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Prima Facie Page 6


  “Do you understand why I didn’t tell you before now?”

  “I think you should go home. Steve needs you by his side.”

  “You don’t know anything about it.” She looked totally exhausted.

  “I know enough. He’s your husband. You’re his wife. You love each other. Right?”

  She nodded, turned away and began dabbing at her eyes.

  “He must be so scared, Holly.”

  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes tightly, her lips quivering.

  Adam reached for her hand. “And you need to spend as much time with him as you can. Believe me. You will never get this time back.”

  She gripped his fingers and sobbed.

  “Now come on. All this sentimentality’s given me an appetite.”

  Frances smiled and wiped her eyes on a napkin.

  “I’ll take some time off once we find Muldoon. Deal?”

  He shrugged. “We’ll see. Now eat up.”

  *

  “Do you feel guilty coming in here after scoffing all those calories?” Adam said, holding the door to the gym open.

  “You should. You ate half of mine.”

  “I’m a growing boy.” He laughed.

  “Good afternoon,” the bronzed, muscle-bound woman said from the front desk.

  “Does Catherine Bailey still work here?” Adam asked.

  “She sure does. Who shall I say wants her?” The woman picked up the phone.

  “Detective Inspector Stanley.”

  The woman’s already high eyebrows rose a little higher. She picked up the phone. “Cathy, you’re wanted in reception. A detective.”

  The woman who appeared a few seconds later was nothing like any of Muldoon’s other girlfriends, which was strange. Most people tend to stick to a certain type but clearly not Muldoon. Catherine Bailey was short and dumpy-looking, considering she was a fitness instructor. She had fine, silky blonde tresses that had no body or shape whatsoever, and her nose could’ve been moulded out of Plasticine by a two-year-old.

  “Can I help you,” she said, in a breathless voice.

  “Catherine Bailey?” Adam showed her his badge.

  She nodded, her gaze travelling between him and Frances.

  “Is there somewhere private we can talk?”

  “Is it Amy?”

  “Amy?”

  “Has something happened to my daughter?”

  “No. Nothing like that.”

  She visibly relaxed. “Oh, thank God for that. Follow me.”

  They walked through a large open area filled with weightlifting equipment. A handful of people were dotted around the gym, in various states of undress.

  The mirrored glass partition at the back turned out to be the outer wall of the office.

  “You must see all sorts of sights from in here.” Adam chuckled.

  “You’re not kidding.” She smiled, perching on the desk. “So, what can I do for you?”

  “We believe you know Miles Muldoon?”

  Her face dropped into a scowl. “What about him?”

  “How long were you an item for?”

  “Too long. What’s this about?”

  “We’re investigating several murders and Muldoon is our prime suspect.”

  “Miles?” She frowned.

  Adam nodded.

  “A murderer?”

  He nodded again.

  “That’s insane.” She shook her head. “Miles wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

  “I believe you made assault claims against him?”

  “I was going to, but I changed my mind. It was more a misunderstanding.”

  “A misunderstanding?” Adam shook his head in confusion. “How do you misunderstand something like that? You were either assaulted or you weren’t.”

  “I wasn’t. We had a fight and I slapped him. I just didn’t expect him to slap me back.”

  “Did you find him to be the jealous type?” Frances asked, her voice a little gentler.

  “I guess, but isn’t everyone?”

  “I don’t think so.” Frances frowned. “But even so, there’s a difference between a few flatteringly jealous remarks and an all-encompassing, destructive kind of jealousy.”

  “I guess. Then I would say Miles’ jealousy started off mild, making me feel loved and special. But by the end of our relationship, he could be downright nasty. Which makes me laugh, considering he was the one who went on to have an affair.”

  “Dirty thinkers are dirty doers, according to my dad,” Frances said.

  Catherine’s face lit up as she laughed. “That’s a good one. I might have to tweet it.”

  “Be my guest.”

  Adam cut in. “About Amy...”

  “My Amy? What about her?”

