Mel Sherratt - Hush Hush

Nick nodded and she went outside, while he stayed indoors to chat with the officer.

Christa Parker was sitting at a table on the patio, dressed in black. She stayed seated but removed her sunglasses as Grace drew level with her. Grace tried hard not to stare: everything about the woman seemed false. Nails, hair, tan, lashes, lips. It had all been enhanced.

‘Mind if I join you?’ Grace asked tentatively.

‘You still think it’s him?’

‘Yes.’

Nick had been true to his word about Christa. After sobbing, there was shouting, a string of expletives, in between smoking and stubbing out two cigarettes. Grace tried not to hear the swearing. She was used to it in her line of work, but when it was every other word, it became tedious and a little disrespectful, despite it being Christa’s husband who had died.

‘And you’re certain Josh didn’t mention anything unusual to you lately?’ she asked. ‘I’m sorry for the intrusive questions, but it will help if we know.’

Christa shook her head. ‘He has many enemies – two scars from knife wounds from his early days as a bouncer. But no one would dare cross him now if they hadn’t taken him by surprise. Someone must have been waiting for him. To throw acid on him and stab him when he was down? That’s sick, and the sign of a coward.’

Grace said nothing, hoping Christa would fill the silence.

‘Don’t you have any clue who the bastard is?’

‘We’re making enquiries at the moment.’

‘You mean you have no one?’

‘It’s very early into the investigation, Mrs Parker,’ Grace explained.

‘Not even anyone you want to question?’

‘We’ll be able to tell you more when we’ve gathered the evidence.’

Grace left when the swearing started up once more. She couldn’t ask her to stop. The woman had to grieve the way she saw fit. As long as it wasn’t being hurled at her, it didn’t matter.

She could recall a few times when she had acted out of character when Matt died. She’d often gone into a ball of rage whenever anyone said she’d be best clearing his belongings out. It had taken her six months before she was able to do it, and even then the guilt had got to her. The sense of letting go of everything, its finality. Luckily, she’d had her mum around to help her through it. At least Christa Parker would have her mum there with her too.

When Matt had died, Grace’s mum had been there for her. She didn’t know what she would have done without her, and had been devastated when she too had passed away so soon after Matt. Since the age of twelve, Martha had looked out for her. Since she had been twenty-one, Matt had looked out for her. Now she had no one. So she could sympathise with Christa Parker, no matter how much she cursed.

Back on the road, Grace glanced across at Nick when they stopped as a set of traffic lights turned to red. ‘Do you think this is a revenge killing?’

‘We’ll have to dig deeper to find out. Although, most of the criminals I’m familiar with wouldn’t do anything on Steele land.’

‘Too close for comfort?’ Grace asked.

Nick nodded. ‘George Steele’s reputation died long before he did, but Eddie and Leon are known to use violence where necessary. Whoever did this would have known there’d be retaliation.’

‘And even without the knife wound, throwing acid into someone’s face takes guts. It can put the suspect in danger too, especially if they missed their target, so our killer could be deranged.’ Grace glanced quickly at him before they moved off again. ‘Not frightened to get hurt.’

‘Or unaware of the risk.’

‘Anyone spring to mind?’

‘No, but I can’t help thinking it’s an inside job.’

Grace nodded. ‘My thoughts exactly.’

By the time they got back to the office, it was nearing lunchtime. Grace had nipped into the nearby supermarket to grab something to eat. Once at her seat, she held up a bag of sugar-coated doughnuts.

‘These will keep us going.’ She smiled as eager hands reached out. ‘Anything we should know, Sam?’ she asked as she logged into her computer again.

‘Yes, but I’m making coffee if we have snacks.’ Sam raised her mug in the air. ‘Anyone want one?’

Grace was unsure whether Sam was joking or not. She had asked for information and she expected to get it. She gave the older woman a look, and Sam sat down sheepishly before adding: ‘The entrance to the side road the gym is situated on isn’t covered by city CCTV or traffic cams. I’ve contacted their control room to see if we can get some footage sent over so that I can analyse whose cars were on the main road around the time of the murder.’ Sam picked up a piece of paper and held it in the air. ‘I’ve already got a list of registration numbers, which I’ve started on. It only covers the last hour of opening times, but it’s a start.’

‘Does anyone’s name stick out?’ Grace asked.

‘Quite a few I know, but nothing that jumps off the page.’

‘Great, thanks.’ Grace nodded her approval. ‘Someone needs to check the signing-in register too, see who came in and out and at what times – see if it tallies with statements.’

‘I’m on to that,’ Alex said. ‘Although I suppose it’s dependent on everyone actually signing in and out when they say they do, seeing as there are no cameras to back anything up.’

DC Alex Challinor was the final member of Grace’s team. Alex had joined their office less than two years ago and, according to Allie, had rocked the boat immensely. He was married with teenage children and, at forty-five, was ten years older than Grace. He liked to think he had a look of Tom Hardy – she thought he had nothing of the sort – and policed with old-school tactics, which no one on the Major Crimes Team agreed with.

Even with the heads-up, Grace had tried not to take an instant dislike to him, but there was something about his mannerisms that made her suspicious. Still, she’d been fooled by people before; in her past job, some had put up a front of arrogance that she hadn’t liked and then, after a few weeks working together, her opinion had changed when they had mellowed and got to know each other. So, for now, she was willing to keep an open mind.

‘Indeed.’ Grace nodded. ‘Okay, Sam. Mine is one sugar please.’

Sam’s smile was faint, making Grace realise that she had been joking when she said she was going to make coffee before giving Grace what she needed. The Stoke sense of humour was taking her a while to adapt to. Its residents were more self-deprecating than those where she’d come from. A very friendly folk, but sometimes she didn’t know whether someone was kidding or not, so it was hard to join in.

She had also felt a need to assert herself during those early weeks, because if she became known as an easy boss, she’d never win over their respect.

Grace had only taken one bite into her sandwich before Nick was calling to her from the entrance to his office.

‘Grace, can I have a word?’

Her shoulders drooped at his sombre tone. She stood up, quickly wiping her mouth and fingers with a napkin before walking across the room. Inside his office, Detective Chief Inspector Jenny Brindley was sitting in Nick’s chair behind his desk. Jenny had been responsible for the Major Crimes Team for two years now, since the last DCI had retired. According to Allie, Jenny was one of the good people. She was fair, but she didn’t like the bending of rules in the slightest. She never turned a blind eye and was definitely not old-school. She was more like brand-new shiny school – dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s to get a good job done. Grace much preferred those tactics, which was why she was immediately wondering what she had done wrong.