Call to Arms Read online

  Kay didn’t know anything about the Sharps’ own children, save for photographs she’d previously seen of a healthy-looking pair of teenaged twins that took pride of place on a bookshelf in the sitting room.

  ‘Cup of tea?’

  ‘Please.’

  She shrugged off her wool coat and placed it on the back of one of the stylish chairs that surrounded a matching dining table off to one side of the wide space, and dumped her bag on the surface before wandering across the room and leaning against the sink while Sharp turned down the music blaring from a set of speakers on the windowsill.

  ‘How’re you holding up?’

  ‘Like crap, but then you’d know all about that.’

  She nodded, but said nothing.

  ‘It’s the boredom, Kay.’

  He ran a hand over brown hair that now held the faintest traces of silver and had grown longer over the winter months, and then shook his head.

  ‘How’s Bec?’

  ‘Stoical. As always.’

  Kay smiled.

  Sharp’s wife was like her own partner, Adam. Dependable, not easily flustered, and completely at a loss as to why her other half would throw himself heart and soul into a career that was at worst ungrateful, and at best trying.

  ‘What about you? Glad to be back at work?’

  ‘I’m bored, Devon. They’ve got me on light duties.’ She lifted her arm. ‘I’m taking longer to heal than they thought, and apparently I can’t risk overdoing it.’

  ‘Bet that’s going down well.’

  ‘Shut up and give me a cup of tea.’

  They both laughed.

  Kay fell silent as he moved about the kitchen, fetching milk from the refrigerator and fishing the tea bags out of the mug once the drinks had stewed.

  He may have been laughing and joking with her, but she could sense the frustration and desperation under the surface of his carefully controlled emotions.

  Despite his attempts at normality, the effect of the past three months boiled under the surface.

  She knew first-hand how a Professional Standards investigation could prey on an officer’s confidence and health, especially if that officer was innocent of any wrongdoing.

  ‘You don’t take sugar, do you?’

  Kay shook her head to clear her thoughts and tried to refocus. ‘No, that’s right – thanks.’

  ‘Come on through to the conservatory. Bec’s got me painting the windowsills, so I can work while we chat and I won’t get into trouble for slacking in my duties.’

  He winked, then led the way across the room and through an archway to a wide enclosed space that overlooked a garden.

  Kay squinted through the window and cast her gaze over the twilight-heavy patio and lawn.

  Sharp’s house was in an estate on the opposite side of Maidstone to hers, but the main road that cut through the scattered cul-de-sacs soon turned to country lane as it wound its way out to the village of Otham, and she knew he often saw foxes pass through his garden.

  The garden was silent for now, though, and she turned back to the room to see him eyeing her warily over his mug of tea, the paint brushes ignored.

  She placed her drink on the small table next to one of the wicker armchairs and dropped the pretence.

  ‘Devon, I need something to get my teeth into before I go crazy. This whole thing about being a DI – after what I could see happening politically last year, I never wanted to be a part of that. I love being a detective. All I’ve done this past week is shuffle paperwork.’

  He shrugged. ‘Sometimes, that’s all there is – making sure the manpower is spread evenly around the area. It’s still important.’

  ‘But it’s not doing, is it?’

  ‘So, Demiri didn’t put you off being on the frontline?’

  She shook her head. ‘If anything, it’s made me more determined to put people like him away – before they ever get a chance to do what he did.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘What do you want from me?’

  Kay crossed her arms. ‘I want to know why there’s a Professional Standards investigation against you, and I want to know what I can do to help.’

  He chuckled, and gestured to the two armchairs. ‘Is this simply a ruse to get me back, so I can take care of the paperwork?’

  She held up her hand as she sat. ‘All right, so I might have an ulterior motive.’

  He placed his mug on the coffee table between them, and then leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

  ‘The problem is, Kay, if you try to help me, you might damage your own chances of advancement within the force.’

  ‘Even more than I did last year?’

  His eyes hardened. ‘Don’t joke about it, Kay. You fought hard to clear your name and see justice served last year, and it very nearly killed you. Don’t throw that away.’

  She took a sip of tea to digest his words, and then set her mug down next to his. ‘And yet, you did the same for me. We’re a team, Devon. We have been for a long time. Let me help you.’

  ‘You have to promise to be careful, Kay. If you’re going to do this, do it by the book. Remember, it’s all about the politics and that means you’re going to have to work with Larch at some point.’

  She grimaced, then conceded the point. ‘All right.’

  He nodded, and picked up his tea once more. ‘Where do you want to start?’

  ‘What happened between you and DCI Simon Harrison?’

  Four

  ‘Harrison was the investigating officer in a case involving the death of a young motorcyclist on the A20 between Leeds and Harrietsham, and already had a reputation for cutting corners to manage his caseload.’

  Kay shuffled forward on her chair and rested her elbows on her knees. ‘When was this?’

  ‘Ten years ago.’

  ‘You weren’t with the Kent Police at the time.’

  ‘No, I was still in the military police, and you know what everyone thinks of them.’

