Layers of Deceit

By Dawn Marsanne

Layers of Deceit is the sequel to Waves of Guilt and is again set in Broadstairs by the coast.

From first impressions, a sudden death appears to be a tragic accident. Or is it? DS Katy Forbes has her suspicions, but there is no forensic evidence to substantiate her doubts. Maybe the answers lie with the personalities and past histories of the people involved rather than the forensic details. As she peels away the layers, more questions arise, emphasising that so much in life is a grey area and not clear cut. A story of trust and what drives people to act as they do. Where does the blame lie, solely with one party or shared between victim and protagonist?

Also, a new neighbour in Burlam Avenue creates some interest. Are his intentions honourable, or has he an ulterior motive?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dawn Marsanne
• Release date: Apr 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393564508

Dawn Marsanne

Having worked in the pharmaceutical industry for almost twenty-five years I wanted to write a novel which explored some of the serious issues in the field. The reproducibility of scientific data is a common problem which has recently been highlighted in the news and this forms the basis of my first book Adverse Reaction. I particularly enjoy reading thrillers and suspense novels and I have tried to create a fast paced story which holds the reader's attention. Many of the themes of the book occur in everyday life and I have used the backdrop of research to illustrate them. There are relatively few novels which are set in the laboratory environment so I saw this as an undeveloped area but at the same time scientific details are kept to a minimum to allow the work to be accessible to readers of a non-technical background. As I finished the novel I became sufficiently interested in the characters I had created to develop them further and the six book Persford Reaction Series was born. Since then I have written to standalone novels, A Form of Justice and Relative Error. Waves of Guilt is the first in a new series and is now joined by a sequel, Layers of Deceit.  Follow me on twitter @dawn_marsanne

Book preview

Prologue

One year earlier

‘Good day, Nate?’

‘No, not particularly, and Dad, don’t call me Nate, I don’t like it. How many times have I told you?’

‘Sorry, Na..., Nathan.’

‘I found out today that my contract won’t be renewed, so I’ll have to apply for jobs again.’

‘Oh, dear. Sorry about that. Drink? It will help you relax.’

‘We need to chat, and no, I don’t want a drink.’

‘Mind if I have one?’

‘Yes, but I don’t suppose you’ll listen. I think you’ve had enough.’

‘Another won’t hurt. Sure I can’t tempt you?’

‘No. One of us needs to stay sober,’ Nathan sighed. ‘Listen, I’ve contacted some builders to get quotes for the repairs. This is the best one, but it’s still expensive, look.’ Nathan gave his father the estimate. A sudden gust of wind rattled the window, and Nathan got up to try to close it properly. ‘Shit. The frame is completely rotten. Just like the rest of the place!’

‘We can’t afford this. Tell the builder we can’t have all this work done.’

Nathan looked shocked. ‘What? Why can’t we afford it? Where’s all your money gone? You easily had enough six months ago.’

‘It’s, well, it’s gone on general things, shopping, bills, you know how it is. Things are expensive these days, and my pension isn’t much.’

‘Booze? No doubt you’ve drunk a lot of it away. You’ve not been gambling again, have you? Have you? God, you are pathetic.’

The tension in the room was increasing. Both men were raising their voices. Festering resentment was bubbling to the surface.

‘Don’t you remember, Nathan, I gave you some money to tide you over? Have you any of that left?’

‘Of course I haven’t. That was to help me out when I was struggling before I got my job! I wouldn’t have asked for money if I hadn’t been broke!’

‘Please don’t shout, Nate. I don’t like it.’

‘Nathan! For God’s sake, stop calling me Nate! I’m quite happy with my given name, unlike you. Perhaps I should call you Ralph instead of Dad. You hate Ralph, don’t you?’ Nathan stood and paced around the room. ‘I don’t like having to scrape about for money! Look at you! Constantly drinking. You are a complete mess. I’m ashamed of you!’

‘I love you, Nathan. Never forget that.’