  “How old is she?”

  “Three. She’s just started nursery. That’s why I panicked when you arrived.”

  “Is Muldoon her father?”

  “What?” Her eyes shot poison darts at Adam. “No, he’s bloody not.”

  “He left you three and a half years ago. That would have made you three months pregnant. Did you make the decision to keep it from him?”

  “What is this?” She turned back to Frances. “I don’t need to answer him, do I?”

  Frances winced and cocked one shoulder. “Not if you don’t want to, but it looks as though Miles is targeting anyone who has, in his opinion, double-crossed him. If there’s anything you’re keeping from us, you may be putting yourself and your daughter at risk.”

  “If I tell you in confidence, will you promise to keep it to yourself?”

  Adam nodded. “Until such a time that I can’t.” He knew he was being abrupt, but he couldn’t help it. His testicles were throbbing and he’d left his pills at the station.

  “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Her lips curled.

  “He means...” Frances eyeballed Adam. “...that we will keep it to ourselves unless a situation occurs where it’s no longer safe to do so.”

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “Well, say Muldoon decides to pay you a visit and we need to intervene and get you safety, then any secrets you tell us may need to be shared with the rest of our team.”

  “You think it could come to that?” Tears spilled from her eyes.

  “I would like to say no, but to be honest, we haven’t a clue what’s going on in his head at the moment,” Frances explained. “That’s why we need as much information as we can get.”

  A massive muscle-man squared himself up in front of the office and began swinging dumbbells. Clearly he couldn’t see them in the office as he posed at his reflection, all but blowing himself a kiss.

  Catherine shoved past Adam and Frances and hammered on the window with the palm of her hand.

  Startled, the weightlifter dropped the dumbbells and scowled. The way his nostrils flared resembled an angry bull. Adam was pleased when he sauntered to the other side of the room.

  “Okay. You’re right. Amy is Miles’ daughter. I never told him, but he wouldn’t be interested if I had. He made it perfectly clear he never wanted kids.”

  Frances frowned. “Pinevale isn’t a big place. I’m surprised he didn’t hear about her from a mutual friend before now.”

  “I didn’t intend to keep it from him, initially, but Miles wasn’t interested enough in me or my life once he’d scarpered. After all this time, I doubt he’ll find out. Amy and I don’t need him or anyone else in our lives right now.”

  “Hopefully, before too long, he’ll be locked up for the foreseeable.” Adam forced a gentler tone to his voice. “In the meantime, is there anywhere you can stay? Just in case.”

  Wringing her hands, Catherine nodded. “I could stay at our Karl’s. Miles was always scared of my brothers.”

  “Where does Karl live?”

  “Opposite the high school. I can’t think of the number but it’s the one with the awful green caravan in the front garden.”

  He nodded. “I know the one.”


  Chapter 13

  Amanda still hadn’t heard from Adam by the time she collected the kids from school. She knew he wouldn’t have stood her up if it wasn’t important, but it didn’t stop her feeling a little rejected.

  She smiled, shaking her head. It must be the hormones, causing her to be so touchy and emotional.

  The school run comprised of three stops. The day-care for Jacob, primary for Emma, and she had to wait on the corner further up from the high school for Mary.

  Once they were all in the car heading for home, she broke the news.

  “I’ve got a surprise for you all.”

  “A surprise for me, Mummy?” Emma clapped her hands.

  Jacob giggled.

  “A surprise for all of you. Are you listening, Mary?”

  “What? Oh, yeah.” Mary sounded uninterested.

  “I’m picking up our new car tomorrow.”

  Emma squealed. “Oh, goodie. Does it got DDD.”

  Amanda chuckled. “Sorry, sweetie. No DVD. But there’ll be lots more room.”

  “Aw, that’s dumb.”

  “Emma!” Amanda scowled at her daughter through the specially-placed rear-view mirror.

  “Dats dumb,” Jacob mimicked his sister.

  “Now look what you’ve done, cheeky.”

