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

his rifle in a low carry position and gave Garrick a curious look as he recognised him from the telly.

“Wouldn’t mind one of these myself,” said the officer, nodding to the screen.

“Did she resist? Or say anything?” Garrick looked around the luxurious living room, noticing the BBC report was showing the footage of him in the hotel. Feeling awkward, he didn’t meet the officer’s gaze. There was a half-eaten bowl of cereal on the table, now a soft mulch in a puddle of milk. Next to it a still steaming cup of tea.

“No. She was crapping herself.”

Garrick saw an Alsatian being led into the spacious manicured rear garden. He crossed into the open-plan kitchen. It looked barely used. There were two cups in the sink; only one had a lipstick mark on the rim.

Chib hurried down the staircase and Garrick joined her in the hallway. “Looks like one person slept in the bed. I can’t see any obvious signs of anybody. And we can’t find those holdalls she picked up from Matthews.”

Garrick nodded. He walked back outside and saw Sean Wilkes had all the doors of her Fiat Panda open and was examining the boot. The car carrying Rebecca Ellis drove away, passing a white forensics van turning in from the main road. He wished he wasn’t feeling so fatigued and didn’t trust himself not to fumble over some small pivotal clue. This was where all the threads had led. This is where he’d find the answers.

The interview had scarcely begun when Rebecca Ellis slammed both hands on the desk and shrieked at Garrick.

“This is a ridiculous waste of time! Instead of dragging me in here, you should be out there finding my Oscar!”

For a moment Garrick was thrown, although he was careful not to show it. It wasn’t quite the line of defence he had been expecting. She was either a very good actor or was genuinely upset. He couldn’t tell which.

“I think you know where he is.”

“If I knew I wouldn’t be in this sinkhole of a country, would I?”

“What was his business here?”

“I told you already. I don’t know. I never asked questions.”

“Because it was illegal?”

The suited lawyer next to her shook his head. “Don’t answer that.”

“No! We have a relationship in which we respect each other’s privacy.” She folded her arms and tilted her chin defiantly.

Garrick pushed across the photograph of her and the mysterious person loading the bags into her car.

“Help me with a name.”

Rebecca looked at them for longer than necessary. She picked it up and held it closer. “That’s an old friend I hadn’t seen for a while. She was passing through, so we caught up. I gave her a lift to Ashford International. It gave us a chance to catch up.”

A woman? That wasn’t what Garrick had hoped for. At the back of his mind, he’d matched the height of last night’s gunman with the figure in the photo.

“We’ll need her details.”

“Jenny Laverty. She’s in France now. She could be anywhere. I don’t have any details to give you. She said she’d reach out to me when she settles down.”

“This Jenny, did you take her back to the house for a catch up?”

“There was no time. I left you, picked her up at Tonbridge where she was going to change for Ashford. It made sense to meet her there. It was short and sweet.”

Changing trains made sense. That was another disappointment.

“Oscar rented the house you’re staying in.”

Rebecca shrugged. “Which is why I’m staying there. No big mystery.”

“We didn’t find any of his clothes or belongings.”

Rebecca managed a sarcastic smile. “Bravo. Now you see why I’m so concerned about finding him. When I arrived, he had taken everything. He always travelled light, but he’d taken his shower gel, shaver, blood pressure tablets. All gone. Which is why I’m so worried.”

Her voice faltered slightly. Garrick was starting to believe her. Or at least that side of her story. He produced the photo PC Liu had taken, showing her arguing Mark Kline-Watson. She looked at it, then at him.

“I’m having déjà vu. Didn’t we have this discussion already? Voluntarily? And without my solicitor?”

“For the record, and for your solicitor’s benefit…”

“I was there because I wanted to contact Hoy, because I believe my ex-bastard husband kept his business interest a secret to avoid splitting everything in the divorce.”

“And you believed Mr Kline-Watson when he said he had no contact with Hoy?”

“It fits with Derek’s obsession with secrecy and his desire to be at the centre of the universe.”

“Who do you think killed him?”

The solicitor sighed. “Detective, you can’t put words in my client’s mouth.”

Garrick raised an eyebrow at him. “She can pick any name she wants. Who do you think killed him?”

The solicitor, whose name he had blanked the moment they were introduced, was taken aback. “My opinion has nothing to do with anything.”

“Noted.” He looked at Rebecca. “And your opinion is?”

“Derek. As I said already, he has everything to gain.”

“And who has to gain if Derek Fraser ends up dead? You are aware somebody shot at him last night?” He decided she didn’t need to know about the blanks.

“So I discovered this morning, watching TV. Just before you kicked my door down. And again, I thought we had covered this when I willingly cooperated with you. He lied about leaving the house to me. What else has he lied about? And what do I stand to gain except a costly legal probate?”

“Who could he have passed the house onto?”

She gave a bewildered look. “He has no family, no friends. Half the people he knows hate him; he hates the other half.”

Garrick was worried. Her reactions perfectly mirrored his own doubts and thoughts. She had an answer for everything – except the most pressing one.

“Did you know Oscar Benjamin is wanted in connection to an armed robbery in Tonbridge the week he arrived?”

She looked shocked. “No. That’s rubbish. He wouldn’t…”

Garrick chuckled. “Come on. He is no saint, and I don’t believe for a second you are