The Creeper

had to go home again.

Marina hated using pop psychology greetings card analogies but in this case it was true. Phil completed her. And she him.

If only it was that simple. If only it was just the pair of them.

It wasn’t even Josephina. They were both thrilled about their daughter. Thrilled and terrified. She should have been a proud, public acknowledgement of their love for one another, their sense of commitment to each other, their contentment.

She should have been. And if it was just the three of them, even that would be fine.

But…

She picked the book up from the arm of the chair, tried to tune everything out of her head, just get into it, slip away. James M. Cain’s Double Indemnity. She had found it in one of the boxes, not picked it up since she’d studied it as part of her MA at university and had now decided to reread it.

The story of a couple who recognise something damaged and kindred in each other and fall madly, passionately, in love. The only obstacle is the woman’s husband so they murder him in order to be together. But once they do that they find their guilt has bound them together in a fearful, destructive state and killed any future happiness between them. At least that was the way Marina was reading it.

She put the book down, tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes.

Another mouthful of wine. Then another.

Another look round the room in the house that wasn’t hers, the home that wouldn’t be.

‘Oh God…’

The words of the nurse that morning came back to her, about how things couldn’t continue as they were, how she had to make a decision.

Midlake playing, Tim Smith singing that there was no one else so kind, no one else to find and that it was hard for him, but he was trying.

Marina sighed, took another mouthful of wine.

Not knowing how much more of this she could bear, forcing herself to come to a decision.

Not noticing the tears rolling down her cheeks.

25

The main MIS office was busy, even though it was time for most people to leave for the day. Milhouse was working at his computer terminal, looking for clues in the virtual world. It wasn’t his real name but no one used that. His resemblance to the Simpsons character was uncanny, even down to his level of social skills, so it had stuck. When he was referred to officially as DC Pecknold, Phil often had to take a few seconds to realise who was being addressed.

Rose Martin had been given a desk and a computer and now sat before it, writing up reports and looking thoroughly, angrily, unhappy. She saw Phil enter, looked immediately back to her work.

And then Anni entered. There was no way the two of them could avoid each other as he was standing right beside the door and she literally bumped into him.

‘Hi,’ he said.

‘Boss,’ she said, and tried to dodge round him.

But Phil wasn’t about to let her go so quickly. ‘Haven’t seen you for a while, what you working on?’

Anni shrugged. ‘Stalking case. Maybe breaking and entering. ’

Phil frowned. ‘That’s not MIS. That’s just bog-standard CID, isn’t it?’

Anni’s turn to shrug now. ‘It came in, there was no one else to take it.’

Silence fell between them. Like a heavy wool blanket, uncomfortable and irritating.

Phil’s voice dropped. He led her to one side. ‘Look, I know you’re still pissed off that you put in for promotion and didn’t get it. Especially after the last big case we did.’

Anni said nothing.

‘I put your name forward. I wanted you.’

She looked at him as if about to argue.

‘I know you think I didn’t-’

‘I was told you didn’t.’ Her eyes were angry dots.

‘And I know who told you.’ Phil glanced over towards Fenwick’s office. The DCI was behind his desk, on the phone. Phil noticed that, by a strange coincidence, Rose was also on the phone, her hand over the receiver.

Anni looked at Fenwick’s office, looked back at him. Her eyes dropped. ‘Why would he lie, then? Why would he say that?’

Phil gave a small smile. ‘You’re asking that? Of Fenwick? Because he’s a twat, that’s why.’

Anni smiled too. She nodded.

‘Now, d’you think you can put your case to bed and come and join me?’ Another quick glance at Rose Martin, who, putting the phone down, got up from her desk and came towards them. ‘I need your help. Soon as.’

‘I just have one more person to see, an old boyfriend, then I’m done. For now.’

‘Good.’

‘I’ve done the reports and got the two journalists ready for processing.’ Rose Martin came to halt before the pair of them, started talking. ‘They’re in an interview room waiting to be spoken to.’

Phil was annoyed at being interrupted but didn’t think confrontation would be the best way to go. ‘Good work, DS Martin. Now let them go.’

Her face flushed red. ‘What?’

‘Insufficient evidence, whatever you want to call it. We’ve kept them away from the Miller home for a while, given them a scare. Let them go.’

Her voice was rising. ‘After all I’ve done-’

Phil squared up to her. ‘You made the play. You carry it through. Maybe you’ll think twice next time, before you go all Dirty Harry on me.’

Rose clamped her mouth shut, swallowing whatever it was she had been about to say. She took a deep breath. Another. Phil waited.

‘So that’s that, is it? I’ve learnt my lesson and I’m back on active duty, right?’ Her voice was heavy with sarcasm.

Phil didn’t rise to it, kept his voice calm and level. ‘Just about.’ Then he glanced at Anni, back to Rose. A smile played on his lips. ‘One more thing,’ he said. ‘DC Hepburn here, I don’t know if you’ve met, is coming to join us but needs a bit of help in wrapping up her case. If you wouldn’t mind…’

Phil led Anni and Rose over to Anni’s desk. Both women looked surprised. ‘Anni’ll give you the details. Just one last thing before home time and then the slate’s clean and tomorrow is another day. OK?’

He left them to it, crossing the floor to Fenwick’s office.

Unable to keep the smile off his face.

26

Phil knocked on the door, entered. Fenwick looked like he was expecting him. He sat down before the desk. Fenwick leaned back on the other side, scrutinising Phil. He was sure it was meant to be intimidating but one thought went through Phil’s head:

David Brent.

‘So how’s it coming, then? The Julie Miller murder inquiry?’

‘We’re making progress. But we don’t know for a fact that it’s Julie Miller yet. Let’s not call it that until we know for certain.’

Fenwick sat back, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. ‘Well, no one else has gone missing recently