Author: Amanda Robson
Category: Thriller
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/amanda-robson/page,10,560635-my_darling.html
Memories
We walked through Borough Market, which was bustling with young people and tourists, the aroma of spicy food floating in the air, making me feel hungry. Healthy food. Food from all around the world. Vegetarian. Vegan. Brightly coloured. Full of vegetables and lentils. Street sellers calling. A busker as good as anyone I had heard at the O2 serenading our walk.
Into the more sedate ambience of Fish! Suits and solemnity in there. After checking in at reception we were shown to a table by a svelte young waitress with shiny hair, wearing a black miniskirt and pumps. We settled by the window. A table rammed so close to the next one, you had to keep your elbows in to stop them from touching its occupants.
My silver fox from Tinder leant back in his chair.
‘You said you’d like to talk about more than amalgams. What did you have in mind?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know you well enough to tell you what I have in mind. Not yet.’ My skin felt hot and I knew I was blushing. ‘What’s an attractive guy like you doing on your own at your age?’ I continued.
He grinned at me. ‘It’s complicated.’
‘Like the film?’
He laughed at me and shook his head. ‘Oh no. I’m not shagging my ex.’
‘Who are you shagging then?’
‘I don’t believe in shagging. I believe in love.’
I raised my eyebrows. ‘Which brings me back to my question.’
He shrugged. ‘I guess I’ve just not met the right person yet.’
‘So you’ve had to resort to Tinder?’
His eyes held mine. ‘It’s not such a bad place to resort to. It turned you up.’
‘I might be a bunny boiler,’ I point out.
‘I might be a psychotic murderer with a dark message from God.’
‘Shall we take the risk and find out?’
He leant across and took my hands in his. ‘I would like to do that.’
71
Alastair
After a long day in the lab I clump up the stairs to my flat. As soon as I walk through the door Stephen is running towards me in his Batman pyjamas. He clings on to my legs, so tightly, as if he will never let go. I bend down and hug him. He smells of his favourite lemon bubble bath – the bubble bath that he says is like kryptonite and gives him superpowers – and of the coconut shampoo my mother always washes his hair with. Sweet as a nut. Sweet enough to eat.
‘Why aren’t you in bed?’
‘I couldn’t sleep. I was waiting for you to come home.’
‘Where’s Gran?’ I ask.
‘Resting in her room.’
He grins a devilish grin, displaying the gap at the front of his mouth where his front milk tooth has fallen out. Why do kids with gappy teeth always look so cute?
‘She thinks I’m in bed. I pretended to be asleep when she checked.’
My poor mother. She must be exhausted if she doesn’t realise he is up, waiting for me.
I take Stephen’s hand in mind. ‘Come on Stephen. I’ll settle you back to bed.’
He shakes his sweet coconut head. ‘But I don’t want to go to bed. I can’t sleep.’
‘Just resting does your body almost as much good as sleeping.’
‘But it’s boring. Lying in bed when I can’t sleep makes me feel too hot. I feel as if I have something twisting in my arms and legs, and in my stomach, so that I can’t get comfy.’
‘Boring or not, twisting or not, you are going to bed, young man.’
I hold his hand tightly and lead him through the living area of our flat, into his bedroom. His small room that I have painstakingly decorated with Farrow & Ball paint and a superheroes border. He slips under the duvet. I smooth it over him and kiss him.
‘Mummy popped in to see me this evening,’ he said.
‘That’s not like her. She doesn’t usually come midweek.’
‘She said your girlfriend Emma is in prison. You must be a bad man, Daddy, if you have a bad girlfriend.’
I sit on the bed staring at my son, trying to keep calm. To breathe deep. I didn’t want him to know about this.
I kiss his forehead and go downstairs. I sit at the kitchen table, head in my hands, and picture you, Emma, incarcerated. Bored. Lonely. Pushing my mind to work out how to rumble the Clusterfuck. I need to prove she disguised the time of Tomas’ death. Jade Covington needs to be totally fucked.
