The Dead Dog Day (12 page)

And then, more truthfully: ‘And yeah, really good Christmas, thanks. I just hung out with the girls really – Christmas at Rosie's. You have a good one?'

‘Not really, no.'

‘Oh no! I'm sorry, Scott – why? What happened?'

Scott didn't reply. Frowning, he pressed a few buttons. ‘Bastard thing. Keeps getting stuck. I'm at my wick's end with this dish.'

‘Wit's,' said Cora automatically.

‘OK, wit's end then. Hang on – think it's locking up now – yes! We're in business.'

He turned back to Cora. ‘So … Christmas …' He paused.

‘Well … to be honest …' He paused again.

‘Oh, nothing really. It was just a quiet one, that's all. Me and Elaine and the girls, and the parents popped in. I got a fantastic pressie from Mum and Dad though – a Victorian toilet mirror, satinwood frame, little hinged velvet trinket tray, the works. Looks brilliant in the downstairs loo. Well impressed.'

He smiled, but Cora could tell something wasn't quite right. Was he having marriage problems or something? It would explain his recent moodiness. She was about to press him further when the door slid open and Nathan and Rodney leapt in, already bundled up in their outdoor gear.

‘Find friggin' snow! Well, we've found some, I suppose. It's not exactly blizzard conditions though, is it? I mean, it is December – hardly unusual to have a little bit of snow. Bloody stupid.'

Nathan stamped a few flakes off his boots, and they melted immediately, leaving a minute puddle on the truck floor.

Cora stood up, and pulled her coat on over the fleece.

‘I know, I know! You know what it's like, though – I had half a feeling when I went to bed last night that we'd be called out. Come on, let's get out there and try and make it look half decent. I've spoken to Sam – she said as long as it keeps snowing they'll come to us every half an hour.'

‘Arse!'

Nathan slapped Scott good-humouredly across his shaved head with a glove. Scott shoved him back. Rodney, who was wearing his new green and white golf trousers with a purple Gore-Tex jacket, pinched Nathan's bum hard, and Nathan turned and whacked him. Cora shook her head and climbed out of the truck. Honestly, sometimes it was like working with five-year-olds.

‘So – Christina's definitely in the clear? Gosh, that's a relief.'

A few minutes before the eight o'clock news, Cora was getting an update on Jeanette's case from Sam.

‘Yes – she might have been angry and upset on Dead Dog Day, but she didn't kill anyone. Apparently the cops worked out the timeline properly over Christmas and they don't think it could have been her. I think they're still looking at Clancy though, from what I've heard on the grapevine. Well, they always look close to home first, don't they? And she has no alibi, you see – she says she was back home in bed by the time Jeanette was killed, but there was nobody else in the house. They're trying to get proof of that somehow. Seem to think she could have sneaked back in to the newsroom later, sometime after she dropped Jeanette off. Although I certainly didn't see her. Anyway – we obviously can't mention any of that, it's come from Clancy, not the cops! What they DO want to do is one final appeal on that CCTV footage. The weird guy – or woman, whatever – outside the building still hasn't been identified, so they want to give it one more go. Clutching at straws I reckon, but hey …'

Cora gulped slightly and tried to disguise it as a cough.

‘You alright love? Anyway – just recap the murder, link into the CCTV pics and then wrap. A minute will be fine. OK?'

Cora cleared her throat. ‘Sure, no problem. Yes, yes that's perfect. Talk to you later.'

She ended the call and sank back in her seat. That bloody CCTV. The more it was out there, the more likely it was that
somebody
would recognise Justin, and her ex-boyfriend would officially be prime suspect in a murder. What on earth was she going to do? If only she could talk to him properly before anyone else did, find out what he was doing there. There'd still been nothing else from him on Twitter since their unsatisfactory exchange on Christmas Eve. She clenched her fists in frustration. Where
was
he? Unless he really
did
have something to hide? Cora sighed. Hands shaking a little, she reapplied her lip gloss, took a deep breath and got out of her car.

‘Thanks so much for letting me know, it's very good of you. I really appreciate it, Jean. Well … goodbye then.'

