4Sight

By Demelza Ross

‘I’d be perfectly ok if didn’t keep falling over dead bodies!’

Cleo Munroe is perfectly normal. Her family may be slightly suspect, but they haven’t
affected her. That’s why it comes as such a shock when she sees her new employer being
killed in his office, while she stands in a café 500 yards away.

Dashing back to the office, she knows, without doubt, that it’s all in her imagination and that she will find him at his desk, cleaning his nails with a biro and grumpily demanding the
sandwich she’s left behind. Unfortunately for Cleo, the real life Ben Brady is just as dead as
the one she saw.

When the police investigation, carried out by Cleo’s ex-fiancé, Lucas Flynn and his boss,
Ray Hadley, concludes that Brady died of natural causes, Cleo is understandably confused.
It’s bad enough seeing visions of things that actually happen. Seeing things that don’t happen, leads her to question her sanity. She looks for help to her mother and her step-father, both strong believers in mystic powers. She finds them both willing, but far less able than she’d hoped. Consequently, she tries to put the whole episode behind her in the belief that it may never happen again. This happy delusion is shattered when her next employer is mown down, by Brady’s killer, in a hit and run incident. Cleo has to come out of denial and accepts help from Will Cameron, a researcher in parapsychology at the local university. The police can’t write it off this time either, because Cleo saw the incident in reality as well as in her head. Then the killer is dragged from the canal and the second case is effectively closed.

Cleo has Flynn on side and the two of them are beginning to pick up the pieces of their old relationship, but DCI Hadley remains distinctly unimpressed and has no qualms about saying so. It takes an attempt on his own life, again foreseen by Cleo, to eventually convince him of the existence of someone working behind the scenes. Someone, who doesn’t carry out the murders himself, but hypnotises others into committing them for him. A prime suspect is Professor David Nash, Will Cameron’s Head of Department, who has a strong interest in the scope of hypnosis. The hunt now begins in earnest, with the occasional backsliding on Hadley’s part, but can only be unofficial, due to the complete lack of concrete evidence.

Cleo is warned off by the killer on several occasions, but ignores the threats until her mother is kidnapped. Cleo gives herself up and finds that the puppet master is not Professor Nash, but Will Cameron. Will readily admits his crimes, secure in the knowledge that he is about to set fire to the house where Cleo and her mother are being held. Cleo manages to escape by using the telekinetic powers that are also part of her unwanted gifts and leads Flynn and Hadley to a cliff top showdown with Will, who is about to make Professor Nash his latest victim.

With the game over, Will tries to escape by sea, but is swept away by unpredictable tides, despite Flynn’s quixotic attempt to save him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Demelza Ross
• Release date: Sep 30, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301584345

Book preview

DCI Hadley opened the driver’s door of his police car.

'We'll talk in here,' he said. I opened the passenger door and sank gratefully into the seat.

'Miss Munroe.' He frowned at his note book. 'Cleo-nida Munroe? Is that it?'

'You say Clayonida. She was some sort of Greek priestess according to my mother, but most people call me Cleo.'

'Miss Munroe,' he repeated repressively, ‘you'll have to go along to the station to make a formal statement, but right now I want to get things straight in my head. Tell me exactly what happened from moment you arrived here this morning up until the time you found the body.'

There wasn’t a lot to tell and I couldn’t tell him all of it, so this was destined to be a pretty short monologue.

‘I got here at 9 o'clock and he sent me out to get his breakfast. I went to a cafe a few streets away. I found him when I came back. The room was a shambles. His chair was on its back and everything from the top of the desk was on the floor. One of the clients’ armchairs was on its side and Mr Brady was lying next to it. I knelt beside him and felt for a pulse, but there wasn’t one. Just to be sure, I got a mirror from my bag and held it in front of his mouth. It stayed clear, so I knew he was dead.’

Short and sweet. No reference to the mad dash from the cafe or the desperate search for reasons not to open the office door. Nothing about the desire to run and keep on running until my legs gave out. I thought it was quite impressive considering my state of shock. Hadley was unimpressed.

‘Was that when you turned the body over?’ he asked.

‘I didn’t turn him over,’ I protested. ‘I told you upstairs, he was on his back when I first found him.’

'So he somehow managed to roll himself over while you weren’t looking?'

'I didn’t stay in the room with him, I went out to phone you, but he couldn’t have turned himself over. He was dead.'

Hadley gave me a measured look.

'Hyperactive little bugger, for a dead man,' he said.