72
Emma
Miranda Jupiter nods her head at me as I am escorted into the interview room.
‘Hello again Emma,’ she says, almost smiling. I don’t smile back.
‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’ I ask.
‘We want to know which vet you use for Casper.’
My stomach twists. ‘What’s happened?’
She shakes her head. ‘Nothing. He’s fine. Please don’t worry. We want to ask the vet to verify a few points about his habits.’
I sigh inside, with relief. ‘Henley Vets, Reading Road.’
She leans forwards. ‘And where is he now, if we want to examine him?’
‘At my receptionist Andrea Smith’s house, 2 Water Lane. She’s looking after him for me.’
And my heart sings, Alastair, because I know you are fighting for me.
Memories
Lying in bed with Colin. The first morning. After our first night together in his stylish flat near Borough Market. Full of modern art and classic books.
‘You haven’t talked about your parents, yet,’ he said.
‘My time with them was difficult. I’m trying to push it away.’
He pulled me towards him and kissed me so gently. A soft, silken kiss.
‘I don’t want anything to be difficult for you ever again.’
I smiled and shook my head. ‘No one can make someone’s life perfect. Life isn’t perfect. Not for anyone.’
‘I’ll try though. I promise I’ll do my best.’
‘You sound like a boy scout.’
He laughed. ‘I’ll be an Emma scout. What about that?’
73
Alastair
The rain this early summer morning is so ferocious it beats against the police station windows horizontally. People are arriving soaked to the skin, water dripping off hair and noses. It takes longer than usual for us to assemble in the meeting room. Coats being hung up carefully to dry. Queuing at the drinks machine – morning coffee will take our minds off the dampness in our bones. The dampness that pervades the thoughts in our heads.
‘Get a move on,’ DI Hamilton bellows.
Team assembled at last, DI Hamilton widens his shoulders and starts, ‘I need to ask if there have been any developments on Operation Titanic Case 301 – Tomas Covington?’
I step forward to reply. ‘The Harrier Vets, recommended by the Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons, have inspected Casper, Emma Stockton’s Siberian Forest Cat, and are willing to testify that, from the condition of his claws and paws, he doesn’t go outside. This corroborates with Casper’s own vet, who believes he is an indoor cat.’
Miranda Jupiter raises her arm to speak. DI Hamilton nods to encourage her.
‘We have been covertly observing Andrea Smith’s house, where the cat is now living. We have also questioned her neighbours. During the period of our investigation the cat has not been seen outside at all. By us, or anyone else in the area to the best of our knowledge.’ She takes a deep breath and pauses. ‘There is now reason to believe that Jade Covington was lying.’
A murmur pulsates around the meeting room.
‘OK,’ DI Hamilton says, ‘let’s investigate the make and time of purchase of the gold bedding found in both houses.’ He looks across to Miranda. ‘As soon as possible, DS Jupiter.’ There is a pause. ‘Anything else?’ he asks.
The youngest member of the team, PC Johnson, steps forward.
‘Jade Covington was head of forensics at the University of West London, resigning two years ago. She used her maiden name Fischer at work.’
‘As I suspected,’ I s
ay, smiling inside. ‘In keeping with the trace amounts of DNA on the wrench. I think we need to check the smart meter of her central heating. The heating will have been switched off around the time of the murder and the body wrapped in plastic if she did kill Tomas and wanted to disguise the time. Her strong alibi was very convenient. Too convenient. I expect she doesn’t bother to attend book group now.’
‘I’ll go and check the smart meter with an expert,’ Miranda Jupiter says with a shake of her silken hair. ‘And I’m going to get the team to trawl the CCTV cameras at Paddington again. Tomas’ colleague says he left work early that day, and so even though Jade denies it there is a possibility he was at home with her before she left for book group.’ She pauses. ‘Good idea, Alastair. I’ll contact them to see if she still goes.’
I take a deep breath. Nearly there. So nearly there.
