MURDER IS SKIN DEEP by M.G. Cole (read dune .txt) 📕

“We all have reputations, don’t we, Mister Garrick? You have the unfortunate reputation of bringing my ex-husband back from the dead. That’s how the world regards you. I wonder how deserving is that? I’m sure you have done many good things in your life.”

“Where is he, Rebecca?”

She leaned back, her nose wrinkling. “I told you. I wish I knew. I really wish I knew.” A hint of vulnerability crossed her face. “He hasn’t answered his phone for over a week. Your manhunt seems to have terrified him.”

Garrick leaned forward. “That surprises me. Considering how innocent you paint him. Why would a man with nothing to hide, suddenly disappear?”

Rebecca breathed heavily through her nose and glowered at him. He’d touched a nerve.

He softened his tone. “How were things between you both?”

“Fine.”

“You’ll forgive me for saying that it doesn’t sound very fine at all. In fact, it sounds like quite a tangled mess. Oscar claimed that your ex-husband owed him money. Then you both run off together. Some clarification over that would help.”

Rebecca gave a dismissive gesture. “What is there to say, other than you are blowing it all out of proportion. Oscar and I fell in love. It’s as simple as that. Were we bonded by a mutual loathing of Derek? Perhaps. It’s always nice to have some common ground in a relationship. As for the money, you know Derek owned a scrapyard. He was struggling with cash flow. Oscar’s brother was somehow involved with it too and convinced Oscar to lend him the money. He did not know that they were up to their necks in anything illegal. Neither was I. Derek served his time, which was a blessing because that is when Oscar and I found one another. Although we didn’t start dating until much later.”

“Such a romantic story,” said Garrick wryly. “And how much was owed?”

“I believe it was about two-hundred grand.”

“A not inconsequential amount. A tidy sum for Oscar to have down the back of the couch.”

“He’s a businessman. And in that instance, his judgement was clearly off.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m afraid I must go. Time waits for nobody.”

“What’s the rush?”

“I’m returning home in a couple of days. I only came over to see for myself that Derek was still alive. Just in case it was all some horrible dream.” She stood, touching her pocket to confirm her purse and phone were still there. “Like you, I am eager to find Oscar.”

“And you will let me know as soon as you do.”

“Of course.”

“When are you leaving?”

“The twenty-eighth. A return flight before you accuse me of fleeing the country.”

“I will need to talk to you again before you go.” She cocked her head, annoyed, but she said nothing. “You need to be formally eliminated from our enquiries.”

“Good luck, Detective.”

Unsmiling, she hurried out, high-heeled black boots click-clacking on the smooth floor. Garrick watched her for a moment, his mind racing. Everything she had said amounted to a torrent of motivation for her to wanting to kill Derek. The problem being that he wasn’t the one who had died, otherwise this may have been an open and shut case. Her reaction to Oscar’s disappearance was the most genuine she had given, but he doubted the reason she had flown over from Portugal was to just to confirm that her ex-husband was alive. There was more to it than that. She was being less than truthful.

The migraine had receded to a dull throb. He hadn’t taken the sleeping pills that Dr Rajasekar had prescribed as he was still concerned about using them, but now he was regretting it. He’d hoped for a lie-in today, especially as he hadn’t been able to sleep because he kept thinking about his date.

Christ, Wendy… tomorrow’s rambling escapade would have to be postponed. She had been so insistent that he imagined she’d be gravely disappointed. Or he hoped she would be. At least she was experiencing the difficulties of dating a detective now rather than later. Better to end it early before anybody gets hurt, he thought despondently.

On impulse, he quickly stood and walked out of the service station. Across the car park he could see Rebecca Ellis getting into her rented Panda. He trotted to Chib’s Nissan Leaf and sat inside – before remembering it was still connected to the electrical charger. By the time he got back out and unplugged the vehicle, Rebecca was following the one-way flow out of the car park.

The Nissan’s electric engine started immediately, although Garrick had to check as it was utterly silent. In seconds he was speeding far too quickly in pursuit. He kept a discreet distance as they passed the petrol station and looped to the roundabout. A delivery van inserted itself between them, offering another degree of anonymity. He followed Rebecca onto the westbound M20. He kept two cars between them. She diligently stayed to the speed limit. Garrick had assumed she was heading back to her rented accommodation and wondered about the wisdom of following her, but when she turned off onto the A228, he became intrigued. This would be a much longer route home. Soon they were on the A26 and heading to Tonbridge. He was curious to what was drawing her here.

Then a chime from the dash. A warning that he had little battery charge left.

“What?” he thumped the wheel. Why hadn’t it recharged? A map appeared on-screen with the closest charging station being at a BP garage half a mile ahead. If he didn’t stop there, then he would just roll to a halt in minutes. Frustrated, he turned off and watched Rebecca’s car disappear around the bend.

16

DS Chibarameze Okon had been thinking ahead with the textbook diligence Garrick was coming to expect. After taking the two Hoy paintings from the gallery to secure them in the station’s evidence locker, she had contacted the London-based art expert, Jasmine Slater, who had appeared in the Country Life article with Derek Fraser. She lived in