. ‘Come in and sit down.’

‘Sir.’

Harland stepped into the scrupulously tidy room and pulled the door closed behind him. Blake seemed happy enough, but he knew to his cost just how deceptive the old man could be. Lowering himself into one of the chairs that faced the Superintendent’s desk, he tried to work out what he’d been summoned for.

‘I was hoping to have a chat with you, Graham.’ Blake spoke as though things had just occurred to him, as though he hadn’t prepared every word in advance. That was why it was so important not to let your guard down. ‘How are things with you?’

‘Er … fine thanks.’ Harland wasn’t sure what he was being asked.

‘I’m glad to hear that.’ Blake settled back into his chair and folded his arms. ‘I’ve always believed that maintaining good officer morale is terribly important.’

Ha!
Harland suppressed an ironic smile.

The Superintendent studied him for a moment, then continued.

‘I’ve been keeping an eye on you, Graham. Ever since last year, with that poor woman they found on the beach.’

Where was this going? What had he done wrong?

‘I appreciate how frustrating it must have been for you to relinquish that case to the Met – for your whole team, in fact – but as more senior officers it’s our job to lead by example, and deal with the workload we’re given in a professional manner.’

Harland stared at him, waiting for the rebuke that must surely follow. But Blake was still smiling.

‘I’ve been impressed with your efforts on some of the recent cases, Graham.’ He sat forward to lean his elbows on the desk. ‘And most importantly, you’ve managed to get some really good results. The arson attacks along St Andrews Road, for example – things like that can make such a difference.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Harland said warily. Had he really been called in for a pat on the head?

‘Yes, a few arrests like that really take some of the heat off the Portishead division,’ Blake mused. ‘Of course, everyone’s preoccupied with the stabbing in Redland at the moment …’

He paused, and glanced at Harland.

‘What have you got on your plate just now, Graham?’ he asked.

‘A break-in over at Sea Mills, and an aggravated assault here in town,’ Harland replied. ‘Not much else.’

Blake stared at him thoughtfully.

‘We’ve been asked if we can spare any manpower to support the Redland investigation,’ he explained. ‘You live in Bristol, know the area … I wondered if you might like to join the Bristol team for a week or two, and help them out?’

‘Certainly, sir.’ Harland leaned forward. He was eager for a change of scene, and the prospect of a serious case to work on was a welcome surprise.

‘I take it by the look on your face that you find the idea agreeable,’ Blake said pleasantly. ‘That’s settled then.’

‘Thanks,’ Harland told him. ‘I appreciate this.’

The Superintendent shook his head to indicate that it was nothing.

‘Do you know DCI Pearce?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ Harland nodded. ‘He helped us out on the Clevedon murder a couple of years back.’

‘Excellent. Our chance to repay the favour then,’ Blake concluded. ‘Give the break-in and the aggravated assault to Mendel, and then you can report to Bristol … tomorrow morning?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Well, I’ll let you get on then.’

Harland got to his feet and moved towards the door.

‘Graham?’

‘Yes, sir?’ He turned back to see what the Superintendent wanted.

Blake gave him a long look.

‘It’s good to see you smiling again,’ he said.

Harland walked back into the office and sat down on the corner of Mendel’s desk.

‘You look cheerful.’ The big man frowned at him. ‘What’s up? Has Blake decided to take early retirement?’

‘If only,’ Harland replied. ‘He’s sending me over to Bristol to help out on the Redland case.’

‘Nice,’ Mendel nodded appreciatively. ‘You can give my regards to Pearce when you see him. When are you off?’

‘Tomorrow.’

‘Good. I hate long goodbyes.’

‘Very funny. Listen, you know the Sea Mills break-in, and that stupid assault case? I’m going to have to dump them on you. Sorry.’

‘No worries,’ Mendel chuckled. ‘I’ll wrap them up soon enough.’

‘Thanks.’

‘And you do realise I’m going to steal your office while you’re away, don’t you?’

It was Harland’s turn to laugh.

‘Fair enough,’ he grinned, ‘but there’s an unopened packet of biscuits in the filing cabinet, and it better still be there when I get back.’

‘You’ll be lucky,’ Mendel rumbled. ‘Anyway, if you’re swanning off to Bristol, you know what that means?’

‘What?’

‘Last trip to the White Lion for a while … if you’re not too busy this evening?’

Harland smiled.

‘I wouldn’t miss it,’ he promised.

The following morning dawned grey, with an ugly overcast sky, but Harland was in a good mood. He didn’t have nearly so far to travel, but he left the house at his usual time, turning the car radio up and reminding himself to turn right at the end of the street rather than left.

He found that he had an appetite, so he stopped at the supermarket on Coronation Road to grab some breakfast. The pastries at the bakery counter were still warm, and he picked up a small bottle of orange juice before walking back to the car.

Traffic was starting to build up as he made his way around Redcliffe, but once he got past Temple Meads it thinned out again, and he was soon following the line of the river as it led away from the city centre. Nobody lived out here – it was just car dealerships, tool-hire places and anonymous business units behind high steel fences. Shortly before the flyover, he turned right onto a narrow side street and followed it round to the large car park.

Switching off the engine, he unfastened his seatbelt and sat there for ten minutes, quietly eating his pastries and staring up at the pale grey building in front of him. It was seventies-ugly – a large, blocky construction, with a tall transmitter mast jutting up high above the roof – but Harland looked at it with enthusiasm. He’d been here before, of course, but only for brief visits. After all the frustrations of the last year, a proper stint with Bristol CID seemed very appealing.

Identifying himself at the front desk, he was directed to the stairwell and made his way up to the second floor. Pushing through a set of double doors, he entered the main corridor and smiled as he recognised DCI Pearce walking towards him.

‘All right, Graham,’ he beamed. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Blake’s renting me out to you for a week or two,’ Harland replied. ‘You know, to help with the Redland murder.’

‘I had no idea, but that’s great – we need some good people on this one …’ He paused, then consulted his watch with a grin. ‘Blimey, you’re keen, aren’t you? I wasn’t expecting the cavalry till nine.’

‘I live just off Coronation Road,’ Harland explained. ‘It only takes me five minutes to get here.’

‘I retract the compliment then,’ Pearce winked at him. ‘We’re supposed to be getting some extra bodies in from Taunton and Bath too, so we’re going to be mob-handed on this one …’

He paused and reached into his jacket pocket to draw out a mobile phone, which was vibrating quietly. After reading the name on the screen, he frowned and answered the call.

‘Andy, can you just hang on a moment? Cheers …’ He covered the mouthpiece and spoke quickly. ‘Sorry, Graham, need to take this one. There’s a briefing at nine fifteen in the conference room – grab yourself a drink and I’ll see you there, OK?’