DEAD GONE (8 page)

Carla took a step forward. ‘I’ll see you out.’

At the door, Rob turned around to face Carla. She put her arms around him before he had a chance to resist. ‘She’ll be okay, Rob. Just don’t let yourself be played with. You’re much better than that.’

He stepped back and she unwrapped her arms from around him. ‘I’ll be in touch if I hear anything,’ he said and stepped off the door step.

Rob heard the door shut behind him, standing still for a moment.

‘What the fuck was that about?’ He heard Andy’s voice from outside. Then a door slamming. Through the blinds in the window he could see Carla rushing to the Moses basket and picking up Leah. And then her eyes locked with his.

Looked like someone else was having problems. At least they were both there to sort them out.

Rob turned and walked back to the car. What Carla had told him had knocked him back somewhat. Jemma just leaves sometimes, pisses off to the other end of the country like a petulant child.

He didn’t really know her at all. She wasn’t some perfect woman. She wasn’t right.

Some of the guilt lifted.

But he still needed to keep going. Keep the show going.

Her mum next. Then … he couldn’t think of the next step.

What was he supposed to do next?

Murphy stood in his kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil so he could fill the large mug that was sitting on the counter. Coffee and a little milk already added. He yawned, the previous night’s lack of sleep catching up on him. The events of the previous day conspiring to keep his mind ticking over into the late hours, the ache in his neck telling him falling asleep on the couch was probably a mistake. Yet again, he’d drifted off to the sounds of canned laughter, from the endless re-runs of American sitcoms he watched late at night.

And then there was the small fact of still not feeling at home.

Murphy had one proper friend. Jess. Twenty years they’d known each other. Never a hint of romance. Jess had tried to help in the previous couple of months. Trips to Ikea, that sort of thing. He appreciated it, knowing she was probably hating every second of the experience.

She didn’t like change. Wait … not quite right. She didn’t like other people changing. And so much had changed in the last few months.

‘You’ve bought a house?’

‘Yeah, I needed somewhere to live.’

‘But it’s a little soon don’t you think? It’s not been that long. Where is it?’

‘The Millhouse Estate in Moreton.’

‘Over-the-water Moreton? Why would you do that? That’s at least a half hour drive for me. You couldn’t have moved around here?’

‘Sorry
,
Jess, that wasn’t really my concern.’

‘You prick. You’re just trying to get rid of me.’

‘Jess, I’ve been trying to get rid of you for twenty years. It hasn’t worked so far. You’re still technically my best friend.’

‘Don’t say that. That’s depressing. And anyway, I’m your only friend.’

‘Honest, I wouldn’t know what I’d do without you.’

‘Oh, grow a pair will you, Bear. Start living up to your name for once.’

Bear. The same nickname she’d used since they’d met over twenty years ago. She’d become used to his new place within weeks, still preferring to drive over to his house rather than eat alone. Must cost her a fortune in tunnel tolls.

‘Shit.’

Murphy paused in his coffee-making and jumped as the alarm on his new phone went off again. He fished it out of his pocket and pressed some icons in an effort to stop the noise.

It had woken him at the correct time. Although it being in his trouser pocket had confused him at first. He shut it off, the noise threatening to wake the entire cul de sac. Apparently there was a difference between turning off and sleep mode.

A quick look at his watch told him it was coming up to half seven, an hour before he usually got in to the station.

Time enough for a quick wake-up call.

‘Bear, it’s too fucking early. What have I told you? Don’t bother me before at least lunchtime.’

‘Morning, Jess. Did I wake you?’

‘No, I’m up. Peter is at his dad’s and I had to make sure the little bastard is up for school. Can’t rely on that lazy twat he calls a father, and he’d bunk off given half the chance. Fucking teenagers. What do you want?’

Murphy took a bite of his toast. ‘Got a murder yesterday.’

‘Shit. The girl in Sefton Park. Seriously? They gave it to you?’

‘Yeah. First one in months.’

‘How is it?’

‘Interesting.’ Murphy put the half-eaten toast back on the sideboard and opened the fridge with his free hand, taking out a bottle of water. ‘Killer left a letter. Victim is a student. Usual nutcase stuff. You’ll probably end up defending him in court.’

