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PROLOGUE

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The dimly lit flat was silent as the cleaner Sheila Collier made her way through the rooms, her footsteps muffled by the plush carpeting. The air hung heavy with the acrid scent of cannabis, but where was Noel, she thought glancing at her watch; it was 8 a.m. and he owed her two weeks wages? As she approached the bedroom, the stench became stronger, a sense of unease settled over her.

​

Pushing open the door tentatively, she was met with a sight that would haunt her nightmares for years to come. The accountant, known for his meticulous nature and reserved demeanour, lay sprawled on the bed, naked and bound by bondage restraints. His eyes stared lifelessly at the ceiling, a haunting emptiness replacing the once vibrant spark of intellect.

​

She gasped, her hand instinctively flying to her mouth to stifle a horrified cry. The accountant's face was marred by streaks of white powder, excess cocaine coating his nose and lips like a grotesque mask. It was a scene straight out of a twisted tableau of debauchery and death.

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But amidst the shock and horror, the cleaner's agency training kicked in. With a steely resolve, she resisted the urge to touch anything, knowing that preserving the integrity of the crime scene was paramount. Instead, she reached for her phone, fingers trembling as she dialed the emergency services.

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CHAPTER 1

 

 

DI Jessica Ryan briskly walked into the bustling CID room at the Fountain Street station, Leek, the low hum of voices and clatter of keyboards filled the air. Her gaze swept over her team as they each hunched over their desks, engrossed in the day’s tasks. With purpose she stood in the middle of them, her expression determined.

‘Morning, everyone,’ she said, her voice cutting through the din of the room.

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The team looked up, their attention immediately drawn to Jess as she approached. Rose, her trusted colleague and friend, offered a warm smile, while Dan, Jack, and PC Bailey nodded in acknowledgment.

​

‘Morning, boss,’ Rose replied. ‘What’s the latest?’

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Jess’s mind was already racing with the details of the call she had just received. Clearing her throat, she addressed the team with a sense of urgency.

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‘We've got a suspicious death on our hands,’ she began. ‘Noel Daniels, an accountant with offices on Stanley Street in town. He was found dead in the flat above his business premises this morning. Naked, tied up, and with what his cleaner thinks could be traces of cocaine on his face.’

​

A ripple of murmurs spread through the room. Dan’s brow furrowed, while Jack exchanged a concerned glance with PC Bailey.

​

Rose nodded, already mentally mapping out their next steps. ‘I'll coordinate with the CSIs from Stoke,’ she offered.

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‘Good, once you get confirmation from them we’ll head over to the accountant’s flat and see what we can find.’ Turning to PC Bailey, she asked, ‘Dave, can you head over to Stanley Street now and set up a cordon around Noel Daniel’s business premises?’

​

‘Will do, boss,’ Bailey said glancing at his watch.

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‘Has anyone spoken to the cleaner, yet?’ Dan asked.

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Jess shook her head. ‘No, according to the desk sergeant Mrs. Collier was frantic and pretty upset on the phone; hardly surprising.’ She passed over an orange sticky note with the woman’s mobile number on it. ‘I haven’t been able to get through to her yet; her phone’s going straight to voicemail. Can you give her a call ASAP, to arrange a visit and get a statement, Dan?’

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‘Will do, but it might be easier to call at her house; do we have an address?’ Dan asked.

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‘Yeah, desk sergeant has it.’

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‘Sounds like death by misadventure to me,’ Jack said prematurely.

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Jess shot him a look. ‘Ah, come on Jack, you should know better than that. It’s far too early to be jumping to conclusions. Get your analytical brain on, sharpish lad.’

 

Dan smirked at Rose.

​

‘Do we know the time she discovered Mr. Daniels' body?’ Rose asked.

​

‘Approximately eight this morning, but she said he looked like he’d been dead for hours,’ Jess said.

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Rose asked, ‘Don’t want to sound sceptical, but how would she know that, sounds odd?’

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Jess sighed. ‘I agree we’ll know more once Dan has spoken to the cleaner, Sheila Collier.’ Turning to DC Redford, Jess asked, ‘Jack I want you to look at Noel Daniel’s business social media presence, see if anyone is interacting with that, and do due diligence on any websites he has. Once we know his personal accounts, we’ll go over those with a fine tooth-comb.’

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‘What about next of kin, boss?’ Jack asked.

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‘Too early to know, it’s very likely no one apart from his cleaner knows he’s dead yet, so naturally we’ll have to make inquiries. In the meantime; get onto the births, deaths and marriages database at the council, see if we can get his mother and fathers names, if he’s local that is.’

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With a shared sense of purpose, the team sprang into action. As they prepared to delve into the case, Jess couldn't help but feel a surge of confidence knowing that she had such a capable team by her side.

