Valentine Read online

  Valentine

  A Kate Redman Mystery Novella

  Celina Grace

  © Celina Grace 2016

  Chapter One

  Terminal Five at London Heathrow Airport was never less than busy, even first thing in the morning or last thing at night. Now, at nearly one o’clock in the afternoon, it was chaotic; people rushed from one gate to another pulling luggage trolleys loaded with baggage behind them, argued with staff at the check-in desks, and raced wailing children to the baby-changing areas.

  Kate Redman had hoped for some sort of romantic farewell with her boyfriend, Tin, before he got on his plane to New York that afternoon. As they stood by the departure gates, she realised she’d been a bit naive. She could scarcely hear herself think in all the tumult, let alone exchange meaningful and heartfelt last words before they had to say goodbye.

  “God, this is hell,” Tin said, yanking his carry-on bag out of the way as a large woman pushed past him, giving him a glare and a tut for his trouble.

  “I know. You’ll be happy to get on the plane, just to get a bit of peace.”

  “Look, let’s move. How about we have a drink at the champagne bar? One last treat before I have to go?”

  Kate agreed; not because she had much of a liking for champagne but more so she could sit somewhere without being buffeted on all sides by stressed humanity. They waded their way through the crowds to the relative peace of the champagne bar and seized the first seats they could find. Kate took one look at the prices of the drinks and nearly fainted.

  “It’s all right,” Tin said, noticing her bog-eyed look. “My treat. It’s the least I can do, seeing as I’m flying out just before Valentine’s Day.”

  Kate tried to smile. She’d bought Tin a gift and a card and tucked it away in the inner pocket of his suitcase. Should she mention it now or leave it to be a surprise? But then he might not discover it until much later and he’d think she hadn’t got him anything…

  The glasses of champagne were placed before them, on top of black paper napkins. Kate watched the bubbles as if hypnotised.

  “So – cheers, then,” Tin said, clinking his glass gently against hers.

  “Cheers.” All of a sudden, Kate’s throat was aching. Don’t cry. She stared at her champagne glass, watching the bubbles rise in the golden liquid, blinking hard.

  “Hey,” Tin said gently. “It’s okay. It’s not for ever.”

  “I know.” She didn’t say any more because she didn’t trust her voice.

  “I fully expect to see you out there with me in a few months’ time.”

  “I know.” She managed to smile and look him in the eye. That was the biggie, the pachyderm in the room. Would she join Tin in New York permanently? She swerved from thinking it would be a great opportunity and she should really just go for it, to thinking that it would be the death of her career and the worst decision she’d ever made. She could often hold these two opposing viewpoints in a matter of minutes.

  They finished their champagne and then Tin looked at his watch. “God, I’m really going to have to go.”

  Kate tried to smile encouragingly. She could tell that they were reaching the stage of goodbyes where everything had been said and the traveller was wanting to just go, just get the journey started. “Go on, then. You don’t want to miss your plane.”

  “I’ll call you as soon as I land,” said Tin. He pulled her into an embrace and hugged her very tightly. “I won’t say goodbye, I hate goodbyes. I’ll say au revoir instead.”

  “Au revoir, then. Have a good flight.” Kate’s voice betrayed her.

  “Hey, now.” Tin kissed her and then let her go. “I’ll see you soon.”

  Kate blinked back tears and forced a smile. She waved him off, watching him disappear through the departure gates. She couldn’t wait to get back to her car so she could have a proper cry. Head on the steering wheel, tissue in hand, let it all out for a few minutes and then it would be back on with the stiff-upper-lip and giving herself a stern talking to as she drove back to her home in the West Country. Pull yourself together, woman. It’s not as if you’ll never see him again. But first – one good hard sob, Kate told herself, and as she reached the escalator that led up to the short stay car park, she could feel her eyes beginning to brim.