He heard a snort on the other end of the line. ‘Well … congrats I suppose. I know you wanted to get back into it quicker than this.’

‘But …’

A large sigh. ‘Just … well … don’t let it get to you. I worry, you know.’

‘I’m fine,’ Murphy replied, his attention more on trying to unscrew the top off the water bottle with one hand. ‘You gracing me with your presence soon?’

‘We’ll see. I’m going back to sleep.’

The line went dead, and Murphy smiled as he put the phone away.

Until the previous day, it had been a quiet couple of months for the team he worked on – E Division, headed by DCI Stephens. Lately they’d been tasked with investigating the increase in gang activity around the city centre, but that was proving to be long, difficult work. No one wanted to talk, there were no high-profile murders of youngsters to shake up the city. Just a lot of illegal activity that everyone would rather turn a blind eye to.

It beat murder though. He took another bite out of the slice of his toast. Nice balanced breakfast. Always important.

Murphy had been a DI for over five years, so he’d seen more than his fair share of murders and manslaughter charges. Most of the time, solving a case came down to one thing.

Luck.

The psychology of it wasn’t something which interested him really. He’d seen the newcomers come into the force, mostly university graduates thinking they could apply some of their attained knowledge to police work. Sure, sometimes they could come up with a fresh angle on some things. But mostly, Murphy stuck to what he knew. Investigate everything, and if nothing turned up, hope to get lucky.

Murphy finished eating and switched off the radio, the Chi-Lites snapping into silence mid-song. Good old-fashioned songs, from the sixties, like his mum used to play. There was even a radio station dedicated to playing that era of music now. Jess had bought him a digital radio at Christmas, and he’d not switched off the station since.

Bear. Jess still refusing to let that nickname die a death. His groomed beard was beginning to show some grey, and his short hair, that matched his beard length, receding backwards. He was washing more and more of his face every day. He wore his nickname well, his size being the main reason for it. It fit. Never caught on at work though.

He locked the house up and got into his three-year-old Citroën C5. Red. Extravagant really for what he actually needed. He’d grown up on a council estate in south Liverpool, but got out as soon as he could. Working and living over there as a PC, in Speke where he’d lived most of his life, had caused a few problems. So he’d lived out in Dingle, until recently. His parents hadn’t moved though. Worked all their lives, been together since school. Thatcher had enabled them to buy their council house in the eighties, although their opinion on her didn’t change because of that, saved for a long happy retirement together, with no money worries and plenty of day trips on coaches.

And they were both dead at fifty-eight years old.

Murphy was an only child, so everything went to him. Which meant he had a nice sum of money in the bank, no mortgage, no kids, no worries.

And no excitement away from the occasional bad marriage or tough case.

Apart from the odd holiday he planned and never took, he had no idea how to spend it. His dad had been frugal, always saving for a rainy day, and Murphy guessed he’d picked up the same habits. He smiled as he started the car, remembering his dad explaining to him that he could do without a new iron, as the old one still heated up occasionally.

Murphy checked his watch, waiting for the apartment door to open. Looked around and raised an eyebrow at Rossi, who shrugged in reply. Bass heavy music came from behind another door in the corridor.

‘Taking their time.’

‘Students for you.’

The door opened a few seconds later, revealing a couple seemingly clinging to each other for dear life.

Murphy cleared his throat. ‘I’m Detective Inspector David Murphy, this is DS Laura Rossi. I’m told you knew we were coming?’

‘Yes,’ the woman answered from behind a damp tissue. She looked frighteningly young to Murphy’s eyes. Dainty features, small in stature, with just socks covering her feet. The long cardigan she was wearing seemed at least two sizes too big for her, the sleeves balled up in her hands. ‘Do you want to come in?’

Murphy shifted on the balls of his feet. Rossi took over. ‘It looks like it could get a bit crowded if we’re all inside. Is there somewhere else we can go, somewhere a little private?’

‘There’s a communal kitchen downstairs that no one really uses. We could go there?’

‘Perfect.’ Murphy replied.