Memories
We went to the Donmar Warehouse theatre together. Standing in the bar before the play began, necking large glasses of Chardonnay.
‘I love coming here,’ he said. ‘The theatre is as small as a school stage, so you get an exceptionally good view of the actors.’ He paused. He shook his head slowly. ‘And they get such talent here, it’s breath-taking.’
He held my hand as we swept into the auditorium, nursing the remains of our wine in plastic cups. Small indeed. Sitting in the front row, toes almost touching the stage, knees close to my face.
Lights down. The sudden hiss of silence from the audience. Mournful music with an overdose of trumpet. The play began. A couple were drinking and arguing. The argument became heated. Ten minutes in the man was verbally abusing the woman. Fifteen minutes in he was hitting her.
I began to tremble. I began to sweat. I could hardly breathe.
‘I’m ill. I need to leave,’ I whispered to Colin.
‘Sorry, sorry,’ he muttered as we stood up and disturbed our row.
Through the auditorium door, blinking in the bright light of the corridor. A young female usher was hovering there anxiously. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.
‘I don’t feel well. I need to go home.’
Onto Earlham Street in the pouring rain. Colin standing holding my hands in his.
‘What’s the matter, Emma?’
Still having difficulty breathing, I gasped for air. Tears streaming down my face. ‘The play was a trigger. It brought it all back.’
He held me against his chest and stroked my hair.
‘Calm down, Emma. You’re with me now.’
74
Alastair
I bump into Sarah Dickinson at the coffee machine.
‘Good morning Alastair,’ she says as she presses the buttons for her habitual 9 a.m. cappuccino.
‘Good morning,’ I reply.
She turns around, coffee in hand, eyes sparkling. ‘I met Miranda last night just as I was leaving and …’ she pauses.
‘And?’ I push.
‘You were right about the bedding. Bedding the same make and style as Emma’s was purchased recently by Jade, at Debenhams. We checked with the store and they found the credit card transaction. The bedding on Jade’s bed was Emma’s, we think, as Emma remembered buying it about a year ago, and again that checked out with a John Lewis card transaction.’
I smile. ‘Good stuff.’
‘Not only that, but as you suspected the central heating had been turned off on the morning of the murder – atypically. It was usually on from six a.m. to nine a.m., and six p.m. until eleven p.m. in March. It was switched off all day and turned back on at ten forty-five p.m., programmed to stay on until midnight that night.’
I want to dance on the ceiling. To jump in the air and shout yes. But I take a deep breath, try not to smile too broadly.
‘What happens next?’ I ask.
‘Miranda Jupiter says there are a few last things to tie up, and then DI Hamilton will call a meeting. They’re still trawling through CCTV from Paddington Station, and a young PC is looking into Jade’s background.’
Hallelujah, my heart sings. The evil Clusterfuck will soon have to pay.
75
Emma
Cuffed and escorted to a prison interview room by an overweight guard, thighs so heavy they roll past one another as he walks.
‘Why are we going to an interview room?’ I ask.
‘You’ll find out when we get there.’
We arrive. He jerks his head.
‘In here,’ he barks, as he holds the door.
I step inside. The room opens out in front of me; grey upon grey. Grey plastic table. Grey plastic chairs. And two people: DS Miranda Jupiter, and my solicitor, Benjamin Watts, sitting either side of the table, ignoring one another. Benjamin Watts is studying the floor. Miranda Jupiter analysing the wall. They look up at me as I enter.
‘Ms Stockton, do sit down,’ DS Miranda Jupiter commands, gesturing to the seat next to Benjamin’s.
He turns his kind face towards me, trying to reassure me that it will be all right. I sit next to him. His presence, and the tangle of stale cigarette smoke and peppermint he exhales, comfort me.
‘I need to ask you a few questions about the statement you gave to the police the night you were arrested,’ Miranda Jupiter says, voice harsh.
‘Why are you going over old ground?’ Benjamin asks.