  She managed a smile. The military police had its own way of dealing with its investigations, and wasn’t always well respected amongst her colleagues for doing so. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Because the accident happened off barracks, Kent Police were in attendance. I could only be an observer.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘A young recruit by the name of Jamie Ingram was killed one night in December. It was raining, the conditions were less than ideal, and it was late. The driver of an articulated truck came across the scene only moments after it had happened – the engine of the bike was still warm.’

  Kay pulled out her phone and selected the “maps” app. ‘Whereabouts on that stretch of road?’

  ‘Just before the Broomfield turnoff.’

  She ran her eyes over the map before her, and frowned. ‘Strange place to lose control, especially given that the bends there were straightened out over thirty years ago. Was there oil on the surface, or was he going too fast for the conditions?’

  She put her phone away, then lifted her gaze to Sharp.

  He was glaring at her.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Jamie Ingram was one of the best motorcyclists I’ve ever known. I went to school with his father, who still owns the farm Jamie grew up on. By the time he was nine years old, Jamie had a small motorbike and used to go tearing around one of the fields his dad had set aside especially for that purpose. He was winning motocross competitions two years later at a national level.’

  ‘So, he could handle a bike in any condition, is that what you’re saying?’

  Sharp’s features softened. ‘Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.’ He pushed himself out of his chair and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets as he paced the floor. ‘Sorry. It’s just that at the time – and now – I want to do what’s right for Jamie and his parents.’

  ‘We were talking about the road conditions that night.’

  ‘The lead investigator concluded there was no oil on the road, and there was no sign of any other debris that might
have caused Jamie to lose control.’

  ‘Wildlife?’

  ‘The verges were checked, but they found no injured rabbits, and a deer would have made a hell of an impact on the motorbike. There was nothing like that.’

  ‘What was the investigator’s conclusion?’

  ‘His report stated that, for whatever reason, Jamie made a sudden deviation to his line taking the corner and lost control.’

  Kay leaned back in her chair and rubbed the base of her skull before dropping her phone back into her bag. ‘I’m getting a crick in my neck.’

  Sharp took the hint and sat down with a loud sigh.

  ‘And what do you think happened, Devon?’

  ‘I spoke to his commanding officer the day after the accident. Apparently, Jamie had phoned the adjutant the previous morning, requesting an urgent meeting with Lieutenant Colonel Stephen Carterton. The only appointment available was for the Thursday afternoon—’

  ‘And Jamie died before he could speak to him.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Any idea what Jamie wanted to talk to him about?’

  ‘No, but that’s not the point. It’s highly unusual for a private to make a request like that. Something must’ve been worrying Jamie to make that appointment in the first place, let alone phone it in while he was off barracks.’

  ‘What do the family think?’

  Sharp scratched at his beard. ‘At the time, his father raised concerns that Jamie was nervous when he returned home from Afghanistan.’

  ‘Post-traumatic stress disorder?’

  ‘No – Jamie hadn’t been exposed to anything that could have triggered that; he was involved in supplies and logistics and the like. He wouldn’t talk about it to his parents when asked, but they said when Jamie’s mobile phone rang that night, he’d started shaking and had taken the call outside. He wouldn’t tell them what it was about. That was the night of his death.’

  ‘I don’t get it. Why would there be a PS investigation into your conduct based on this?’

  Sharp shrugged. ‘An accusation has been made by a senior officer against me – Harrison. He’s trying to suggest that I didn’t report all the facts to him ten years ago, when I did, and that I may have somehow been involved in what happened to Jamie and tried to cover it up. It’s all bullshit, of course. I suppose until they’ve got through the investigation into his activities, they’re holding judgement on whether to suspend me indefinitely, or drop the PS case and let me get back to work.’ He gestured to the discarded paint brushes. ‘In the meantime, I sit around and wait.’

  ‘All right. What do you think happened ten years ago?’

  Sharp twisted in his chair at the sound of the front door opening, then turned back to Kay and lowered his voice. ‘I think Jamie found out something was going on within his regiment, and intended to report it. I think he was killed before he got a chance to do so.’

  Kay felt the air leave her lungs as Rebecca Sharp appeared at the archway leading through to the conservatory, and plastered a smile on her face to hide her shock at her colleague’s statement.

  ‘Kay – how lovely to see you.’

  Kay stood and accepted the other woman’s quick hug. ‘How’re you doing, Bec?’

  ‘Oh, you know. Running out of jobs for Devon. The sooner he’s back at work, the better.’ Her brow creased. ‘Is that why you’re here?’

  Kay caught the look Sharp shot her, and shook her head. ‘No, unfortunately I don’t have any news about that. I only got back to work myself last week, and I’ve spent the past six days feeling like I’m pedalling backwards.’

  Bec chuckled. ‘Yeah, that’s what promotion will do to you.’

  ‘I should let you two get on,’ said Kay, and plucked her bag from the tiled floor. ‘Great to see you, Bec.’

  ‘You too, Kay.’

  Sharp followed her out to the front door, then unlocked it and stood to one side before handing Kay a piece of paper.

  ‘Here. This is the address for Jamie Ingram’s family. Speak to them. Get a feel for what Jamie was like as a person. Then you’ll understand.’

