Valentine (A Kate Redman Mystery Novella): The Kate Redman Mysteries

By Celina Grace

A respectable, middle-aged housewife.  An ambitious young lawyer. A student burlesque dancer. Three women with nothing in common – except for the fact that someone has sent them a macabre Valentine’s Day gift; a pig’s heart pierced by an arrow.

Is this a case of serious harm intended? Or just a malicious prank? Detective Inspector Olbeck thinks there might be something more sinister behind it but his colleague Detective Sergeant Kate Redman is too busy mourning the departure of her partner Tin to New York to worry too much about the case. Until one of the women receives a death threat…

Valentine is a novella in the best-selling Kate Redman Mystery series by crime writer Celina Grace.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Isaro Publishing Ltd
• Release date: Jan 26, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524286965

Book preview

Chapter One

Terminal Five at London Heathrow Airport was never less than busy, even first thing in the morning or last thing at night. Now, at nearly one o’clock in the afternoon, it was chaotic; people rushed from one gate to another pulling luggage trolleys loaded with baggage behind them, argued with staff at the check-in desks, and raced wailing children to the baby-changing areas.

Kate Redman had hoped for some sort of romantic farewell with her boyfriend, Tin, before he got on his plane to New York that afternoon. As they stood by the departure gates, she realised she’d been a bit naive. She could scarcely hear herself think in all the tumult, let alone exchange meaningful and heartfelt last words before they had to say goodbye.

God, this is hell, Tin said, yanking his carry-on bag out of the way as a large woman pushed past him, giving him a glare and a tut for his trouble.

I know. You’ll be happy to get on the plane, just to get a bit of peace.

Look, let’s move. How about we have a drink at the champagne bar? One last treat before I have to go?

Kate agreed; not because she had much of a liking for champagne but more so she could sit somewhere without being buffeted on all sides by stressed humanity. They waded their way through the crowds to the relative peace of the champagne bar and seized the first seats they could find. Kate took one look at the prices of the drinks and nearly fainted.

It’s all right, Tin said, noticing her bog-eyed look. My treat. It’s the least I can do, seeing as I’m flying out just before Valentine’s Day.

Kate tried to smile. She’d bought Tin a gift and a card and tucked it away in the inner pocket of his suitcase. Should she mention it now or leave it to be a surprise? But then he might not discover it until much later and he’d think she hadn’t got him anything…

The glasses of champagne were placed before them, on top of black paper napkins. Kate watched the bubbles as if hypnotised.

So – cheers, then, Tin said, clinking his glass gently against hers.

Cheers. All of a sudden, Kate’s throat was aching. Don’t cry. She stared at her champagne glass, watching the bubbles rise in the golden liquid, blinking hard.

Hey, Tin said gently. It’s okay. It’s not for ever.

I know. She didn’t say any more because she didn’t trust her voice.

I fully expect to see you out there with me in a few months’ time.

I know. She managed to smile and look him in the eye. That was the biggie, the pachyderm in the room. Would she join Tin in New York permanently? She swerved from thinking it would be a great opportunity and she should really just go for it, to thinking that it would be the death of her career and the worst decision she’d ever made. She could often hold these two opposing viewpoints in a matter of minutes.

They finished their champagne and then Tin looked at his watch. God, I’m really going to have to go.

Kate tried to smile encouragingly. She could tell that they were reaching the stage of goodbyes where everything had been said and the traveller was wanting to just go, just get the journey started. Go on, then. You don’t want to miss your plane.

I’ll call you as soon as I land, said Tin. He pulled her into an embrace and hugged her very tightly. "I won’t say goodbye, I hate goodbyes. I’ll say au revoir instead."

"Au revoir, then. Have a good flight." Kate’s voice betrayed her.

Hey, now. Tin kissed her and then let her go. I’ll see you soon.

Kate blinked back tears and forced a smile. She waved him off, watching him disappear through the departure gates. She couldn’t wait to get back to her car so she could have a proper cry. Head on the steering wheel, tissue in hand, let it all out for a few minutes and then it would be back on with the stiff-upper-lip and giving herself a stern talking to as she drove back to her home in the West Country. Pull yourself together, woman. It’s not as if you’ll never see him again. But first – one good hard sob, Kate told herself, and as she reached the escalator that led up to the short stay car park, she could feel her eyes beginning to brim.

*

Back in Abbeyford, the pretty market town that stood on the banks of the River Avon, Police Constable Paul Boulton was taking his shift in manning the front desk at the police station. He’d already dealt with a teenage runaway, two elderly gentlemen who had almost come to blows over a parking infraction, and the now almost-weekly arrest of local drug dealer Jason North. Paul was beginning to suspect that Jason was allowing himself to get caught because of some as yet unascertained reason. Although every time Jason was collared, he requested the same duty solicitor, a very pretty, glamorous young lawyer, so Paul was pretty certain that Jason was getting careless because he’d fallen for his brief and this was the only way he had of spending time with her. The idiot.

Shaking his head at the stupidity of youth, Paul straightened the paperwork littering the desk, returned an errant pencil to a pot and looked up into a blast of wintry air as the main station door opened. He suppressed a sigh, bracing himself for more trouble. But the woman who walked through the door didn’t, he had to admit, look like she’d be here to report anything more startling than a lost dog. She was in her early forties, with a carefully shaped mane of glossy brown hair, discreet make-up, diamond earrings sparkling under the harsh strip lights above. She was carrying a cardboard box displaying the logo of a very expensive and exclusive patisserie shop in Abbeyford’s town centre in her hands. Paul Boulton brightened up. She was clearly just delivering a cake. Was it for him? It’s not my birthday, he thought, before he switched on a smile and asked if he could help her.

"I’m so sorry, I wasn’t sure whether to call someone out or not. I mean, you hear all the time about the immense pressures the police are under. I didn’t want to, well, be a nuisance caller, or something like that. So I thought perhaps I’d better just come here myself. Her voice matched her appearance – a well-bred accent, softly spoken. I’m Mrs Houghton – Valerie Houghton."

You have something to report, Mrs Houghton? Paul Boulton was conscious of a little stab of disappointment at not getting any cake