  *

  Back in Abbeyford, the pretty market town that stood on the banks of the River Avon, Police Constable Paul Boulton was taking his shift in manning the front desk at the police station. He’d already dealt with a teenage runaway, two elderly gentlemen who had almost come to blows over a parking infraction, and the now almost-weekly arrest of local drug dealer Jason North. Paul was beginning to suspect that Jason was allowing himself to get caught because of some as yet unascertained reason. Although every time Jason was collared, he requested the same duty solicitor, a very pretty, glamorous young lawyer, so Paul was pretty certain that Jason was getting careless because he’d fallen for his brief and this was the only way he had of spending time with her. The idiot.

  Shaking his head at the stupidity of youth, Paul straightened the paperwork littering the desk, returned an errant pencil to a pot and looked up into a blast of wintry air as the main station door opened. He suppressed a sigh, bracing himself for more trouble. But the woman who walked through the door didn’t, he had to admit, look like she’d be here to report anything more startling than a lost dog. She was in her early forties, with a carefully shaped mane of glossy brown hair, discreet make-up, diamond earrings sparkling under the harsh strip lights above. She was carrying a cardboard box displaying the logo of a very expensive and exclusive patisserie shop in Abbeyford’s town centre in her hands. Paul Boulton brightened up. She was clearly just delivering a cake. Was it for him? It’s not my birthday, he thought, before he switched on a smile and asked if he could help her.

  “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t sure whether to call someone out or not. I mean, you hear all the time about the immense pressures the police are under. I didn’t want to, well, be a nuisance caller, or something like that. So I thought perhaps I’d better just come here myself.” Her voice matched her appearance – a well-bred accent, softly spoken. “I’m Mrs Houghton – Valerie Houghton.”

  “You have something to report, Mrs Houghton?” Paul Boulton was conscious of a little stab of disappointment at not getting any cake and inwardly chastised himself. How old did he think he was, five?

  “Yes, I’m afraid I have,” said the woman, almost apologetically. She placed the cake box directly on the desk before him. “I found this on my doorstep this morning.”

  She raised the brown and blue lid of the cake box. Paul Boulton leant forward a little to see what was inside it and recoiled sharply, just about managing to stifle a cry of shock.

  “I’m sorry,” said the woman. “But you can see why I thought you might want to know about it.”

  The cake box contained two objects, both incongruous against the luxurious packaging. The first was a lump of viscera, a bloody object of about four inches in diameter that Paul’s disbelieving gaze identified after a moment as a heart. An actual heart. It was pierced through the centre by the other object, a thin, metal-tipped arrow.

  “Good God,” he said, on his feet now to look at it more closely. Was it human? Dear God, if it was, this was a damn sight more serious than he’d first thought. He looked up at the woman. “You found it on your doorstep like this? In the box?”

  “Oh no! No, I thought I’d better put it in something, and this was the only box I had. It was just lying there the doorstep in a puddle of blood. Disgusting.”

  The sound of a set of footsteps preceded an exclamation from Detective Inspector Mark Olbeck, who had just walked through the door. “What the hell have you got there, Paul?”

  The woman turned and
gave a cry of recognition. “Why, Mark – it is Mark, isn’t it?”

  Olbeck smiled in response to her greeting. “Hello, Valerie. What on Earth brings you here?”

  This was an added complication that Paul Boulton could have done without. “Do you two know each other?”

  “Her husband works with my husband,” explained Olbeck. “How is John, Valerie? Haven’t seen you both for ages.”

  “Oh, he’s fine. Very busy, you know. Well I’m sure you do, it must be the same for Jeff—“

  They were carrying on as if they’d both forgotten there was a bloody body part lying on the desk in front of them. “Excuse me?” demanded Paul Boulton. “DI Olbeck? What am I to do with this? Should I have forensics check it out?” He drew Olbeck to one side, out of earshot of Valerie, and murmured, “What if it’s human?”

  Sergeant Bill Osbourne had come up to both of them unnoticed. “It’s not,” he announced, peering over at what was in the cake box.

  They both turned to face him. “How do you know?” asked Olbeck.

  “My dad was a butcher. This is a pig’s heart or a cow’s heart, maybe. It’s definitely not human.”

