Chapters (156)
- A DATE WITH DEATH
- Also by Mark Roberts
- A Date With Death
- Copyright Page
- Contents
- The Past
- 1977
- Day OneWednesday, 1st December 2021CatoptrophobiaFear of mirrors
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
- 19
- 20
- 21
- 22
- 23
- 24
- 25
- 26
- The Past
- 1979
- Day TwoThursday, 2nd December 2021OneirophobiaFear of dreams
- 27
- 28
- 29
- 30
- 31
- 32
- 33
- 34
- 35
- 36
- 37
- 38
- 39
- 40
- 41
- 42
- 43
- 44
- 45
- 46
- 47
- 48
- 49
- 50
- 51
- 52
- The Past
- 1980
- Day ThreeFriday, 3rd December 2021MonophobiaFear of being alone
- 53
- 54
- 55
- 56
- 57
- 58
- 59
- 60
- 61
- 62
- 63
- 64
- 65
- 66
- 67
- 68
- 69
- 70
- 71
- 72
- 73
- 74
- 75
- 76
- 77
- 78
- 79
- 80
- 81
- 82
- 83
- 84
- 85
- 86
- 87
- 88
- 89
- 90
- 91
- 92
- 93
- 94
- 95
- 96
- 97
- 98
- The Past
- 1982
- Day FourSaturday, 4th December 2021ThanatophobiaFear of Death
- 99
- 100
- 101
- 102
- 103
- 104
- 105
- 106
- 107
- 108
- 109
- 110
- 111
- 112
- 113
- 114
- 115
- 116
- 117
- 118
- 119
- 120
- 121
- 122
- 123
- 124
- 125
- 126
- 127
- 128
- 129
- 130
- 131
- 132
- 133
- 134
- 135
- 136
- 137
- About the Author
- An Invitation from the Publisher
‘Where’s Francesca Christie?’
‘Pardon?’
‘You heard.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘If you won’t tell me, maybe someone else will.’
‘What do you mean, DCI Clay?’ asked Norma Maguire, her colour rising.
Clay looked to Hendricks and he turned over the second photograph on the table, pushed it towards Norma Maguire. It was a copy of the mug shot Sergeant Harris had taken of Edgar McKee as he’d been taken into custody.
‘Don’t look away, Ms Maguire,’ said Clay. ‘Look at the picture.’
Norma Maguire lowered her eyes, looked at McKee’s meaty face and cropped ginger-grey hair.
‘Do you know him, Ms Maguire?’
‘I have never seen this man before in my life.’
Norma pushed the photograph back to Clay as if it was an obscenity.
‘We’ve got him in custody. His name’s Edgar McKee. He’s in custody for the same reason you are. Are you sure you don’t know him?’
‘No, I don’t know him. You’ll be telling me next that he used to work for me and that he left me and that he’s now killing young women.’
‘He’s not exactly a Maguire Holdings kind of guy. But you do know him.’
‘You have to prove that, DCI Clay.’
‘I get that, Ms Maguire. Talk to Ms Rice, go to your cell and think things through. I’m offering you the same break I’ve offered him. So far, neither of you have cracked. He’s in one cell. You’re in another. Same crime. This is your chance to get in first and tell your side of the story before he does.’
‘When I go back to my cell, DCI Clay, I’m going to try and work out how you think I’d even be capable of taking part in such murders. Look at me. Look at my wheelchair. I’m a cripple. How could I possibly take part in abduction or murder or mutilation? Why should I even want to do such horrific things to other women?’
Clay looked at Norma Maguire, locked her in with her eyes.
‘That’s an interesting slice of superficial logic. But you don’t need legs to take part. You have Edgar McKee’s legs at your disposal. Go back to your cell and think damage limitation. Your arrogance isn’t helping you here, Ms Maguire.’
‘What do you mean?’
Clay held up the list of names. ‘Christie. Campbell. Griffiths. Saddler. Ezra. Towers. You couldn’t help yourself, could you? You couldn’t stand them leaving you. You couldn’t help relegating these traitors to the level of low-life murdering scumbags.’
Clay waved the paper in the air.
‘For your information, Carolyn Wilkes blew the whistle on you. She told us that four of the people on the list you provided were temps and you didn’t care less when they stopped working for you.’