A Dog's Life (The Romney and Marsh Files Book 4) (19 page)

‘I did. Thought I’d give that Premier Inn a try. Coffee was good last night and the grub didn’t look too bad. Besides, our friends might be around. Someone should break the news to them about Stephanie Lather.’

Marsh looked out of the window and smiled to herself.

*

Romney’s body language adopted a thwarted look on learning that the three women had all checked out earlier that morning and were long gone. He ordered a sandwich and a couple of coffees and they took the same table they’d sat at the previous evening.

‘You look disappointed, sir,’ said Marsh.

‘I’d like to have seen how they took the news.’

‘You haven’t changed your mind about their involvement in yesterday’s events, have you?’

Romney shook his head and made a face. ‘Seems like we have our murderess. Let’s just hope forensics don’t cock it up and go and lose something important, like the murder weapon. I do wonder what made her do it though.’

‘There’s talk that Stephanie Lather ended up being a single parent on the breadline because her sister couldn’t keep her hands off her husband and he couldn’t keep his trousers on.’

‘Really? Where did you get that from?’

‘Online gossip column.’

‘I hope your police sources are a little more credible. What happened to him?’

‘I believe he still works at the docks.’

‘Here? In Dover?’ Marsh nodded. Romney’s interest perked up. ‘Does he now? Find out what you can about him when you’re back at work.’

‘Why? There’s no suggestion of his involvement in anything?’

‘That could just mean he’s clever.’

Marsh did not believe for a second that Romney was of the opinion that Stephanie Lather’s ex-husband was involved in anything that had happened to involve the police. He was just being his usual awkward self.

Through a mouthful of sandwich, Romney said, ‘You’ve got to admit, it’s a puzzle. I mean, why would Stephanie Lather, with the gods of fame and fortune smiling down on her, throw it all away by smashing in the brains of a sister she hasn’t seen for years after inviting her to her big day? And then running home and topping herself?’

‘No idea, sir.’

‘Well, like our dear leader said, we’re the detectives.’

*

Romney took a quick look at Marsh’s front door lock and, satisfied that it was a straightforward replacement job, went in search of the building’s superintendent to borrow a couple of screwdrivers.

Romney knew Gareth Hedges from way back. The big Welshman had been a uniformed constable working out of Ladywell station when Romney had been a DC. When he’d retired he’d taken the job of super for the flats to subsidise his pension. The two men spent a friendly few minutes catching up and Hedges was surprised to learn that one of the residents was a DS. He was more surprised to learn what had happened to her the previous night and assured Romney he’d keep an eye out for a follow-up call. Romney left him his card.

Romney nipped up Jubilee Way to the big B&Q at Whitfield, picked up what was needed and, despite the restricted movement in his hand, had the lock on the uPVC door changed with an ease and in a time that clearly impressed Marsh. She made him a tea by way of a thank you.

‘Does this hand look bigger to you than the other one?’ said Romney. He held both up and Marsh felt obliged to consider it.

‘A bit. It looks swollen. Maybe you should get a tetanus jab or something. Did you put anything on it?’

‘Dettol.’ Romney looked bothered.

For as long as it took Romney to work his way through his tea, they spoke for a while about Bernie Stark and the history surrounding that episode of Dover’s crime and punishment story and chewed the fat over the previous day’s events. When Marsh offered to show him her ereader he looked at his watch and made his excuses.

Marsh thanked him profusely for saving her the hassle and expense of having to get a locksmith out and Romney indicated that it was nothing. He seemed genuinely happy at having been able to help. When he’d left to return the tools and drive home she found herself thinking once again what a strange one he could be. He’d truly surprised her. At the station she’d felt he was blaming her for what had happened to her the previous night. He’d seemed disappointed in her, annoyed with her even. Then he’d changed completely and given up his Sunday afternoon to perform an act of genuine kindness. She unkindly considered whether her DI could be a little schizophrenic and then told herself not to be so mean.

Joy had looked out her previous month’s itemised phone bill for Justin’s mobile number and, because she had hardly any credit left on the Pay-as-You-Go SIM card, she had rung him from the station. She told him she’d lost her phone and gave him her old mobile number. He had invited her to meet him and the girls for lunch but because of where her thinking had taken her the previous night when she’d lain in bed unable to sleep, she’d declined the invitation citing work commitments.

Now, alone again in the empty living space, her spirits sank. Inevitably, she found herself replaying the assault, what she could have done to avoid it, how much worse it could have been. And then she was thinking back to when her life had been almost ended by a former work colleague and how that still plagued her sleep patterns. Joy began to shake. She slipped down the wall she had her back to and crumpled on the floor. With her knees pulled up under her chin and her arms wrapped around her legs, she waited for it to pass.

Her phone shattered the quiet, making her start with its ringing and vibrating on the table. She realised it was getting dark. She took a deep breath, got up and went to it. Justin. She stared at the screen for four rings more and then answered it. His soft, cultured tones were as welcome as anything she could have heard. He’d taken the children home to their mother. He missed her. He’d like to see her. Would she like to see him? He could come round. That would be wonderful, she said.

*

Grimes was not in when Romney arrived back home. He had been back and he’d left a note. The handwriting was awful. Like a drunken spider had fallen in an ink well, broken a couple of legs and dragged itself across the paper. He’d returned in the afternoon, the note said, and collected his important stuff because he’d moved back to his sister-in-law’s to be with the family. Over the weekend they’d rearranged things and now there was room for him. The note said that he had the kids and Maureen outside in the car and so was in a rush. He claimed to have called Romney’s phone. Romney looked and saw the missed call. Grimes would see him tomorrow at work and thanks for everything. There was no affectionate signing off. Romney didn’t care about that. He was smiling broadly. That was one thorn out of his side.

