Page 51

TEMPERANCE

Blake

Maverick Couture was an odd shop, out of place amongst the agricultural shops and all-purpose horticulture stores that West Newton was known for.

It was immaculately kept, despite there being no customers coming or going.

Blake briefly pondered whether it might be a front for money laundering, but remembered he had much bigger fish to fry at that moment in time.

Still, an intel report never hurt.

Pushing through the double doors, a little bell chimed as he stepped into the brightly lit store.

“Be there in a sec!” a voice called from somewhere behind the tills.

Blake sighed, and began drifting towards the section labelled Eyewear, because apparently calling them glasses was no longer fashionable. He tried on a few pairs, but found that they looked absolutely fucking ridiculous on his tired, grumpy face.

He padded around the store, gaze lazily moving over the different clothes on the hangers.

He hadn’t come across the coat yet, and was beginning to think it was a fruitless endeavour.

However, as his eyes fell upon a familiar inky blue shirt with silver roses embroidered on the collar, he paused.

The very same one he’d peeled off Pember less than twenty-four hours prior.

Without thinking, he ran his fingers over the fabric, remembering the feel of it as he pushed it up over the omega’s ribs. Blake swallowed, readjusting his trousers as he started to grow hard.

Not the fucking time, cock.

“Hi there!” someone called, making him jump. A red-haired man, a beta, stared eagerly up at him. “Can I help you with anything?”

Clearing his throat, Blake ran his eyes over the man’s name badge. It read, “My name is Paul . ”

“This coat,” Blake said, holding up his phone. “Do you sell it?”

Paul frowned and took a step towards him. “Oh, those? Moncler, right?”

Blake nodded.

“Yeah we have a few. They’re in the back; can’t bloody give them away. Out of the ten I purchased I only sold one.”

“To whom?” Blake replied.

Paul cocked an eyebrow. “Sorry? Do you want to try one or?—”

Blake shook his head, pulling his warrant card from his pocket. “DS Smith, West Newton Constabulary. I’m investigating the murder in the park.”

Paul’s eyes drifted to the card, then back up to Blake. “Oh, shit. Really? Yeah, I saw it in the news. Sorry, you should have said. Is the coat something to do with the bloke that was found in the fountain?”

Blake sighed. “It’s just a line of enquiry I’m following up on.”

Nodding rapidly, Paul ambled over to the door, flipping the Open sign to Closed before ushering Blake into a storeroom. After a minute or so of rummaging around, he pulled out a box that was stuffed beneath piles of other clothing.

“Sorry, I don’t run a very tidy ship,” he said, ripping the tape off the box. “Truth be told, I was going to try and sell these on again. I should have listened to the guy from Nobles and tried a cheaper brand. Ah well, shows me, I guess.”

Blake nodded. “Can I?” he said, pointing towards the box.

“Oh, yeah, of course! Like I said, I only ever managed to sell one and that was to this fucking loser that kept coming in looking for my sister.”

Blake’s eyes flicked up. “Uh-huh?”

“Yeah. Told him to either buy something or stop coming around, and the jacket was the first thing he grabbed. More money than sense, clearly. Would you like a cup of tea?”

Blake ran his tongue over his teeth. On the one hand, no, he did not want a cup of tea. On the other, he wanted to keep Paul talking. “Sure,” he said, straightening. “White, none. Please.”

Paul nodded, indicating for Blake to follow him into a little kitchen area at the side of the storeroom.

“You were saying?” Blake said, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe.

Paul’s eyes dragged up and down his entire body, and he tucked a strand of orange hair behind his ear before turning towards the kettle. “Oh, right, yeah. This guy, total creep. Flashy, but not in a good way. Kept saying he knew my sister, and that he needed to speak to her.”

Blake discreetly withdrew his notepad from his pocket whilst Paul’s back was turned.

“Who’s your sister?”

Paul rattled around in the cupboard before dropping two teabags into matching store-branded mugs. “Sal,” he said, pointing at the mugs. “Sally Maverick.”

“And did he know her?”

Paul shrugged. “Dunno. Said they met at a Christmas party. Partner solicitor firm, or something. I kept telling him my sister’s happily shacked up with someone else, doesn’t matter that they’re both omegas, but he wouldn’t have it.”

Blake’s expression darkened. “Does your sister have a mate?”

Paul nodded. “Yeah, Maya. Oh shit, you might know her. She’s one of you lot. Nice girl, bit intense if you ask me.”

Blake’s mouth went dry. The situation was getting more fucked up by the second. His mind raced, trying to think of a way to keep Paul talking without revealing his hand. “And, er, what did the guy look like? The one who bought the coat?”

