The Worst Lie

by Shauna Bickley

  When they first moved to Nettleford they’d rented the house, and, like most things to do with the town, Lexie hadn’t liked it. It took her time to settle into the place. By the time the owner decided to sell the property, Lexie’s opinion of Nettleford had changed and she thought they should buy the house. She surprised Nathan as well as herself with that idea, but the children loved the large gardens and their bedrooms and were settled. Renovating the old kitchen was a job both she and Nathan agreed needed to be done. They knocked down the wall to the dining room and replaced a tiny window with patio doors, turning the former dark kitchen into a large, sunny room that was well worth the pain of the renovations.

  Lexie sat in her favourite spot, a comfortable chair overlooking the garden. Max stirred on his large cushion bed and wandered over, running his wet nose up her shin before sitting next to her. This was a familiar position for both of them as Lexie often talked through her ideas for an article with Max as her patient listener. She patted his head and told him what a gorgeous dog he was. Max took this as his due, and when Lexie’s thoughts of Madelaine and Renelle took over and her hand dropped into her lap, Max settled down on her feet.

  After her conversation with Eden, Lexie was more surprised than ever that Eden had asked her for help. She seemed reluctant to share information about Madelaine. Lexie felt certain that Eden had a plan, even if she appeared random in some of her actions. Whether her insistence on the group coming to Nettleford was a part of that, Lexie wasn’t sure. Eden could simply be over-compensating for Mitch and their past relationship. As for Mitch, with or without her help, he would try to discover who had killed Renelle.

  Lexie knew from her father, as well as from reading newspapers, that most people were killed by someone they knew and the person wasn’t always smart with the timing or the method they used. Despite all the points for and against, Lexie couldn’t believe Mitch murdered Renelle.

  If not Mitch, then who? And what about Madelaine? As she had told Eden earlier, she now felt it highly likely that Madelaine had been murdered.

  The whole thing was bizarre, more of a puzzle than something tangible. Lexie kept reminding herself of the woman she’d met years ago and talked to briefly after seeing her on stage. Madelaine was more than the smiling, blonde-haired actress. She had been a living, breathing person with loving parents who’d been devastated by their daughter’s death. She had also been Gareth’s girlfriend and Eden’s friend since their earliest days.

  Renelle’s murder was different in that it was so recent and she could tell how broken Mitch was over the killing. Murder did that to people. Illness and accidents could be viewed as chance, fate or misfortune, depending on your views, but murder by its nature was premeditated.

  What did Madelaine and Renelle have in common? What had they done? Who had they annoyed? Who had the most to gain from their deaths?

  Neither of them was rich so money didn’t appear to be the answer, but gain might not be monetary. Had either of them hurt anyone? Renelle upset people in minor ways and in Madelaine’s case that brought her back to Gareth.

  What linked these two women other than they were both dead and had been friends? Lexie stood and wandered around the ground floor of the house. They were flatmates at university and shared the same group of friends. They didn’t take the same courses, but then, Madelaine hadn’t actually been at Bristol University. She studied at the Bristol Old Vic Theatre School. If they were murdered by the same person, why the gap of years between their deaths? Did the murders have anything in common or was this some horrible chance or coincidence thing?

  Max followed her around, his claws clicking on the kitchen tiles in the silence of the house. Lexie sat again so Max would settle, not wanting to disturb the peace, although she doubted anyone upstairs could hear.

  Renelle’s body lying on the horizontal stone at Little Stillford appeared to be a clear indicator connecting her to Madelaine. However, that didn’t mean the same person committed both crimes. It could also mean that Renelle’s killer wanted people to assume there was a connection when in reality none existed. The puzzle twisted in all directions and her head ached with questions for which she had no answers.

  Lexie picked up her notepad, ripped out the sheet covered in doodles and wrote Madelaine’s name on a clean page. For a few minutes her gaze roamed around the room as she considered the weekend she’d spent at Little Stillford. She jotted down the names of the group, drawing connecting lines for ideas she had until she ended up with an unintelligible mess. She started again, this time trying a table for alibis and motives, adding notes of conflicting information and memories. There were so many connections, so much underlying antagonism, and yet so little reason for two women to have been murdered.

