Lethal Secret Read online

  LETHAL SECRET

  SALLY RIGBY

  Copyright © 2019 by Sally Rigby

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This story is a work of fiction. All names, characters, organisations or places, events and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any persons, alive or dead, events or locals is almost entirely coincidental.

  Edited by Emma Mitchell of @ Creating Perfection.

  Cover Design by Stuart Bache of Books Covered

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  A word from Sally

  Read more about Cavendish & Walker

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Whitney held onto the last note while the piano finished playing the accompaniment. When she stopped, applause from her fellow Rock Choir members rang around the room. Heat warmed her cheeks as she dragged in a much-needed breath. The last note was a killer and took every last ounce of energy she had. She loved to sing and felt privileged she’d been given a solo in the November concert being held in Birmingham, involving thirty Rock Choirs from the region. The theme of the concert was Songs from the Shows, and she was singing ‘Defying Gravity’ from Wicked. It showed off her whole range and had always been a showstopper. This rehearsal was a joint one with the Banbury choir, and there were over a hundred people there.

  She slid her music back into the black folder she was holding and sat down.

  ‘That was fantastic,’ Liz, the choir leader, said.

  ‘Thank you,’ she replied, humbled by the praise.

  Whitney had dreamed of singing professionally until falling pregnant at seventeen with Tiffany. Not that she regretted it. She couldn’t be prouder of her daughter, who was taking an engineering degree at Lenchester University. The first person in their family to continue studying after school. Instead of singing, Whitney had pursued a career in the police force and had reached the rank of Detective Chief Inspector.

  ‘Fifteen-minute break,’ Liz said.

  Whitney placed her folder on the chair and made her way towards the table where there were flasks of coffee and plates of biscuits.

  ‘You have an incredible voice.’ She turned to see who was speaking and came face-to-face with one of the few males there. As he wasn’t from her choir, she assumed he was from Banbury. Out of habit, she scrutinised him, taking in the small details that were so much a part of her daily life. He wasn’t very tall, maybe five foot six, though certainly taller than her. He had short dark hair, with hazel eyes and a cheeky smile.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  ‘Really, I mean it. You should take it up professionally. Your range is incredible and your tone beautiful and emotive.’

  ‘That’s kind of you to say so.’ She sucked in a breath, trying to stop a beaming smile from crossing her face. She didn’t want to come across as being full of herself.

  ‘My name’s Craig Robbie.’ He held out his hand, which she shook.

  ‘Whitney Walker,’ she replied.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking, but would you like to go for a drink after rehearsal?’

  No. Her rules were simple. Don’t get involved with anyone from work, and that extended to the choir. Because if it all went sour, it would make life difficult.

  ‘Or is there a Mr Walker waiting for you?’ Craig added, smiling.

  ‘There’s no Mr Walker, and yes a drink would be nice.’ So much for her rules. It was the smile that did it. She hadn’t been out with anyone in a long time. Even though this was just a drink and he probably only wanted to talk about the choir. ‘There’s a pub around the corner where we often go.’

  ‘You’ll have to show me the way, as I don’t know the area.’

  For the rest of the rehearsal, Whitney found it hard to concentrate, as out the corner of her eye she kept watching Craig. He intrigued her. Very few men joined Rock Choir. Why had he? Once they’d finished, she headed to where he was standing beside the door.

  ‘You can leave your car outside, as it’s not far,’ she said.

  She pulled on her coat, and they left the rehearsal room and walked to The Tavern.

  ‘What can I get you to drink?’ he asked once they were inside and standing at the bar.

  As she was driving, she should have something non-alcoholic, like a lemonade, but she could murder something stronger. Singing did that to her.

  ‘A white wine, please.’

  The pub wasn’t very busy, although following behind them would be other members of the choir. It was a typical city centre bar, with very little character.

  It had been a good evening all-round. She loved singing and had also met a man. What would George make of it? And why on earth had she suddenly thought about the forensic psychologist who she’d worked with from time to time? Maybe it was because George had a new man in her life. Not so new, now, as they’d been together for a few months, and when George had phoned last week, she’d mentioned they were going on holiday together. Whitney had only met the guy once, but she approved. Very different from George. In a good way. How funny would it be if she got together with Craig and they could make up a foursome?

  She pulled herself up short. She was having a drink with the guy and now suddenly she was arranging to double date. Before any more ridiculous thoughts entered her head, he’d been served and was handing her a glass.

  ‘Thanks.’ She took a sip and winced slightly.

  ‘Is it no good?’

  ‘A bit dry for me. It’s fine, though.’

  ‘I can get you something else if you’d rather,’ he offered.

