'Til Death (DI Steven Marr Book 1) - UK Crime Fiction Whodunnit Thriller (12 page)

‘If you didn’t have an inkling, what makes you think it’s possible now?’ Marr asked.

‘Who said I did?’ Simon spat back.

Marr smiled, trying to look understanding.

‘Experience, unfortunately. I’ve seen hundreds of people who’ve been told their relatives or spouses have killed someone. They all get angry. Some of them threaten violence. One of my officers had a chair thrown at him. It’s an insult: and as personal as insults get. You don’t seem insulted.’

Simon smiled weakly.

‘I suppose that makes sense.’

‘Caroline was on medication,’ Mel said, gazing past Marr and to the window behind him. ‘Anti-depressants, mostly, mood-stabilisers.’

‘For how long?’ Marr asked, attempting to seem surprised, or at least look like he didn’t already know.

‘Since she was in her mid-teens. She never spoke about it much. The side effects were bad initially, but they died down, and eventually the pills seemed to make a difference.’

‘How bad was her depression?’

‘Quite extreme. The doctor said it was strange, in a way, that more people
don’t
develop it during their teen years. Or that maybe they do, but it just gets lost in the shuffle: teens are so up and down anyway.’

Marr nodded. He remembered being younger and his dad insisting that school would be ‘the best years of his life’. Utter bullshit, as even his dad had admitted to later on.

‘Yeah, it sucks being a teenager, Steve. But any way to get you to bugger on through it.’

‘Did she ever come off the medication?’ Marr asked, receiving a shake of the head from Simon.

‘No, I don’t think so,’ he replied. ‘Barring the odd moment here or there when she forgot to order new ones. She was pretty religious about it; why wouldn’t she be? The drugs worked.’

‘Do you think that her depression could have been linked to…well, to Anna’s death?’

Simon looked at him.

‘Not in the way you think. Depression doesn’t mean crazy.’

Marr was about to defend himself, when he realised there was no real point. Simon Marcus would have heard it all thousands of times. And if Marr really hadn’t meant that, just what
had
he meant?

‘Caroline just really, really struggled to see the upside of things. I guess she found herself just unable to believe things would get better.’

‘Did either of you know much about her affair with Gregor Stanic?’ Marr asked.

Mel nodded, though to Marr’s surprise, Simon didn’t. He merely raised his eyebrows and turned to his wife, who gave him a sympathetic smile before replying.

‘My daughter might have been pretty good at burying some things, but I could always tell when a boy was getting to her. She’d go out ‘to work’ or ‘to the pub with friends’ and she’d come back with a glow, a smile that hadn’t been there before. I didn’t know who it was, but then we bumped into Gregor and Anna at the pub and…well, I could just tell. She was smiling like a schoolgirl for half an hour afterwards. The love of a good man can be a wonderful thing, and I suppose that’s just as much the case if he’s not a good man, but you like him just the same.’

Simon shook his head.

‘No. I mean, Mel mentioned that she thought Cally might have been seeing someone, but I didn’t have a clue that it was him. I didn’t even notice. I suppose I should have, but it’s hard sometimes. Have you got any daughters?’

‘Baby on the way, but no.’

‘Congratulations. Boss of mine always said it was the best and worst thing you’ll ever do.’

He paused, and let out a sob. Harsh, dry, choked out despite his attempts to block it. Silencing it was never as easy as people thought.

Marr handed over a tissue.

‘Did Caroline ever date anyone else? Any long-term boyfriends, I mean?’

They both shook their heads.

‘She had boyfriends here and there,’ Mel said, ‘but no-one ever lasted. I always got the impression that Greg was something different to her, and the other blokes never measured up in her mind.’

‘Did either of you ever consider telling Anna about the affair? I mean, you’d known her for years.’

Mel sighed.

‘Well, I did come close a couple of times. But, well, family first you know? I really liked Anna, she was a lovely girl, but Greg seemed to keep Caroline happy, and that was much more important to me in the end. I didn’t want to give Caroline the grief. It felt like she’d been through enough already.’

CHAPTER THIRTY

When Marr reached the main incident room, he was greeted with an unexpected sight. Brooke, sat by the coffee machine, staring blankly at it.

‘Struggling, sir?’

The Chief Inspector turned to face him.

‘Bloody thing’s run out of milk.’

‘Americano, then?’

‘Very funny. How were the Marcuses?’

‘As well as can be expected.’

‘What do you think? Did she do it?’

‘She’d been depressed. She was on medication from a pretty young age.’

‘That’s not what I asked, though, is it?’

Marr sighed, knowing that he was probably about to rattle some cages.

‘No, I don’t think she did it. She was having an affair with Greg, and I don’t doubt that she wanted to keep him, maybe even steal him, but I don’t think she’d have killed Anna to get him.’

‘What do the parents think?’

‘They didn’t seem to think it was likely.’

‘Which means they think it was, doesn’t it? One of them would’ve swung for you if not.’

Marr nodded.

‘Tough call.’ Brooke said. ‘Well, not tough as in our workload. This one’s done: ship it off, get the paperwork done and everyone down to the pub. A tragic murder-suicide, albeit with a two day break in the middle. And yet,’ he continued, taking Marr’s expression in, ‘I get the sense you won’t let it go gently into the good night.’

Marr shook his head.

‘So, if she didn’t do it, who did? And more to the point, why the fuck would she kill herself if she wasn’t the killer?’

‘Well, if she didn’t kill Anna, I’m assuming that she didn’t kill herself.’

‘But then, why murder Caroline if she didn’t kill Anna?’