  Max sprawled out on his side, snoring gently, and she smiled as she tickled his tummy with her toe. Out of the university friends, Laurence was the easiest to overlook. He slipped into the background, rarely mentioned by the others. Since the weekend in Little Stillford events had hurried her along: Renelle’s death, Mitch staying in the house along the road and then helping him organise the memorial service. Not to mention all the usual family and work happenings. The look of discomfort on Laurence’s face when he’d upset Renelle came to mind. What was that about? Lexie tapped her cheek with her index finger. Laurence had mentioned something to Spike, but loud enough for everyone to hear. Someone had written a book. One of their university lecturers.

  Lexie pulled her laptop onto her knee and started it up. Damien Featherstone. There had been a bidding war by the publishers and although the book hadn’t yet been released, there was already talk of production companies vying for the film rights. The release date for the book was a few weeks away. Lexie stared at one of the publicity photographs of the author. Eden had mentioned he had a reputation around the campus and Lexie could see why. The guy was handsome, his dark hair only lightly flecked with grey. Added to that, at university he would have the aura of influence and authority that came with his position.

  Tempo magazine occasionally covered book reviews but it wasn’t a regular thing. However, this was news. A bidding war and talk over who might play the lead roles in a film version. This warranted an interview with the author if she could swing it. Lexie noted the publicist’s contact details. Tomorrow she’d give the woman a ring and then talk to Jo, her editor. Lexie had a fair bit of latitude on the subjects she covered and Jo would be thrilled with this interview.

  When Lexie woke the following morning, she stretched and started planning her day. As soon as the girls were at school, she’d call Damien Featherstone’s publicist. They’d be happy for all publicity. No doubt they were fielding other interview enquiries.

  She turned over and lay facing the space between the curtains where Nathan hadn’t pulled them together. The fingers of early morning sun slipped between the gap, causing her to scrunch up her eyes. She ignored the glare, trying to catch the fleeting thought dancing on the edges of her memory. Something else had come to mind with her focus on other things. Something about the hit and run accident which killed the young girl, Cathy Doyle. No one mentioned the incident unless pushed. If categorically asked about it, they dismissed the incident as having nothing to do with them. Nothing about that was new, so why was it bothering her now?

  The whole incident was immeasurably sad, with Cathy’s death leading to her mother’s suicide and both incidents no doubt leading to her father’s heart attack. Helen had initially told her about the accident. She was the only one who volunteered information about it, and the only one of the group who hadn’t been out in a vehicle that night.

  Most of the group mentioned drinking during the afternoon and evening. A couple of them said they shouldn’t have driven; however, none admitted seeing the teenage girl or being involved in the accident although they’d driven around the countryside as if on a scavenger hunt. The exception to that was possibly Madelaine, but she wasn’t around to defend herself. Her story was that she’d crashed into a fe
nce and Gareth found her shortly afterwards. He said she’d told him she hadn’t seen the girl or been the hit and run driver.

  Lexie glanced at the clock. Only five minutes until the alarm. She might as well get up.

  For some reason Tilly and the twins didn’t need as much hustling to get dressed as they sometimes did. She’d have days in succession where at least one of them was the slow coach. Lexie sometimes wondered whether they devised a rota between the three of them simply to annoy her.

  She listened to their breakfast talk as she made the lunches.

  ‘My favourite colour is pink,’ declared Ruth. Lexie pulled a face as she took milk out of the fridge. That was obvious from Ruth’s bedroom and clothing choices.

  ‘Mine’s blue,’ replied Tilly when Ruth asked her.

  ‘Mine’s ice-cream colour,’ said Fiona although she hadn’t been asked.

  ‘That’s silly,’ said Tilly in her older sister voice. ‘There’s no such colour.’

