Page 23 of Nothing But the Night (Basic Instincts 2)

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Marc’s statement was taken by an unsmiling Detective Sergeant with a grey pallor and a combover the like of which Marc hadn’t seen since the 1990s. Marc had called the station earlier that morning and arranged a time between meetings when he could attend. He’d considered contacting Jason first, to arrange doing the interview together, but after the way they had left things last night, he hadn’t known what to say, so had said nothing.

When he’d first woken up after less than three hours’ sleep, he’d intended to call the agency and cancel the case. He’d pay for the work that had been done already and leave it at that. By the time he’d gone for a run, taken a shower and managed some breakfast, he’d changed his mind. The truth was he didn’t know how he felt, and it was never a good idea to make a decision from a place of uncertainty.

Marc had pushed the Jason situation aside and got on with the day.

He might have been able to forget about Jason for a few hours, but he couldn’t get the image of Dan Blumel out of his mind. Marc had gone through his first meeting that morning like a zombie, listening to what his managers had to report without taking in any details of what they’d said.

All he could think about was a dead boy on the floor of a third-rate gym.

“Just to clarify what you’re saying,” the DS made a show of rereading his notes. He’d taken down every word Marc had said in an illegible scrawl. “You went to the gym to speak to Dan Blumel about your brother.”

“Yes.”

“And you hired a private detective to find Blumel?” he made no attempt to conceal the disdain he had for the situation.

“I didn’t hire him to find Blumel, no. I hired him to find out what happened to Theo. Dan was the first person to come forward with any information.”

The DS regarded Marc over the rim of his spectacles, which were worn on a leather cord around his neck. “And what information was that?”

Marc struggled to keep his cool. This man, DS Thomson, was an arsehole and he was starting to understand Jason’s contempt for the Blyham force. “I don’t know, because we didn’t get to talk to him. Maybe you would know something yourself if you’d bothered to interview Dan after my brother’s death. Jason managed to track him down after a few days. You guys had three months to find him, and you didn’t.”

Thomson pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose. “That’s a separate matter. I’m interested in last night.”

Marc took a deep breath. When he spoke, the hardness in his own voice surprised him. “It’s hardly separate if trying to find out what happened to Theo is what took us to the gym. The only reason I’ve hired a private investigator is because your lot haven’t done their job.”

Thomson was about to reply when Marc cut him off. “I have to get back to work. I’ve given you my statement. Now let me sign it and maybe you can get on with solving this poor guy’s death.”

Thomson was indignant. “Your statement raises far more questions than it answers. We’ll need to speak to you again.”

“Speak to my lawyers—Booths and Co. If you want another statement from me, you can arrange it through them.”

He pulled out his own pen, the special one he used for signing contracts, and scribbled his name across all four sheets of the police statement. Thomson didn’t even meet his eye when he got up and left.

Marc was seething. Everything he’d heard and suspected about this force was true. They were a bunch of self-serving pricks. More interested in easy answers than any justice for the victims of crime or their families. If or when they discovered who was responsible for Theo’s death, he would go to the press afterwards and call out every piece of shitty police work the officers in this station were accountable for.

The one thing he hated more than incompetence was laziness.

Marc’s mood did not improve when he got outside. The rain that had held off for most of the morning had started again while he was in the station. He didn’t feel like he’d been truly dry in over a week. He put up anumbrella and hurried towards his car. As he clicked the fob to unlock the doors, a figure stepped in front of him.

From the flash of blonde helmet hair beneath the umbrella, he knew who it was before he looked at her. Nadine Smythe.

“Helping the police with their enquiries, are you?” She stepped between Marc and the car.

“I’ve no doubt you’ve got a hotline to several of Blyham’s finest, so you probably have a better idea of what went on in there than I do.” He tried to move around her, but she was unbudgeable.

“It’s more than a coincidence that days after you start an investigation into your brother’s death, your first contact ends up dead before you can talk to them.”

How the fuck did she know all that? “Are you investigating me? You seem to know a lot about my movements.”

“I’ve got tabs all over this city.”

“Then you have no reason to bother me.”

Nadine was not to be shaken. She gripped his arm. “What’s wrong with you? We’re on the same side. If you weren’t so pig-headed you would realise that. I want to solve Theo’s murder as much as you do.”

“But for very different reasons,” he said. “You want a story. I want answers and justice.”

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