‘If she found out, she might have tried to contact the murderer herself. She had a burner cell: maybe she tried to meet the actual killer. Becky’s working on the burner phone at the moment.’

Brooke looked around, but the Sergeant’s desk was empty.

‘Well, you can have another forty-eight hours on it, Steve – it’s not like the poor girl’s getting any deader. I’m pulling you from the case after that. Oh, and be very, very careful about getting anybody’s hopes up. The last thing they want to do is spend the next week working on closure ad you to blunder in saying ‘well, we’re not actually sure.’

‘Delicately put, sir.’ Marr said.

‘You’re most welcome. Alex!’ he said, diverting his attentions to the Constable, who was working at his desk, ignoring their conversation in a way that only a man listening to every word could.

‘Where’s the missus?’

Alex smiled. Marr had always got the impression Alex didn’t like pretending he wasn’t married whilst at work. Good old Brooke and his lack of formality.

‘Gone to Warren Street to sort out the burner phone, sir.’

‘Why the fuck has she gone to London? We’ve got a phone shop in town!’

Marr smiled, before re-telling the story of the Street family, and their unusual attitude when it came to naming their children.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Sam had decided to keep out of the office, so accompanied Becky on the drive into town.

‘Nothing I like better than a good phone shop in the morning.’

Becky looked towards Sam’s Blackberry.

‘With all due respect, ma’am, you could probably do with an upgrade yourself.’

‘Nope. Phonecalls, e-mail and text messages and nothing else. No films, no songs, no tools that scratch my arse when I can’t be bothered to do it myself.’

‘A nice image, thanks for that.’

‘My pleasure. Anyway, we stare at screens all day, why the hell would you want to go home and look at another one?’

‘21
st
century girl’ Becky replied, ‘All tech, all the time. So-cal startups, cloud storage and 24/7 social metric access.’

‘I don’t have a clue what you’ve just said. Give me a pint of Carlsberg and a good book any day.’

‘You know, you can read books on your phone now.’

Sam smiled.

‘Yes, I was aware of that, thank you. I’m not that old. I am old enough, however, to know that Kindles have fixed a problem that wasn’t there in the first place. No; a big old paperback, please: if I can’t use it as a paperweight, I don’t care.’

‘Give it ten years, and the tech will be doing most of our jobs.’

Sam sighed. That, she couldn’t argue with. Sam did prefer to avoid technology where possible, but there was no denying that social media was by far the most effective way of breaking news these days. Within minutes of
anything
occurring, videos and audio clips were uploaded to Twitter or Facebook, instantly searchable and accessible by thousands of people. It was little wonder that traditional news outlets that hadn’t adapted were dying off: social media did the work of fifty reporters.

Hell, sat in one of the offices at the station was a Detective specifically hired to monitor the web for leads. Laura Perrott spent eight hours at a time peering through social accounts, monitoring leads and links and inspecting web traffic on graphs Sam couldn’t understand.

What was most annoying was that it worked so well. Just last month, a burglar had gone onto a forum bragging about a job he’d pulled. Unfortunately, he’d left his Twitter account signed on, and the two had automatically linked up. Laura caught it, and he was arrested twenty minutes later, the haul still in his front room.

Sure, they weren’t going to start catching experienced hackers, but a lot of the UK’s less than intelligent criminals were a long way from being web savvy.

Older cops like Brooke, meanwhile, definitely didn’t like the idea of the tech, but they did care about results. So, if it worked – and it often did – they’d use it.

Sam was happy being a dinosaur for the time being.

‘So, the boss is having a baby,’ Becky said, interrupting Sam’s train of thought.

Sam nodded.

‘Yeah, that’s right.’

‘Big news.’

‘Well, for him, yes.’

‘Lizzie too, I suppose.’

‘Yes.’

Sam had never meant to tell Becky.

She’d never meant to tell anybody, really. Maybe a girlfriend or two if what was going on had lasted. And then, one too many glasses of wine at a bar after a twelve hour shift, she’d just come out with it. Becky definitely hadn’t asked.

Sam had done it with the air of someone who felt guilty, but the truth was just that she was absolutely bursting to tell someone: it was a real load off.

Why Becky? Well, the obvious answer was that she’d been there. But really, Sam couldn’t think of anyone better
to
tell. Sensible, reasonable, non-judgmental Becky. Sure, if you were being cynical, you could say that Becky was a rival for promotion. If you were being non-cynical, Marr was friendly with her, and Sam was asking her to pick sides.

So, not Sam’s proudest moment.

But, despite all that, Becky was a friend. Even if she was his friend, too.

And someone, Sam had to admit, who was as close to being a real friend as Sam had, even if she was friends with Marr as well.

‘Are you doing alright?’ Becky asked.

Sam nodded.

‘Well as can be expected, I suppose.’

‘It’s still going on?’

Sam thought of her bedroom the other night, and nodded.

‘Do you think it will carry on, now?’

‘I don’t know’ Sam said, surprised to find that she was being truthful. Marr was married, yes. But that didn’t mean much to a certain type of man: just look at Gregor Stanic. He loved Anna, Marr loved Lizzie. And yet, and yet…

But now there was a baby; a
baby
. Something that he really
would
care for unconditionally; something that he really
would
sacrifice anything for. He’d sacrifice his marriage for the kid if he had to, but he’d sacrifice a bit-on-the-side well before that.

‘I guess babies do change everything.’

‘You and Alex ever consider it?’

Becky shook her head.

‘Not yet. Another five years or so, I think so. When we’ve got enough saved to move somewhere a bit nicer. The last thing we want is a baby in a one bedroom apartment. There’s barely enough room there for our gerbils.’