  “Dats dumb,” Jacob repeated.

  Amanda shook her head. “Why do I bother?” She turned to Mary, sitting beside her in the passenger seat. She was picking at her finger nails and seemed miles away. “What’s wrong with you, little miss?”

  “Oh, nothing.” She replied without lifting her head.

  Amanda scrutinised her again. “You know you can talk to me, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Or Sandra. If you feel you can’t talk to me, Sandra is a great listener.”

  “I know.”

  Amanda sighed. She wished Mary would open up, but she wouldn’t force her, hoping she would come around in her own good time.

  ***

  On the way back to the station, Adam groaned.

  “What is it, boss?” Frances said, suddenly jolted from her daydream.

  “I told Amanda I’d meet her to test drive a new SUV.”

  “Then go.”

  “It’s too late now.”

  He waited until he’d parked the car at the station before calling home, worried if he used the car-kit Amanda would give him a dressing down while Frances was listening.

  ***

  Once home, Mary went to her room while Emma and Jacob shared a plate of cookies in front of the TV. Taking advantage of the quiet time, Amanda began peeling the potatoes for dinner.

  At 4.30pm the phone rang.

  “I’m so sorry, Mand. We’ve had another double homicide and we’re flat tack.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” She rolled her eyes knowing full well she was being unfair.

  “I’ll make it up to you. Can we go tomorrow?”

  “No point. Unless you want to drop me off at the car yard on your way to the station.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I pick the new car up tomorrow.”

  “You bought it?”

  “Yes, I bought it. What did you expect me to do? Walk out of there with nothing?”

  “No. I guess not. But listen, babe. I’ve got to get back to it. I shouldn’t be home too late. I’ll call you if that changes.”

  She hung up, feeling a total bitch. She never reacted this way where his work was concerned. What the hell was wrong with her?

  She finished the dinner and called Mary down.

  Still behaving strangely, Mary slunk down the stairs and took her place at the table.

  “How was school today, love?” Amanda asked, placing the food on the table.

  Mary shrugged. “Okay.”

  “Did you do anything fun?”

  “Not really. I only like maths and we didn’t have that today.”

  “I don’t know who you inherit that from. Maths was my worst subject at school. Your dad’s too.”

  She dropped her eyes at the mention of her dad.

  “Are you sad, Mary?”

  “Don’t be sad, Mary.” Emma stabbed a fish finger and took a bite.

  Mary smiled at Emma before turning her eyes back to Amanda. “A little.”

  “Me too. I miss him every single day. But he wouldn’t want you to be sad.”

  She played with her food without taking so much as a bite. “We’re doing our family trees in English.”

  Amanda’s breath hitched. “Okay. Is that why you’re sad?”

  Mary nodded.

  Emma squirted tomato ketchup on Jacob’s plate.

  “No more, Em. He’s got enough,” Amanda said, taking the bottle from her daughter. She turned back to Mary. “Is it?”

  Mary’s eyes began filling up. She put her fork down and covered her face.

  Amanda got to her feet and placed an arm around her shoulder. “Come with me a minute, hon.”

  She led Mary through to the lounge knowing Emma and Jacob would be upset if they saw their cousin crying.

  “Tell me what’s upsetting you?”

  “We need photos of our parents and grandparents from when they were little, and I don’t have any. All my friends will think I’m a freak.”

  “They will not think you’re a freak, and besides, I have a couple of photos of your dad from when he was a little boy.”

  “You do?” Her eyes lit up.

  “And I’m sure we could find a few photographs to pass off as your mum if you want?”

  She nodded. “Yes, please.”

  “We can ask Sandra for some and, in fact, one of the photos I mentioned has mine and your dad’s mum on it.”

  “My grandma?”

  Amanda nodded, smiling.

  “Is she still alive?”

  “I think so. We rarely speak, but the last I heard she lived in Scotland.”

  “Would I be able to meet her?”