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Together, they would uncover the truth behind the accountant's untimely demise, no matter what secrets lay hidden beneath the surface.

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***

 

Forty minutes later, Jess and Rose had walked the short distance from the Fountain Street station to the cordoned-off area on Stanley Street. The flashing blue lights of the patrol car illuminated the front of Noel Daniels' accountancy premises, with blue and white crime scene tape fluttering in the slight morning breeze. PC Bailey stood by the entrance, ensuring no unauthorized personnel crossed the barrier.

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Jess glanced at Rose and then up at the navy blue sign over the entrance: it read Daniels & Clarkson in a white sign-written serif font. Jess looked around the street at the shop owners who stood in their respective doorways rubber-necking. She ducked under the tape, her heart pounding with a mix of adrenaline and trepidation. Rose followed closely behind, her face set in a determined expression. They approached PC Bailey, who nodded solemnly as Jess signed the scene log.

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‘Scene’s been secured, boss,’ Bailey said. ‘The CSIs are already inside.’

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‘OK, thanks, Dave.’

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Before she entered the building, Jess set Rose about canvasing the street to gauge how well the other business owners knew Noel Daniels.

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As Jess pushed open the door to the accountancy office, the familiar scent of antiseptic and latex gloves hit her immediately. She made her way through the dimly lit office space, the muted sounds of activity guided her towards the staircase at the back. Ascending to the flat above, she found  Jeff Foxhall and his two-man CSI team meticulously combing through the rooms.

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Foxhall looked up as Jess entered. ‘DI Ryan,’ he greeted, gesturing towards the living area. ‘We’ve just started. It's not pretty.’

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Jess stepped further into the flat, her eyes scanning the scene. Every detail here would matter, every piece of evidence a potential clue to piecing together the puzzle of what had happened in Noel Daniels' life that led to this moment.

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It was clear by the size of the place, that searching Noel Daniel’s three-storey property was going to take hours. Thankfully, the law stipulated that all chartered accountants kept physical copies of their clients’ accounts, but it was rarely that simple. If there was foul play, establishing who and why wasn’t going to be easy, Jess thought, now on the second-floor landing staring through the open doorway of what was clearly a storage room, at floor-to-ceiling shelving units chock full of files, whilst the CSIs processed Noel Daniels’ bedroom and it's adjoining en-suite.

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Retrieving her mobile from a coat pocket, she called Jack at the station; she had underestimated the bodies needed to box this lot up and transfer it over to the station for scrutiny.

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‘Penny for them,’ lead CSI Jeff Vauxhall said, interrupting Jesse's thoughts.

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‘Sorry, you got anything?’

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He shook his head. ‘The coke on his face looks staged to me; it’s at least a hundred quid a gram these days and I'd imagine Noel Daniels is no Pablo Escobar, but you never know.’

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Jess smiled. ‘I agree. Any prints?’

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‘Loads, belonging to Daniels' judging by their distribution throughout the flat and work areas, but there’s also a second set on the bedside cabinet and in the en-suite, where we found this,’ he said holding out a gold lipstick dispenser.

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‘Looks like he had company then?’

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‘Exactly, and I’ll bet the other prints belong to the woman who left that behind.’

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‘Interesting. You notice anything else on his body?’

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‘Burst blood vessels in his eyes, petechial haemorrhages.’

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‘Signalling?’

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‘Can’t be sure, but possibly rough sex games gone wrong judging by the leather dog collar and chain we found in a box along with a dildo and handcuffs underneath the bed.’

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Jessie’s brow rose, ‘As in strangulation?’

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‘Like I say; can't be sure, his neck’s red but not excessively.’

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‘Any obstructions in his mouth or throat?’

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Foxhall shook his head. ‘The pathologist will be able to tell you more after the PM.’

 

‘OK, looks like the woman could be our number one suspect.’

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Foxhall agreed with a nod. ‘Especially if her prints are on the sex toys; I’ll keep you posted.’

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‘Can you get onto those today, please? If this woman is a suspect, we want to question her ASAP.’

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‘You’re in luck; today we’ve got a full team back at the lab. I’ll upload the prints so my colleague in fingerprint enhancement can get onto them.’

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‘So potentially the results could be back before the end of play today?’

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‘Depends what else he’s got on, but I’ll do my best.’

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Jack arrived ten minutes later, assembled a fold up trolley he had brought with him, and began to load the files into boxes ready for transportation.

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‘Shit, this is a proper library; it could take weeks to go through these. Have the CSIs found anything?’

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‘A woman’s prints, they should be loaded onto the database later today. Jack's eyes widened. ‘You think this femme fatale killed Noel Daniels?’

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Jess shrugged. ‘Truth is, we don’t know. His PM will tell us more.’

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‘When’s that?’

