Dying in the Dark by Sally Spencer Page A

distance between the two rows of houses, he told himself. And anyway, an uninterrupted view of the moors was not something a man on a detective inspector’s salary could reasonably expect.
    But now, driving home on a day in which his world seemed to be unravelling like a ball of string, he began to take a darker view again. In his mind, the Croft Estate was now symbolic of his whole approach to life – proof that when he had two courses of action open to him, he would always choose the wrong one.
    Maria was on the hall phone when Rutter entered the house through the back door. Standing in the kitchen, he couldn’t distinguish the words. But he could tell that she was speaking Spanish, so it was more than likely that she was talking to one of her parents.
    He opened the kitchen door and stepped into the hallway just as Maria was replacing the phone on its cradle. He coughed, as he always did, to let her know that it was him, and not some intruder.
    â€˜What time is it?’ she asked.
    â€˜Just after six.’
    â€˜Then why are you home so early? I thought you had a new murder case to investigate.’
    â€˜We do. It’s some poor bloody woman who—’
    â€˜I am not Monika Paniatowski,’ Maria said cuttingly. ‘I get no pleasure from hearing the grisly details of your work. My only interest is to wonder how you could bear to drag yourself away from your precious investigation.’
    God, what a bloody mess he’d made of things! Rutter thought. What a bloody, bloody mess.
    â€˜I came home early because I’d already instructed the team on exactly what to do, and—’ he began.
    â€˜I told you, I have no interest in your work,’ Maria interrupted.
    â€˜I know that. I was just explaining to you how I came to be free for the rest of the day.’
    â€˜But why should you even
want
to be free for the rest of the day?’
    â€˜I thought we might spend some time together. I thought we might try to talk things through.’
    â€˜There is nothing to talk about,’ Maria said coldly. ‘Besides, how do you know I’m not busy myself?’
    â€˜I’m sorry?’
    â€˜Oh, I see how your mind works. Why should the poor blind woman have any plans of her own? Isn’t she just supposed to stay quietly at home until her lord and master deigns to return?’
    â€˜I’ve never seen things in that way,’ Rutter protested. ‘You know I haven’t, darling.’
    â€˜I
thought
I knew many things,’ Maria said, ‘but it seems that I was wrong about
most
of them. And as it happens, I
do
have plans of my own – plans which require your absence – and so I would appreciate it if you would return to your precious work.’
    There might not be any right things to say in this situation, Rutter thought, but there were certainly wrong ones. And the
worst
thing he could possibly do, he felt instinctively, would be to ask her about her phone call.
    â€˜What were you talking to your parents about?’ he was horrified to hear himself say.
    â€˜What has that got to do with you?’ Maria countered.
    â€˜They’re my in-laws.’
    â€˜That is certainly true – for the moment at least. But that still does not give you the right to question me about my private conversations.’
    â€˜Are you planning to go and visit them?’
    â€˜Perhaps.’
    â€˜For how long?’
    â€˜That has not been decided yet.’
    â€˜A week?’ Rutter asked frantically. ‘Two weeks?’
    â€˜That is my business.’
    â€˜It’s not
just
your business. Not if you’re planning to take my daughter with you.’
    â€˜It’s your fault that this is happening, Bob,’ Maria said, sounding a little more like her old self again. ‘Not mine! Yours!’
    â€˜I know,’ Rutter admitted miserably.
    â€˜Could you do one thing for me before you go out again?’ Maria