  ‘Course there is. Ice cream’s got a colour.’

  ‘Daddy, what’s your favourite ice cream,’ called Fiona as Nathan came into the kitchen.

  ‘Spinach and cabbage flavour,’ Nathan said, giving Lexie a grin, and then dropping a kiss on each of the girl’s heads as he wandered around the table. ‘It’s yum.’ Exaggerating their favourite word of the moment.

  ‘Yuck.’ The twins pulled faces.

  ‘Come on, then. Five minutes until you need to be in the car,’ said Nathan. ‘I think hands and faces need a wash.’

  Lexie put the lunch boxes in the girl’s bags and then waited to wave them goodbye as Nathan got the girls into the car.

  It was still quite early, but she rang the contact number for Damien Featherstone’s publicist. The call went to voicemail and she left a message for the woman. The only blot on the beautiful day was a nudging thought of how things might be for Mitch, especially staying with Eden and Hunter. It was kind of his friends to support him, but sometimes that level of attention became too much. Despite the thought she might add to the unwanted interest, she decided to go round to the house. She wanted to talk to Eden and Mitch about the hit and run. Perhaps that would help with her elusive thoughts about the accident.

  She’d already taken Max for his morning walk, so much to his disgust this time she left him behind. As she rounded the bend in the lane, Eden passed in the new hire car and waved. Spike sat in the passenger seat. Damn. Still, at least she could talk to Mitch and then approach Eden at a different time. When she reached the rental house, the front door was partly open, so Lexie knocked and called out.

  ‘Hi,’ replied Hunter. ‘Come on in.’

  He was at the dining table with a laptop open.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt any work.’ Lexie couldn’t help looking at the screen. ‘Wow, that’s an amazing photo.’ The image must have been taken from a helicopter or light plane. Dusty hills bordered one side but the main area showed a mosaic of hundreds, if not thousands, of people, looking like tiny toy figures. On the extreme right of the photo were two trucks.

  ‘It’s from the last place we were working. The first food trucks to have made it there in a week after storms.’

  ‘And you took this picture?’

  He nodded and closed the image, but behind it was another, more startling shot. He sighed as he glanced at it and then towards Lexie. She stared at the photo, unable to turn away. A running woman in long flowing robes, fire streaming from her clothes.

  ‘We put the flames out,’ said Hunter, ‘but she died in hospital. The price of war is horrendous and it’s paid for by thousands of ordinary people who simply want to live their lives and feed their families.’

  Lexie pulled a chair out from the table and sat down.

  ‘Do you know what the worst thing is?’ He flicked his hands in the air. ‘I won an award for that photo.’

  Lexie pulled her gaze from the image to Hunter. ‘People here, and in other places, need to know what’s going on if there’s any hope of stopping it or helping those affected. You’re doing much more than most of us in that respect.’

  ‘Some people need help and others need to pay for what they’ve done.’ He snapped down the lid of the laptop. ‘That’s what I tell myself.’

  Lexie sensed he wanted a change of topic. ‘How’s it going with Spike?’

  ‘He’s staying at a hotel, but he’s around here quite a bit. He and Eden have gone into town to get some more groceries. I think Mitch went out for a walk.’ He grinned suddenly, the smile reaching his pale blue eyes, and the atmosphere lightened. ‘So I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.’

  He really was an attractive man; her initial impression of a young Brad Pitt still lingered. ‘I can’t make out where home is from your accent.’

  ‘That comes from moving around. I was born in the West Country but moved north in increments during my childhood and I’ve been travelling ever since.’

  ‘Certainly with your work. Do you think you’ll continue working in the world’s war areas?’

  He crinkled up his face as he thought, faint lines spearing out from the corner of his eyes. ‘In the foreseeable future, at least.’

  ‘And Eden?’

  ‘Eden’s passionate about what she does and where we’ve been working. I can’t see her ever giving up trying to stop the inhumanity that exists.’