Nathan shook his head. ‘That’s nice, but it doesn’t help our situation. We need to find some money, cash, moolah, dosh, funds. Wait a minute, what about Uncle? You could ask him.’

‘I’m not asking my brother. We don’t get on. You know what he’s like, prim and pious.’

‘He might be, but he’s got savings, unlike us.’

‘No, Nate! We are not contacting him. It would be too embarrassing, and that’s the end of it.’

Nathan sat down and put his head in his hands. ‘We need some money for the repairs otherwise, the house, what’s left of it, is going to deteriorate. There’s only one option. We’ll have to borrow against the house.’

‘Do you think that’s wise?’

‘What other option do we have? Oh, wait a minute, you could paint one of your creations, and we could sell it for, let me see, fifty quid if we are lucky!’ Nathan scoffed cruelly. ‘Yes, that will do it. Go on. Why not paint something now whilst you are drunk. Nobody will notice the difference anyway.’

‘Please, Nathan, that’s unkind. I’ve tried my best, but it’s been hard. Let’s not argue.’

‘I’ll contact the bank, see what they say,’ replied Nathan with resignation. ‘You’ve not left me with many choices.’

‘You’re a good boy. I’m so proud of you. You’re so clever, and you have.....,  you have the drive to succeed. I’m sure of it.’ The words were heartfelt, although they sounded slightly slurred.

‘Don’t patronise me!’

‘It wasn’t meant to sound patronising. Come on, let me pour you a drink.’

‘I don’t want a fucking drink!’

‘Please don’t shout. We can chat about it over a drink. Amic.....Amicably.’

‘Ha! That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it? Have a drink? How many times have I heard you say that?’

‘Don’t get annoyed. Please, you are giving me a headache. Too much shouting. It’s not good.’

‘I’m so angry, I could.....’

‘No, don’t, please! Don’t hit me! Please! Stop it!’

Would violence ensue? Eyes locked. Hatred met fear.

‘No, you aren’t worth it. You used to hit me. I’m not going to dirty my hands by touching you.’

The door slammed shut, then swung open on its hinges, rebounding back against the wall creating a dent in the plaster. The argument had finished, for the moment, but disappointment and hurt remained.

Chapter 1

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It was September, and Craig had been living with me for nearly three months. He had moved in to look after me when I was recovering from my terrifying ordeal at Joe Fisher’s hands. After only a few weeks together, I realised I wanted Craig to stay. We had renewed a relationship started over a quarter of a century ago. Despite the intervening years, we had settled into a comfortable routine in which disputes were few. Now, I couldn’t imagine being without him.

‘Dinner in about twenty minutes!’ I called upstairs to Craig, but there was no reply. We had recently refitted the smallest bedroom upstairs with some new office furniture. On a clear day, the offshore wind farm was just visible from the room, although I doubted Craig would spend much time gazing through the window. He was particularly busy at the moment, and he was either too engrossed to hear my shout or taking a phone call.

I prepared some broccoli ready for microwaving, then went upstairs to see why Craig wasn’t answering. He was deep in conversation on his mobile, his back to the open door. I crept into the office and scribbled, Dinner 20 mins on a scrap of paper, and Craig gave me a thumbs-up sign. I was pleased to see that although he was concentrating hard on the caller, he looked reasonably happy and relaxed. From some of the snippets of conversation, the call appeared to be friendly and positive.

I went back downstairs to the kitchen and opened the window a bit further. The weather was still lovely and warm for early September, almost an Indian summer. A butterfly explored the window opening, then lost courage, and flew off to find a pollen rich bloom.

‘Sorry, Sarah,’ said Craig as he walked into the kitchen. He stretched and yawned. ‘God, I’m shattered.’

‘You’ve been up there for four hours without a break,’ I replied. ‘You are supposed to get up and move around every half hour.’

‘I lose track of time when I’m concentrating,’ replied Craig. ‘Anyway, that’s it for today. I’ve switched off my laptop.’

