Summit of all fears, p.28
Summit of all Fears, page 28
“Fine, I suppose,” said Martha. “I mean I don’t think I’m going to have a heart attack or anything. I genuinely don’t think I’ve got the energy. This was supposed to be a relaxing weekend away, remember? A chance to let our hair down, be celebrated and bask in the reflected glory of the world’s finest private investigators. Now look at us. It’s nearly four in the morning, we haven’t had any sleep, we’ve been all over London and back again and the world’s most famous private detectives are either dead or in jail.”
“Just another Parkers road trip,” said Geri.
“You two are being far too dramatic as usual,” said Helen, licking the chocolate from her fingers. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”
Both Martha and Geri turned to give their sister a dirty look.
“Drama queens, the pair of you,” she said, draining her cup of tea. “Everything is one great, big drama. You should both just be grateful that we’re here, we have our health and that’s all there is to say about it.”
“But you’re just after saying—”
“Don’t Geri,” Martha quietened her youngest sister down.
“But she—”
“Don’t,” she shook her head. “It’s not worth it.”
The Parkers sat in silence for a little while longer. The command centre was still. They had been dropped off and told to wait. Being the good citizens they were, nobody had argued. It was peaceful and quiet, just what Martha had hoped for.
“Good evening ladies,” said Superintendent Ghosh.
He appeared from behind them leading a team of officers. They proceeded to head to their computer terminals and within seconds the command centre was brought back into life. Martha stifled a sigh.
“Seems you three have had quite the evening,” he said, removing his cap. “Can I get you anymore tea?”
“Oh that would—”
“We’re fine,” said Martha, cutting off Helen.
The senior cop smiled a little, his cheek twitching. He gave a quick look about the command centre to make sure his officers were at work before sitting down on the opposite side of the table. He reclined in the chair and let out a long groan before rubbing his eyes.
“You know, nights like this take me back to when my daughters were just born,” he said. “Interrupted sleep and it feels like the sun is never going to come up. They’re all grown up now of course but I still don’t get a wink of sleep, even when I’m off duty. I guess you just get used to it. Do any of you three have kids?”
“Just me,” said Martha. “One daughter, Margot.”
“Ah, lucky you. Is she grown up?”
“She is,” she said. “And, like her father, she usually doesn’t want anything to do with my work.”
“Then she would probably get on well with my daughters,” smiled the Super. “Neither of them wanted to follow in their old dad’s footsteps and join the Met. A shame really, I’m third generation. Although it was a blessing if you asked my wife. I don’t think her nerves could have handled three police officers in the family.”
“What do they do then?” asked Geri.
“One’s a doctor,” Ghosh beamed with pride. “Just graduated, she’ll be heading up to Liverpool in August to take up her new post. And the other, the younger one, she’s a plumber.”
“Blimey,” said Helen. “Quite a contrast there then.”
“Not really,” said Ghosh shrugging. “The medic is constantly skint whereas the plumber drives a Mercedes. Go figure.”
Martha smiled at that. She liked Superintendent Ghosh. He had an approachable demeanour, a man who was comfortable in his own skin. His rank was inconsequential. He was somebody she could trust.
“As long as they’re happy,” she said. “That’s all that matters. I tell these two the same.”
“You’re a strong family unit, I can tell,” said Ghosh. “Families are important things. You don’t get to choose them, like you do your friends or your partners, but they’re always there for you, even when the proverbial hits the fan. As we’ve seen tonight. Although judging by the phone call my department received from the force up your neck of the woods, this isn’t your first dabble with catching bad guys.”
“No, it’s not,” said Martha. “And believe me, I wish that wasn’t the case. I yearn for the days when the only problems we had to worry about were staking out blocks of flats waiting for cheating husbands to appear.”
“Hey, that wasn’t that long ago,” said Helen.
“No, it wasn’t,” said Martha.
Ghosh laughed.
“You know your friend, DS Pope, spoke very highly of you,” he said. “She said that she would be willing to put her entire reputation on you three being right about Roberta Steiner.”
Martha felt a tinge of pride.
“Really?” asked Geri. “Old torn-face Pope said that about us.”
“She did. And if I know police officers the way I think I do, coming out with that sort of chatter isn’t done lightly.”
“She’s a very kind and generous woman,” said Martha diplomatically. “We owe her a lot.”
“And speaking of debts, it seems that I owe you three an apology.” He leaned forward, clasping his hands together on the table. He was still smiling. “I’m a superintendent in the Metropolitan Police. We have some of the finest minds, most able officers and near endless resources when it comes to catching criminals. We have complete faith in the justice system and we’re always, I repeat always, beyond reproach when it comes to our policing. I am, however, still human. And when I’m wrong or I haven’t done something as thoroughly as I could have, I’m will admit that is the case. This, ladies, is one of those occasions.”
“That’s very kind of you Superintendent Ghosh,” said Martha. “But really, this isn’t about trying to pull the rug from under the feet of the Met. In fact, that was the last thing we wanted to do.”
“There was a murderer on the loose,” said Geri. “We knew who it was and we went after her. A simple equation really.”