‘Bye, Cora, love.'

Cora pressed the end call button and stared numbly out of her car window at the traffic whizzing past the lay-by she'd hastily pulled into when Justin's mother had called, with what she'd said was ‘great news' about her missing son.

Justin, it seemed, was in Spain. It appeared he'd taken Cora's advice to phone somebody, and had called his parents on Christmas Day, telling them he'd taken a sabbatical from work, needed a break to ‘get his head together' after splitting with Cora, and would be back soon. He was fine, just wanted a bit of space to decide what he really wanted to do with his life, and nobody was to worry. He'd got himself a Spanish mobile number, but for now he apparently had decided he'd prefer not to give it to anyone, promising to call his parents regularly instead.

This news apparently came as a huge relief to his mum and dad, who'd finally decided they'd better tell his now ex-girlfriend to put her mind at ease too. Somehow though, Cora wasn't feeling particularly reassured. Spain? Wasn't that one of the places Ronnie Biggs ran to after the Great Train Robbery? Wasn't leaving the country an even bigger sign that Justin had been up to no good in the CCTV footage? And should she now, at this point, put loyalty aside and tell somebody her suspicions? If not the police, then at least one of her friends? In despair, Cora sank her head onto the steering wheel, accidentally beeping the horn in the process and making herself jump. She was kidding herself. There was no way she would tell anyone, she knew that. It was so late now, for a start – the police might even arrest
her
for covering it up for so long, accuse her of attempting to pervert the course of justice or something. And she knew, deep down, that Justin wasn't a killer. There would be an explanation, and one day soon she would speak to Justin and he would tell her what it was. And in the meantime, the real killer would be caught. He, or she, simply had to be.

‘So forget the CCTV. Nobody's come forward. Nobody will. Forget it,' she said out loud. She flicked on her indicator, moved smoothly out into the traffic, and headed for home.

15

Thursday 28
^th
December

‘Alice has been acting like a crazy person, seriously.'

Sam and Cora were huddled in the corner of the newsroom, cradling coffee cups and having a quick catch-up before Cora hit the road again. She'd been called to London in the early hours to stand in for Sue the political reporter, who'd gone sick, and had popped in to the newsroom on her way home to wish Sam and Wendy an early Happy New Year.

‘Honestly, talk about over the top,' Sam continued. ‘She won't stop crying and she's been foul with everyone. I mean, she's always foul. But
really
foul. It's a nightmare.'

Cora screwed up her nose. ‘I don't get it really. I know Jeanette gave her a job she wasn't really cut out for, and was incredibly supportive of her for whatever reason. But they never struck me as
personally
close, particularly. It's odd, isn't it?'

‘It is. I think she's just attention seeking. The papers splashed a picture of her leaving the building looking all weepy and tragic last week and you know what she's like – loves the publicity …' Her voice tailed off as Alice wandered past, looking miserable.

‘Oh, hi, Alice!'

Alice glanced at Sam, said nothing, and carried on walking.

‘Cow. See what I mean? I give up with her, I really do. Sodding Alice Lomas. Lo-Intelligence more like.'

‘Or Lo-Cut-Top.' Sam and Cora both tittered childishly at the silly joke, then Cora glugged the last of her drink and stood up.

‘Right, I'm out of here. Home for a sleep. Please try not to call me again till tomorrow? Love you. Happy New Year.'

Sam gave her a hug. ‘Love you too, babe. Have a good one. Drive carefully.'

As she emerged from the lift into Reception, Cora stopped as a familiar face approached.

‘Ah – DCI Bradberry. Cora Baxter, remember? I'm covering Jeanette's murder.'

The police officer smiled. ‘Cora, of course. Nice to see you. Hey – you were at Westminster this morning, weren't you? I've been at my desk since six – got into the habit of watching the programme seeing as I'm working on the murder of its editor.'

Cora nodded and shifted her heavy handbag to her other shoulder. ‘Yes, I get around. And always happy to have another viewer.'

‘So – do you have a specialist subject then? Or how does it work?'

