‘You too.’ Meaning it more than she’d meant anything in a while. When the two women had met on a previous case, Paula had felt a frisson between them. She’d even thought Elinor might have been flirting with her, but it had been so long since she’d had to decode those messages and she’d been so tired; it had all been too hard. She’d planned to follow up later, but life had, as usual, got in the way.
‘You still working with DCI Jordan on the Major Incident Team?’ Elinor asked.
‘That’s right. Attached by an umbilical cord to the worst that human beings can do to each other. And you? Still on Mr Denby’s team?’
‘For now. Though I’m due a move soon. But right now I’m on my way to Starbucks,’ Elinor said. ‘If I drink another cup of junior doctor coffee I’ll need to have my stomach pumped. Can you join me?’ She caught sight of the cigarette pack in Paula’s hand. ‘They have tables outside.’
Paula felt a flash of irritation. ‘I’d love to. But I can’t.’ She gestured back towards A&E. ‘Work. I need to stay close at hand.’ She spread her hands in defeat.
‘No problem. It’s only two minutes’ walk. How would it be if I brought you something back?’
Paula felt a warm glow in her stomach. She’d been right, this was a woman after her own heart. ‘A grande skinny latte would be a beautiful thing.’
‘Coming up.’ Elinor hustled off down the driveway, a white blur in the streetlights.
Paula lit her cigarette and took out her phone. Positive ID on Daniel Morrison. Mum had heart attack. Am @ A&E with Dad, she keyed in and sent the message to Carol. That should cover her back for long enough to have an exploratory coffee with the lovely Dr Blessing. Work might be shit, but it looked as if her personal life might just be taking a turn for the better.
CHAPTER 19
It wasn’t that she missed him when he was away. It wasn’t like they lived in each other’s pockets. When they were both busy, they could easily go for a week without spending an evening together. But Carol was always conscious of the emptiness of the house above her basement flat when Tony was away. Their lives were separate, their space private, the doors at the head and foot of the internal staircase creating a sort of airlock between them.
And yet . . . She knew when he was not there. Maybe there was a genuine reason; perhaps his movements created a vibration at some subliminal level in the house’s fabric and whose absence unsettled her reptile brain. Or maybe they were, as Blake had implied, a little too closely in tune. Carol shivered at the thought. Her feelings for Tony were a complicated web whose strength and fragility she preferred not to test.
So she told herself it was just as well that he wasn’t here, as if his presence would somehow hamper her exploration of his history. Certainly it would be more than likely to sharpen the nag of guilt she felt at continuing to go behind his back and against his expressed wishes. Nevertheless she logged on to Google and soon found herself on the home page of the
The first on the list, the most recent in terms of date, was the story Alan Miles had shown her in the pub. Frustratingly, the photograph hadn’t been scanned in. The next result was a story about the proposed sale of Blythe’s company to the Sheffield firm. Halfway through the story was a paragraph that stopped her in her tracks. ‘The factory’s owner, Mr Edmund Blythe, was unavailable for comment. Mr Blythe is recovering from a recent violent assault, as reported in this newspaper.’
A violent assault? Alan Miles hadn’t mentioned anything about that. Carol hastily scrolled down the rest of the results, looking for something that wasn’t about the factory. A few stories down, she hit pay dirt.
VIOLENT ATTACK IN SAVILE PARK
A Halifax businessman was recovering in hospital last night after a brutal attack as he walked home through Savile Park with his fiancee.
Edmund Blythe, 27, the managing director of Blythe & Co, Specialist Metal Finishers, was stabbed by a thug who attempted to rob him at knife-point.
When he refused to hand over his wallet, the man struck out with his weapon and hit Mr Blythe in the chest. According to hospital staff, the blow came close to his heart and it was a matter of pure luck that the consequences were not fatal.
Mr Blythe, of Tanner Street, and his fiancee were returning to her parents’ home after spending the evening with friends who live on the far side of the park.
His distraught fiancee, who has asked not to be named, said, ‘It was a terrible shock. One minute we were walking along arm in arm, minding our own business. Then a man stepped out from the shadow of some bushes and brandished a knife. I could see the blade gleaming in the moonlight.
‘I was terrified. He told Edmund to hand over his wallet, but he refused. Then the man rushed at him and there was a struggle. I started screaming and the man ran off.
‘It was too dark for me to see him clearly. He was about six feet in height and wore a flat cap pulled down over his hair. He sounded local, but I doubt I should be able to recognise his voice again. It was all so frightening.’
Detective Inspector Terrence Arnold said, ‘This man is clearly very dangerous. We advise members of the public to be on their guard when walking in secluded areas after dark.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Carol said aloud as she reread the article. Why on earth had Vanessa failed to mention this dramatic incident? It wasn’t like her to miss the chance for a touch of the limelight. Not to mention the sympathy she’d elicit for being involved in such a terrifying attack.
It did go some way to explain why Blythe had decided to abandon Halifax for Worcester. An unprovoked assault like that would make anyone anxious about the place they were living. But she’d have expected him to want to take his fiancee with him. Of course, if Vanessa hadn’t wanted to leave Halifax, no amount of persuasion would have shifted her.
Carol poured herself a fresh glass of wine. She checked the other articles, but there was no more about the