“Even if that meant breaking into a secure hospital unit? Even if that meant setting off a fire alarm at a major international airport terminal? Even if that meant endangering the lives, not only of yourselves, but of countless others with that private jet stunt?”
“Technically I wasn’t on the jet,” said Geri. “In fact, I was the one who flagged you guys down, so that should mean I should have one less blot on my record.”
“Crawler,” hissed Helen.
“Quiet you two,” Martha hushed up the others.
Ghosh waited patiently. His look was still friendly, if a little more serious. He wanted answers.
“Superintendent, I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry we did what we did. We’re passionate people, all three of us. We enjoy our work, most of the time. But most of all, we want the same thing as you. We want justice to be served. We all knew that Roberta Steiner was the killer, we just had to hear it from her.”
“What about evidence? Did that cross your minds at all?” he asked. “The first rule of any investigation work is to secure the proof of what your accusations are.”
“Yes, we know that,” said Helen. “We were guests of honour at SteinerCon, you know.”
Ghosh leaned back. He took a long breath in through his nose and then let it out again.
“The vial of pills,” he said. “The ones you handed over to my officers at the airport.”
“The potassium tablets, yes,” said Martha. “I swiped them from Roberta’s plane.”
“They’re covered in your prints,” he said.
Martha panicked for a moment. She didn’t like where this was going.
“Now what I’m about to tell you is strictly between us,” he said, in a low voice. “But, with a little tidying up and a lot of hard work, my forensics teams are quite convinced they’ll be able to find any other prints on that vial. Should, and I stress the should part, they be found to match the wife of the deceased, then there would be a very high chance, not absolute, but very high chance that Mrs Steiner could be linked to the poisoning of Mr Steiner.”
“And that would mean that Eleanor David would be acquitted?” asked Helen.
“Not entirely,” he said. “If what your statements say are true, which judging by the glowing reference DS Pope has provided they probably are, then she’ll be charged as being an accessory. The same goes for Tom Hopgood.”
Martha felt a flood of energy come surging back into her. It felt like she was waking up from a long sleep. Helen and Geri were much more ecstatic. They jumped for joy and celebrated, hugging each other and their older sister.
“Alright, settle down now,” said the Super. “This is a police command centre not a kids’ birthday party.”
“What about us?” asked Martha as the elation died down.
“I can’t stress enough how disappointed the Met is with your behaviour. One of my officers is currently undergoing counselling for losing his hat.”
Geri began to blush.
“But in all seriousness, this has been an ordeal for everyone involved,” said Ghosh. “And while I can’t thank you all enough for your commitment and actions going above and beyond the call of duty, I can’t stress enough that this sort of thing should be left up to the professionals. We’re the police ladies, this is what we do. We’re trained in this sort of thing. Your help is very gratefully received. But you have to be much more careful in the future.”
Superintendent Ghosh stood up. He picked up his hat and placed it smartly on his head.
“What’s to happen to us now?” asked Helen.
“You’re free to go,” he said. “We have your details should we need to speak to you further as part of our investigations. But as far as I’m concerned, you’ve all done more than your fair share. I wish you a pleasant journey back up to bonnie Scotland.”
The senior officer stood to one side. One of his team opened a door of the command centre and waited patiently for the Parkers to leave. Helen and Geri bid their goodbyes and Martha lingered a little behind.
“Thank you for this,” she said. “It means a great deal to know that we’re finished here.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “But I mean what I said, Martha. This is a dangerous world, these are dangerous people. We’re the police, we see these things day in and day out. Take care of yourself and your sisters. Helen would eat us out of house and home if she could. And young Geri is sharp as a pin. They’ll both go very far, just like our kids.”
“I know they will,” said Martha with a smile.
She shook Ghosh’s hand and followed the others out of the command centre. The car park outside the hotel was quiet, all the journalists were off home or still lingering around the airport. Martha paused at the top of the stairs, as Helen and Geri walked off towards the hotel entrance.
The first rays of dawn were beginning to poke through the trees of Hyde Park. A new day at last. Martha hoped that it would be much better than the one she had just lived through. It wouldn’t be hard. She closed her eyes and felt the cool morning air caress her face, her greasy, sweaty, unkempt hair bobbing gently against her neck. She was ridiculously tired, but also unimaginably grateful—for lots of things. But mostly, her freedom. She stepped down from the command centre and took a long, slow walk back towards the hotel. She was looking forward to going home.
41
Milk, bread, grapes, apples, cereal, juice, butter, yoghurts and toilet roll. Martha had committed that list to her memory. And it was going around and around in her head as she walked up and down the aisles.
She didn’t want to look at the bit of paper in her hand. She wanted to see if she could properly remember it this time. If the adventure in London a month ago had taught her anything it was that she shouldn’t be so hard on herself. But this was a matter of principle. She was determined, come hell or high water, to remember the shopping list.
“Milk, bread, grapes, apples, cereal, juice, butter, yoghurts and toilet roll,” she said to herself, handling the trolley like a master. “Damn. I think I’ve forgotten something.”