Adam looked quizzically at Cora and she thought once again how attractive he was, then gave herself a mental shake. She was off men, remember?

‘No, no – we have a political reporter, who went sick today so I stood in, and a doctor who does the health stories, but the rest of us have to be experts in a different field every day, really. I read all the papers online, check Twitter all the time, and watch the news non-stop – it becomes a bit of an addiction, but it's the only way to keep on top of everything.'

‘Interesting. I guess you never get bored, then? And crime – do you do much crime?'

‘A fair bit, yes. It's one of my favourite areas, to be honest. I find it fascinating. So – what about Jeanette? Anything new for me?'

‘Don't think so – hang on.' He started flicking through the notepad in his hand, frowning. Cora couldn't help staring a little. He really was extremely fit. Muscular, but not too beefy. That sexy cropped blond hair. Dark green eyes, unusual shade …

Adam looked up suddenly from his notes and caught her looking at him. Cora felt herself flushing.

He smiled. ‘To be honest – nothing for you really. We're floundering a bit on this one. But we hope to have finished going through all the CCTV we've got in the next twenty-four hours, so maybe then? Give me a call.'

He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a card.

‘Here – my mobile number. I know what it's like getting through to the press office – can take for ever. Call me direct and if I know anything we can release to the press, I'll give it to you first. Only fair – she was your boss, after all.'

Their fingers touched as he handed her the business card and a jolt went through Cora, leaving her stomach fluttering. Crikey. That didn't happen to her very often. She'd only just split with Justin, she shouldn't be reacting like this to other men. But if she felt like that when he touched her hand, what would it feel like if those fingers were to touch her in other places?

Flustered, she fumbled in her big bag and pulled out one of her own cards.

‘And here's mine. Just in case, you know, there's some big breaking news.'

Adam tucked the card into his pocket. ‘Thanks. Right – have to run. My little boy's arriving tomorrow for the weekend and we have a LOT to get through at work before then.'

For a reason she couldn't quite put her finger on, Cora's heart sank a little.

‘Oh – you have a little boy? That's … er … nice.'

‘It is. He lives with his mum in Swindon, but I get him alternate weekends – here he is, look. Proud dad, sorry – always showing him off.'

He held out his mobile phone and showed Cora the screensaver. A serious-faced little boy, hair a few shades darker than his dad's but – the green eyes. Unmistakable.

‘He – he's lovely. Very sweet.' She smiled, but inside she was feeling uncomfortably perturbed.

‘I think so. Well, nice to see you again, Cora. Hopefully there'll be some developments to report soon. I'll be in touch.'

‘Thanks, er … Adam. Bye now.'

She wandered out into the street and clambered into her car, suddenly feeling rather low. It was hopeless. Not that she was looking at the moment, obviously, but it was looking highly likely that she'd be single for ever, let's face it. She rarely met
anyone
she fancied, and there'd miraculously been two in the few days since she split up with Justin, yet she'd managed to act like a bowel movement-obsessed crazy woman in front of one, and the second was a doting daddy who'd run a mile once he found out she wasn't exactly stepmother material.

Oh well. There were always chocolate and banana muffins. A stop at Mattino's on the way home was definitely needed today. She turned the key in the ignition and pointed the car towards Cheltenham.

16

Friday 29
^th
December

Today's hotel, somewhere in Cambridgeshire, wasn't a particularly pleasant one, and Cora shuddered as she pushed aside the slightly mouldy shower curtain encrusted with soap residue. Sadly, despite her request to Sam, the news desk had called to divert her as she headed for Cheltenham yesterday, meaning yet another night away from home.

To their credit, the
Morning Live
travel desk did their best to book the crews into decent hotels most of the time, understanding that when you spent most of your working life away from home, it wasn't really acceptable to be accommodated in dumps. But sometimes there just wasn't anywhere nice available, especially in the more remote areas. In fact, there had only been one room free in this hotel – Rodney and Nathan had been put in what sounded like an even worse place a couple of miles away. Scott never stayed in hotels – his contract meant his working day started at midnight, so he simply drove the truck through the night to wherever he needed to be and then drove home again to sleep.