Pulse (A Kate Redman Mystery Page 7

  He was in, praise the Lord. Kate adjusted her face to remove the smile that had sprung up on it, shook her hair back and tapped on the door.

  “Hello, Kate, what can I do for you?” Despite knowing how easily he could fix on a professional demeanour, Kate was still somewhat unnerved by it. Does this mean he’s a good liar? was a question that she regularly fought down.

  She made an effort to dismiss the thought and sat down opposite him. “I presume you know we’ve got a cause of death now for Joe Vickers?”

  “Enlighten me.”

  Kate did so. “I thought – if you’re okay with it – I might try and see if we’ve had any other similar overdoses in the past few years. Maybe even do a countrywide search and see if there’s any points of similarity with deaths reported nationwide – you know, bodies found in graveyards, GHB deaths, things like that.”

  Anderton pondered. “Why not? Don’t spend too much time on it though, you can always hand it over to one of the analysts if you make a start. Is anything back yet on our new body?”

  “He’s been identified. Keith David Farmer, nineteen, of no fixed abode. He was in care until eighteen and then had to leave. His social worker identified him.”

  “Poor little bastard.” Anderton was writing something on a piece of notepaper. “When’s the post-mortem?”

  “Today, I think. I think Rav’s going to attend.”

  “Good, keep me posted.” Anderton finished writing and twisted the paper around so she could see what he’d written. Dinner on Friday?

  “Will do.” Kate couldn’t help the big smile that spread over her face again as she looked him in the eye and nodded.

  “Great. Talk to you later, then.”

  Kate almost skipped back to the office and had to recollect herself as she went back to her desk. Keep your mind on the job. Determined to make amends for her pleasurable inattention, she fired up the databases she needed and began the long, painstaking task of unpicking the records.

  *

  By two o’clock that afternoon, she was drooping, despite the multiple cups of coffee. Eventually, she stretched, yawned and got up, making her way over to Olbeck’s office where she could see he was typing desultorily.

  “You free for lunch?” she asked, popping her head around the door.

  Olbeck looked relieved. “Not really but – what the hell – I can’t carry on with this anymore without a break. The paperwork will be the death of me.”

  “Tell me about it.” Kate looked out of the window, checking the weather. “It’s a nice day, shall we go to the pub and sit out in the garden?”

  “That’s a good plan.”

  They walked down to the King’s Head pub together, a second home for many of the officers of Abbeyford station. Once they’d placed their order, they wandered out to the little beer garden at the back, a paved courtyard enlivened with a few potted shrubs and brightly striped sun shades on the tables. Olbeck led Kate to one of the tables at the back.

  “Seems like ages,” said Kate brightly and immediately felt a stab of guilt because of Anderton. When was she going to tell Olbeck? It was like carrying a bucket of guilt around on her head, and every so often the bucket overbalanced and she was showered with bad feeling.

  Olbeck was occupied in drinking his pint. He put the glass down with a sigh that could have been contentment or weariness. “Tell me about it.”

  “How are you, anyway?” Suddenly Kate realised that Olbeck and Jeff were right in the middle of the adoption process. She felt another stab of guilt that she’d been so concerned with her own issues, she’d completely forgotten. “How are things going with the – you know, with the adoption?”

  As soon as she said it, she felt it was a mistake. Olbeck frowned and said, “It’s okay. Quite stressful.” She got the impression that he wanted to say more but instead he folded his lips together and then raised the glass to his mouth, drinking down half his pint in one go.

  “Okay. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

  “I don’t. Not really.”

  At one point in her life, Kate would have felt self-conscious about the fact that her friend would have censored himself on the topic because of her history. It was a measure of how much she had grown as a person that she didn’t immediately leap to this conclusion now. Instead, she began to worry; worry about Olbeck and his feelings because she could see that something was wrong.