Life, thankfully, had taken a much quieter turn for Parkers Investigations. In fact, she hadn’t opened the doors of the office in almost a fortnight. Giving her faithful employees some well-deserved time off, Martha had enjoyed some rest and recuperation. The London affair had taken its toll on all of them, emotionally and physically. She had absolutely no desire to venture much beyond the front door for the foreseeable future. The back garden would be more than sufficient stimulation for a good while yet.
Toby the tomcat didn’t agree though. No open office meant no biscuits to steal. As a result he’d gone off to find a happier hunting ground. Martha still suspected he had another, if not more than one, family in the block who were feeding him. She thought that maybe some cat food had been the one that got away from her memory. Then she remembered she had a whole stack of tins hidden out of sight beneath the sink.
There was nothing else for it. She had to check. Unfurling the scrap bit of paper, she clicked her fingers.
“Corned beef for mum,” she said.
Doing an about turn, she grabbed the trolley quickly, stopping it before it clattered into two old ladies walking behind her. The realisation that it was Rose and Pat did nothing for her confidence.
“Oh I’m sorry love,” said Pat. “I didn’t see you… oh, look who it is Rose.”
“Who is it?” asked Rose.
“Ah, hello… again,” said Martha awkwardly. “Look ladies, I would dearly love to stay and chat, but I’m actually running behind schedule and there are-—
“Have you seen the news?” asked Rose.
“News? What news?” asked Martha.
“Get your newspaper out Pat,” the pensioner said.
“Oh hold on, wait a minute, I’ve got it here,” said Rose, reaching into her bag.
“You shouldn’t put that in there if you haven’t paid for it.”
“I’ll pay for it when we get to the checkout.”
“You’ll forget.”
“I won’t forget.”
“You will forget Pat, you’re always forgetting.”
“My memory isn’t as bad as yours.”
“Ladies,” said Martha, trying not to lose her patience. “Please. I really do have a lot to be getting on with.”
“Here we are,” said Pat, pulling out her paper.
She handed it to Martha. A picture of Roberta Steiner looked back at her. It wasn’t glamorous or staged, anything but. The media mogul was in a drab jumper, no makeup, all her wrinkles on display for the world to see. Her hair was dishevelled, her eyes dead and empty. It was as ugly a mugshot as Martha had ever seen. And above it, the words ‘I DID IT’.
“Roberta Steiner,” said Rose. “She murdered her husband. Isn’t that awful?”
“We thought you might want to know seeing as you’re a private detective,” added Pat. “She’s the most famous private detective in the world.”
“Well, her husband is… Was. I always liked Murray Steiner. He was such a lovely man.”
“He used to be,” said Pat. “He’s dead now.”
“Well of course he’s dead Pat, she’s just admitted to killing him.”
“Who?” asked Pat.
“Roberta Steiner,” said Rose.
Martha tried to ignore her geriatric fans. She scanned the front page article and then inside. Since they’d come home she had taken a break from the news. A lot of it was down to the fear of Roberta getting away. In those few seconds though, she caught up on what had been happening.
“She admitted it in court,” she said aloud. “She said it was a crime of passion, according to this.”
“How romantic,” said Rose, then poked a finger down her throat. “I hope they lock her away for good. Murray Steiner was a lovely man.”
“Bloody shame what happened to him,” said Pat.
Martha had read enough. She folded up the paper and handed it back to the pensioners.
“Thank you ladies, thank you for thinking of me,” she said. “One bit of advice though. Never meet your heroes.”
“Eh?” Rose and Pat said in unison.
Martha pushed the trolley past them and carried on with her shopping. She afforded herself a little smile, knowing that Roberta Steiner was going to jail. But better still, nobody knew who had caught her. Martha liked it when that happened. It made the shopping so much easier.
Acknowledgments
I cannot, in good faith, NOT start the acknowledgements for this book without thanking my family. This is the first novel that I’ve written as a father. And the time, patience, effort and general awesomeness that my wife, my new baby son and my extended family have afforded me has meant the absolute world. At the time of writing, it’s been a very odd, very challenging, but most of all bloody brilliant time in the Whitelaw household. Throwing an adventure with the Parker sisters into that mix has felt a bit like the icing on top of the cake. So it is with a million gestures of thanks that I bow down to my family and offer them my eternal gratitude.
And speaking of families, I’d also like to thank a much wider, more extended group who have fast become very much LIKE family. The writing community in general has been a great supporter of me throughout my career. Without everyone who is involved – writers, publishers, agents, bloggers, fans and of course, you, the reader – I highly doubt I would be the scribe that I am today. Yes, it’s all YOUR fault. I jest of course. There are a few names I’d like to drop specifically though – Chris McDonald and Rob Parker – fellow Red Dog kennel mates, who have shown boundless enthusiasm towards any and every question I can throw at them. Marion Todd who continues to say such lovely things about my writing and is STILL faithfully waiting on her £5 bribe in the post. Both the Bay Tales and Honey and Stag teams, who dedicate so much time to helping writers do their thing. Steven Kedie, without whose constant music recommendations, I probably would still be listening to a load of rubbish.
And of course, the brilliant Red Dog team – Sean Coleman and Meggy Roussel – without w this book in your hands wouldn’t exist and I would simply be another loudmouth on Twitter.