I assumed that passed for murder scene humour. My own sense of humour was on by-pass, so I ignored it.

'Tell me a bit about the late Mr Brady?’ Hadley continued. ‘What kind of man was he? Do you know of anyone who might have wanted him dead?'

Well that was an easy one.

'I don't know anything at all about Mr Brady. I met him for the first time this morning.'

He raised his eyebrows at that and looked down at his notes.

'According to you, he was dead by 9:25!'

It was simply a statement of fact, but somehow he managed to inject a wealth of meaning into the remark. I swallowed hard. Hadley went on.

‘What sort of work were you doing for Mr Brady?'

'He wanted an assistant. We didn't get round to discussing the exact details.'

'On account of your employer's untimely death?'

I ignored the bait. 'That would be the reason.

'Tell me how you got the job?'

'Through an agency. It's called Jobsworth.'

'And why this particular job? Was it the only one on offer?'

'I'm a freelance journalist,’ I told him. ‘I've got a commission to write about temping. The kind of jobs available. The people who do them. That sort of thing. I jumped at the chance to work for a private eye.'

'Why exactly?'

'Well, it was unusual and I thought it would be glamorous.'

He raised his eyebrows and then looked away again.

'Why does it matter, anyway?' I said. 'I didn't kill him.'

'I wasn’t suggesting you did.’

'But you’re considering it, aren’t you? Why on earth would I have phoned the police if I had?'

'Double bluff,' said Hadley shrugging his shoulders. 'Don't you watch the cop shows on TV?'

'I'm surprised you do.'

'Pick up some of my best tips from them, but then so do the criminals. It makes my job a lot harder in the long run. The point is, Miss Monroe, I have no idea whether you killed him or not, but I have a procedure to follow and I get to decide on the questions. Can we go on?'

I nodded. He looked back at his notebook.

'You went to the 'Sunny Side Up' cafe to get breakfast for Mr Brady?'

'Yes.'

'You went straight there?'

'Yes.'

'And came straight back.'

'Yes.'

'When you got back you found his body on the floor and signs of a struggle?'

I was about to say yes again, but it made us sound too much like a double act.

‘That's right,' I said instead.

'Is there's anything else you'd like to add at this point?'

I considered it and decided I'd told him just about everything I could.

'I don't think so.’

He gave a short nod and then moved on.

'How did you get to work?'

'By car.'

'Where is it?'

'In the multi-storey at the end of the road. Why?'

He carried on as if I hadn't spoken. 'Which level?'

I had to think for a moment. I sometimes forget to make a note of the level. I've learned to enjoy the subsequent games of hide and seek.

'Three.’ I said at last. ‘Or it could be four. I'm pretty sure it's not five.'

Hadley made no attempt to disguise his irritation.

'Make? Registration? You do know the registration?'

'Of course. SN10 KWD. It's a red jeep.'

I was able to say this with some confidence as I'd just renewed my road tax. He wrote it in his notebook.

'Ok. Give me the keys and we'll give you a lift to the station.'

'Why can't I drive it?'

'We need to check it over.'

I was getting exasperated now. 'Why?'

He gave me his long suffering look. 'It's related to the scene of a crime.'

'It has nothing to do with the scene of the crime. It would only be related if...' My brain caught up with my mouth. 'You do think I killed him,' I said.

'I don't think anything yet, Miss Munroe. I've been trained to keep an open mind, but I do need to examine your car. Is that going to be a problem?'

'No,' I said.

‘Good.’

There was no arguing with the man. He looked a bit like a bulldog and he certainly acted like one. I guessed that he didn’t like people causing him problems and he thought I was going to cause some. He was right. Things were not looking good.

As he put his notebook away, a couple of police cars and a van arrived and parked up next to us. Uniformed officers and technicians got out and hurried into the building. Within minutes DS Flynn, Hadley’s partner, appeared at the car door. Hadley wound down the window and spoke to him.

'You take our witness back to the station. I'll hang about here now the cavalry's arrived.'

Hadley got out of the car and Flynn slid in behind the wheel. He had to push the seat back to accommodate his long legs. We fastened seatbelts, he started the car and edged out into the moving traffic.

'I heard you were back,' he said evenly

Chapter 2

Flynn and I have known each other forever. Somewhere along the line we fell in love and then we fell back out again. I glanced across at him.

'Back there in the office, I thought you were pretending not to know me.'

'It was hardly an ideal setting for a reunion. Are you ok?'

