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  Kate fought against the urge to hug her, pat her on the back, rock her into comfort again.

  “I just need to know if–”

  Casey interrupted her, her words barely audible over loud sobs.

  “I’m being punished. This is my punishment.”

  Kate frowned. “What do you mean by that, Casey?”

  Casey shook her head, crying louder.

  “Is it something that you feel you’ve done?” Kate hesitated, unsure of whether to go any further. Should she call Olbeck or Anderton? Was this going to be a confession? She could feel her heart rate begin to speed up, the sickness rising in her stomach. What to do?

  She pressed on.

  “Is it something you’ve done to – to Charlie?”

  Casey shook her head again, almost screaming

  “No, no! I would never hurt my baby, never. What are you, sick?”

  She rolled away from Kate, burying her head in the pillows again. She said something else but it was too muffled for Kate to make out.

  Kate sat back, thinking hard. Guilt, but not at something to do with the baby…if she was telling the truth. She ran through the possibilities, internally. What the hell, she was probably right...

  She pulled at Casey’s arm, speaking sharply. “Casey. Casey! Sit up, please. I need to ask you something.”

  After a few moments, Casey sat up again. She looked at Kate, sullenly.

  Kate took the bull by the horns. “Did you have an affair with Ali Saheed?”

  The expression on Casey’s face, aghast and guilty, told her everything she needed to know. After a moment, Casey dropped her eyes. She gave a tiny nod of the head, so tiny it was almost imperceptible.

  Kate sighed. “When was this?”

  Casey looked up at her for a split second and then looked away.

  “Not since the baby,” she said quickly.

  “Not since the birth or not since the pregnancy?”

  Casey’s voice wobbled. “Not since the birth. Of course not. Not for months.”

  “Was it just a one-off?”

  “No. We – we were together on and off for years. But secretly, you know. I don’t know why…” Her voice faded for a second. “I don’t know why we didn’t get together properly. Ali said it wouldn’t be very professional.”

  But shagging his clients was? Kate mentally filed away her sarcastic comment without voicing it.

  “So you’ve been in an on-going relationship with Mr Saheed for years?” A nod from Casey. “Does Mr Fullman know?”

  Casey blanched. “God, no. He would kill me.” She grabbed at Kate’s arm, her eyes huge. “You won’t tell him, will you? Please God, don’t tell him. He’d kill me.” She started to hyperventilate. “Oh Christ, oh God, why did I tell you? Don’t tell him, please don’t tell him...”

  Kate hastened to soothe her as best she could.

  “Casey, please don’t worry. We’ll do all we can to keep this between us.”

  Casey put her head in her hands. The part of her hair showed a inch-thick strip of dark brown hair, visible against the blonde streaks.

  “I can’t believe this,” she whispered. “I know my affair was wrong but I know Ali, I know he wouldn’t do this.”

  Kate took a deep breath. “I need to know all about this, Casey. Can you tell me?”

  Silence from the woman on the bed.

  “Casey. You have to talk to me. When did you two first, er, get together?”

  Casey kept her head in her hands, but she began to speak, slowly and with a gasp in her voice.

  “It was about five years ago now. I needed an agent and someone told me about him and so I rang him up. And then we met and there was, oh, I dunno, an instant attraction, I guess. And he was a good agent. He got me lots of work. Magazines and that TV show. We were never really a couple though, you know. We were just, just…”

  Kate groped for the appropriate term. “Friends with benefits?”

  Casey nodded. “Sort of. I mean, I guess I knew he had other girlfriends and I used to date a few guys myself. But somehow we always ended up sleeping together again. And then I met Nick and got pregnant, and then it just seemed wrong. I just couldn’t do it any more.”

  “So you sacked him as your agent?”

  Casey nodded. “I thought that would be the easiest way for both of us.”

  Mentally, Kate rolled her eyes. “You didn’t really expect Mr Saheed to think that? He loses his client and his girlfriend in one go?”

  Casey put her hands up to her eyes again. “I don’t know,” she cried. “I just had to, I couldn’t – couldn’t have Nick finding out, you don’t know what he would have done.”