  “Okay,” she said again, because she didn’t really know what else to say. Frantically, she groped around for something to talk about. Luckily, at that point the waitress brought their food and the awkward moment passed in a flurry of unwrapping cutlery and settling plates on the table.

  They both ate in silence for a moment. Kate found, to her surprise, that she was quite hungry.

  “I’ve been thinking about the Vickers case,” she said and then immediately cursed herself because yet again, she’d forgotten what Joe Vickers had been to Olbeck. “Sorry. Do you mind if we talk about that?”

  Olbeck sighed. “No. Fire away.”

  “Well, have you had a chance to read the forensic reports yet? They’ve confirmed how he died.”

  “Yes, I know. Overdose of GHB.”

  “Yes. Well, anyway, I thought I’d do a search to see if there are any other similar cases, both nearby and around the country.”

  Olbeck frowned. “GHB overdoses. Oh, Kate. There must be hundreds.”

  “No,” said Kate, a little stung by his tone. “I meant, search for GHB overdoses in conjunction with the other factors. Body found in a graveyard, a body posed after death, that sort of thing.”

  “Oh. I see.” Olbeck put his knife and fork together on his plate and pushed it away as if he’d suddenly lost his appetite. “Well, I suppose it’s worth a try.”

  “Anderton thought so.” Kate kept her head down, scraping up the last of her risotto.

  Olbeck didn’t reply. When she looked up again, he was staring into the distance. Kate sighed inwardly.

  “Shall we make a move, if you’ve finished?” she asked.

  “Yes, we’d better.”

  They both paid, separately, and walked in silence back to the station. Even the glorious September sunshine couldn’t put a spring back into Olbeck’s step, and Kate found herself dogged by a worsening gloom. It felt as if she and her friend had had an argument but one that had been unsaid, if that were even possible. Never had she felt so distanced from Olbeck, not even in that terrible day, years ago, when they’d had the worst fight of their lives. This wasn’t that – it was like a slowly spreading grey stain of indifference and she didn’t know how to fix it. Honesty would help, whispered a little voice in her ear, but she set her jaw and ignored it. When they got back to the office, they muttered something that could have been a goodbye to one another and walked off to their separate desks.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next morning, Kate was poring over the sheets of paper she’d just printed out when Chloe tapped her on the shoulder. Kate looked up enquiringly.

  “What’s up?”

  Chloe was dressed in her customary black suit, accessorised with a simple necklace and with her blonde hair neatly pinned up as usual. Kate felt a slight pang that, try as she might, she could never quite pull off the polished look quite as well as her friend.

  “We’ve got a possible witness on the Farmer case. The barman at the nearest pub to the graveyard where he was found.”

  Kate sat up. “Oh, really? Is he legit?”

  “As far as I know. Anyway, I’m telling you because I was supposed to be interviewing him this morning and now I can’t. Got to go to the PM.”

  “I thought Rav was doing that?”

  “Not any more, he’s tied up with something else. Anyway, I was going to ask if you could go along and see if he’s got anything to tell us?”

  Kate
put down her print-outs. “Yes, of course. No problem.”

  “Great.” Chloe turned to walk away and then swung back. “Unless of course you fancy doing the PM instead?”

  Kate grinned. “What do you think?”

  “Well, can’t say I blame you. Anyway, you did the last one so it’s my turn. I’ll email you the witness details now. Thanks, bird.”

  “You’re welcome, bird.” Kate stood up, preparatory to grabbing her bag. Chloe turned away and turned back once more.

  “Oh, by the way, do you fancy coming out on Friday night? I’ve got free theatre tickets.”

  That stopped Kate in her tracks. “Oh – oh, I’d love to, Chloe but I’m – I’ve already got plans. Sorry. Otherwise I’d have loved to.”

  Something in her voice must have shown. Chloe stepped closer with a grin on her face. “Oh yes? Got plans, eh? What – a hot date?”

  Kate could feel her face burning. She attempted a light laugh and said “Well, sort of, I suppose—”

  “Oh, yes? And how come you haven’t mentioned this guy before? Who is he?”

