‘Yeah?’ Ali was pleased. ‘Okay, I will. It’s hard though. He can get defensive if I ask him anything about home.’
A bit like me, then. ‘Hmm. Right, we’ll leave Theo Dimas alone for a day or two, especially if it’s his partner’s birthday.’
‘They won’t enjoy the gorgeous chocolate birthday cake in the kitchen. It said Happy Birthday, Monty in white icing. It was amazing, a work of art. I was drooling.’ Ali started the engine.
Siv shook her head. ‘You and sweet stuff. You’re like a moth to a candle. I’m surprised you didn’t nick a slice. Do you dream about sugary treats at night?’
‘No, I don’t.’ Ali accelerated sharply, throwing her back in her seat.
* * *
Theo Dimas sat for a while on the sofa, staring into space. His marriage seemed so long ago. It had been a cave he’d spent years hiding in, holding his breath, wondering if he would be found out. Wanting to be found out. That had been another Theo, a timid, confused man and he was glad to be rid of him.
Had he ever loved Lyn? Probably, but he wasn’t sure anymore. They’d met when they were eighteen and she’d been so pretty, bubbly and optimistic, he’d buried any half-formed doubts he had about himself. He’d never been a brave man, and it was easier to marry Lyn, please his father and live a conventional life than to hover in the shadows, trying to pluck up the courage to visit one of the few gay bars that were available around Sussex in the 1980s. So he’d dumped his well-thumbed, hidden copies of Mister, Him and Zipper, and deferred to his father’s wish for the marriage to take place in the Greek Orthodox church of St Demetrius.
He’d tried to be content in his marriage and had managed to pretend to himself that all was well during his twenties. But in his early thirties, he’d started visiting some of the growing numbers of gay bars popping up around the coast, and discovering the joy and anxiety of understanding his true nature. He had been trying to pluck up the courage to talk to Lyn when she told him she was pregnant with Adam. He hadn’t wanted another child, another dab of glue to the marriage, but he’d lost his nerve and buckled down to being a father again. He loved Adam fiercely, and indulged him to assuage his guilt about not having wanted him.
Lyn’s face was a blur now, and any affection had been corroded by her vitriolic words and behaviour after his departure. Despite the counselling, he’d been naïve in his expectations when he left. Because the marriage had been stale and lacking in any intimacy for years, he’d never understood that Lyn might end up so despairing and undermined. He’d been astonished and angry when she spat her poisons, and deeply dejected when Monty warned him that she might maintain her flow of venom long-term. He remembered Monty’s sombre words: Lyn can try to make our life together a nightmare if she chooses, and I fear that she will.
For the last couple of years, things seemed to be improving. He and Monty had been through the fire and they’d achieved some equilibrium. It had been hard forming a new family unit. Adam didn’t like Monty, even if he never said so. But each day bonded them together a little bit more, despite tensions. Now this news, stirring up memories, would inevitably take Adam back to a bleak place. And their friend Justin, too — they needed to protect him. He had a fragile core and this might destabilise him.
He reached for his phone and sent a text to warn Monty.
The police have just been here. They found Lyn’s body. I’ll tell you about it later. There’s a new lead investigator, a DI Drummond. She’s sharp. Can you tell Justin and advise him to stay calm? We all need to keep clear heads, stick to our story and hold steady.
Chapter 5
Lily Aston checked the oven setting and the timer. She was making flaounes for Papu. They were his favourite pastries and he loved them still warm from the oven. She’d left out the sesame seeds, because they might get stuck between his dentures. She didn’t do much baking but if she had time, she liked making things for Papu. He had, after all, bought them their state-of-the-art, black glass integrated cooker. He was everything a grandad should be: kind, dignified, proper, doting and generous to a fault. He was a bit of a bore when it came to religion, but he’d given up asking if she’d attend St Demetrius, so she could coast that. He’d paid for her wedding at the five-star Cliffdean Heights Hotel and had given her away, stepping in where her dad should have been. He’d been so elegant in his grey morning suit, with his white hair brushed straight back from his long, regal features — like a face on a coin. She’d swelled with pride at having him by her side. He’d also given her and Pearce fifty thousand towards their house. Pearce called him ‘Papu’ too, because he’d never known either of his grandads.