  Kate’s antenna went up, quivering.

  “You think Mr Fullman would have reacted angrily?” Stupid question, Kate. She rephrased it. “I mean, obviously he would be angry, very angry, but you were scared of his reaction?” Casey didn’t react. “Physically scared?”

  Casey did nothing for a moment. Then she gave another small nod.

  Kate drummed her fingers on her knees.

  “Does Mr Fullman ever threaten you? Is he ever violent towards you? Or abusive in any way?”

  Casey took her hands down from her face, wiping the tears from under her eyes.

  “No,” she sniffed. “He’s not that bad.”

  Kate opened her mouth to ask another question but a knock on the door made them both jump. Mrs Bright stood in the doorway.

  “Just came to see if you wanted a cup of tea?” she said, her eyes going straight to Casey’s tear-stained face.

  “We’re fine, thank you, Mrs Bright,” said Kate, inwardly cursing her for the interruption. The moment had gone, she could feel it.

  “I want one,” said Casey loudly, confirming Kate’s realisation that the moment of confession was over. She got up from the bed, allowing Casey to swing her legs to the floor and followed her through to the kitchen.

  Mrs Bright made Casey a cup of tea, and her daughter took it wordlessly. The brief spasm of defiance that she’d displayed seemed to have dissipated. She eyed Kate for a moment, blankly, and then turned and trailed away, back to the bedroom.

  Kate let her go. She had Mrs Bright to talk to and this would be the perfect opportunity.

  “I will have a cup, if there’s one going, Mrs Bright,” she said.

  Sheila Bright nodded. Kate watched her make the tea. There was a huge, domed cluster of diamonds on her ring finger, sparkling over the other gold and platinum rings that cluttered her fingers.

  “Are you married, Mrs Bright?” asked Kate.

  Sheila handed her a mug of tea, the bag still in it, liquid slopping over the side.

  “I was,” she said, briefly. “Got divorced years ago.”

  “Is Casey your only child?”

  A nod.

  “So Charlie is your only grandchild?”

  The artificially smooth face contracted for a moment. “Yes.”

  “It must be very distressing for you,” said Kate. She took a sip of the awful tea. “We’re doing all we can to find him.”

  Mrs Bright nodded. Kate pressed on.

  “How did Casey find motherhood?” She revised her question quickly. “How is Casey finding motherhood? It’s quite hard, the first time, isn’t it?”

  “She’s okay,” said Mrs Bright, non-committally. “As all right as she can be. She has a lot of help. Had a lot, poor Dita.”

  “Does Mr Fullman help her out with the baby?”

  Mrs Bright laughed soundlessly. It was the first sign of animation she’d shown.

  “Nick, help out? When would he have time? He’s always at work isn’t he? Besides…” She stopped talking, raising one glittering finger to her mouth for a moment.

  “Besides, Mrs Bright?” prompted Kate.

  Sheila Bright flicked her a sideways glance. “It’s difficult for men, isn’t it?” she said, evasively. “They don’t always deal with babies too well. You know.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know, Mrs
Bright. Can you elaborate?”

  “Well, they get jealous, don’t they? Only natural if they’ve been the centre of attention for so long. All of a sudden, there’s someone else getting all the attention, isn’t there? It’s no wonder some men feel a bit pushed out.”

  “You’re saying Mr Fullman felt pushed out when Charlie was born?”

  Sheila Bright’s face clearly wasn’t capable of showing extreme emotion, but she looked a little uneasy. “Well, sort of,” she said. “Nothing bad or anything. I had the same thing with my ex-husband when Casey was born. It’s normal.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes, it is,” said Sheila Bright, shortly.

  Kate put her mug down. “Do you think Mr Fullman resented his baby?”

  “Don’t be stupid,” said Sheila Bright. Then she coloured a little. “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything. All I meant was that men find it hard, don’t they, that’s all. Nothing worse than that. They get over it, anyway, once the baby’s been here for a while. It all settles down.”