‘Are you OK?’ I asked, looking at Craig with concern. ‘You look quite hot and a bit flushed.’ I hoped that he wouldn’t feel that I was fussing over him, but he looked an unusually high colour. Although it was great to see Craig had taken to scientific journalism with such enthusiasm, I was worried about how hard he was working.

Craig poured himself some water and downed half of it in one draught before replying, ‘Yes, I’m OK. I just got a bit stressed. No, that’s not the right word. I’m excited, not stressed.’

‘Don’t tell me Clare has decided to retire and you are taking over from her!’ I joked.

‘Ha! Not exactly, but I’m feeling quite pleased. So, remember Meg? I’ve been in touch with her a few times since Barnes’ funeral?’

I nodded as I finished preparing our dinner.

‘Well, her publishing house wants me to write some chapters for a new science book on Medicinal Chemistry.’

‘Wow! Congratulations!’ I said. ‘That’s great news.’

‘There are other people involved, so it will be a joint effort, but I’m doing the chemistry aspect of developing a drug. Synthesis, route design, that sort of thing.’

‘Excellent, I want to hear all the details, but can we eat now? Everything’s ready.’

‘Sure. I’m starving,’ said Craig, sitting down at the kitchen table.

‘It’s just quiche, salad and potatoes. Hope that’s OK?’

‘Of course it is, although I think it’s my turn to make some meals. I hardly do anything.’

‘But I’ve got the time, and you are busy working,’ I replied, serving the quiche and taking some salad for myself before offering it to Craig. ‘It’s nothing special, but it’s so warm today, I just thought we’d have something light.’

‘It’s perfect. Thank you.’

‘So, is there a deadline for your chapters?’

‘Yes, ideally three months. The end of the year at the latest.’

‘Oh, that could be a bit tight, couldn’t it. I mean, you are still writing full time for Modern Science.’

‘Ah, well, that leads me on to something else,’ said Craig, hesitantly.

I frowned. ‘What? You’re not giving up working for Clare, are you?’

‘No, of course not, I’ve only just started writing for Modern Science.’

‘Well, what then?’

‘Let me tell you!’ said Craig. ‘My goodness, I can’t get a word in.’

‘Sorry. I just want to know what you are planning,’ I replied. I had started to feel anxious about what was coming next. I didn’t cope well with too much change, and I had been hoping that we would have a period of stability until at least the end of the year. Some people thrived on new challenges, I, on the other hand, felt too old to cope with too many new things.

‘Well, I really want to do this stuff for Meg as I think it will lead on to other things, but as you say, I’ve also got the articles for Clare to write, so that means I don’t have as much time for my blog. I wished I’d kept Rory on for longer, but he got this other summer job, and we both agreed he should get some other work experience.’

Rory Campbell had spent six weeks running Craig’s blog and doing some initial research for some scientific articles. He had helped enormously, and Craig had been very impressed with his input.

‘But, your blog’s not so important, is it?’ I said.

‘No, it’s not, but I put in quite a bit of effort setting it up, and it does bring in a regular amount each month, it seems a shame to let it dwindle, don’t you agree?’

‘I suppose so,’ I replied. ‘You do get a lot of discussion on it. See, I do read it!’

‘I know you do, which gave me an idea.’

‘I’ve got a horrible feeling that I know what you are going to suggest.’ I put my knife and fork down. My appetite was beginning to fade with the anticipation of an announcement from Craig.

‘But you would be good at it, and it’s not that much work. How about it?’

‘Er, excuse me, one minute you haven’t the time to do it, the next it isn’t much work. That’s called a mixed message!’

Now it was Craig’s turn to put his cutlery down, and he rubbed his hand over his closely cropped hair. It was his familiar gesture when he was embarrassed or under pressure.

‘You know what I mean,’ said Craig. ‘OK, it does take some time, but I’m reluctant to stop it as I’m not sure how this work for Meg will turn out.’

‘Oh, I don’t know, Craig. I’m a bit out of practice with work, and I’ve had a bit of a headache again today.’