She went into the office to check the answerphone but there were no messages. Just as well, because the morning had been frantic and Pearce was already booked up for weeks. When the doorbell rang, she checked her watch. Too early for Papu. He was always precise about timings. Through the peephole she saw a tall, dark-haired woman in a grey suit and jade green shirt. She was looking straight at the door, as if she was aware that Lily was checking her out. When Lily opened it, she held out a warrant card.
‘Lily Aston?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m Detective Inspector Siv Drummond. I need to speak to you.’ The woman had a solemn, no-nonsense manner.
Lily was alarmed. ‘Has something happened to Pearce?’
‘No, that’s not why I’m here.’
‘I’m just baking,’ Lily said. She must sound foolish.
‘How lovely. I do need to talk to you. It’s important.’
Lily let her in and took her into the sitting room. The inspector sat down in one of the matching blue Ikea chairs. Lily sat opposite her. Her finger was sticky with honey and she took a tissue from a box on the table.
‘I’ve come to see you because I have news about your mother. I’m very sorry because it’s bad news.’
Lily tried hard not to dwell on it, but she’d always suspected that this day might come. She’d decided that if it did, she’d stay calm and not turn into one of those red-eyed chavs you saw bawling their eyes out when there was a tragedy. ‘What’s happened?’
‘We found a body and we’ve identified your mother’s remains.’
She rubbed the skin through the rip in her jeans, circling her finger. ‘How did she do it? Did she take tablets? That’s what women usually do, don’t they?’
‘Your mum didn’t commit suicide.’
Lily listened as Inspector Drummond gave her the details. She had a clear, level voice, easy to listen to. Her eyes were an unusual dark blue, almost navy, and Lily wondered if she wore coloured contact lenses. She was saying terrible things about a fridge, strangulation and a disused building. Lily went hot and then cold. She was aware of a hissing in her ears, like a kettle boiling and she pressed them so that the detective’s voice sounded far away.
Siv watched the colour drain from Lily Aston’s face. She was blonde and fair, very like her dead mother, but with her father’s wide mouth. Pretty in a vapid way, and without any spark. ‘Are you okay, Ms Aston?’
‘Hmm. Yes. I don’t understand . . . why would mum have been in a place like that?’ She’d painted a picture for herself of her mother lying peacefully, deep in a forest, tucked under the foliage, her hands under her head. Taking a for-ever nap.
‘It’s hard to work that out. I spoke to your dad earlier and he couldn’t come up with any reason.’
‘You’ve seen my dad?’
‘Yes. I’ve just visited him. I said I’d tell you the news. I understand that you don’t communicate with him.’
‘That’s right. After what he did to us . . .’ She resumed rubbing her finger on the tissue, even though the honey was long gone and the paper was starting to shred. ‘Strangled,’ she whispered.
‘Yes, I’m so sorry.’
There was a ring like an alarm clock. Lily scrunched up the tissue.
‘That’s the oven. I have to check.’
‘I’ll come with you.’ Last time Siv h
ad allowed a woman to head to the kitchen during an interview, she’d been planning to kill herself with scissors and nearly succeeded. She didn’t reckon that self-harm was on Lily’s mind but she wasn’t risking it.
She followed Lily down the short, narrow hall to the kitchen. It was a small house, two bedrooms, she guessed, and unremarkable. There were a couple of sketches in the style she’d seen at Theo Dimas’s home, including one of Lily. A white heart-shaped plaque was hanging by the kitchen window. It said, Love Makes Our House A Home. Siv sat at the white wood table and watched Lily take a tray of small pastries from the oven and set them to cool. They were golden and gleaming. She was slim, with neat movements, her hair drawn back in a clip. Her pale blue jeans had strategic tears at the knees and backs of her calves, and her white ruffled blouse sat just on top of her waistband. She wore quite a bit of make-up for someone cooking at home — light and subtle, but it would have taken time. She stood, gripping the edge of the work surface.
‘Come and sit down.’ Siv pulled a chair out. ‘Can I make you a cup of tea?’
Lily shook her head but she sat near Siv, clasping her hands to the back of her slender neck and staring out the patio door to the tiny paved garden. Siv followed her gaze and saw a few pinched plants in a narrow border, surrounded by healthy weeds.
‘You thought your mother had committed suicide,’ Siv said.
‘I was sure she had. Pearce, my husband, believed that too, because of all the turmoil she’d been going through back then. You know about what Dad did to us?’
