Chimera (13 page)

Chapter Eighteen

As Kate arrived back in the office, she virtually ran into Olbeck as he was walking out into the corridor. They both collided with an ‘oof’ of surprise and each staggered back a few feet.

“Sorry,” gasped Kate automatically. Then reality kicked in. It was the first time she’d spoken to Olbeck since she’d screamed obscenities at him in his kitchen.

He didn’t look as though he’d forgotten that. “Kate, I was looking for you.”

“You were?” asked Kate, trying to sound unconcerned. The anxiety about the potentially lethal batch of heroin somewhere out in Abbeyford was immediately replaced by the crippling sense of shame she’d carried around with her since she and Olbeck had fallen out.

“Yes,” said Olbeck, face impassive. “I’ve just had a call. I need you to come with me.”

Professional curiosity peeked its way above Kate’s emotional state. “Don’t tell me it’s another overdose?” she asked, quickly.

Olbeck looked surprised, and then his face cleared. “Oh, you’ve spoken to Doctor Telling then? We can talk about that on the way. No, this might be different. I won’t know until we’ve had a look.”

“Right—”

“Let’s go, then.” For a moment, superficially, everything seemed to have gone back to normal. The next second, Kate realised with a sinking feeling that the anger and hurt seemed to still be very much there.

“I must just get my stuff. I’ll meet you at the car.”

She ran into the office, flipped a hand at Theo and grabbed up her bag. She was still wearing her coat and was aware of the sweat inching down her back beneath the heavy material. It didn’t help her feel much calmer.

Driving away from the station, the air inside the car thickened with unspoken thoughts. Kate stared blankly through the windscreen, feeling utterly miserable. This was her best friend, her closest colleague, and the two of them were like strangers. Worse than strangers, they were like enemies. Tears rose in her eyes and before she knew what she was doing, she had turned to Olbeck.

“I’m so, so, sorry. Mark, I’m so sorry. I could cut out my tongue. I’d give anything to take it back, anything—”

To her shame, her voice had thickened so much she couldn’t go on. Kate dropped her head, realised that was a mistake when the tears began to drop onto her jeans, and raised it again. She was aware that the tight knot that she’d felt in her chest ever since that awful night had loosened as she uttered the first apology. She made a mammoth effort at control and said it again. “I’m really, really sorry. I don’t know how I can make it up to you.”

“All right, all right,” Olbeck said, and Kate could see the tightness around his jaw loosening a little. He flicked on the indicator and brought the car into the side of the road before pressing the hazard light button on. Then he turned undid his seatbelt and turned to face Kate.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. She wanted to say something else but those two words seemed to be the only ones her mouth was capable of forming.

“You really hurt me,” Olbeck said softly. They were staring at one another like lovers. Kate could only shake her head and he must have seen the misery in her face because in the next moment, they’d flung themselves at one another and were hugging each other tight.

Kate cried properly then, soaking Olbeck’s shoulder. She could feel his unsteady breathing as she held him and knew he was pretty close to tears himself.

They only hugged for a few moments. Then in mutual agreement, they sat back and looked at one another. The tension had eased a little. Kate took Olbeck’s hands.

“I don’t have any real excuse,” she said in a low voice. “All I can say is that you caught me on probably the worst day of my life. No, that’s not true. The worst day was when I – you know – when I gave him away.”

“I know,” said Olbeck. “And
I’m
sorry. If I’d had a bit more tact, I would have realised that you would have found that really hard to hear.”

Kate was shaking her head. “No, no, Mark. It’s my fault. I have to – I have to get over that. I think you and Jeff will be brilliant parents.
Brilliant
. I just hate myself for what I said. I was just lashing out and it was unforgivable, I’m sorry.” Her voice wobbled again and she carried on quickly, before it could break. “I have to apologise to Jeff as well. I’m going to do that straight after work tonight if he’ll be in.”

“He’s okay,” said Olbeck. “We were worried about you. It’s not like you to be so – so volatile. Not even around that subject.”

Kate hung her head. “I know. I don’t know why – yes, I do know why. But we’ll have to talk about that some other time. All I can say is that I am really, truly happy for you and Jeff getting married and adopting, and I’ll spend the rest of my life regretting what I said at first.” She looked Olbeck straight in the eye, hoping against hope that he believed her. “Because I didn’t mean it.”

