Free Double Dealing (Detective Sergeant Catherine Bishop Series Book Two) by Lisa Hartley Page A

park.’
    Knight rejoined them. ‘Doctor Webber is on her way. I presume we’ll need to search the pond as well?’
    Mick nodded. ‘We should do. Who knows what might be down there.’
    ‘I’ll update the DCI.’
    As Knight stepped away again with his phone, Mick lowered his voice. ‘How are you getting on with him?’
    Catherine frowned. ‘With DI Knight?’
      ‘He seems all right to me, but I’ve heard mutterings about him being a bit odd.’
      ‘I like him.’
      ‘That’s good.’ Mick glanced over to where the body lay, the tent now almost fully erected around it. ‘I better get back over there. I’ve a bad feeling about this one, Catherine. Her face . . .’
      ‘And her stomach.’
      ‘Well, I have an idea about that, but we’ll wait for the pathologist.’
    Catherine watched him walk away. She had a bad feeling herself. Worse, she had no idea if the dead woman was Lauren Cook. The corpse’s battered face made comparisons with the photographs she’d seen of Lauren impossible. The hair was the same colour and looked to be a similar length, but they would need much more than that.
     
     
      As soon as Mark opened his eyes, he wrapped the duvet around himself, reached over to the other side of the bed for Lauren’s pillow and held it close. The scent of her perfume lingered on the pillowcase and he pressed it to his face, breathing it in. He could hear Celia’s voice; she and Geoff must be up already. They had insisted on staying the night, or at least Celia had. Geoff would no doubt rather have gone home to his own bed. It sounded as if they were in the kitchen, probably drinking some of the milky tea that they preferred and Mark hated. Celia had never asked how he liked his tea, or coffee, or anything else. It would never have occurred to her that other people might have different preferences to herself. Though she was generous in her own way, she wasn’t a considerate woman. He’d better get up; it wasn’t polite to leave them down there on their own, though it was what he felt like doing. At least he could be sure that the kitchen was spotlessly clean.
      ‘Did you sleep, Mark? I didn’t get a wink,’ Celia started bleating at him straight away. Mark didn’t think it wise to mention that Celia’s snoring had practically rattled the windows, so he just shook his head and went over to refill the kettle. Celia swooped on him.
      ‘You sit down, let me do that. I want to keep myself busy. Now, Geoff and I have been talking about what we can do.’
    Mark silently corrected her: You mean you’ve been telling Geoff what he’s going to do.
    He sat at the small table in the corner of the kitchen, opposite his father-in-law. Geoff was drinking from Lauren’s favourite mug, which was oversized and decorated with a beach scene. They’d brought it back from a holiday they’d taken before they were married. Corfu, he thought. His hands clenched into fists beneath the tabletop. Mark wasn’t sure why Geoff using the cup was bothering him so much, but he wanted to rip it out of the other man’s hand. He didn’t, of course; Mark never lost control.
      Almost never.
      Celia set a mug of tea in front of him. Pale, weak and unappealing. He picked up the cup and sipped anyway.
      ‘I think we should go back to the police station today,’ Celia went on. ‘That Sergeant Bishop had no intention of helping us. Well, we’ll see about that. I’ll insist on seeing her boss if we’re not satisfied. Geoff will have to go out for his walk first, the doctor’s insisting he gets more exercise since he retired. At least three miles a day, isn’t it, love?’ Geoff nodded, winking at Mark as he did so. Mark gave Geoff a tiny smile. More like three pints a day. Celia bustled back over to the worktop. ‘I’ll do you some toast, Mark.’
    Mark tuned her out. He didn’t want any toast, but it was pointless saying so. Celia had toast for breakfast, therefore so did everyone else. Geoff still