Five minutes later, they were led down to the kitchen. The young woman had introduced herself as Rebecca and her boyfriend as Will. A small breakfast bar with three stools took up most of the space, with Murphy electing to stand to the side as Rossi sat opposite the couple.

‘So when was the last time you saw Donna?’

Rebecca had gained controlled of her sobbing. ‘Last Monday evening, around six. We had a Maccies and then she said she needed to go up to uni to do some revision. She’s done all-nighters before, so I wasn’t too bothered when she wasn’t back when I went to bed.’

‘Where does she usually go to study?’ Rossi said, her eyes not lifting from her notepad.

‘The library. It’s open twenty-four hours, so she usually goes there. I think it was probably to get out of the flat, bit more space and that.’

Murphy studied the boyfriend, looking for any sign that he knew more than his silence was letting on. Tried boring a hole into his head using just his eyes. Got nowhere other than a sharp pain in his own head from overstraining.

‘Okay,’ Rossi continued. ‘So what happened next?’

‘Well, the next morning she still hadn’t come home, so I texted her. Usually she replies really quickly, but I didn’t get anything back. I was worried, but thought she’d just crashed out somewhere. I went up to uni and checked the library to see if she was still there, but she wasn’t. I left it a few hours longer, and then started ringing around. No one had heard from her. I tried ringing and texting all day but got nowhere. So, I called the police that evening. We’ve been waiting for news for almost a week.’

‘We’re sorry it wasn’t better news,’ Rossi replied. ‘Was Donna worried about anything? Concerned about someone following her perhaps?’

Rebecca shook her head. ‘She was just normal. Stressed a bit because of her exams, but nothing out of the ordinary.’

Murphy shifted forward. ‘Where were you that night, Will?’

Will lifted his head at the sound of Murphy’s voice. ‘I was out with mates, and got back to the flat around twelve. Wasn’t I, Bec?’

Murphy watched as Will turned to Rebecca, something flitting across her eyes, which was followed by a quiet nod. ‘I’m going to need the names of your mates.’

Will turned back to Murphy. ‘You don’t think I had anything to do with this, do you?’

‘Not saying anything yet,’ Murphy replied, keeping eye contact with him. ‘I’m just covering all bases. Nothing to worry about I’d imagine.’

Will seemed to accept this with a nod. He gave Rossi a few names and took out his phone to provide her with numbers.

Murphy turned his attention to Rebecca. ‘What was Donna studying?’

Rebecca had watched the exchange between Murphy and her boyfriend open-mouthed, and took a few seconds to respond. Murphy tapped his foot, waiting. ‘History,’ she said eventually.

‘We’ll need a list of anyone else she was friends with, anyone she had arguments with, or fallen out with lately. Don’t leave anyone out. Understand?’

Rebecca nodded, before breaking down and crying once more.

Murphy rolled his eyes

‘Don’t you think that was a little harsh?’

Murphy grunted at Rossi in reply. Bloody students, he thought, which was about as far as his sympathy went for the couple they’d just left. He was driving back to the station, his foot not really lifting much off the accelerator. He wanted to get back and start making some headway. Time was passing them by.

‘I mean, they seemed pretty upset,’ Rossi continued. ‘They’re only students you know. Just felt a little over the top.’

‘Laura, if I want advice, I’ll ask for it. Now instead of wondering about those two dipshit students and their feelings, let’s work out what’s next.’

Rossi sighed. ‘Okay. I’m guessing we start at the university? Start interviewing?’

‘Yes. We check in first and get the team working. There’s a lot of work to do. I want that boyfriend checking out. Something’s off with him. I think you should talk to the girl on her own.’

‘Really, you think so? Seemed okay to me.’

Murphy snorted. ‘Always look for the easiest explanation. This letter has us all thinking too broadly. It’ll probably end up being someone she’s turned down or something. I want him checking.’

‘Okay. I went to that uni, you know. Maybe I should get in contact with some of my old tutors. Might get us somewhere a bit quicker.’

Murphy went back to grunting.

She’d been asleep.

Lying on the mattress, or at least what she hoped was a mattress, sleep had taken her without her welcoming it. She’d been crying, she remembered that. And then she was floating into nothingness. As random thoughts and words faded away, she couldn’t recall at what point the room disappeared around her.