  “It’s not – it’s not like that—”

  Sensing a weakness, Chloe pressed on. “Come on, who is he? You’ve been awfully secretive lately, and now I know why. Come on, spill – who is he?”

  “He’s – it’s nothing—”

  By now, Theo and Rav were listening. In an agony of self-consciousness, Kate turned back to her desk and began to shuffle her printed papers, just wanting to do something with her hands and hide her blushes.

  Chloe was grinning. “Ooh, Kate’s got a secret lover. Who can it be?” She cast her eyes up to the ceiling and tapped her chin in a parody of deep thought. “Who can it be? Who have you been in contact with lately? Ooh—” A thought struck her and she let out an exaggerated gasp. “It’s not Andrew, is it? Surely not. He’s married—”

  “Oh, shut up!” Kate could hear the fine needle of anger in her voice as she over-reacted. Too late, she attempted a laugh and joke it off. “It’s not Andrew, it’s nothing – just forget it. It doesn’t matter.”

  Chloe, Theo and Rav all stared at her. Feeling as if her face were on fire, Kate muttered something, grabbed up her bag and coat, and virtually ran from the office.

  Then she was halfway to the car when she realised she didn’t have any of the details of who she was supposed to be interviewing. She hesitated by the exit door to the car park, hopping from one foot to the other in an agony of indecision. The thought of walking back to the office and into an interrogation was bad enough but she couldn’t just do nothing… As she was fidgeting, she heard her mobile chime with a text and reached into her bag for it.

  It was a message from Chloe. Kate opened it, her heart thumping. It simply read You need to talk to Michael White at the Rose and Crown, Arbuthon Green. You all right, bird? X.

  Breathing a sigh of mingled relief and annoyance, Kate texted back. I’m fine, just stressed. Sorry. See you later x. She walked to her car, trying to compose herself. That was the sort of reaction that was going to get her in trouble – her and Anderton. For a moment, Kate thought of all the people she was actually deceiving, because lying by omission was still lying, wasn’t it? It was not a comfortable thought.

  She flung her bag and coat onto the passenger seat of her car and tried to gather herself together. Find the address of the Rose and Crown, that was the first thing… She sat down in the car, took a few deep breaths, and tried to concentrate on doing her job.

  *

  It was a beautiful autumn morning, the early mist gradually being burnt away by the strengthening sunshine. Blackberries hung like dark jewels in the depths of the hedgerows. Must make some blackberry jam, thought Kate as she drove past, knowing that she’d probably do nothing of the sort. Every autumn, she had these same good intentions: make jam, gather sloes to make sloe gin, collect rose-hips to make syrup, and every year, suddenly it was November and she hadn’t managed to actually do anything. In particularly bad years, she’d even thought of giving her home-made produce as Christmas presents – presented beautifully, of course, with gingham ribbon and handmade labels – before realising that, as she couldn’t even get herself together long enough to even pick the fruit, the chances of producing a lovely, painstakingly made gift were slim to none.

  She knew Arbuthon Green fairly well and found the Rose and Crown with scarcely a glance at her sat nav. There was a small, scruffy car park next to the pub, and Kate eased her way into a parking space. She glanced at her watch as she locked up the car. Just after midday, so at least they would be open and hopefully not too busy…

  It wasn’t a particularly attractive pub, nothing like the ones that she preferred for a drink and a meal. The outside was covered in peeling pebbledash, once painted white and now faded to a dirty grey. There were window boxes outside the grubby windows but they were filled only with the dried brown stalks of dead flowers. Cigarette butts littered the ground outside the entrance. Kate pushed open the door to the bar.

  The pub was empty save for a couple of old men sitting at the end of the bar, each with the broken veins and flushed noses that told of a long love affair with alcohol. They both gave Kate a disinterested glance as she walked up to the bar and then turned back to their desultory conversation and half-empty pint glasses.

