Mary-Jane Riley - Dark Waters - The addictive psychological thriller you won’t be able to put down

Names confirmed by the cops.

‘Their deaths are being treated as unexplained. At the moment, we are not seeking anyone else in connection with the enquiry. That’s all I have for you at this time, but if anyone saw anything suspicious around the time the boat was hired three days ago, or motored past the boat in the last three days, please get in touch.’ Berry held up his hand. ‘I’m not taking questions, thank you.’

He marched off the stage, Logan in tow.

‘He likes talking to the press, doesn’t he?’ said Heath, standing up.

‘We need more. Especially if Bud is being cautious.’

‘Mmm. Berry didn’t even give out the fumes from the barbecue line. I wonder why not?’ He grinned. ‘I think you should ask your Detective Inspector Berry – get a bit more colour.’

‘More colour? Two bodies turning to liquid on a boat not enough for you? And he’s not my Detective Inspector Berry, thank you.’

‘He could be. We need a handle on how they died.’

‘You ask him.’

‘You’re prettier.’

‘You’re sexist.’

‘I know. Go on, I’ll buy you dinner.’

Alex laughed. ‘You mean The Post ’s expenses will buy me dinner. Anyway, no thanks, I’m out tonight.’

He raised an eyebrow.

‘Nothing like that,’ she said. ‘A friend. A girlfriend.’ Why did she feel the need to explain?

‘Tomorrow then?’

‘Are you expecting to be here tomorrow?’

‘We still need to know how they died. And Bud will want a backgrounder.’

‘I could do some digging for you.’ The words were out of her mouth before she’d hardly thought them. Where did that come from? Was she really offering to do Heath’s work for him? But then, she had felt alive these last few hours, in a way that she hadn’t felt for a long time. And she was involved in the story; she wanted to find out more about Daley and Fleet and how a man from London and a man from Suffolk ended up on a boat together on the Broads.

Heath seized eagerly onto her words. ‘I wouldn’t mind that. I’ll get home quicker then. I’ll square it with Bud. I think more than two nights in The Travelling Inn would just about do me in.’

‘I know that place, it’s outside the town here, isn’t it?’

He shuddered. ‘Yes. I think I’m the only person staying there. Or everyone else has died and are lying undiscovered in their lumpy beds. Look. I mean it. About dinner. Perhaps you could do some asking around tomorrow and then we could reconvene at a restaurant of your choice.’ He frowned. ‘There are decent restaurants around here, aren’t there?’

‘Yes,’ Alex replied, affronted. ‘We even have chefs who can cook, you know. The Fox and Goose in Sole Bay is excellent. And is probably better than your Chiltern Firehouse or Soho Farmhouse or wherever you like to hang out.’

‘I’m sure the Fox and Goose will be fine.’ He grinned. ‘That’s a date then.’

‘No, it is not,’ she retorted crossly. ‘It’s a business meeting.’

‘Shame. Now, you talk to the friendliest policeman in town and let me know how it goes.’

Alex looked at him. Patronizing git. ‘As a matter of interest, Heath, what are you going to do tomorrow?’

‘Have a look around, get the lie of the land, that sort of thing.’

‘Don’t work too hard, will you?’

‘I’ll try not to.’

‘I was being sarcastic.’

‘I know.’ He grinned. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got a couple of people to talk to.’ He tapped the side of his nose. ‘I’ll let you know how it goes.’ And with that, he stuck his hands in his pockets and sauntered off. Whistling.

How irritating was he?

She would have to stay one step ahead.

‘So how are things going?’ Lin refilled Alex’s wine glass. ‘You seem tired.’

Alex leaned back in her chair, running the tip of her finger around the rim of the glass. ‘Not too bad. It’s been an interesting day.’ She yawned, trying not to think of Heath Maitland and how annoying he was. And trying not to think of DI Berry who had merely glared at her and walked off when she’d tried to ask him a question. What a rude man. Listen to her – what an old woman she was turning into. ‘That was a lovely meal, thanks, Lin.’

They were sitting in Lin’s kitchen, the folding glass doors open, the air soft and still. There was a faint smell of the sea and the odd sounds from the road were of people talking, footsteps, a dog barking, rather than actual traffic. The scent of honeysuckle drifted in. Alex was full and sleepy. Must be relaxed, she thought. Even the kitchen, which was peaceful with its off-white and duck-egg blue décor and a couple of Lin’s oil paintings on the wall, was neat and ordered as though no cooking had gone on there, despite the ravioli in pesto sauce topped with mozzarella cheese and accompanied by a side salad Lin had made.

Lin put down her glass and seemed to steady herself. ‘Look. I didn’t tell you the whole truth about where I’d been for the last few days.’ She chewed her bottom lip.

‘What do you mean?’ She had never seen Lin look so vulnerable.

‘I did go on a course like I said, but I also went to visit my brother. My younger brother. In Craighill. It’s a unit for people with mental health problems. He has schizophrenia and hasn’t been taking his medication properly so …’ The words came out all in a rush. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Alex sat up, her tiredness gone. ‘Lin—’

Lin held up her hand. ‘I don’t want your pity.’

‘I’m not—’

‘It’s difficult to tell people, you see. I don’t normally do it. People don’t understand. It’s not like having a broken arm or something that you can see and that you know will be mended in a few short weeks. But I thought we were becoming good friends and it’s a relief to say it. I can’t keep it bottled up any longer, not from you.’ She gave a little hiccup. ‘I used to tell people and they would drop me as their friend, as if it was contagious or something like chickenpox or herpes.’ She looked at Alex. They both giggled. ‘You know what I mean.’

Alex reached for her hand and squeezed it. ‘What’s his name?’

‘Name?’

‘Your brother.’

‘Bobby.’ She sniffed. ‘There. Now you feel sorry for me. I can’t have that.’ Her smile was wobbly.

‘I don’t feel sorry for you.’

‘Yes, you do.’

Alex looked at Lin. If her friend had heard any gossip about her then she was keeping a pretty good poker face about it. Normally Alex didn’t like talking about what Sasha had done to her family – her whole family – and, deliberately, she didn’t easily invite confidences, but Lin was watching her with pain in her eyes and Alex wanted to reach out to her. Could she do it, though? Could she really expose herself and her life to a relative stranger? But Lin was her friend, and you should trust friends, right? She took a deep breath. ‘I don’t feel sorry for you because I know what it’s like to have someone close to you who has mental health problems.’

‘A bit batty, you mean?’

Alex smiled. ‘Something like that. My sister, Sasha, has been very ill over the past few years.’

‘How so?’

‘She suffers – suffered – from severe post-natal depression. These days it would be called post-partum psychosis because she … um …’ Alex’s throat filled up with tears. She swallowed hard. ‘She killed her children. They were twins. Four years old. And she’s been getting treatment in a mental health unit. The judge was very kind to her. During the trial.’ She waited for the gasp of shock and horror from Lin, but none came.

‘That must be so hard for you.’ The hand she had reached out to Lin was now being squeezed, and Lin’s careful tone pulled Alex back from the brink. She was able to tell Lin the story of how Sasha had drowned her twins in the North Sea more than fifteen years earlier, how two people were jailed in connection with their murder. How neither of those two people lived to see Sasha tell the truth. The truth that had only come out two years ago.