  They get over it, anyway... Kate thought about that as she drove away from the house. Did they? Had Nick Fullman gotten over it? Had he even had a chance? Was the bit about his behaviour true and, if it was, did it mean anything? She turned the car lights on, illuminating the road ahead, and pulled out of the driveway, keeping her face turned from the gates and the fluttering mass of ribbons, staring straight ahead into the gathering dusk.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Interesting,” said Anderton. Kate and Olbeck were sat in his office, ostensibly facing his desk but actually turning this way and that in their chairs to keep him in view as he paced up and down.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it earlier,” said Olbeck. “Saheed was obviously pretty cut up about the fact that he never saw Casey Fullman anymore.”

  A search of Ali Saheed’s flat had yielded nothing of interest, except a half-full wrap of cocaine and some fairly vanilla pornography. Kate swivelled in her seat, trying to catch Anderton’s eye.

  “Casey is clearly scared of her husband,” she said. “She said several times ‘He’ll kill me.’ It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s abusive, emotionally abusive if not physically.”

  “And where is your evidence for that, DS Redman? A lot of wives would be very scared of their husbands finding out they’d had a five-year affair. It doesn’t mean that they’re all married to perpetrators of domestic violence.”

  Kate took a deep breath. “No, I appreciate that, but–”

  “But what? You have no evidence of abuse. None. Dig around if you must, talk to a few more people. You can’t assume from a throwaway comment – a throwaway comment from an extremely emotionally distraught woman – that it means anything of significance.”

  “Actually, sir,” said Olbeck, seeing that Kate was momentarily wrong-footed. “It would be useful to get a bit more background on this development. Casey says no one knew, but in my experience, someone always knows.”

  Kate was thinking hard. There was something Gemma Phillips had said – what was it? She scrolled back through her mental files, searching for the pertinent phrase. What was it? She thought of her last interview with Gemma: the Mulberry bag, the false fiancée, the smile at the suggestion of an affair with Nick – ah. That was it. What had Gemma said when confronted with that very suggestion? She’d retorted something about it being Casey who’d told Kate that. What else? But just try telling Casey that! She only thinks that because she–

  “Gemma Phillips,” she said, slowly. “She knows. Or she knows something. I have a feeling she knows more about this than she’s letting on. I’ll talk to her again.”

  Anderton finally came to a halt and looked at her.

  “Do that,” he said, briefly. “Where are we with the other things?”

  Olbeck consulted his notes.

  “Jerry interviewed Gary Jones about his association with Nick Fullman. Insisted there was nothing more than a business acquaintanceship and that he wanted Nick’s advice on investing in property. They were apparently discussing buy to let investments during their meeting on January 14th. Nothing else. ”

  “Have you spoken to Fullman about this, yet?”

  “Not yet, sir.”

  “Well, do it. Quickly. What about the Costa brothers?”

  “My report’s here, sir.” He handed over a file. Kate flashed him a glance, and he shook his head, minutely.

  “Fine,” said Anderton. “Redman, what about Gemma Phillips?”

  “I haven’t had a chance yet, sir. I was with Casey and Mrs Bright yesterday. I’m going there right now.”

  “Right,” said Anderton, glancing through Olbeck’s file. He didn’t look up at her. “Get on with it, then.”

  *

  Kate rang the Fullmans’ house and got Mrs Bright on the end of the line.

  “Gemma?” said Mrs Bright in answer to Kate’s question. “No, she’s not here today. I don’t know if she’s been in today or not, to be honest.”

  Kate asked, fairly hopelessly, to speak to Nick, and to her surprise was speaking with him in a matter of seconds.

  “Nick Fullman here.”

  What are you doing at home? She managed not to voice the question with some difficulty. Instead, she asked whether Gemma was expected in the office at all today.

  “She’s not been in today,” said Nick, conventionally enough. Then his tone began to change to one of outrage. “She’s been really slack as a matter of fact, asked me for a couple of days holiday, which I could really have done without at this time, but I said yeah, no problem. Then she’s supposed to be back today and she doesn’t turn up, she’s not answering her phone...”