‘Oh, God, Sarah. Are you alright? Do you think you need to see the doctor?’

When trying to escape from Joe, I’d fallen heavily on the concrete promenade and hit my head, causing a small amount of bleeding on my brain. Although it hadn’t caused any serious damage and I wasn’t having any memory problems or loss of motor skills, the doctor had warned me that I might suffer headaches for a few months.

‘I don’t think so. I was preparing some stuff for the careers evening, and I was concentrating too long.’ Having agreed to be a school governor, I had offered to run a careers evening in a couple of weeks.

‘So you’ve been working too hard as well,’ said Craig.

‘Hardly,’ I replied.

‘Tell them you can’t do it,’ said Craig. ‘I knew it was too soon for you to be taking on something like that.’

‘No, I want to. I’ll be OK. It’s just that my brain feels rusty and tired.’

‘Rubbish! Don’t do yourself down. What about all those crosswords you do?’

‘I’m not doing myself down. I just don’t know whether I’ve got the enthusiasm for running your blog.’

‘But you are good at looking for snippets of news.’

‘I’m nosy, you mean.’

‘Inquisitive, is a better word,’ said Craig, tactfully. ‘Besides, often, I just have to moderate the blog posts.’

I helped myself to more salad and carried on eating. I looked up at Craig and saw him looking at me expectantly. He seemed so pleased and proud of himself that I felt unable to refuse his request. ‘OK, you win. What if I give it a go and see how I get on?’

‘Great! I knew you’d agree to it,’ said Craig, reaching across the table and squeezing my hand.

‘Look, I’m not committing to anything long term. Think of it as a probationary period.’

‘You’ll be brilliant,’ said Craig.

‘Steady on! Don’t butter me up too much,’ I said, smiling. ‘Although, on second thoughts, carry on.’

‘I can take you through it tonight. I’ll give you administrator rights,’ said Craig.

‘No, you won’t! Tomorrow will do.’

‘OK, OK, sorry, yes, you’ve got a headache. I’m just so pleased. It will be great working as a team. I mean, I’m not going to turn my back on it completely.’

‘Good, because I might not like it,’ I said. ‘So, as I’m going to be even busier, perhaps I might be too busy to cook each evening.’

‘That’s OK. We can order a take-away!’ joked Craig.

I hoped that I was making the right decision, but it wasn’t a major commitment, perhaps it would be good to have a new challenge. Now that I’d finished dealing with David’s estate, and Craig and I had adjusted to life together, I did have a bit of spare time.

‘That was lovely, thank you,’ said Craig. ‘Now, what’s for pudding?’

Chapter 2

––––––––

As the weather was still warm, we took our after-dinner coffees outside into the garden.

‘Go away!’ said Craig, swatting at a persistent midge.

‘Perhaps we should go inside? We don’t want to get bitten to pieces.’

‘No, I’d like to stay out a bit longer. I’ll get that candle out of the shed,’ said Craig.

Craig returned with the citronella candle, then went into the kitchen to find some matches. ‘That should help,’ he said. ‘It’s lovely sitting out here now that it’s cooling down. It’s been so humid today.’

‘Perhaps we should get one of those strong fans for your office?’ I said.

‘I’m OK. There’s a bit of breeze off the sea, but we can get one next summer if necessary.’

‘I’m going to have to tackle those shrubs coming over the fence,’ I said, looking over to the adjoining garden. ‘I wish that someone would buy the house and look after it.’

‘I wonder when the next tenants will move in?’ said Craig.

‘I don’t know, but perhaps the overgrowing shrubs are better than awful tenants.’

‘Not all tenants are bad,’ said Craig.

‘I know, it’s just after the last lot, it’s made me wonder what will happen next. Mind you, I don’t suppose worrying about it will help,’ I added.

A couple of months ago, we had been sitting in the garden, enjoying the warm mid-summer evening when we had heard noises in the next-door garden. Craig had suspected that my neighbours had set up a cannabis farm in the house. His suggestion had been a shock for me when I was feeling so battered, bruised, and emotionally wrought.