  That was sweet of him, but not necessary. She’d drink it. She wasn’t like George, who knew everything there was about wine. All Whitney knew was whether she liked it or not. George, on the other hand, would be sniffing and swilling it around her glass. She’d then proceed to tell you all about the different aromas coming through.

  Whitney smiled to herself. She’d phone her friend and arrange an evening out soon. Just the two of them.

  ‘No need. There’s a table over there,’ she said, pointing to the corner of the pub.

  They went over and sat down.

  ‘Tell me what you do when you’re not singing,’ Craig asked.

  ‘You go first,’ she said, knowing that as soon as she said she was in the police
the whole dynamic of their evening would change.

  Some men, thinking they were being funny, would make a quip about wanting her to handcuff them, or would hold up both hands and say not guilty. If she had a pound for every one of those comments, she wouldn’t need to work again. Others would go all shifty, as if somehow she was able to know all about their illegal activities simply by looking at them, which in most cases would only involve running a red light, or claiming personal meals out on their tax return. Nothing major. That she knew of.

  ‘I’m in business,’ he said, his tone evasive.

  ‘What sort of business?’

  ‘I import supplements and sell them to the health-care industry.’

  There was a huge amount of money to be made in the sale of illegal body enhancement drugs. Is that what he meant, or was she being needlessly suspicious?

  ‘What sort of supplements?’ she asked, unable to stop herself. Could she ever switch off from work?

  ‘Not the sort you’ll find in the local chemist. My products are upmarket, and I sell directly to nutritionists.’

  ‘How did you get into that line of work?’ she asked.

  ‘I trained as a nutritionist and from there got interested in supplements and their effects. What about you?’

  Her phone rang before she could answer. She glanced at the screen and saw Matt’s name. If the detective sergeant was calling on her evening off, it must be something serious. ‘Sorry, I have to take this. It’s work.’

  Disappointment flashed across his face, but he nodded. ‘Okay.’

  She reluctantly left the table and found somewhere quiet to stand.

  ‘Walker.’

  ‘I’m sorry to bother you, guv. I know you’re busy this evening, but I thought you might want to know about a suicide that’s been reported.’

  ‘Why would I be interested in a suicide?’ She frowned.

  ‘Because it’s the third identical suicide in the past two weeks.’

  ‘How do we know that?’

  ‘It seems the same officer was called to each of the deaths. She noted the similarities and raised the alarm. The third body has only just been found.’

  ‘How did the victims die?’

  ‘They hung themselves.’

  ‘It sounds like a suicide cluster.’ Whitney sucked in a breath. It wasn’t uncommon for there to be a spate of suicides in the same area. If this was the case, it was both fascinating and alarming at the same time.

  ‘Or murder. From what the officer told me, identical blue cord was used by the victims to hang themselves.’

  ‘Give me the address of this latest victim. I’ll meet you there.’

  ‘It’s 114 Brookfield Road East. I’ve already asked for a pathologist.’

  ‘Is it Claire Dexter?’ she asked, hoping it was, as she was the best pathologist in the area.

  ‘I’m not sure who’s on duty. They didn’t say.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll see you soon.’ She ended the call and hurried back to the table where Craig was waiting.

  ‘I was beginning to give you up for lost,’ he said.

  ‘Sorry. I have to go. I’m needed at work.’

  ‘At this time of night?’ he said, checking his watch.

  ‘It’s only seven-thirty. This is nothing. Sometimes I work well into the early hours.’

  ‘You haven’t told me what you do,’ he said.

  ‘I’m a police officer,’ she said, hoping he wasn’t going to ruin everything by coming out with the usual response.

  His eyes widened. ‘I didn’t expect that. You don’t look like a copper.’

  ‘Because I’m short?’ It wasn’t the first time she’d had that response.

  ‘It’s not just your height. It’s … never mind. I wish we could have got to know each other better. Would you like to try this again sometime?’

  ‘Yes, that would be nice.’ She pulled out a card from her pocket and gave it to him. ‘Give me a ring.’

  ‘Detective Chief Inspector. You didn’t say you were such a high-ranking officer.’

  ‘It’s high enough for me.’ She had no ambition for promotion; she liked real police work and wasn’t interested in the politics and paper-pushing which occupied the time of the higher ranks.

  ‘So, if you’ve been called into work, it must be something big.’

  ‘I can’t discuss it. It was good to meet you.’ She walked away. Matt had better be right about these deaths.

  Chapter Two

  Whitney parked her car outside the front of the victim’s house, a pebble-dashed semi-detached dating from the 1950s. She pushed open the white gate and walked up the path of the small garden to the open front door. Matt was standing in the hallway.

  ‘What have we got?’ she said by way of a greeting.

