'Til Death (DI Steven Marr Book 1) - UK Crime Fiction Whodunnit Thriller by SP Edwards

detectives , they’ll find out soon enough.’
    ‘We should tell them everything …’
    ‘No!’ Stanic snapped suddenly, ‘We do NOT need to tell them anymore than we already have. There’s no point, Caz. No fucking point.’
    Caroline said nothing, but her lip was trembling.
    ‘Oh come on’ said Stanic, all the frustration beginning to pour out of him, ‘Those crocodile tears aren’t going to help us, are they?’
    Slowly, Caroline shook her head.
    ‘That’s it, girl,’ Greg said, pulling her to him and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. ‘Think of Anna’s parents. Think of Tom. It’s better this way.’
     
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER FIFTEEN
     
     
    Thomas Coulthard worked at a large insurance firm in the centre of town. The office was near Colchester Station, and only five minutes around the corner from where Anna and Greg had lived.. The building had been around as long as Marr could remember, and it looked exactly like you’d imagine an insurance firm’s to look: drab brick, with tinted windows designed to stop staff looking out as much as to stop snoopers looking in.
    Coulthard’s firm was based on the top floor, so Marr decided to forgo the stairs. Stepping out of the lift, he was greeted with a white and lime-green reception area. The receptionist, named ‘Dezzie’ according to her name badge, looked up from her computer and smiled a welcome at him.
    ‘Here for the induction day?’ she asked him.
    Marr held out his ID.
    ‘Not quite. I’m looking for Thomas Coulthard.’
    Dezzie was all apologies, and pointed Marr towards a separate office on the far side of the open plan floor.
    ‘Sorry again,’ she said as he made his way towards it.
    ‘Don’t worry, I’d never have got the job anyway’ he replied, receiving another smile in return. She was cute, Dezzie; short bob cut blonde hair, black glasses, nice smile.
    Fuck only knows what ‘Dezzie’ was meant to be short for, though.
    The office was busy enough. Some of the staff were talking into their headsets, others were twiddling their thumbs. There certainly weren’t a lot of smiles to go around, though. In the ten seconds it took him to reach the back office, Marr decided he was glad he didn’t work in a place like this.
    He knocked on the door. It felt light: temporary.
    ‘Come in’ came a voice from inside.
    Marr entered, and found himself in a front-runner for the world’s busiest private off. Not in terms of things – of which there were still a lot – but in terms of the amount of posters, keepsakes and plaques that adorned the wall. The wall paint – which was the same lime green as the receptions – was mercifully mostly hidden. The posters varied from movies – Marr recognised an artistic print based around Fight Club and the original movie poster from Reservoir Dogs – to music. There were a few LPs in jewel frames, too. One looked familiar, but he couldn’t place it: a laughing face, and solid white lettering.
    They locked up a man for trying to rule the world. The fools, they locked up the wrong man.
    On the desk was a set of dictionaries next to a Macbook Pro, as well as the main black desktop PC that seemed to be company standard.
    Thomas Coulthard was sat behind the desk, his hands wrapped around a steaming mug. He was overweight but not massively so, maybe a stone or two over the healthy side. What remained of his hair was in a dark ring around his skull, not shaved but not long either. He reminded Marr of a middle aged librarian, though if he’d gone to school with Anna he was obviously younger than he looked.
    ‘Can I help?’ He asked, not standing.
    Marr held out his ID. Thomas smiled, not moving his body at all. Marr was immediately reminded of a reptile. Thomas wasn’t wearing an unpleasant expression, but he wasn’t outright smiling either. Marr knew he had Thomas’ attention, but couldn’t have told you what the man was thinking.
    ‘In that case, I would guess it’s probably me who