'Til Death (DI Steven Marr Book 1) - UK Crime Fiction Whodunnit Thriller (17 page)

But no; enough was enough.

‘You were right, Sam. It’s not just about me anymore. I have a kid on the way. So no: it stops.’

‘And if I tell Lizzie?’

Marr sighed.

‘There’s nothing I can do, is there? For all I know, you’ve already called her and she’s packing her bags. I fucked up, and I have to pay the price for what I did.’

‘This wasn’t a drunken mistake, Steve. You slept with me because you always wanted to, from the first moment we met. You can’t pretend this was nothing. It wasn’t; and you know it.’

Marr was forcing himself not to look at her, because he was scared of what he’d do if he did. In the end, he wasn’t given much of a choice as she reached and tilted his face towards her. She’d undone the top two buttons of her blouse, the white lace visible underneath. Sam looked him dead in the eye as she undid the third button.

‘Take me somewhere and fuck me,’ she said.

Marr forced himself to look away.

‘No, Sam.’ he said, and then he repeated himself again, like a mantra. ‘No more.’

He looked at her, and she looked back at him. Marr suddenly knew this really
was
ending. For real this time.

And when things ended for real, there were consequences.

‘I’m sorry’ he said.

Sam did her top back up and moved to leave.

‘If I tell her, you deserve it.’ she said, looking out of the window away from him.

Marr nodded.

‘I know.’

‘And you don’t deserve your wife.’

‘I know that too. But I want a family; that’s what I really want – a family. I want a wife, and a kid, and a home.’

‘And you don’t want me?’

‘I did, Sam. But this changes things.’

Sam turned to face him again.

‘It does, Steve. It changes everything.’

Then she left the car, not smiling and not looking back as she made her way over to the station doors.

Marr’s phone buzzed, breaking the peace inside the car. It was Ray again.

‘Are you still at the station?’ the CSI asked.

‘Just pulled into the car park.’ Marr lied.

‘Good, then come step into my lair.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I’ve got a few bits of information that you’re going to absolutely hate.’

Marr sighed.

‘You sure know how to make me excited.’

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Ray was sat holding a lab tray, in which was the razor blade and suicide note they’d taken from Caroline Marcus’ flat.

‘I present exhibit A and exhibit B, both of them straight from the bowels of despair.’ Ray said.

‘So what?’ Marr replied.

‘She did it, Steve. Caroline killed herself. Her fingerprints are on the razor, the blood on the blade is definitely hers and the angles are almost dead on where you’d expect them to be. What’s more, the esteemed Doctor Johnson has taken a look at the letter, and he’s pretty sure it’s Caroline’s hand-writing.’

‘You’re taking the piss, aren’t you?’ Marr asked.

Ray shook his head.

‘I’m afraid you’ve been barking up completely the wrong tree, Steve. Caroline Marcus definitely killed herself, and as a result she probably killed Anna Markham, too.’

‘She didn’t kill Anna Markham, not a fucking chance. I’d bet my reputation on it.’

Ray snorted.

‘Sounds like you might have to. Anyway, I’ve got to send the results through to Mr Brooke, who’ll be very keen to wrap this whole thing up, wouldn’t you say?

Marr looked at Ray, who returned the stare.

‘And you’re 100 per cent sure of this, Ray?’

The CSI nodded.

‘I’d bet my own reputation on it. Caroline Marcus killed herself. As to the whys and why-nots, I’d say that’s more your area. Enjoy.’

Marr looked down at the razor again, trying to imagine Caroline running the blades down her wrists. He thought of her parents, Simon and Mel, both of whom – whilst not wanting to admit it to themselves – seemed to believe their daughter would do it.

Had Caroline really been so desperate to die; to not live with the consequences of her actions? Had she really stuck that knife into her friend, just because she couldn’t bear to live a life without Gregor Stanic?

Marr was reluctant to admit it, but if Caroline Marcus really had killed herself, Anna’s death almost had to have been the reason.

So then, why the hell had the blade turned up in Gregor Stanic’s house?

Marr left the room, dialling Becky’s number as he did so.

‘Sir, good timing, I’ve got something you need to…’

‘No time, Becky, sorry; I’ll have to come back to you on it. Is Stanic still at the station or with that lawyer?’

‘No, that was what I was about to tell you; he’s done a runner.’

‘Stanic?’

‘Made a break for it. His right honourable idiot let him go and buy a coffee unaccompanied. He never came back and he’s not at home.’

‘Fucking hell, and we’ve tried his mobile and work number?’

‘We’ve tried calling everything. He’s gone.’

Godamn it, something was going on and Marr didn’t like it very much at all. Why the hell was Stanic trying to run? What the hell had he done that he thought running away was worth it? Had he really killed Caroline?

And if he killed Caroline, had he killed Anna, too? His wife to be; the one Marr was so, so sure Stanic had really loved?

Was Stanic’s relationship with Caroline more than just sex? Was it worth killing for?

‘What did you want to talk to him about, sir?’

‘That’s the kicker. I just spoke to Ray, and he’s pretty sure Caroline definitely killed herself.’

‘And if he thinks that, and there’s a suicide note, I don’t think our Chief Inspector is going to have much difficulty going along with it. Hell, I don’t think her parents will fight it.’

‘So, what do we do?’

Marr sighed.

‘I’ll talk to Brooke.’

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Becky hung up the phone. He sounded stressed, Marr. It was a real shame; the whole thing with Sam was probably tough to deal with. Even without finding out you’re going to be a dad in nine months.