  ‘So, we’re doing this, are we?’

  ‘Up for it?’

  ‘You bet.’

  He smiled. ‘By the way, how’s Adam doing?’

  Kay checked her watch. ‘Oh, bloody hell.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘It’s his birthday today, and right now I’m late taking him out to dinner.’

  Five

  Kay pushed through the front door to her house and shrugged her coat off her shoulders before hanging it over the newel post.

  ‘Sorry I’m late!’

  ‘Up here.’

  She ran up the stairs two at a time and made her way to the master bedroom, dumping her bag on the bed as her other half, Adam Turner, emerged from the en suite in a cloud of steam.

  ‘What time’s the table booked for?’

  He grinned. ‘It was booked for six-thirty, but I guessed you were running late, so I’ve asked them to change it to half seven.’

  ‘You’re a star.’ She kissed him, and then unbuttoned her blouse and tossed it into the laundry basket next to the door.

  As she flicked through the clothes hanging in her wardrobe trying to decide what to wear, her heartbeat began to settle. She hated that her job encroached on her home life sometimes, but especially when it was Adam’s birthday and they’d arranged to treat themselves to a meal at an expensive restaurant they favoured for special occasions.

  ‘Do you want me to order a taxi?’ said Adam. He pushed a cufflink through the sleeve of his shirt and buttoned it.

  ‘That’s okay – I was going to offer to drive. I’ve got an early start tomorrow, so I can only have one drink anyway.’

  He reached out and slapped her bum before dodging out of the way as she spun around. Grinning, he moved to the door.

  ‘Take your time. I’ll see you downstairs.’

  Kay smiled and turned her attention back to the wardrobe before selecting a black dress with spaghetti straps and a red shawl to cover her shoulders.

  The stately home that housed the restaurant was beautiful, but could be draughty in the late winter months.

  Adam’s voice filtered through the floorboards from the kitchen, and she realised that he’d brought home a patient. By the sounds of it, whatever it was had been let out into the garden before they went out to dinner and was now being resettled for the evening.

  Smiling, and with a little trepidation as to what she’d find in her house this time, she finished dressing and then grabbed a small handbag and her shoes and padded downstairs.

  A large Alsatian dog eased itself from its bed on the tiles as she entered the kitchen, its brown eyes doleful as it padded across to her and nuzzled her hand.

  Adam leaned against the kitchen worktop, a glass of water in his hand. ‘Meet Rufus. He used to be a service dog with Kent Police, but was fostered out about four years ago. His foster family are away at the moment, so I’ve agreed to babysit.’

  ‘Hello, Rufus.’

  The dog snorted, and then turned back to the old duvet Adam had folded up and placed in one corner as a makeshift bed before curling up on it with a groan.

  ‘What’s wrong with him?’

  Adam sighed and put his glass down. ‘Terminal cancer, unfortunately. We’ve tried everything over the past six months, but it’s not working and it’s not fair to keep treating him with stuff that isn’t working.’

  Kay lowered her voice, a lump forming in her throat. ‘Will you have to put him to sleep?’

  ‘Not yet. He’s responding well to the painkillers at the moment, and he seems to be getting around on his own okay – he hasn’t lost his appetite, either. I’ll continue to monitor him, obviously, and I’ll be having a chat with the foster family when they get back from Wales to discuss their options.’

  Kay picked up her car keys while she contemplated the man in front of her.

  One of the town’s busiest and wel
l-respected veterinarians, he was also one of the most compassionate people she knew. Rufus was in good hands, that much was certain.

  ‘When are his foster family back?’

  ‘About ten days, I think. Graham’s mother-in-law died yesterday, and I’d imagine by the time they get all the paperwork sorted out and the funeral arranged it’ll be at least that.’ He checked his watch. ‘We’d better get a move on if we’re going to make that reservation.’

  Thirty minutes later, the car’s tyres were crackling over the gravel apron that stretched around the stately home in the middle of the Kentish countryside, and then Kay put her arm through Adam’s as they walked towards the stone steps leading into the seventeenth-century manor house that was now a hotel and restaurant.

  A smartly dressed member of staff held open the door for them, and Kay let her shoulders relax as they were shown to their table.

  The luxurious surroundings of the dining room cocooned them from the outside world. Floor-to-ceiling curtains covered the windows, and the thick carpet softened the noise from other tables as they passed.

  The clink of cutlery and muted conversations reached her ears, and her mouth watered at the thought of savouring the food.

  Pleased to find they had been given a table in the far corner away from other diners, she smiled as the waiter pulled out her chair for her and fussed around them pouring water and taking their order.

  She waited until he had returned with their wine and moved across the room to another table, before she clinked her glass against Adam’s.

  ‘Happy birthday.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Kay took a sip of her wine before placing it on the linen tablecloth.

  ‘So, tell me more about Rufus. He seems friendly. I always thought you had to be careful around ex-service dogs.’

  ‘He’s too old now, I think. Perhaps he realises he’s not got long, so he’s making the most of it. The foster family have a young daughter, and Graham says they’ve never had any issues. Rufus is very protective of her.’