‘Yes. He came out as gay and moved out.’
‘Mum was in a state. She pretended that she was coping, but it was a front. It sent her mental and horrible. It was really hard living with her. I had a nightmare time back then.’ She glanced at Siv. ‘You’ll never guess one of the last things I said to her.’
‘Tell me.’
She gave a high, nervous laugh. ‘I told her to get lost. She was getting on my nerves while I was preparing for my prom. It was embarrassing, like she wanted to be one of the girls. She was always doing stuff like that, pretending to be younger than she was.’
‘You must have regretted saying that to her. It’s hard.’ The last thing she’d said to Ed as he strapped on his helmet was, Be careful, see you later.
But Lily wasn’t seeking reassurance. She was the centre of the story. ‘Mum could be so overwhelming. She took up my oxygen. That was my day and she was all over it like a rash — and with my friends there! It was ever so selfish of her. Pearce told me I had to forgive myself about saying that because I was stressed and I didn’t mean it.’
‘I see.’ Clearly, feeling stressed trumped being strangled in Lily’s world.
Lily took a breath, her expression sullen. ‘I just thought Mum had despaired of this life and ended the pain.’
It sounded theatrical, like a phrase she’d said many times. Lily had been eighteen at the time and teenagers could find the idea of suicide romantic — attractive, even.
‘Your dad said he’d never supposed that was likely.’
She tossed her head, flicking her hair like a petulant pony.
‘He wouldn’t want to believe that, would he? Because he’d been responsible for destroying her life. Our lives. He drove her to it.’
Siv said slowly, ‘But he didn’t, did he? Someone murdered your mother.’ But you liked the idea of suicide because it puts the blame on your dad and piles on the misery.
Lily reached into the pocket of her jeans and produced a pale pink lip gloss that she drew absentmindedly across her wide, full mouth. ‘Did you find my mum’s bag with her?’
‘No, no bag.’
‘Oh. She had a necklace of mine in there. She was going to take it to the jeweller to have it repaired. It was one of my favourites, a gold butterfly. One of the wings was chipped. It’d have been good to have that back.’
Maybe it was shock making her appear so uncaring. Siv silently agreed with Theo Dimas that Lily had chips of flint in her heart. There was an artlessness about the woman, a lack of true centre.
As if to confirm her opinion, Lily said, ‘I really like your suit. It’s so smart. Is it from Whistles?’
Siv was nonplussed. ‘No, it’s Zara.’
‘Oh, right. I haven’t bought their stuff for a while. I’ve been into Ted Baker recently. I love their skinny jeans. This is one of their tops.’
She might as well follow the clothes route. ‘It must have been exciting, getting ready for the prom with your friends in all your special outfits.’
‘You bet! We’d been planning it for months, down to every last detail. I had a terrific dress, it cost almost five hundred pounds. All my girls came round about three o’clock — we’re called the Damsels — and it was magic. We were all hyper.’
‘Did you see much of your mum that afternoon?’
‘Too much! I was hoping she’d go out with Adam and stop fussing, but she was doing her hovering thing, getting in the way and commenting on our dresses. I warned her that she wasn’t to post any photos of herself online with us. So not cool! At least Adam made himself scarce when I’d told him to.’
Poor Lyn, what a kindly daughter Fate sent to her. ‘Had your mum gone out before and left Adam alone in the house?’
‘I asked him that afterwards, and he said it was the first time it had happened. She’d sometimes pop to Smart Mart in the evening if she’d forgotten something but then I’d be in, so that was okay. She shouldn’t have left him on his own like that — it’s like child neglect, isn’t it? Pearce said it was illegal.’
‘It seems out of character for your mother. It’s not illegal, but nine is young to be left alone.’
‘Adam’s never got over it. He’s turned into a bit of a sad loner and he’s piled weight on, too, around here.’ Lily laid a hand on her own flat abdomen. ‘If he’s not careful, he’ll never shift that. Pearce reckons the trauma’s given him delayed development, and he should see a psychiatrist.’
The way she declared it indicated that Pearce liked issuing pronouncements, and Lily swallowed them wholesale. ‘Do you see much of Adam?’