***

13

Romney pushed through the double doors into CID the following morning talking loudly on his phone. He crossed to his office carrying his little paper bag from the delicatessen around the corner from the station. Marsh noticed he was wearing the same bandage as the previous day. It looked grubby. The trained observer in Marsh could see that he was not in a great mood. With what he had shared the previous day regarding what was hanging over him in the form of the Bernie Stark business, she wasn’t surprised.

When he’d shut the door and couldn’t hear her, she turned to Grimes and went fishing, ‘How are things at home?’

Grimes was staring at his computer monitor with his features scrunched up. It made him look piggy. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Why don’t you get your eyes tested?’

‘Nothing wrong with my eyes.’

‘So why are you about six inches from the screen and squinting?’

Grimes eased back. ‘I’m not.’

‘I said, how are things at home this morning? You and him ironed out the little difficulties in your living arrangements?’

‘You could say that.’

‘Good. I’m relieved to hear it. Should make life just a little more bearable around here for the rest of us. You toeing the line then? Stopped shitting on his toothbrush?’

‘I’ve moved out.’

‘What? When? Why? Please, don’t tell me you two had a fight.’

Grimes looked strangely at her. ‘What are you on about, Sarge? I’ll have you know we got on very well together.’

Marsh doubted that the DI saw it that way. ‘So why are you out then? You said your place would take ages yet.’

‘It will.’

‘I’m confused. Your place isn’t ready but you’ve moved out of somewhere that according to you only a few days ago was somewhere you were enjoying being – a cushy little number and free.’

‘That’s right.’

‘Where are you now then?’

‘Maureen’s sister’s.’

‘I thought there wasn’t room.’

Grimes looked around before answering. ‘You won’t say anything?’

Marsh shook her head and adopted a quizzical look.

‘I’m in the garage.’

‘What?’ Unable to stop herself, Marsh spluttered into a fit of hysterical laughter at the images created in her mind. The revelation was the trigger for a release of her pent-up, suppressed emotion and was something she was completely helpless to deal with. It doubled her over and it just had to run its course, despite the pain it caused her damaged side.

Grimes sat and watched her collect herself and wipe at her eyes. She had gone very red.

‘What’s so funny?’

And she was off again. Perhaps two minutes passed before she was able to speak.

She hugged herself and said, ‘I’m so sorry, Peter. It’s not you, it’s me.’

‘Oh, that old chestnut.’

‘I don’t understand. Why are you sleeping in the garage like a vagrant?’

‘Keep your voice down. It’s not that bad. We’ve got our bed in there. All we do is sleep in it.’

‘We?’

‘Maureen’s in with me.’

She collapsed into yet more fits of hysterical laughter.

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I really am sorry.’ She took a couple of very deep breaths and grimaced with them. ‘Why? Why did you leave him?’

‘Don’t say it like that.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like we were lovers.’

Marsh let out a peal of amusement.

Grimes checked to see that Romney’s door was still shut. ‘He’s unbearable, if you must know. Always nagging, always complaining about the mess. I can’t even watch the telly in the morning without him getting moody. And after what the new super said about me needing to lose a couple of kilos, he was threatening to have me out on his early morning run with him. Living with the DI was worse than being married. I’ve gone back to my wife for a break.’

Marsh was crying now. The tears streamed freely down her reddened cheeks.

‘Well I’m glad you think it’s funny, Sarge. It wasn’t an easy decision. I think he liked having me around. Some male company. I feel a bit bad about it, to be honest. Like I’m letting him down. But it was depressing me.’

When she managed to get herself under control, Marsh tried to appear earnest. ‘Well, I’m sure you’ve got your reasons, Peter. And I’m sure he’ll get over it. What did you tell him?’

‘That I missed Maureen and the kids too much.’

‘You think he believed you?’

‘Why shouldn’t he? Anyway, it’s partly true.’

Marsh looked like she was trying to accept this.

‘He screams in his sleep, too.’

‘What?’

‘I don’t think he knows it. He’s never mentioned it and neither have I, but I don’t mind admitting I was frightened a couple of times.’

‘Screams about what? Can you make out what he’s saying?’

‘I would say don’t laugh, but I’d probably be wasting my breath.’ She looked at him expectantly. ‘Giant dancing ears. That’s what it sounds like. Forgive the pun.’

Marsh was clutching her stomach like she’d eaten something that disagreed with her. When she brought herself back under control, she said, ‘You must have got that wrong. That doesn’t make sense. Could it have been giant dancing bears?’

‘I don’t know. It was late. I’d just been shouted out of my sleep. He only screamed it a couple of times. I put a chair under the door handle and got under the covers.’

Marsh wasn’t laughing now. She was beyond that. In fact she realised that she needed the bathroom. If she hadn’t already, she was in danger of embarrassing herself in a whole new way.

‘Don’t go away,’ she managed before hurrying out.

Romney came out of his office and approached Grimes’ workstation. He was looking in the direction Marsh had just hurriedly disappeared in. ‘Everything all right?’

‘Morning, gov. Yeah. Fine thanks. What’ve done to your hand?’

‘No one told a certain dog that it’s supposed to be man’s best friend.’

‘Looks bad, gov. Swollen. Have you been to the doctor? When I was a kid, my neighbour got bitten by a stray. Week later he was dead.’

Romney relegated the reason he had come out to speak to Grimes to second place. ‘Died of what?’

‘Rabies. Do you know, there’s still no cure for it?’

‘Your neighbour died of rabies?’ Romney lost a little of his colour.

Grimes noticed this and felt obliged to be a bit more positive. ‘But there’s no rabies in the UK these days, is there? Eradicated years ago.’