  “You sure, Bill?”

  “Aye. As sure as I can be. Our dad used to bring them home sometimes, for the dog.”

  Paul and Olbeck exchanged looks of relief. “Well, that’s something,” said Olbeck. “Tell you what, Paul, shall I do Valerie’s statement? It shouldn’t take long. It’s probably just some malicious prank, youngsters making trouble. That sort of thing.”

  Paul felt a little troubled by this. Detective Inspectors didn’t normally do the routine statements but if Olbeck was happy to do so, then that was one less thing he had to worry about… “That would be great, thanks,” he said and returned to his station at the desk, watching with relief as Olbeck ushered Valerie Houghton into one of the interview rooms and bore the cake box away with him.

  Chapter Two

  If Kate had planned things better, she would have booked the whole day off work to drop Tin at the airport. As it was, she’d promised to go into the office that afternoon and so had to take a few moments to repair her eye make-up in the rear view mirror of her car when she parked in the station car park. She regarded herself suspiciously. Not too bad – not too red-eyed. She practised a bright, uncaring smile in the mirror. Perhaps coming in was a better idea anyway – she would be able to keep busy, and not sit at home brooding over whether she’d make the biggest mistake of her life by not going to New York with Tin as soon as he’d asked.

  The office was quiet when she got there. Only Detective Sergeant Theo Marsh bent industriously over his keyboard, two desks down from Kate’s. He looked up as she sat down. “Tin get off okay?”

  “Fine,” Kate said shortly.

  “Never mind, Kate. He’s only thousands of miles away, surrounded by gorgeous young American beauties. Dunno what you’re upset about.” He caught sight of the expression on her face and dropped his usual facetious tone. “Oh, mate, sorry. I was only teasing.”

  “Yes, well,” said Kate, hating the wobble in her voice. “Don’t.”

  “Sorry.”

  They worked in silence for a few minutes. Kate opened her emails and stared, unseeing, at the long list of unanswered ones. She was startled a moment later by Theo’s hand appearing in front of her bearing a mug of coffee.

  “Blimey,” she said, taking it. “You really must feel sorry. I think the last time you made me coffee was when I came back from compassionate leave.”

  “Yeah, well, then you really appreciate it when I do it, yeah?”

  They bickered amiably for a few minutes, interrupted by the phone ringing. Kate picked it up.

  “Kate?” It was Olbeck. “How are you doing? Tin get off okay?”

  “Fine,” said Kate, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut about her boyfriend’s departure date. She still had three or four colleagues’ commiserations to suffer. “What’s up?”

  “It’s nothing serious but it’s a bit odd. We’ve had three reports from women who’ve had a dead pig’s heart with an arrow through it left on their doorstep.”

  “What?”

  “I know. Like I said, odd. It’s probably nothing more than a malicious Valentine’s Day prank, but do you think you could do some preliminary digging into the victims, just see if there’s any obvious link between them?”

  Kate nodded and then realised he couldn’t see her doing it down the phone. “Sure, no problem.”

  “It’s not top priority, anyway. I know that, but if you could when you get a moment, that would be great.”

  “I will.” A thought struck Kate. “Where are you?”

  “Downstairs. Just finishing up a statement. I’ll be up shortly.” He gave her the details of the three women he wanted her to investigate.

  “Okay, got it. See you soon.” Kate hung up and looked up to see Theo looking over with raised eyebrows.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  Kate explained. It sounded even more bizarre in the recounting. “Pretty weird, isn’t it?” she said. “A dead pig’s heart?”

  Theo snorted. “Well, it would hardly be a live pig’s heart, would it? Jesus, woman. It’s like those old anti-smoking adverts. ‘This is the lung of a healthy person’. He’s hardly healthy if he’s bleeding dead, is he?”