'I'd be fine if I wasn't falling over dead bodies.'

He nodded his understanding. 'What were you doing there?'

'I would have been working, if I'd had a chance to start.'

'Working for Brady? Why would you want to do that?'

It was a perfectly reasonable question, but you have to remember I'd had a bad day and it wasn't even lunchtime.

'I've just had the third degree from your boss,' I said crossly. 'My reasons are no-one's business but my own, ok?'

He lifted a hand from the wheel and held it up in surrender.

'Whatever you say. You want to go back to pretending we don't know each other?'

'We don't know each other. We have history, but that's not the same thing.'

He couldn't resist a further shot.

'I've still got the ring you threw at me.'

'It should have been a brick,' I said sweetly.

'So I guess you wouldn't be on for a drink tonight?'

I turned in my seat to give him the kind of glare that should have reduced him to a cinder, but he was concentrating on the road and it was lost on him. The rest of the journey passed in silence.

When we reached our destination, we got out of the car and went into Trinity Road police station in silence. Once inside, Flynn seemed in a hurry to get rid of me. He handed me over to a WPC, who went through my statement and typed it up for me to sign. After that I hung around for hours, drinking more coffee than was good for me and overdosing on chocolate bars. Every time I asked about leaving, I was told politely that DCI Hadley wanted me to stay until he returned. Flynn came back eventually and we went through the statement again to see if I wanted to make any alterations. I was getting really irritable by now.

'This is the third time I've been through it,' I protested. 'I've told you everything I can remember.'

'I know it's taking a long time, but it's a murder inquiry,' he replied reasonably. 'We can't afford to make mistakes.'

He was right. I'd hardly known Ben Brady, but the man was dead and I knew I should be helping to find his killer. I looked at Flynn and hesitated. There was a time when I could have told him anything. Should I tell him now?'

Before I had time to make a decision, the door of the interview room opened and DCI Hadley came in. He looked directly at me and I saw a speculative gleam in his eye. Then he sat himself down on the spare wooden chair. I'd already noticed there were two chairs opposite but only one on my side. Not that I was becoming paranoid or anything. Flynn handed Hadley a copy of my statement and he began to read through it very slowly, glancing up at me from time to time. He'd found out something that I hadn't mentioned. That was obvious to me. But there were any number of things I hadn't mentioned and I didn't know which one he'd pick up on. I knew I should have told the truth from the beginning. I began to panic. All the symptoms hit me at once – dry throat, pounding heart, nausea. I dug my nails into the palm of my hand, hoping the pain would prove a distraction. It didn't. Hadley's voice was coming at me. It seemed to be a long way off, but I could make out the words quite clearly.

'What happened to the sandwich?'

'Sandwich?' I repeated, playing for time. It got me all of five seconds.

'The sandwich you went to buy for Mr Brady. Where is it?'

Fear made me aggressive. 'Well, I haven't got it here with me, obviously.'

'Don't try to get smart with me, Miss Monroe.' Hadley's tone was harsh. 'It's possible that you could be in a great deal of trouble and upsetting me is only going to make things worse. Are you going to tell me what happened in the café?'

I took a deep breath. 'I ordered his sandwich, but I didn't stay to collect it.'

'Why, exactly?'

'I didn't have enough money.'

Yes, it sounded lame to me too, but it was the best I had.

'The owner of the cafe confirmed that you arrived at about 9.15 this morning. He said you gave him your order, but before he had time to begin it, you turned as white as a sheet and dashed back out of the door.'

'I was embarrassed,' I said quietly.

'He says you were scared. Now tell me why that was.'

'He's mistaken. I didn't have enough money, that's all.'

'Why didn't you mention this in your statement?'

I was on firmer ground here. 'It hardly seemed important. A man was dead. Why would anyone be concerned about a sandwich?'

'I'm concerned about it,' said Hadley pointedly, 'and I invite you to share my concern. Now try again.

'It was after four when he eventually let me go. He didn't actually say don't leave town, but that was undoubtedly the gist of his farewell speech. Fortunately my destination was well within his parameters, only a couple of miles from the police station.

A half hour of brisk walking cleared my head and brought me to a tall Georgian end terrace in Richmond Hill. The ground floor and part of a basement were unlit, but lights beaconed out of first and second floor windows. I climbed the flight of steps to the door and rang the bell. There was enough light to read the brightly painted sign between the door and the ground floor window. Beneath a blown up photograph of a middle aged woman, draped in innumerable shawls and necklaces, were the words: Madame Serena, Queen of the Romanies. 'The key to your future lies in my hands'

A light appeared through the windows on the ground floor. I heard footsteps on wooden floorboards. Then the door opened on a safety catch and I was face to face with 'The Queen of the Romanies' herself.

