[#]
Jennifer pulled a tissue from her pocket and sneezed. She had cleaned her desk already, but it was no good, she would have to do it again. She opened her drawer, settled her pens and pencils back into order, and pulled out three sterile wipes from a packet.
Rolling his chair back, Will allowed Jennifer to continue cleaning until the wipes ran dry. ‘Did you mention the letter to Claire?’ he said, slipping a soft mint from the shared bag on his desk.
Jennifer eyed the open bag and took one for herself, carefully disposing of the wrappers. ‘Ethan’s told me to close the Price case as non-suspicious.’ Her words were betrayed by the lack of conviction in her voice. She glanced around the room. ‘But he’s all over the Christian Bowes case like a rash. I don’t think it’s fair that celebrities should get priority treatment over anyone else, do you?’
‘Pfft,’ Will said, blowing out his disgust. ‘You already know my feelings on that.’
Jennifer lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘The command team have been poking their nose in too. They don’t want the publicity if it all goes wrong.’
‘If it’s a straightforward harassment then it won’t.’ Will rolled his sweet to the other side of his mouth. ‘Our DI can say what he likes about the paranormal element of investigations, the CPS will only ever accept cold, hard facts.’
‘I don’t recall Ethan saying otherwise.’ Plucking out another wipe, Jennifer ran it over the telephone handset. ‘Do you think we could have our refs together tonight? Maybe go into Costa coffee before they close?’ Lately refreshment breaks had been a luxury. They ate over their computer keyboards while working through their files, scattering crumbs which would clog their keys later.
Will grinned. ‘You want quality time with me? That’s a relief. I was worried I might have to join old George on the bench out there.’
‘Well you’re half way there. You’ve got the scruffy clothes and the beard,’ Jennifer said, her dimples softening her smile.
‘I got this in Topman, I’ll have you know,’ Will said, pulling the lapels of his charcoal suit. Jennifer cast her eyes appreciatively over the broadness of his shoulders. Despite his love of food, he had always been well proportioned. But their office banter didn’t include compliments, and it was a lot easier taking the mickey out of his badly ironed shirt than admitting he had grown on her.
‘Anyway we can’t go out tonight, Claire’s ordered Chinese takeaway, seeing as we’ve all been working so hard. Will you come with me to pick it up?’ Will said.
‘I’m hardly going to sit here eating sandwiches while the whole place is stinking of curry, am I? Count me in.’
The ping of an email brought her attention to her computer screen, and she swore under her breath.
‘Everything alright?’ Will said, tapping a wad of freshly printed papers against his desk.
Jennifer drummed her fingers on the table. It’s DC Hardwick. He’s arrested Christian Bowe’s ex-missus for the Felicity Bowes case. We’re meant to be working together and he didn’t even consult me.’
‘Are you heading over there?’ Will said.
Jennifer shook her head. ‘Why should I? Besides, it’s obvious he doesn’t want me. I like Christian, but he’s a media whore. If his ex-wife gets charged there’ll be hell to pay’
‘Well in that case, you won’t mind giving me a hand with some enquiries.’
After clearing it with her sergeant, Jennifer pulled out her copy of the file, and the enquiries to date. It was as if the Raven was a ghost. Nothing was returned on intelligence, and the ANPR had failed to pick up the licence plate of his van entering or leaving Haven. He wasn’t registered for benefits, and didn’t appear to have a bank account. But he did seem to know the area. Jennifer was left with the conclusion that he either lived in Haven, or was entering through the narrow country lanes, which were poorly marked and unknown to strangers. It wouldn’t have come as much of a surprise to discover the Raven was homemade. If local legends were correct, the mystical lands of Haven occasionally sprouted homegrown terror, such darkness often finding a home in the breath of a newborn baby.
It made Jennifer’s enquiries all the more urgent, but after finally obtaining the name of Bert’s psychiatrist, she was told he was away on holidays. She slammed the phone down in frustration at being met with a dead end at every turn.
Will placed a mug of steaming coffee on her desk, sliding her paperwork aside as he did so. ‘Your desk will be like mine if you don’t watch out,’ he said, amused at the uncharacteristic mess.
Jennifer pushed the statements around, like pieces of a puzzle. ‘Where’s the connection? Why would a tarot card reader encourage the deaths of two completely unrelated people? The answer is in here somewhere. I can feel it. If we find the connection, we find the Raven.’
‘Unfortunately, the dead can’t speak,’ Will said as he took a seat.
‘Their families can,’ Jennifer said, picking up the phone and searching for the country code for America.
[#]
‘Well that was interesting,’ Jennifer replaced the handset after a lengthy phone call.
Will raised an eyebrow questioningly. After getting through some of his own work, he had begun reading the statements, lending a pair of fresh eyes to the investigation.
‘Marcy – that’s Alan Price’s ex-wife – was spoken to by DC Hardwick after he died, but he only made notes that Alan was suffering from depression.’
‘To be fair, he didn’t have to document it at all, given his death was suicide,’ Will said.
‘If you’re going to do a job then at least do it right.’ Jennifer jabbed at the copies of the statements. ‘Marcy said Alan’s depression began after their daughter was born, and by the time their little girl had started school, they were divorced. Despite their differences, they messaged each other regularly on Facebook. She still has records of their conversations.’
‘So what’s unusual about that?’ Will said.
‘Alan told Marcy that he moved back to England for the gift of a second chance. When she asked what it meant, he said he was getting therapy for past issues. At first, it seemed to be going well, but then something changed. He said he’d been putting his trust in the wrong people, and she’d hear about it soon enough. That was a few days before his death.’
‘Bloody hell.’
‘I know. I was tempted to ask her about the hit and run, but she’s grieving. It wouldn’t have been fair to pile that on her as well. She’s going to screenshot the conversations and email them over. What do you think Alan meant when he said she would hear about it soon enough?’
‘Perhaps he meant he was planning his suicide.’
‘Maybe. Or perhaps there’s more to it than that. When I visited Emily she said a similar thing … oh what was it?’ She snapped her fingers. ‘That’s it! “The best gift in life is a second chance.”’
‘What does it mean?’ Will said, rubbing his whiskers.
A slow smile spread across Jennifer’s lips as realisation dawned. ‘It means we have a connection.’
Chapter Ten
‘Hey everyone, what better tune to celebrate Friday night than one from the queen of pop herself? That’s right, iiiiiiit’s Madonna!’ the disc jockey said before playing ‘Celebrate’. It was one of Will’s little jokes; changing her car radio to the eighties channel when she wasn’t looking. Jennifer reached for the off button as Will jumped in with the takeaway bags. It didn’t take two of them to pick up the Chinese, but it was good to get away from the office, if only for a few minutes.
‘Who’s been in here while I was gone, one of Santa’s elves?’ Will said, bumping his knees against the glove box.