  “She hasn’t been in contact?” said Kate. She was conscious of a faint, creeping unease.

  Nick Fullman’s hard, angry tones came down the line.

  “Not a phone call, not a text or an email. I’d go round to her place myself but I can’t leave Casey. I don’t know what’s the matter with her, She’s not like this usually.”

  “I’ll call on Ms Phillips myself,” said Kate. Two memories popped up: Casey’s white face as she said Don’t tell him, he’ll kill me and Gemma’s face at the window of her house, looking furtively out at Kate from behind the curtains. That creeping feeling of unease was getting stronger.

  “What’s up?” said Olbeck, as she put the phone down. Kate explained in a few sentences and he nodded his head.

  “Think we ought to take a look?”

  Kate was already gathering up her coat. “I do. Let’s go.”

  They didn’t talk much on the drive there. The house looked as normal when they parked outside, a light on in the front room, the closed curtains glowing gently. Kate and Olbeck looked at each other.

  “Come on,” said Kate, and they got out of the car and knocked at the door.

  There was no answer.

  Kate banged the cheap, loose brass knocker once more. Then once more. Then she knelt and shouted through the letterbox.

  “Gemma! It’s DS Redman, Kate Redman. Are you there?”

  Silence. Olbeck moved to the living room window and knelt, peering through the minute gap between the edge of the curtain and the windowsill. Then he straightened up.

  “Let’s get that door open,” he said, and something in his voice made Kate shudder involuntarily.

  The two of them got the door open in three shoulder charges. Inside the house was warm and stuffy, a faint breath of something in the air almost too intangible to notice. There was still enough for the two of them to approach the half-open living room door with dread.

  Gemma Phillips lay slackly on the sofa, one outflung arm brushing the floor. Pulled tightly around her throat was a silk scarf, its marbled blue and green pattern horribly matched to the cyanotic hue of her dead face. Her mouth hung open and her eyes were closed.

  Kate and Olbeck stood and looked for a long moment. Kate could hear her own fast breathing echoed in Olbeck’s but neither of them said anything – they just sto
od and looked at poor Gemma, lying there dead on the sofa until the silence stretched out interminably and Olbeck finally reached for his phone.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “She was killed with this,” said Doctor Telling, indicating the silk scarf coiled incongruously in a metal kidney bowl on the autopsy table. “Obviously. But it wouldn’t surprise me if she was drugged first. I’ll have to wait until the stomach contents have been analysed before I can say for certain. But from the posture, the looseness of the limbs...yes, I’d say it was highly possible she was drugged first.”

  Anderton nodded. They were all there in the autopsy theatre – Kate, Olbeck and Anderton – watching Doctor Telling perform her work on Gemma Phillips.

  “So she wouldn’t have known anything about it?” said Kate. She looked at Gemma’s face, plainer than ever now stripped of life and make-up, and felt a terrible sadness.

  Doctor Telling shrugged her thin shoulders.

  “I’m not sure. I wouldn’t have thought so.”

  “I hope you’re right,” muttered Kate, almost under her breath. Olbeck patted her on the shoulder.

  “Poor girl,” he said. Kate thought he was referring to Gemma, but who knew?

  Back in the station control room, Anderton regarded the scene of crime photographs from Gemma’s house.

  “No sign of a struggle,” he said. “No sign of forced entry. She almost certainly knew her killer.”

  “Almost certainly?” said Kate. “I wouldn’t have thought there was any doubt about it.”

  Anderton glanced at her.

  “No doubt you are right, DS Redman. I never like to make emphatic statements such as yours until I’m absolutely certain of the facts.”

  “That’s right,” said Olbeck, and Kate gave him an annoyed glance. “We’re assuming that Gemma’s murder is a direct result of Dita’s murder and Charlie’s kidnapping. But what if it’s not? What it it’s completely unrelated, just a bad coincidence? What if one of her internet dating buddies killed her?”

  “Oh, come on,” said Kate. “That’s ridiculous. It’s got to be connected.”

  “We have to look at every possibility.”