Mel Sherratt - Hush Hush

Grace’s first month in the role had been a quiet one spent with her team of three detective constables, getting to know the community and feel of the areas and also some of its inhabitants. The team were on the first of three floors of the station, along with several soft interview suites and also an area where civvy staff worked. Back in Manchester, Grace had been in a building that was in desperate need of refurbishment, both inside and out. Its layout had meant that she’d been in a room not even big enough to call a cupboard, with a team of four other officers. Here it was open-plan, with about thirty desks, all new, swanky even – although the kitchen was still a health risk with all the leftover food and dirty dishes lying around.

She smiled her thanks when a mug of coffee was plonked down on her desk, her ‘Wonder Woman’ mug a joke present from Matt just before he’d died. Across from her on the opposite desk, Sam Markham sat down with her own drink and clicked her mouse to wake up her computer. Grace now knew she was thirty-seven, living with her partner, Craig, and her six-year-old daughter, Emily, from a previous marriage. Sam was small in build with dimples in her cheeks and wore her long blonde hair mostly tied up in a ponytail, making her look even more baby-faced. But Allie had told her, ‘Don’t let Sam fool you. She’s more than capable of holding her own when necessary.’

Down the room, she could just about see Nick squashed into his tiny partitioned office. An active man in his mid-fifties, he’d mentioned in small talk as he’d got to know her that his wife, Sharon, was begging him to take early retirement. But he enjoyed his job as detective inspector and wanted to stay working for the force because it kept his mind active. He was six foot three and ran several times a week to keep his middle-age spread at bay.

On her first day, as he’d shown her around the building, Nick had mentioned that the DCI thought it best Grace kept quiet about her connection to the Steele family for now. She had asked why but they had been interrupted when a man had walked past who he wanted to introduce her to. Nick hadn’t picked up the conversation again afterwards. She’d wondered why, reasoned perhaps he had his own motives, which she would find out in time.

Nick’s phone rang, and a rush of adrenaline flowed through Grace as she watched him stand up, beckoning her over quickly before putting it down with a bang.

‘I thought you might want a heads-up. Call’s just come in about a body found at Steele’s Gym,’ Nick told her.

Grace groaned inwardly.

‘Someone’s been attacked with acid and then stabbed in the car park. Josh Parker’s car is there.’

‘Josh Parker?’

‘He’s Eddie Steele’s right-hand man.’

‘Ah.’ Grace watched him leave the room.

When she stayed where she was, Nick turned back to her. ‘Are you coming?’

‘Is that wise, sir?’

‘I don’t know but I can’t see another sergeant spare at the moment.’

Grace tried not to let her expression give away her alarm as she followed behind him. Surely her first possible murder investigation wasn’t going to be on family soil?

Grace wiped her sweaty palms discreetly on her trousers as Nick nudged the car up onto the pavement to park outside the crime scene. Situated on Leek Road, two miles from the city centre, Steele’s Gym stood back from the road in a prime position. Once housing a preschool nursery, it was a single-storey building spread on an acre of land, with a car park to its right. According to Sam, the local authority register for business rates stated that Eddie Steele had been renting it since 2006. A large canvas banner hung on the wrought-iron railings at her side. ‘No pain, no gain. All-in monthly passes only £40.’ She doubted that would tempt anyone in today. They’d be more interested in what was going on outside in the car park.

‘Good to go?’ Nick asked her.

Grace looked back, unaware he had been watching her as she stared out of the window. ‘I’m not sure I will ever be ready for this.’

‘Just keep your calm. If they say anything, I’ll handle it accordingly.’

She released her seat belt and got out of the car, joining DC Perry Wright who had parked in front of them. Grace had warmed to Sam but not so much to Perry. He had turned forty the year before; she’d learned he had been married to his wife, Lisa, for thirteen years and recently become a father to Alfie, who was three months old. Just like Nick, his blond hair was shaven close to his head to hide his receding hairline. Allie Shenton said he’d either be nice from the get-go as he was that type of person, or be aloof – not only because he’d known and worked with Allie for such a long time, but because he’d put in for the job of detective sergeant and Grace had beaten him to it.

Even though it was still early in the morning, sweat clung to her back. Despite her anxieties, it was too warm to be wearing the jacket to her trouser suit, but she didn’t feel dressed without it, especially meeting new people. First appearances still counted in her eyes.

Across the main road, a crowd was already gathering in front of a row of terraced properties. As traffic zoomed by, three dogs sat patiently at their owners’ feet, their morning outings either interrupted or lengthened. Two residents stood in their doorways holding mugs, chatting to themselves. Grace could almost hear them saying, ‘Things like this don’t happen on our doorstep.’ It was the one thing she heard all the time, as if no one was allowed to bring ill repute to their part of the neighbourhood.

Her heels clicked on the pavement as she walked in silence with Nick and Perry towards the entrance gates. The crime scene had been cordoned off with police tape; all around them people worked. A police constable stood guarding the scene, writing down the names of people entering, checking IDs and pointing out where to go. There were several uniformed officers taking notes, and she saw one directing the traffic as it struggled to get past the row of police vehicles parked half on and off the kerb.

Ahead of them, she could see a small car with the logo of the local newspaper splashed across its side and wondered what their staff were like to work with. She’d prided herself in getting on well with the local newspaper’s press team in Salford.

She, Nick and Perry each flashed their warrant cards. The crime scene tape was lifted and they dipped underneath it. They popped on white paper suits, latex gloves and covers over their footwear. Even though she was slim and toned, with a six-pack hidden underneath her shirt, the suit always made Grace feel as shapely as a hastily rolled snowman.

She tied back her long dark hair with a covered elastic band and placed a mask around her neck in readiness. Once she had it on, it would hide lips that had almost forgotten how to smile widely, but her eyes would still be seen. Grace knew you could tell so much by looking in people’s eyes. Her own were brown and large, with long lashes that she accentuated with mascara and sculptured eyebrows. They were her best feature – when she was happy. For now, they were skittish, glancing around, trying to take everything in.

As Nick went off to speak to a uniformed officer, Grace took a deep breath, held her head high and walked forward. A white tent had been erected around the spot where the body lay. Forensic officers already in situ were suited and booted too.

‘Do you get a lot of acid attacks in Stoke?’ Grace asked Perry as they walked.

‘Not many at all. I think the last one was some time last year.’

‘And someone from the gym called this in, you say?’

Perry nodded his head in the direction of a man in his early twenties wearing a red tracksuit at the far end of the car park. He was giving details to a police constable, talking energetically and waving his hands.