  Mary’s eyes sparkled for the first time in weeks. And although Amanda had no intention of contacting her selfish, unreliable mother, she didn’t want to burst the girl’s bubble either.

  “I don’t know where she is, but I could try and find her, if that’s what you want?”

  “Yes, please. I love Sandra, but I don’t have many real relatives and it would be nice to have another grandmother.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. But don’t get your hopes up. I may not be able to find her.”

  “I won’t. Can I see those photos now?”

  “They’re in a box underneath the stairs, and I promise I’ll dig them out once the kids are in bed. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  “Come on. Let’s go and finish your dinner.”

  They hugged and went back through to the dining room.

  *

  “Be a darling and load the dishwasher for me, Mary, while I give the monsters a bath.”

  “Okay,” she said, much brighter than she’d been in ages.

  Amanda ran a bath while Jacob and Emma bounced on the beds, laughing hysterically. It seemed the more exhausted she felt, the more energy they seemed to have, and it was only going to get worse once the baby arrived.

  Once the kids were bathed, in their pyjamas and tucked up in bed, Amanda wearily trudged down the stairs.

  “You ready to look for them photos now, Mary?” she said, popping her head into the empty kitchen. “Mary?” She headed for the lounge, but stopped short and gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

  Mary was sitting on the hallway carpet surrounded by newspaper clippings. Tears streamed down her face and dripped off her chin.

  Chapter 14

  “Was Amanda angry?” Frances asked as he ended the call.

  “Worse than that. She’s sulking. I’d rather her shout and scream at me than sulk.” He laughed.

  “Yikes!” She grinned.

  “Anyway you, hop-it.”

  “But, I...”

  “No arguments. Go! We’ll see y
ou bright and early in the morning. And besides, I need to tell the others about Steve and I presume you don’t want to be present for that?”

  She shook her head. “Okay. I’ll go just this once. But make it clear to them, I don’t want to be treated any—”

  “Blah, blah, blah. Go!” He pointed to her car.

  She skulked away, and he watched until she drove from the car park.

  The rain began just as he reached the station door.

  “Any news?” he asked Cal when he entered the office.

  “Nothing, boss. Nobody saw or heard a thing. Devon police managed to inform the victim’s next of kin and they are on their way over.”

  “Good.”

  “I also got hold of Jemima Muldoon, his mother, in Perth. She was horrified, of course, but bizarrely relieved. She’s been searching for him for years. The last known address was London when he worked for BP. She’s been going out of her mind.”

  “She didn’t look very hard. The name Miles Muldoon isn’t common. I’m pretty sure a Google search would have found him easily enough.”

  “She said she did that. Sent him an email asking if he was her son, but he denied it. She couldn’t afford to come over and check him out in person.”

  “He’s a nasty piece of work. Why would anyone put their mother through that?”

  “Beats me, boss.”

  “Anyway, I see everyone’s here. Can you call them all together. There’s something I need to tell you.”

  “You’re not off back to Manchester are you, boss?”

  Adam tutted, shaking his head. “Are you for real?”

  “Oh, good. I’ve been stressing all day.”

  Adam headed into his office, took off his jacket and dropped his phone on the desk. Cal appeared in the doorway as Adam rummaged in his briefcase for his pills.

  “Right when you are, boss. But I can’t find Frances. Is she on her way up?”

  Adam swigged the pills down with a two-day-old glass of water. “She’s gone home.” He scratched his chin with both hands, making a rasping sound. “Be right with you, Cal.”

  They all stood by Cal's desk, whispering amongst themselves. Ginger Dave, the oldest of the team at sixty-three, whose once-red hair was now snow-white, had worked for the department for forty years, and although he had no ambition, he was loyal and hardworking. Les McManus, a quiet yet thorough detective, had worked as a PC for more than twenty years before applying for promotion to homicide eighteen months ago. He was a slender man in his late forties, with thinning brown hair. His side-kick, Julie Sellers, the newest member of the team, had also come to them from uniform and, at only twenty-six, showed a lot of promise.