'I'm looking for answers, mother,' I said and even I could hear that my voice was sharp. 'And I don't want any of your waffle. A man was murdered and I saw it from two streets away. What the hell is going on?'

Chapter 3

She took off the chain, ushered me into the hallway and closed the door behind me.

In better light I could see her face more clearly and, as I expected, her expression was one of barely concealed excitement.

'When you say 'saw' do you mean like in a movie or just vague disjointed images?'

She had an odd sense of

priorities my mother. Not a word about the fact that a man was dead or a tender motherly concern for a traumatised child. I knew I shouldn't humour her, but I needed information.

'Crystal clear,' I told her. 'Front row seats.'

She clapped her hands together.

'That's amazing.'

'No, it isn't. It should never have happened.'

'You'd better come upstairs and talk to Lewis.' She reached for my hand and led me towards the stairs. I literally dug in my heels and forced her to turn and look at me.

'A man is dead. This blasted power you keep harping on about makes bad things happen.'

'That's not true, darling. You're just under stress. Come upstairs and I'll fix you a drink.'

'I don't want a drink.'

That wasn't strictly true, but I was worried that if I started drinking I wouldn't want to stop.

I made another attempt to reason with her. 'Listen to me. I found a body. I have been at the police station making a statement. I am very likely the prime suspect. Why you may ask? And I'll tell you. It's because I can't tell anyone the truth about what really happened. They'd never believe me.'

She nodded at this point and just for a moment I thought she might understand. Her next words put an end to that illusion.

'There are a lot of small minded people around and in my opinion the police have more than their fair share.'

'Mother, people aren't small minded just because they don't believe in weird abilities. People like that are called normal. And God knows I'd like to be one of them.'

'You're over-reacting, Cleo. It's perfectly understandable.'

'And another thing,' I said and my voice was definitely sounding shrill. 'Look into your crystal ball and tell me who turned up to investigate the murder?'

She rearranged a floating scarf that was sliding down her arm. It was just a ploy to avoid looking at me again.

'I suppose that would be Lucas?'

'His name's Flynn.'

'In my day we didn't refer to boyfriends by their surnames,' she said primly.

'We don't need to refer to him again.'

She sighed. 'I can understand that it might have been a little difficult for you.'

'Oh no, that wasn't difficult. Difficult was having terrifying visions in a greasy spoon. Difficult was trying to answer official questions without referring to the terrifying visions. Do you see where I'm going with this?'

'Yes, dear, of course. Now come upstairs, sit down and relax and we'll talk it over calmly.'

This time I followed her meekly. The day was really beginning to catch up with me. From the stairs we moved into a sitting room, lined on every side with overflowing bookcases. Lewis Vale, my step-father, sat behind a large mahogany desk at the far end of the room, poring over a book. I couldn't read its title but I knew what it would be about. Apart from my Mother's Jilly Coopers and Joanna Trollopes, every book in the room had the same theme. Lewis was a professor of Medieval History, specialising in Ancient Magic and Folklore at the university and his career was also his hobby. He owned most of the books on magic and the supernatural that had ever been printed. My mother was bad enough before she met him. She's convinced she has psychic powers and can trace her ancestry back to Salem. With his unceasing encouragement, she got even worse. I should have disliked him intensely, but I couldn't. He had the charm of the true obsessive.

I usually tried to ignore my mother’s eccentricities or avoided her if she was behaving particularly strangely. It felt very odd to be actively seeking her help.

'Lewis.' Mother rushed across to him. 'Cleo had a sighting. Category A by the sound of things.'

Had I really been relying on her?

'She saw a murder. That's about as powerful as it gets. Don't you agree, Lewis?'

'I'm sure I should if I knew what you were talking about, dear,' he said calmly, but I had seen his eyes light up at the mention of sightings. I suspected I would be fighting a losing battle with both of them.

'Well, get Cleo a drink while I get her something to eat and then she can tell us the whole story.'