Encouraged by Craig, I had contacted my friend DS Katy Forbes, who had taken my concerns seriously. Following some investigations, and in conjunction with the Drugs Squad, she had carried out an early morning raid, to find a large number of cannabis plants. The two occupants had been arrested and were awaiting trial. I had been worried about retaliation, but it seemed that the occupants weren’t part of an extensive drugs organisation. They had been at the early stages of a venture which we had curtailed.

‘Just give Katy a call, and she will sort out any nuisance neighbours,’ joked Craig. ‘By the way, have you heard from her recently?’

‘No, I guess she’s busy. Anyway, I might text Katy in a couple of days to see how she is. I do hope that she will get her promotion to Detective Inspector.’

‘Only if that big brute Bignell moves on!’

‘Very good alliteration!’

‘Stop being intellectual,’ replied Craig.

I felt my left temple and flexed my neck muscles. ‘Thankfully, my headache has almost gone now. I’m feeling better.’

‘Sure? You aren’t just saying that?’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘I’m not a child.’ I’d spoken without thinking, then felt guilty. Craig was concerned about me, and I ought to feel grateful. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.’

‘I don’t want you to put off going to get advice if you need to. OK?’

‘I know. It’s nice you care about me. I’m so glad you are here with me.’

‘Now, now, don’t get soppy with me,’ replied Craig. ‘You’ll have me blubbing next!’

I shook my head. ‘I think it’s time we went inside. Shall we see if there’s anything to watch on TV?’

**

‘What’s the matter?’ Craig asked me as we were watching TV. ‘You keep sighing.’

‘Oh, sorry. It’s just there seems to be a lot of noise from a car. ‘I mean car doors opening and closing all the time. Or a car boot? Listen, there it goes again.’ I got up to look through the front window. ‘There’s a car on Cyril’s driveway! That’s unusual.’

‘He’s allowed to have visitors.’

‘Yes, I know, but he doesn’t have many. And it’s evening too. I can’t ever remember Cyril having a visitor in the evening.’

‘Sarah, you are starting to make me feel a bit tense. Perhaps we should carry on with this tomorrow? Shall I switch over to the news?’

‘Yes, switch over. I can’t concentrate.’ I sat down next to Craig, then heard the sound of a car door. ‘God’s sake! What’s going on?’ I peeped out of the window again but was too late to see anyone. ‘Look, I’m going to make a cup of tea, and then I promise to sit still for a while.’ Craig said he would have tea as well, and as the kettle boiled, I went into the porch to look at the car, which I didn’t recognise.

‘I can see you!’ shouted Craig in a sing-song voice as he bounded up the stairs. ‘I’d hate to accuse you of being a nosy parker!’

I realised I was becoming rather obsessive, but I felt very protective of Cyril. It had been his acute observation of my visitor, Joe, which had saved my life. Although reasonably fit and healthy at the moment, Cyril, in his late sixties might need someone to keep an eye on him soon. Single and with no children, he didn’t have a wide circle of friends. Nor did his personality make him easy to get along with. However, we had been neighbours for over twenty years now and were perhaps warm acquaintances rather than friends.

Craig came downstairs wearing pyjama bottoms and a T-shirt. ‘I’m not going to bed just yet, but my trousers are starting to feel a bit tight around the waist. I think I need to go on a diet.’

‘OK, well, it can just be salads from now on!’

‘Er, they aren’t that tight,’ quipped Craig.

I glanced at Craig’s midriff. ‘Are you holding your stomach in?’

‘Rumbled again,’ said Craig. ‘I’m living with Mrs Super Observer,’ he replied. ‘Mind you, I’ve been thinking that I should join a gym near here. We could go together.’

‘No, thank you! I’m quite happy with my walks and doing the garden.’

‘I did like going to the gym, but it gets so hot and stuffy inside. Maybe I’ll take up running now that I live near the sea. I’ve just had an idea,’ said Craig. ‘I could go running with Katy. Or Laura, or both of them!’