  There was only one person behind the bar, a young man with dark hair and hipster glasses. His neat appearance contrasted rather oddly with the scruffy, run-down interior of the pub.

  “Mr White?” asked Kate.

  He nodded. “Are you the—”

  “Yes, that’s right. I understand you talked to my colleague, DS Chloe Wapping?”

  “Yes.” Michael White glanced down to the end of the bar where the old men sat and inclined his head the other way. “Shall we go somewhere a bit more private?”

  “That would be great.” Kate was forming an impressionable opinion of him, given his quickness and tact. “Perhaps if we sit at the other end?”

  They both moved down the bar, and Kate perched herself on an available stool. Michael White leant forward over the bar.

  “I understand that you’ve got something to tell me about the night of Keith Farmer’s death?”

  Michael nodded. “Yes, that’s right. I was working here and I saw him leave the pub. He’d caught my eye a bit because – oh, well, he had a sort of funny look about him—”

  “This is Keith Farmer you’re talking about?” Kate checked.

  “Yes. Sorry. Anyway, this Keith looked a little bit furtive and I thought to myself, better keep an eye on him because – well, he just looked as though he might be trouble.” Kate nodded encouragingly and Michael went on. “We get pick-pockets in here sometimes, and they have that same look about them, that’s why I noticed. Anyway, I got caught up serving someone – we were busy that night – and when I next noticed him, he was leaving the pub with this other guy.”

  Kate poised her pen in readiness at her notebook. “What can you tell me about the other man?”

  Michael rubbed his chin. “He was big, at least six foot, probably taller. I remember because he was quite a contrast to this Keith guy, who was pretty small and thin. The other guy – he was quite well built, not really muscular or anything, you know, but solid.”

  Kate scribbled madly. “Anything else? Presumably you didn’t know this man?”

  “No, I’d never seen him before. He had – I think he had light hair, kind of blonde but not really blond.”

  “What was he wearing?”

  Michael White shrugged. “That I didn’t notice, I’m sorry. He wasn’t wearing anything that was unusual or that struck me, you know.”

  “Anything else that you noticed about him?”

  Michael White went silent for a long moment as he thought. Then he shook his head. “Not really. I couldn’t see what colour eyes he had. He wasn’t good looking b
ut not really – not shockingly ugly.” He half smiled. “I’m sorry, it’s not much to go on.”

  “No, no, it’s very helpful.” Kate scribbled down the last of her notes. “Mr White, do you think you’d be able to pop into the station and we can try and get a photo fit of this other man with your help?”

  Michael White looked startled but not unduly. “Sure, no problem if you think it would help.”

  “That’s great. I’ll give you my card and we can sort out a time for you to come and do that. Now, does this pub have CCTV?”

  It turned out that the Rose and Crown didn’t have closed circuit television, which didn’t come as much of a surprise to Kate, given its run down appearance. It was unfortunate, but she’d be able to check with the nearby council camera footage to see if there was anything to be found.

  She took a final few details from the helpful Mr White, said goodbye and left the pub. She had that tiny spark of feeling, the gut instinct that told her that this could be a little bit of a breakthrough, and she headed back to the office with a lighter heart.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Well, that was very nice,” Anderton said, pushing his plate a little away from him on Kate’s kitchen table. “I never knew you were such a good cook.”

  Kate smiled, pleased. “Well, there’s quite a lot you still don’t know about me.”

  “True.”

  And there’s still plenty I don’t know about you. The unvoiced thought brought a frown to Kate’s face as she carried plates over to the dishwasher. Merlin twined around her ankles in his customary fashion as she rinsed and stacked the plates.

  “I hope one of the things I don’t know about you is that you’re allergic to cats,” she remarked.

  “Luckily, I am not.” Anderton came up behind her at the sink and nuzzled the back of her neck. “Leave those for now, why don’t you? Let’s get cosy in front of the fire.”