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‘Next twenty-four-hours or sooner, if I get my way.’

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‘Boss,’ Rose interrupted them calling from the bottom of the stairs.

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Jess went down to her. ‘Anything?’

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Rose shook her head. ‘No, seems our victim was a bit of a recluse. I’ve spoken to the lady who runs the Home for Strays animal charity shop, and the bloke at Breckles Health Store,’ she glanced down at her notebook. ‘The lady at the book shop opposite, a fella at the antique furniture place, Bo Bells kids clothing, and the tattoo place, so far. All of them said they saw Mr. Daniels occasionally leave his premises in the daytime, but apart from exchanging minor pleasantries, no one has had a proper conversation with him.’

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‘Hmm, sounds odd. OK, if you could nip back later when the pubs are open and speak with the Landlords of The Engle and The Valiant, that would cover the street before we do a wider appeal to the towns folk.’

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‘Found anything here?’ Rose asked.

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‘I was just telling Jack, the CSI reckons the coke on our victims face was staged and the blood vessels in his eyes are burst.’

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‘As in strangulation?’ Rose asked intuitively.

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‘Yeah, maybe a sex game gone wrong, but we’ll know more after the PM.’

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‘So he may not have been alone?’

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‘Yeah, they’ve found a lipstick dispenser and a second set of prints in the bedroom.’

​

‘Interesting.’

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‘OK, er… if you could head back and help Dan, while I carry on here, we can cover all bases,’ Jess said.

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‘Will do, see you in a bit,’ Rose said turning to head back down the stairs.

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After leaving Jack to box up the client accounts, Jess continued to search Noah Daniels’ flat, her movements deliberate yet tinged with a sense of urgency. She moved into the second smaller bedroom and opened two floor-to-ceiling cupboard doors built-in to the fireplace alcove. Inside, she was confronted with five shelves, on the middle shelf sat a wall safe. It had a digital keypad and back-up manual key lock.

 

Leaving the room, Jess stood on the landing and shouted, ‘Anyone found a set of keys, yet?’

​

Jeff Foxhall came out of the bathroom at the end of the hallway hunched in discomfort. Rubbing his knees he said, ‘Argh, crawling around under baths is a young man’s game.’

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‘You need an apprentice, Jeff,’ Jess said smirking.

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‘Budget won’t stretch to one, you know how it is,’ he said straightening up. ‘I haven’t come across any keys, maybe Ash has; he’s working the shed. What do you want to unlock?’

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‘Wall safe in there,’ Jess said hooking a thumb over her shoulder.’

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‘Sounds interesting. OK, I could do with stretching my legs, I’ll check with him,’ he said heading downstairs.

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Within five minutes, the CSI returned brandishing a clear evidence bag with a set of keys in it.

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‘Ash found these at the back of a drawer in the kitchen,’ he said handing the bag over.

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Jess held it up and looked at the keys. Between the Yale and chrome, five-lever keys on the stainless split ring were two radial barrel keys that looked like they may fit the safe. ‘Come take a look,’ Jess said, padding back over the carpet down the hallway.

 

Sliding her hand into the bag, Jess fished out the keys and inserted one of the radial keys into the lock, then turned the plastic dial. ‘Bingo!’ She said, glaring inside the black twelve-inch vessel.

 

Hidden at the back, buried beneath several sealed envelopes, lay a gold ring. Jess’s breath caught in her throat as she reached it out with neoprene-gloved hands, her fingers trembled slightly as she turned it over in her hand. The engraving on the inside caught her eyes - a small love heart symbol followed by the words "forever Jess”, gave her a sudden jolt of recognition, a sharp pang of anguish piercing the veil of detachment she had meticulously constructed over the last five years.

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As the realization washed over her, Jess felt a surge of conflicting emotions: grief, disbelief, and a flicker of hope reigniting in the depths of her soul. The mystery of Darren’s disappearance had haunted her since 2018, an insatiable hunger gnawing at the edges of her sanity.

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‘You OK, Inspector?’ Foxhall said, sensing Jess’s distress.

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Taking a deep breath, Jess dropped on to the chair in the opposite corner. ‘Just need a minute, that’s knocked the wind out of me. I’m convinced it belonged to my husband, Darren,’ she said, clasping the ring in her hand before kissing her fingers with tears in her eyes.

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Placing his hand on Jess’ shoulder, Jeff Foxhall said, ‘I’m so sorry to hear that. I promise we’ll use everything at our disposal to try and confirm that.’ Having worked with Jess on numerous cases over the last few years, he was well aware of her husband’s disappearance.

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Wiping away tears, Jess smiled sombrely.

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But with this unexpected twist, the question remained - why did this deceased accountant possess Darren’s ring? What secrets lay buried within the shadowed recesses of his life? Jess thought, in urgent need of fresh air.