‘Are you trying to make me jealous?’ I said.

‘Of course not!’ said Craig. ‘Seriously, I never fancied running in Canterbury, but the air is much cleaner here. And running is cheaper than a gym!’

‘I never knew that you liked running, but loads of people run along the seafront.’

‘Well, I used to when I was at uni so I might start again. I think it would be nice to....., Craig began, but there was the sound of a car door shutting, then an engine fired. He rushed to the front window and peeped around the curtain. ‘It looks like Cyril’s visitor is leaving,’ he said. ‘My word, it’s a smart car, looks like a Mercedes to me. Top of the range, as my mum used to say. Perhaps it’s a financial adviser?’

‘At this time? And besides, why the need to keep opening and shutting the boot and doors?’

‘True. Anyway, Mr Expensive car has gone. So, you can rest easy that once more Cyril is alone and untroubled,’ said Craig. ‘Unless it’s a violent robber who’s making off with Cyril’s worldly goods.’

‘That’s not funny.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to cheer you up! I like Cyril as well. He saved your life. Are you annoyed with me?’ said Craig contritely.

‘Only a bit. Here’s your tea. Besides, if it was a burglar, he’s not very good at it with the noise he’s been making.’

‘Thanks. I’m sure you will be able to find out from Cyril who it was.’

‘Well, it should be quieter now. Perhaps we can finally finish watching that programme?’ I said, going back into the lounge.

Chapter 3

––––––––

The next morning, I awoke to find the bed next to me empty. The bedside clock showed 07.55, which although not late was past the time I normally got up. Strangely, I couldn’t remember hearing the alarm. I listened but could hear no sign of activity in the house. My sleep had been quite broken and I could remember fragments of a dream involving Cyril and unfortunately, my attacker Joe. This time, however, I wasn’t in the sea. For some reason, Joe had come around to the house and was having coffee with us in the garden.

My head felt fuzzy, but thankfully, my headache hadn’t returned. I needed a cup of tea and breakfast, but my bed felt magnetic, and I must have dozed off back to sleep. At some point, I sensed another person in the bedroom and opened my eyes to see Craig putting a mug of tea on the bedside table.

‘Oh, good morning,’ I murmured.

‘Tea, milady!’ he said. ‘Would madam require anything else?’

‘A kiss,’ I replied.

Craig leant over me, and I put my arms around his neck. I released him, and he passed me the mug of tea. I pushed myself up, and Craig propped my pillows up behind me, then perched next to me on the bed.

‘You make a lovely cup of tea,’ I said.

‘I’m a man of many talents as I’m sure you know,’ he replied. ‘Sleep well?’

‘Not really. I had very vivid dreams. How long have you been up?’

‘Oh, about two hours,’ replied Craig. ‘I’ve been toiling away on my laptop with the sound of your snoring for company.’

‘No, you haven’t.’ I punched him playfully in the ribs.

‘Yes, I have. That’s abuse, I could report you.’ Craig pointed at the bedside clock, ‘It’s just after nine.’

I glanced at the time and groaned. ‘I’m so lazy. Why didn’t you wake me?’

‘Because there’s no need to. You are retired, or have you forgotten?’

‘I don’t like wasting the day. It’s not good staying in bed until late,’ I said.

‘It’s hardly late.’

‘It is.’

‘Is not!’ joked Craig. ‘Look, didn’t the doctor say that it might take quite a few months to fully recover from what happened?’

‘Well, yes, I suppose.’

‘You got a nasty head injury. A bad cut on your arm. Your lungs were a bit damaged. Which reminds me, you’ve not heard about that lung function test.’

‘It’s not urgent. I’ll ring up if I don’t hear about it this month.’

‘And that’s on top of the mental trauma.’

‘You make me sound like a lost cause,’ I said.

‘I’m just trying to make you realise that it’s OK to rest, so you get fully better.’

I nodded. I knew Craig was right. The problem was, I’d always been busy and wasn’t used to taking things