Sam had been upset. Not too bad. As Becky had told Marr, Sam was tough. It wasn’t like she was going to throw a tantrum, but no-one liked being rejected, did they? Sex matters, more to some than others.

Not for the first time, Becky felt grateful for Alex.

Then she checked her watch to see if she had time to take a quick drive to Wivenhoe.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

‘Steve, stop jabbering at me and try to speak some fucking sense. If Caroline killed herself then why the fuck is Stanic doing a runner?’

‘That’s the point; I’m saying I don’t know.’

‘He really has done a runner, hasn’t he? That godforsaken lawyer isn’t going to call us in half an hour and say ‘Sorry, he was hiding in a cupboard and I didn’t realise?’

‘Safe to say probably not. Maybe he’s just scared. As far as Stanic is concerned, Caroline’s turned up dead too, and the weapon used to kill his fiancee’s been found in his garbage. There are a lot of questions about him at the moment, and he can’t answer one of them.’

Brooke nodded.

‘Do you think there’s any chance at all that he’s the killer?’

‘No. I think Thomas Coulthard killed both of them.’

‘Well, it’s quite an accusation, even if he is a slimeball.’

‘He didn’t have alibis for either murder.’

Brooke shrugged.

‘Remember, we’ve got no evidence that Caroline was murdered at all. In fact, if our esteemed…well, Ray is to be believed, we’ve got evidence that she WASN’T murdered. Didn’t that cleaner at Thomas’ work back him up too?’

Annoyingly, Thomas’ alibi had come through fine. Not that Marr was convinced.

‘Well, technically yes. But what’s stopping Thomas from buying him off, or threatening to get him sacked? Thomas is probably high up enough at that Insurance firm to influence hirings and firings. The cleaner’s not going to risk his job, even if he wouldn’t go to court for Thomas.’

‘He won’t have to at this rate. Look, I’m not saying that you’re wrong, but I am saying that we’ve got a far stronger case for Caroline being the killer than we have against Thomas. We’ve got a better case against Stanic than him too. Fuck, we’ve probably got a better case against Anna’s parents than we do Coulthard. You don’t have to like it, but Thomas is bottom of the suspect list at the moment.’

‘Then we need to move him up.’

‘With what? As far as I can tell Coulthard does nothing but sit at home eating pizza and wanking. We might be able to get him on charges of never satisfying a woman, but not a lot else. We stick him in court and he’ll look like some loser we’ve stitched up.’

‘He’s more than that.’

Brooke shrugged.

‘Not necessarily. Look at the bastard; he’s pathetic. Alright, if I had to live like him, I’d probably run around shanking brides-to-be.’

‘Sir…’

‘Alright, alright: I know. But it doesn’t change the fact that we need evidence before we can even think about charging him. We need it
before
the inquest into Caroline’s death, as well: Ray will give his evidence then. Once he does, that’s us cooked. You had forty-eight hours yesterday. Today, because I’m so generous, you can have twenty-four.’

Marr made to leave the office.

‘Hang on,’ Brooke said. It wasn’t a polite enquiry. Marr turned around. Brooke was looking at him with an expression that he rarely wore; it was frighteningly close to concern, and it didn’t quite suit the Chief Inspector’s constantly grumpy features.

‘Sir?’ Marr asked.

‘Steve, it is absolutely none of my business what goes on in your private life. But I do need to warn you that Detective Superintendent Hume takes a very dim view of relationships between colleagues. And I’d therefore assume that her view of relationships between colleagues when one of them has a wife and a child on the way is probably even dimmer.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Steve, I respect you very much. So I hope you don’t mind when I ask what in the name of St Peter’s hairy balls you were playing at getting involved with Sam?’

‘Only if you mind telling me who told you, sir.’

Brooke’s eyes narrowed slightly.

‘Careful. And what makes you think anyone told me? I’m a fucking detective, deskbound or not.’

Marr nodded.

‘Sorry, sir. Point taken. But don’t be too worried; any previous relationships are now concluded.’

‘Really? And you wouldn’t lie to me about that?’

Marr shook his head.

‘I’m having a baby.’

The chief inspector’s demeanour relaxed.

‘Congratulations!’

Marr smiled.

‘Thanks.’

‘You’re nervous?’

‘Well…’

‘Course you’re nervous, you’d be bloody fucking stupid if you weren’t. Don’t worry, though; it’s the best thing you’ll ever do. Fuck’s sake tell me when the baby’s born, though; I’ll be sure to keep you away from paperwork. When I was 16 I went to a 5-day rave, consumed many things, none of them legal, and I still wasn’t as knackered as I was the first month after Ethan was born. Do you know what you’re having yet?

‘No. Too early. I’m trying not to think about it; still nicely in the denial phase.’

‘Sensible enough, enjoy the denial while you can; it’ll all get nice and real after they’re born. You made the right decision, you know.’

‘Right decision?’

‘Yeah; at least I’m assuming that you made the choice to finish with Sam after you found out about the baby?’

‘Almost immediately after.’

‘Well, you’ve done the right thing. Flings are flings, but it’s nothing compared to a family. Without meaning to go too Godfather, family’s everything. Fucking enjoy it’.

Marr felt better as he drove home. In his own strange, offensive way, the Chief Inspector had helped to put things in perspective. Family was what mattered; everything else could be left in the past.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Stanic knocked loudly on the door. He knew that the occupant was home, of course, because he was just the sort of man who was always at home, when he wasn’t at work.

Sure enough, after thirty seconds or so, Thomas Coulthard opened the door. He looked surprised, initially, but the expression soon gave way to a sort of smug amusement.