T.M.E. Walsh

For All Our Sins


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enough.’

      Claire stared at his hand then reluctantly shook it. ‘Just don’t let me down… Don’t make me regret this.’

      Business and pleasure didn’t mix, Claire knew that, and she’d learnt the hard way. The last thing she needed was people talking about her and Matthews and she couldn’t afford to be showing any favouritism.

      ‘I need results on the Hargreaves case. I’ve got DSI Donahue breathing down my neck and the press aren’t exactly painting a pretty picture about us at the moment,’ she said, her eyes lowered. ‘They’re calling the whole investigation a farce. No justice for the families…the usual.’

      Her eyes met his.

      He nodded. ‘Not a problem, Guv. I won’t let you down.’

      Claire gestured for him to leave. ‘I’ll be holding you to that.’

      After Matthews had left, Claire’s BlackBerry rang.

      She saw the screen. Chose to ignore it. When the call diverted to voicemail, she switched the phone off.

      ***

      Michael headed outside the main building, lit himself a cigarette and walked towards the designated smoking area. He leaned up against the wall and exhaled a stream of smoke.

      He closed his eyes.

      ‘You look like shit.’

      Michael opened his eyes and saw the familiar grin of DC Gabriel Harper standing a few feet from him.

      Michael allowed himself a small smile. ‘Love you too, Gabe.’

      ‘It’s just an observation, mate,’ he said, now standing beside him. ‘Got one to spare?’ he said, nodding towards Michael’s cigarette.

      Michael offered him the pack and lighter from his pocket. Harper lit one, and gave Michael a prod in the arm as he handed it back.

      ‘What’s been going on with you?’

      Michael shrugged. ‘The Hargreaves case. I’ve worked my arse off on it, and it’s drained me.’

      Harper squinted, the sun hurting his eyes. ‘And now Matthews is taking it on.’

      Michael shot him a look. ‘I wasn’t aware that was common knowledge yet.’

      ‘It wasn’t until, like, five minutes ago, when he waltzed out the Guv’s office, smug grin on his face, and made a big show of collecting the Hargreaves files.’ He gave him a sympathetic look. ‘Wasn’t very subtle, mate.’ He paused. ‘I’m gutted for you, if I’m honest. The one chance we had to get Hargreaves once and for all and you could’ve nailed him. Now, I’m not so sure…’

      Michael plucked the half-smoked cigarette from between his lips and chucked it to the ground.

      ‘You’d better keep that to yourself, Gabe,’ he said, brushing past him on his way back into the building.

       CHAPTER 9

      Amelia turned the key and let herself into her flat. She reached for her mobile phone which she’d left on the kitchen worktop and dialled the number she knew off by heart.

      Calling G flashed across the screen before she put it to her ear. It seemed an eternity but finally her call was answered.

      ‘Is it done?’ the voice said.

      ‘It is. He won’t be bothering me any time soon, but I get the feeling it won’t be the last time we’ll be dealing with him.’

       ‘What did you do?’

      ‘I used my…persuasive charms.’

      There was a long pause.

       ‘You didn’t hurt him, did you?’

      ‘Just a scratch… Did I do wrong?’

       ‘No, but we must focus on our goal.’

      ‘He’ll keep up the rent-side of the deal. He won’t get my body in return, if that’s what’s bothering you.’

      The quietness on the line told Amelia this was pleasing news.

      ‘When can I see you?’ she said.

      ‘Soon.’ There was another long pause. All Amelia could hear was soft breathing on the line.

       ‘I loved you, since the moment you first came into my life. Remember that.’

      Amelia bit her bottom lip hard. Every time she heard those words it all but stopped her heart right there and then. ‘I know,’ she said at length.

      The phone clicked before going dead.

      Amelia placed her phone back on the counter top and took the flick knife from her pocket, pulled back the blade and smiled.

      ***

      Adrian Brown looked down at his blood-soaked shirt sleeve.

      Bile began to rise in his throat, but he suppressed the urge to vomit. He applied pressure to the wound, fighting back the urge to scream.

      He doubled over in pain, and blood seeped through his fingers.

      He remembered the look on Amelia’s face as she’d plunged the knife into his upper arm, and how her other hand had pressed firmly over his mouth as he had screamed.

      He’d felt like he would pass out but he had fought against it when they had heard Mary approach the office. Under duress he’d told her through the door that he was fine.

      He’d waited with bated breath until he’d heard footsteps leading away, Mary’s curiosity shot down in an instant.

      He’d sighed and shut his eyes.

      When he had looked back at Amelia, her attention was on the blood seeping through his shirt. His gaze had followed down to her right hand, fingers gripping the handle of the knife firmly, her knuckles white. In that moment he had tried to think back to where it had all started to fall apart.

      Then she had wrenched the blade from his arm.

      Her eyes had never left his as she wiped the knife clean with a tissue. The perks he’d got from their financial agreement were over. She’d made that crystal clear.

      He waited until she’d left his office before removing his tie and securing it tightly around his shoulder, pulling it tight. He then put his suit jacket on. He would wait half an hour before risking going to A&E.

      He waved Mary away when she tried to enter his office. She looked hurt but he didn’t care.

      Amelia had been a worthwhile distraction at the time but now she was a threat, an inconvenience.

      She had to be dealt with as quickly and discreetly as possible.

       CHAPTER 10

      It was just after nine the next morning and Michael sighed at the No Smoking sign on the door in front of him. He dropped the remainder of his cigarette on the floor, crushing it under his foot. He exhaled the last dreg of smoke from his dry lips, pushed open the main door and entered the reception area of St Catherine’s.

      He felt the eyes of the middle-aged receptionist burning into his body as he approached the glass window at the front of the reception booth.

      Looking behind her he could see other workstations and a main office at the back with a sign on it.

      ‘Can I help you?’ she said, brushing an imaginary strand of hair behind her ear. Michael noticed how, although her face was lined and her hair was showing signs of grey, she was not an unattractive lady. He forced