She turns her face towards him, slow and imperious, eyebrows arching. ‘I do not need to disclose a reason at this point.’
‘What do you need to know?’ I ask, limbs and heart trembling.
Miranda presses a button to switch the tape recorder on. Frowning, she announces the names of those present.
‘So you said in your initial interview that you went to Jade Covington’s house for a drink, a few weeks before Tomas died.’ She pauses. ‘Can you run me through what happened when you got there?’
‘That’s the thing, I can’t remember.’ I hesitate. ‘Except … except …’
‘Except what?’ Miranda Jupiter asks.
‘Jade gave me a drink she called Cherry Bomb, and I woke up the next morning, fully dressed, in bed.’
Miranda leant forwards, pushing her head towards me across the grey plastic table. ‘Your own bed?’
‘Yes.’
Large brown eyes widen. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. Sure. Sure. Sure. Fully dressed. I even had my suede boots on. My cat was asleep, purring on top of me.’
She grimaces and shakes her head. ‘And you have no memory of walking home, or opening the front door?’
‘None at all. That’s why I went to see my GP, because I was worried about what was happening to me.’
‘And what did your GP say?’
‘He said that I may have drunk too much but I was showing the same symptoms as someone whose drink had been spiked with a date-rape drug.’ I pause for breath. ‘He didn’t think I would have any permanent damage. He told me to watch my alcohol intake and come back to see him if I had any further problems.’
Miranda Jupiter flicks her hair from her eyes. ‘Please can I have your permission to talk to him?’
‘Of course.’
She snaps the tape machine off. ‘Thank you. That’s all.’
She stands up to go, mouth in a line. Slowly, elegantly, she leaves.
‘I request some privacy with my client,’ Benjamin says, turning towards the guard.
‘OK Guvnor,’ the guard replies, dragging his heavy body through the doorway.
The lock clicks behind him.
‘Checking past evidence. That’s good news, Emma. I know we told them about this but they didn’t seem very interested. I don’t want to get your hopes up too much – but revisiting statements sometimes happens when they’ve charged the wrong person.’
My heart misses a beat. Alastair, we can’t meet. We can’t speak. But I would like to take you in my arms and thank you. Run my fingers through your dark hair. Run my hands down your muscled back. Hold your body against mine. Tell you that I love you and that I will be grateful to you
forever.
76
Alastair
DI Hamilton is standing at the front of the meeting room, shoulders wide, feet apart, with a smug look on his face.
‘Quiet please,’ he barks. ‘I have to make an important announcement.’ Silence falls. ‘There’s been a development in the Tomas Covington case.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘We now have reason to believe that Emma Stockton was telling the truth. It seems that Jade Covington committed the murder and set her up. We have proof the bedsheets on Jade’s bed were Emma’s; purchased by Emma and covered in cat fur. Sheets purchased by Jade were recovered from Emma’s bed.’
Another pause. Murmuring and tittering float across the room. When it has subsided he continues.
‘We now believe Jade drugged Emma and placed her DNA on the wrench. We have firm evidence that she lied and swapped Emma’s bedsheets. We believe she disguised the time of death by switching off the central heating. And we have an image of a man who looks very like Tomas coming through Paddington at five p.m. on the evening of the murder. She has forensic knowledge. It all hangs together and so we are releasing Emma Stockton, and arresting Jade Covington. DS Jupiter and PC Browning are on their way to the Covington property now.’
My body sings with relief.
‘Well done, team. This is a complicated case. We have worked together well and cracked it. Drinks are on me at the Black Bear tonight,’ DI Hamilton announces.
Memories
A pod to ourselves at the top of the London Eye. Colin’s arm around me as we looked out at the view. An orange glow over parks and buildings. A silhouette of my favourite city.
‘The most beautiful city in the world,’ I muttered beneath my breath, because to speak out loud would have intruded on that perfect moment of suspense between dusk and daylight.
‘And I’m with the most beautiful girl in the world.’ There was a pause. ‘Will you marry me, Emma?’