He said nothing but pulled her back into a brief hug again before releasing her. “Come on, we need to get to the scene.”

Kate, unable to stop herself, asked in a small voice. “Do you…can you forgive me?”

Olbeck almost smiled. “You’ve not murdered anyone, Kate. Of course I forgive you.” There was a beat of silence and then he added “You’re not invited to the wedding, though.”

Kate half-gasped, feeling as though she’d just been kicked in the stomach. Olbeck looked stonily ahead for a moment and then his face broke up. He was actually laughing. “I’m joking, you silly cow. Of course you’re invited.”

For a moment, Kate thought she was going to burst into tears again. Quickly she rubbed her face, pinching the bridge of her nose hard for a second. “Thank you,” she said, her voice almost steady.

Olbeck indicated and steered the car back onto the road again. Kate sat back against her seat, heaving a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of her stomach. She had that empty, hollow feeling that came after a really good cry, which was somehow soothing and relieving at the same time. She and Olbeck were friends again. She didn’t kid herself that everything was back to normal again – perhaps it would never be – but they were back on the right track. At that moment, Kate didn’t care about dirty heroin, or Anderton’s sex life, or her failed exams, or anything else. She had her friend back. That, at that moment, was all that mattered.

“Where are we going?” she asked after five minutes had passed. She realised, after the drama of the last few minutes had calmed, that she had absolutely no idea of where they were heading or what they were going to see.

“A body’s been found,” Olbeck said. She could hear the relief in his voice and knew that he’d been suffering, probably almost as much as she had. She closed her eyes for a moment, swamped with thankfulness that they’d managed to sort it out. Olbeck went on. “At a house in Mellow Abbot. A neighbour noticed the front door was ajar and went in and found it. According to Dispatch, it’s a middle-aged man and it’s definitely a suspicious death.”

“Okay,” said Kate. “There’s clearly more. What is it?”

Olbeck glanced at her. “Apparently, he’s been tied-up, gagged and killed.”

Kate blinked. The robbery report from Jack Harker materialised in front of her eyes. Was this the same thing? “Blimey,” she said. “Any ideas as yet?”

“Haven’t you been collating a few reports on some similar robberies, recently?”

“Yes. Well, I’ve been meaning to.” Kate found herself wondering what she
had
actually achieved over the last month. She put her hands up to her eyes and rubbed them. I need a holiday, she thought. Perhaps I might try Barbados. It had seemed to work for Olbeck.

The car was slowing. Olbeck had spotted the crime tape that had already been stretched across the driveway of a house up ahead. It was a nondescript semi-detached house, built around the 1930s, with a concreted driveway and pebbledash on the exterior walls.

“Do we know who the victim is yet?” asked Kate, as Olbeck drew the car into the kerb.

“He’s not been formally IDed yet but the person who found him told us who he was. Adrian Fellowes, aged forty-eight, lecturer in IT at Abbeyford City College.”

“That’s the vic?” asked Kate, confused.

“Yes. Sorry, yes. His neighbour was the one who found him, she’s still there now. Apparently she noticed the front door was wide open and went on in and found him. Margery Wencleve.”

By this time, they had passed through the front door and picked their way through the narrow hallway. Uniforms and white-coated SOCOs milled about. The house was cold, whatever residual heat it had contained leaking out of the front door as it was opened and closed by various officers. It was as nondescript on the inside as it had been on the outside. Cheap grey carpet covered the hallway floor and extended into the living room, which ran down the side of the house. Kate followed Olbeck through the doorway to where the body of the unfortunate Adrian Fellowes could be found.

He was fat, naked and slumped on a cheap and nasty looking sofa piece covered in grubby cream fabric. Kate and Olbeck stood silently, taking in the scene. A man bent over the body and as he straightened up and turned to face the two officers, Kate realised it was Andrew Stanton. Such was her ebullience at having made it up with Olbeck, not even this fact could dampen her spirits. She gave him a big smile and he looked at first shocked and then confused.

“Good morning,” said Olbeck. “Anything for us yet?”