  ‘The victim’s name is Hayley Tennant, and she was found hanging in her bedroom by one of the other women living here. There are two of them and they’re in the lounge.’

  ‘Okay, let’s go and see them first. Has the pathologist arrived yet?’

  ‘Yes. It’s Dr Dexter and she’s upstairs.’

  ‘Thank goodness for that.’ If there was more to this than suicide, Claire would be the one to find it.

  They headed into the lounge, where two women in their twenties were sitting in silence.

  ‘This is Kiera,’ Matt said, nodding in the direction of the woman with brown hair, hanging loosely over her shoulders. She was sitting still like a statue, her face ashen. ‘She found Hayley.’

  ‘Hello, Kiera. I’m DCI Walker. I know how hard this has been. Are you up to answering some questions?’ she asked gently.

  ‘Yes,’ Kiera said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  ‘And what’s your name?’ Whitney asked the other girl.

  ‘I’m Sarah. I live here, too.’

  ‘What can you tell me about Hayley?’

  ‘She’s only been living here three weeks. We don’t know her very well at all,’ Sarah said.

  ‘So, you all rent?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Sarah said. ‘I’ve been living here for two years and Kiera for six months.’

  ‘You found Hayley in her bedroom, Kiera. Do you often go in there?’

  ‘A package arrived for her, and I took it upstairs. There was no answer when I first knocked, so I tried again and gently opened the door, intending to leave it on the side. That’s when I saw her … hanging … from the window latch. I ran over and tried to get her down … but I wasn’t strong enough.’

  ‘What did you do then?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘I called emergency services and—’ Her voice broke. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and Sarah put her arm around her.

  ‘We’ll need to contact Hayley’s family; do you have their details?’

  ‘No, I’m sorry. We don’t,’ Sarah said. ‘But the letting agency should. I can give you their number.’

  ‘Where does Hayley work?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Sarah said.

  ‘Nor do I,’ Kiera said, sniffing. ‘She kept to herself and we hardly saw her. She left for work at eight in the morning and would come home around six. Occasionally I’d see her in the kitchen, but she’d always take her food back to her room.’

  ‘What about weekends?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘I don’t know, I’m usually with my boyfriend,’ Sarah said.

  ‘I’m in and out on Saturdays and Sundays, but I didn’t see much of her,’ Kiera said.

  ‘What about visitors? Do you recall anyone coming to visit Hayley?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘Not that I know of, but as I’ve already said, I’m not here much,’ Sarah said.

  ‘I didn’t see anyone either,’ Kiera said.

  ‘I know this has been a big shock for you, but we’ll need to take statements when you’re feeling up to it.’

  ‘Okay,’ they both said.

  ‘Thank you for your help. I’m going upstairs. DS Price will stay with you until I return.’

  She left the lo
unge and went up the stairs to the square landing. The door to the second room on the left was open and there was a rustle. She walked in and saw the pathologist kneeling next to the body, which was lying on the floor.

  ‘Good evening, Claire.’

  The pathologist looked up. As usual, Whitney could see some of Claire’s weird and wonderful clothing peeping out from her coverall. This time, it was a fluorescent orange polo-neck jumper and a pair of huge wooden elephant-shaped earrings, which hung below her short red hair.

  ‘Don’t ask me anything, because I don’t know yet,’ Claire said.

  ‘I wasn’t going to.’ The pathologist’s abrupt manner didn’t bother Whitney, because she’d been working with her for over a decade. Claire was the best pathologist in the country, but she was also difficult, awkward, and, sometimes, just plain rude.

  ‘That’s all right then,’ Claire said.

  ‘The officer who was called out to the victim attended two other suicides within the last two weeks, carried out in exactly the same way, and a similar blue cord was used.’

  ‘I don’t know anything about the other two. And there’s not a lot I can say about this one until we get the body back to the lab, where I can run some tests and send bloods to toxicology.’

  Whitney pulled on some disposable gloves and looked around the room. She opened the wardrobe and inside was a rail of exercise clothes and a yoga mat. On the bedside table were two yoga magazines.

  ‘She obviously liked to exercise. Apart from that, there’s not a lot I can tell about our victim from what’s here in the room. It’s rather bare. I wonder where she goes to classes?’ Whitney said. ‘Any idea how long she’d been hanging before she was found?’

  ‘I’ll let you know after I’ve got back to the lab. I’m not prepared to speculate,’ Claire said.

  ‘We need to find out where she worked, and her state of mind if she went in today. There must be something here to help the investigation.’

  She caught sight of a tan handbag beside the bed and picked it up. She flipped open the purse. There was a business card for BATT, the British Association for the Talking Therapies, which had her name on it, and underneath, the title Senior Information Officer.