  ‘But you don’t think quite the same.’ He glanced at her and Lexie clarified her comment. ‘I’m not judging. I couldn’t do what you’ve done. Some people can cope. They most likely have a higher threshold of…not tolerance, but…’ Hunter nodded to show he understood what she was trying to say. ‘I guess it’s like social work, you see bad things until you can’t deal with it anymore. My dad’s a detective and I remember when I was a teenager there’d be some cases he’d talk about when they were over, and others he needed to shut out or they’d get to him too much.’

  ‘Your dad’s in the police. I didn’t know that.’

  ‘You’ve no reason to. It made for a pretty strict upbringing at times.’

  ‘Interviewing your new boyfriends.’

  Lexie laughed, relieved the conversation had diverted. ‘Something like that. So are you and Eden staying here, going back to London, or perhaps heading off for a holiday?’

  ‘A holiday would be good. This has definitely been a change of scenery but we’ve still ended up doing quite a bit of work for Eden’s reports and other stuff. Still, it’s been good catching up with a few friends.’

  ‘And meeting Eden’s friends.’

  He nodded, his expression neutral.

  ‘You don’t have to pretend. Before you and Eden arrived, I didn’t know any of them other than Helen and Gareth. Had you met the group before?’

  ‘No, well, we met up with Spike in London. I knew of him as he and Eden talk regularly.’

  ‘Had Eden been thinking about this reunion thing for long before you came back to England?’

  ‘It seemed to come out of nowhere, although it had been a funny few months. Eden took some time off earlier in the year and went to the States, which is unusual as she doesn’t generally do holidays. Since then she’s been a bit up and down and one night announced she was coming back here for a break. Then she started talking about meeting up with some old friends.’

  ‘You didn’t fancy a reunion of your own, then?’

  ‘I don’t have any old school friends with the moving around, and there’s only a few from work and university.’ Hunter seemed loath to talk anymore about himself.

  Lexie glanced at her phone and realised she’d been out longer than she expected. Neither Mitch nor Eden were back, she’d have to find another time to talk to them. ‘Guess I’d better get off home. Tell Mitch to call round if he wants different company.’

  16

  Lexie Wyatt

  Nettleford, Dorset

  2018

  The publicist hadn’t returned Lexie’s call, so Lexie rang the number again. This time it was answered just be
fore the message cut in. The woman sounded crisp and business-like. Damien was in great demand and she had just about finalised the timings of the print, radio and television interviews. She softened slightly when Lexie mentioned she worked for Tempo magazine. Yes, there was a possibility she might be able to fit Lexie into Damien’s tight schedule. Her tone sounded a little overdone. Lexie assured her that she was happy to fit in with them. Anything to meet the man.

  They agreed a time and date and the publicist said she would send through a confirmation with location details and some other information.

  Next was Jo, the magazine editor. She was happy with Lexie’s news and noted the dates for the magazine edition. They had spaces for their regular features, but there was a little latitude for the ‘out of the blue’ items that sometimes came their way, and Lexie had given her enough notice.

  After her phone calls, Lexie chucked some washing in the machine. It was never-ending. There must be people living in the house she never saw. Next she decided to check out the group’s social media accounts.

  Spike had several different accounts, mostly with information on his films, scripts and upcoming events. Eden’s were full of photographs of the places she travelled for work, the refugee camps and people she’d met. Mitch had a website for his company and his social media accounts seemed to be business focused. Renelle’s Instagram and Facebook accounts were the most informal, with photos of her and Mitch on holiday or weekends away, and images taken on-set while she was working. Lexie recognised Blaise from a few of them. Hunter had a website showcasing the work he’d done and an Instagram account with hundreds of photos. Laurence appeared to have an abundance of tech-oriented friends and Lexie didn’t even begin to understand some of the jokes they shared. To her surprise she couldn’t find anything on Xena Walsh, Laurence’s girlfriend. Xena was the youngest of the extended group she’d met at Little Stillford and because of that Lexie had expected her to have a social media presence.