Apart from that first glance at Kate, Stanton steadfastly refused to look at her. Kate, still in that strange, reckless mood, had to restrain herself from bounding up to him, pinching his cheeks and telling him to get over it. She bit back an extremely inappropriate giggle.

“There’s no obvious cause of death,” Stanton was saying. “No stab wounds, no ligature marks, no head trauma.”

“Really?” Olbeck asked, surprised.

“Yes, you’ll have to wait for the post mortem on this one. I simply can’t give you any indication as yet.”

Just like Trixie Arlen. “Any sign of drug use? Needle marks, injections, anything like that?” Kate asked.

“No, nothing to indicate intravenous drug use,” Andrew said, a little stiffly. “You can see for yourself that he’s been indulging in cocaine or amphetamines though. We’ll have to run tests to be sure but…”

He indicated the dining table that stood at the back of the room with his head. The top was littered with empty bottles of wine, several glasses with the sticky residue of alcohol in the bottom of them, and what looked like a small bathroom mirror, its surface lightly dusted with white powder.

Kate, having noted this, turned her gaze back to the body. Fellowes’ wrists were tied together with what looked like a pair of tights or stockings, his ankles similarly secured. A third stocking gagged his mouth. Kate felt a wrench of pity for him. It was bad enough to die, but to be left in such humiliating circumstances… She wondered whether he had a family and looked around the living room for any photographs, any indication that other people lived here. There was nothing; just an enormous flat-screen television, a pile of computer magazines in the corner of the room, a dusty cactus plant in a chipped blue pot on the windowsill. The room was functional but nothing more, there was no care or attention to comfort, beauty or sophistication.

Olbeck was saying something to her and Kate turned back to him. “What’s that?”

“Have a look at him again,” Olbeck said. “What’s wrong with this picture?”

Kate gave him an old-fashioned look and looked again at the body. “What do you mean?”

“We’re assuming this is a potential robbery, right?”

“Yes. Given its similarity to the other cases.”

“So, clearly, whoever did this didn’t tie him up to make sure he didn’t escape. He’s not tied to anything, is he? Just – just himself.”

Kate nodded. “Yes. But that would fit in with what the previous victim – Jack Harker said. He said he woke up after passing out, or being drugged, tied up.”

“Exactly,” said Olbeck. “It looks like there’s a team or a couple of people out there honey-trapping men into being tied up and then robbed.”

“Okay,” said Kate. “It’s a possibility. But then why kill your victim?”

“Maybe he recognised one of them. Maybe they’re getting more aggressive as they go on. Maybe they didn’t mean to kill him.”

“You don’t think that this might be another overdose?” asked Kate in a low voice.

Olbeck looked uneasy. “We won’t know until we have the PM results. But it doesn’t look like it, does it?”

“No,” Kate admitted. Andrew had stated that he couldn’t see any injection marks and given that there was clear evidence of cocaine (or similar) use at the scene, it was different to what had happened at Trixie Arlen’s farmhouse. All the same… Kate stood and watched the SOCOs at their work, thinking and frowning. There had never been such a spate of potentially suspicious deaths in Abbeyford, not since she’d arrived here. Could there really be no connection between the cases?

She drifted into the hallway again and wandered into the kitchen at the end of the hallway. It was a small, dank room, just as cheerless and as lacking in personality as the rest of the house. Empty pizza boxes and takeaway food containers were stacked messily by the overflowing kitchen bin. The stove top was clean, if dusty – clearly Mr. Fellows was not much of a cook. A small fridge hummed busily to itself by the back door and a narrow gate-leg table was crammed up against its side, its surface littered with flyers, old newspapers and junk mail. Kate stood in the doorway, wondering whether there was any point to what she was doing. She turned and was about to leave when she felt a sudden pull, a little snag of her consciousness, a jab of something significant. Kate turned slowly and regarded the dirty little kitchen again. What had it been? She swept her gaze slowly over the squalor, wondering what it was that she’d subconsciously noticed. Then she saw it, tucked between a packet of sugar and an empty glass jar on the kitchen counter. A small business card, pink with a flowery black logo.
Home Angels, Domestic Cleaning.