‘No. He prefers to stick around Dad and that revolting man so . . . Haven’t seen him now for nearly a year.’ She put her hands to her face. ‘I’ve gone a bit weird. We’re supposed to eat out tonight, but I don’t want to now. It’s a lot to take in. Am I very pale?’
‘A bit.’
‘I hate looking washed out, like when I get a cold.’
Siv didn’t have much sympathy after the comments she’d been hearing, and pressed on. ‘Pearce was at the prom with you that night. What time did he meet you?’
‘All the Damsels went in a limo together and I met Pearce at the school hall about a quarter to eight. It was a wonderful, brilliant evening and then I got home and everything was ruined. It should have been one of the best memories of my life, but then there was this terrible thing and my lovely night was spoiled.’
This young woman was all heart. ‘Do you want me to call anyone for you now — someone to be with you?’
‘No. Papu — my grandad — will be here soon. He’s been wonderful to me.’
‘Is that your dad’s father?’
‘Yeah. Papu’s my dad now, really. He stepped in for Dad at my wedding and everything. He’s been amazing.’ She waved towards the baking. ‘That’s why I’ve made his favourite pastries, flaounes. He loves them with black coffee. I don’t drink coffee, it stains your teeth. You’ve got nice teeth, ever so even. Have you had work done on them?’
‘Just the usual check-ups and the odd filling.’
‘Lucky! I had to have a tooth removed at the back, to make room. I cried my eyes out afterwards but Pearce was lovely, he brought me ice packs and soothing lavender oil and said I was his wounded Lilypad.’
Siv wanted to gag. Lily was adjusting her hair, running her fingers through it and then tying it back in its clip. She got up to check it in the mirror and ran a little finger along her bottom lip. Siv
watched her. What a spoiled brat. She had no qualms about leaving Lily, who seemed to be recovering quickly from the news about her mother. ‘We’ll need to talk to your husband. Tell him one of my team will be in touch.’
‘Okay, but give him some notice. He’s very busy, workwise.’
As Siv opened her car, she saw a tall, elderly man approach the house and wave to Lily, who was standing in the doorway. He walked up the path carrying a bouquet of flowers wrapped with an orange bow. He wore a black suit with a waistcoat on his slim frame and polished black brogues, an elegant crow. He peered down at Lily, head to one side.
‘Lilies for my Lily,’ she heard him say, flourishing the bouquet, before they vanished inside.
* * *
Ali had pinned a photo of Lyn Dimas to the top of the incident board, and written the names of people in her network on there. Lyn was smiling, her long hair carefully waved and arranged, her make-up flattering. She was slim and fit, with a hopeful expression, as if the future promised good things. The photo had been taken on her forty-second birthday, the year before her marriage had imploded and then, as if to add insult to injury, she had been murdered. Siv had often considered the fact that some people had one bad stroke of luck, and then all kinds of misfortune were aimed their way, as if they kept hitting the jackpot in some cosmic calamity game. In the photo, Lyn could have been in her mid-thirties and the resemblance to Lily was striking. The likeness could have caused either a close bond or friction, and from listening to less-than-devoted Lily, she’d gathered it had been the latter.
Ali and Patrick joined her in front of the board. She’d brought in coffees from Gusto and Patrick was adding chocolate powder to the top of his. Ali talked them through the highlights of the previous investigation.
‘There was no evidence to show where Lyn Dimas went when she walked out of her house. No one saw her in the surrounding streets and there’s no CCTV around that residential area. There’s also none around Orford End. Steiner’s had a security camera for a while, but it broke down and it was never replaced. Main interviews were with the husband and his partner, Monty Barnwell; the kids, Lily and Adam; Joe Dimas, grandfather; Pearce Aston, Lily’s boyfriend; Trudy Kemp, Lyn’s sister; Jeff Downey, the next-door neighbour; and Antonia Santos, Lyn’s colleague at the Brookridge clinic. A lot of people said that Lyn had been down because of her marriage break-up. She’d had a bit of time off work after her husband left, and she’d been on antidepressants for a couple of months. Theo Dimas and Trudy Kemp said that Lyn hadn’t been too keen on Jeff Downey. She’d told her sister that Downey had tried it on with her earlier that summer, bringing flowers and chocolates around, but he’d backed off when she rebuffed him. He was a suspect.’
NEVER CAME HOME an addictive crime thriller with a twist you won't see coming (Detective Inspector Siv Drummond Book 2) Page 7