He set off to do her bidding and she fussed around arranging cushions and putting a throw over my knees as if I were an invalid. Then she went off to the kitchen and I heard the sound of doors opening and closing. Lewis returned and handed me a glass of red wine. I gulped at it greedily. I'd worry about stopping later. Mother came back with a cheese and ham sandwich and a side order of crisps. I insisted that I wasn't hungry, but after I took a bite to humour her, I found that I was ravenous. I ate and talked in a way that owed nothing to good manners, while the two of them sat down and followed my words, wide eyed, like children at a Nativity play.

I went through the story again, but this time I told them everything. They were more concerned with what I had ‘seen’ in the café, so I went through it in detail. I didn’t really want to. If I didn’t think about it, I could almost pretend it hadn't happened. I could almost erase the face of the murderer. But as they questioned me it all came back with blinding clarity.

He was as real to me as if I'd actually stumbled on him committing the crime.

'I don't know what to do,' I said blankly. 'Tell me what I should do.'

'You don't need to do anything,' Mother reassured me. 'You've told the police everything you could be expected to know. It's up to them to find the man.'

'But they don't know what he looks like. They don't know anything about him. I do.'

'Perhaps you should try telling them the rest,' Lewis began.

'What possible use would that be?' Mother interrupted him. 'We all know they're not going to believe her.'

'The police are far more receptive than you give them credit for, dear. Just because you had some unfortunate experiences when you tried to help them.'

'Unfortunate experiences? Is that what you call them? That Inspector was gratuitously rude. He even threatened me with bodily harm.'

'Lewis is right,' I said. 'I should have told them everything. They could have chosen not to listen, but at least my conscience would be clear. I'm going back.'

Mother was shocked.

'Not now, surely. Wait until tomorrow. Think it over.'

I shook my head. 'If I wait, I might change my mind.'

I got up from the sofa and headed for the stairs. She tried again to stop me, but Lewis gently silenced her. I dashed down the stairs and out of the house, slamming the door behind me. There were people on the street, but I pushed past them, totally focused on getting back to the police station. I moved as if I were running away from trouble rather than towards it, which, at the time, seemed far more likely.

Chapter 4

Lewis overtook me in the car a few minutes later. He pulled up by the side of the road and I got in gratefully.

'I thought I'd save you a second walk and offer some moral support,' he said. 'Your mother would be here, but...'

'She's been banned from the station, hasn't she? It knew it was only a matter of time.'

'She doesn't get on with one of the Chief Inspectors.'

'Would his name be Hadley by any chance?'

Lewis looked bemused. 'I rather think it might be.' Understanding dawned. 'Is he the one heading the investigation?’

'Oh yes.'

'Then perhaps I shouldn't come in with you, as I was originally going to suggest.'

'Better not,' I agreed. 'My standing with him is pretty low as it is.'

Lewis dropped me off and sat watching until I went in. I waved to him and walked across to the reception desk. I fetched up there just as Flynn was clocking off for the day.

'I need to talk to you about the murder,' I said, without preamble.

'I'm just going off duty, but I'm sure that someone else…

'I won't take up much of your time, I promise. It's very important.'

He looked at his watch, did some mental calculations and reluctantly turned back the way he had come. He signalled to the WPC behind the reception desk.

'We'll be in Interview Room 2, Rachel.'

I followed him through the outer door and into a narrow corridor. I'd spent so much time at the station that I could have found my own way around. We went into another small room. Flynn took a seat on the far side of the table and gestured towards the chair opposite. I sat down abruptly, maintaining eye contact with him so that I wouldn't lose my nerve.

'What is it that you want to tell me? Have you remembered something else?'

'I haven't actually remembered,' I said quickly. 'I always knew, but I didn't quite know how to tell you.'

He frowned at that and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table.

'Go ahead,' he encouraged me.

And so we began in a climate of mutual respect and co-operation, but at least one of us knew that it couldn't continue.

'I told you I didn't see the murderer,' I began, 'but that wasn't strictly true.'

I had his full attention now, I could tell.

'It seems pretty clear to me,' he said calmly.' Either you did or you didn't. There's no middle way.'

'Well yes, actually there is.'

I took a deep breath. I knew I was preparing to damn myself in Flynn's eyes completely, but I couldn't see any other way. I jumped in, before I had time to change my mind.

'While I was waiting in the queue at the cafe, I saw Ben Brady being killed.'

Flynn looked at me as if I was a magician who had just produced a hat out of a rabbit.

'But you were a good 300 yards away with walls between you.'

'You're right,' I said.

He carried on staring and I did a pretty good impression of that same rabbit sitting in the path of a car.

'Explain.'

'I