  Kate laughed and turned back to her computer with renewed interest. Coming into work had been a good idea after all. Even so, she looked at the clock, wondering whether Tin would have landed by now…

  As luck would have it, she wasn’t as absolutely snowed under with work as was usual. She started with a simple Google search on the three names of the women who’d reported the hearts. Valerie Houghton, Caroline Spendler, Kiki Dee. Kiki? What kind of name was that? The search on Kiki’s name brought up a multitude of Google links. Miss Dee was a drama student at the Abbeyford School of Art and Drama – Kate knew it well, particular after a particularly nasty spate of suicides had occurred there a couple of years previously. According to the website of Decadence, a nightclub in Arbuthon Green, Kiki Dee was also a part-time burlesque dancer, performing under the name of Miss Dee-Licious. Kate’s eyebrows rose. The accompanying photograph on the website showed a very pretty girl, with a sharp dark bob and well-marked dark eyebrows, like a young twenties starlet.

  Kate checked on the other two names. Valerie Houghton barely appeared on Google, only mentioned by name in a newspaper report when her husband had been awarded some sort of academic science award. Kate opened up the link and regarded the accompanying photograph. Valerie Houghton appeared somewhat younger than her white-haired husband, although the grainy newsprint wasn’t very clear. They apparently had two teenage children and she was described in the article as a ‘full-time home-maker’. Kate stopped the curl of her lip with difficulty. Now Kate, feminism is about choice. If it’s some women’s choice to stay at home full time, you should support that choice…

  Political thoughts were distracting her. She searched for the last name, Caroline Spendler. A LinkedIn profile was the first link to appear. Caroline Spendler was a solicitor, specialising in family law, apparently working in nearby Salterton. She had what seemed to be a much underused Facebook account and the remaining links were mostly to do with academic and professional sites where her name was mentioned in various contexts, all apparently work-related.

  Kate fired up various police databases and ran checks on all three names. Nothing came up for any of them. She searched the National DNA Database, where again she drew a blank. She looked at their addresses on a map of Abbeyford – all three lived in different suburbs. She sat back, tapping a pencil against her jaw, as was her habit when stumped. On the face of it, there was nothing connecting these women – nothing except someone had left each of them an animal’s bleeding heart on their doorstep, pierced with an arrow.

  Kate looked at the clock. Time was ticking on, and whilst she might not be as busy as usual, she did have other things to do, things that were slightly
more pressing than this odd but surely harmless case. Taking one last punt, she checked the arrest database to see if anything like this had ever occurred before in Abbeyford. There was nothing that she could find, despite searching under various parameters. Sighing, she closed the slender cardboard file she’d created and decided to concentrate on something else.

  Chapter Three

  Kate was back at work the next morning, bright and early, and feeling better about things, generally. Tin had texted her on his arrival at JFK and, even better, Kate had woken that morning to a ring on the doorbell and opened it to find a delivery driver with an enormous bundle of red roses in his arms. Exclaiming in delight, Kate had signed for them and taken them in to discover a note attached to the bundle. The note was from Tin professing his love and including a flight reference number, a flight to New York that he’d already booked and paid for in two months’ time. Kate, half aghast, half delighted, was already feverishly plotting her leave requirements and thinking about packing and who would look after her cat, Merlin, while she was away…

  As she seated herself at her desk, she had a moment’s regret that Tin hadn’t thought to have the enormous bundle of roses delivered to her desk at work. That would have given her bragging rights for at least a week… But no, on second thoughts, Theo would never have let her live it down. Even by the time Halloween rolled around, he would still have been teasing her about the flowers. She hugged the memory of Tin’s words, and the flight he’d booked, to her as a delightful secret.

  The macabre Valentine’s gifts that had been left for the three women she’d investigated the day before had completely left her mind. It wasn’t until Olbeck beckoned her over and asked her whether she’d found any connection that Kate remembered.

  “Sorry,” she said, feeling a little guilty. “But I couldn’t find any link between them, spurious or otherwise.”

  “That’s okay. Thanks for looking.” Olbeck sounded a trifle absent-minded. Kate watched as he opened his desk drawer, looked inside for a moment, unseeing, and then shut it again.