Paul turned, his eyes crinkling as though he were deep in thought. “Can’t really remember. Tall, like you. Alpha. Brown hair, good looking, but only because of his money if you know what I mean?”

Blake nodded along.

“I mean, you can have a look at the CCTV before it overrides if you want? He only bought the coat about a month ago.”

Checking the sales receipts, Paul found the date that the coat had been purchased and led Blake into a small side room. It had a poorly laminated sign that read Security in red letters. Blake waited as he brought up the corresponding date on the CCTV.

“Phew, you’re lucky,” Paul said, tapping the screen. “One more day and the system would have been overwritten. It refreshes every thirty days unless I save it.”

Blake nodded, then went very still when he looked at the screen. There, in full colour, was Robert Green.

Blake cleared his throat. “Did you tell your sister he was looking for her?”

“Nah. Didn’t want to stress her out. She’s been harassed by cocky alpha-holes at her company before. No offence… about the alpha-hole thing. I know it’s a slur but…”

Blake picked up his mug, sipped his tea and turned his eyes back to the screen. After a minute or so he felt a gentle touch on the back of his hand.

“Hey, so… could I get your number or something?” Paul said, tracing a fingertip over one of Blake’s knuckles. “In case I think of anything else?”

Blake’s nostrils flared as he drew back, and Paul’s ears turned a deep shade of red. Driving a hand into his pocket, Blake withdrew a business card and handed it to him. “Use the office number,” he said, draining the last of his tea. “Or email. Don’t call my mobile.”

“S-sure,” he said, taking Blake’s empty cup and placing it in the sink. “So, do you, er, do you want to take the coat or…?”

“I’ll take a photograph,” he said, because there was no way in hell he’d be able to claim a one thousand pound coat on his expenses.

“Oh, sure. But wait, who is the guy from the park? The police have been so tight lipped about everything.”

Blake didn’t look up as he photographed the coat from several different angles. “We’re holding a press appeal tomorrow. Ten o’clock.”

With that, he handed the coat back to Paul and strode out of the store.

Mark, Caitlin and the inspector stared at him in disbelief from across the table.

“So, sorry, you’re telling us you found all this out whilst you were on your lunch break?” Mark said, drumming his pen on the table.

Blake sighed. “No, I found out about Reuben and Leo yesterday, Sal today. I had no inkling that Ru was Reuben until Wallace gave us the results of the Falkington rape. As for Leo, I wasn’t even sure if he had any significance. I’m still not, to be honest.”

“So, let me get this right,” the inspector said, pen poised over his notepad. “Reuben is linked to Maginty through the Falkington rape, that much is fact. And now you’re saying it might be the same person that’s linked to Maya?”

Blake nodded. “Yes, boss.”

“And Leo is potentially linked to Zayne Stewart through the pregnancy, and Sal Maverick was possibly harassed by Green? This all sounds very fucking circumstantial, Blake.”

Blake spread his hands across the desk. “I know, but it’d be a pretty fucking big coincidence, wouldn’t it? They’re associates, they were all wronged in some way, and now we have three dead men.”

Caitlin let out a breath. “And Maya? Where does she factor into all of this?”

Blake swallowed. “I have no idea. But think about it. We’ve had no DNA links on any of the bodies, except Reuben Atkinson.

DNA that was processed by another lab. CCTV was removed from the Stewart scene, something that only someone who knew him might do.

There was evidence of an intravenous sedative on two of the bodies—didn’t Maya do her undergrad in fucking medicine?

She’s both forensically and criminally aware.

It wouldn’t take a big leap in logic to assume she prepped them all beforehand.

Took measures to ensure their DNA would never be found. ”

“There was evidence of multiple assailants on Robert Green’s body,” Caitlin said, spinning a pen between her fingers. “The two knife tips? I mean, come on, look at Zayne Stewart’s body for Christ’s sake. One hundred and two stab wounds? Even an alpha would struggle to keep that up.”

Blake nodded enthusiastically, tapping the desk with his knuckles. “And the fact that there was no forced entry at his flat. Deadbolt still secure on the door, meaning it had been locked on the way out? Someone with a key, surely?”

The inspector was turning paler and paler by the second. “Enough,” he said, holding up a hand. “Caitlin, check the database for anyone local with the first name Leo, mid-twenties.”

Caitlin nodded. “Yes, boss.” After a moment, she hummed and pursed her lips. “On local systems we have… hm. Oh, one Leo Chantry. Interviewed in 2022 for credit card fraud, and… ah. Prostitution. Looks like he was selling ‘heat experiences’ to alpha’s. Bit fucking risky, that.”