The Worst Lie

by Shauna Bickley

  He looked mildly surprised at her opening question, but his smile widened as he appraised her again.

  ‘I suppose that depends on what you consider quirks. Writing naked? In the bath?’

  ‘Actually I was thinking more along the lines of whether you listen to music, or prefer to work in silence. Whether you can write anywhere or only in one particular place.’

  ‘Ah, a little more pedestrian.’ Again the flirting smile. ‘I don’t listen to music and generally write in my office at home, but it doesn’t have to be there.’

  ‘What advice would you give your younger writing self?’

  ‘Live life to the full. It gives you so much to write about.’

  Lexie suppressed a sigh and a smile. The smile would only encourage him. She’d need to work hard to keep this interview on a wholly professional tone. But as she asked her questions about his writing process, the initial ideas and the inspirations for the book, and his plans for a sequel he became more serious, although the smile made regular appearances. As Lexie had planned, at the end of her official questions, she still had ten minutes of her interview time left.

  ‘I understand Spike Lamont was one of your students when you lectured at Bristol University.’ Lexie made a show of turning off the voice recorder and putting the phone in her bag. ‘While you’re obviously famous for your own writing, it must also be gratifying to have helped another talent emerge.’

  Damien looked surprised at the mention of Spike’s name. ‘I’m impressed. You certainly have done your research. Yes, Spike was one of my students but I’m not sure whether that made a difference. Much as I would love to take some credit, even then Spike was his own man and an original thinker. He was always going to succeed.’ Damien appeared firm in his efforts to dissuade Lexie that he had any part in Spike’s success. Not what she had expected.

  ‘You also knew Eden Sandiford?’

  ‘I did. Again, a student who had immense talent.’

  Snippets of conversations, lies and half-truths swirled around her head as they had done for days. She was beginning to doubt whether she could trust her instincts. They might be totally wrong. Damien smiled and Lexie took her speculation and turned it into a question. If she was careful, this might not go belly-up.

  ‘I believe you were also friends with the late Madelaine McDonald?’

  ‘Did you know Madelaine?’ Damien’s tone softened as he spoke her name.

  Lexie considered nodding a confirmation but went with a partial truth. ‘I met and talked with her a few times, and I’ve worked with Eden, who was a close friend of Madelaine’s.’

  He nodded. ‘She does amazing work in the refugee camps. If you know Spike and Eden, then you’ll know I met Madelaine with them.’ He gave a shrug and moved his hands in a practised, innocent gesture. ‘I don’t remember how exactly, perhaps at the end of a lecture or at a reading.’

  ‘As an academic what persuaded you to turn to writing fiction?’

  ‘The obvious answer to that is the money, but equally as honest would be that I found it a way of putting half-truths and creations to better use.’

  Was this perhaps another opening? She didn’t want to ruin the interview with a clumsy question. He must have noticed her indecision and put a different interpretation to it.

  ‘If you’re worried about upsetting me by asking about the end of my marriage, or the cause, don’t worry. My wife made very sure that certain things became public. I could never say no to an attractive girl. I tired of fabricating lies and stories and my wife was weary of listening to them. Do you know the most amusing thing? She took great delight in telling me that I’d starve in a garret somewhere, but I’ve surprised her on that point.’

  The more time Lexie spent talking with the friends and listening to them, the more certain she was that Damien and Madelaine had slept together. Proving it was another matter. Her back straightened against the chair. ‘And Madelaine was one of the attractive girls.’ He could take it as a question, but Lexie posed it as a statement, as if she knew Madelaine better than she had, her tone neutral. She didn’t want him to think she was judging.

  The moment stretched. And then he laughed.

  ‘Yes. Poor Madelaine is beyond any hurt and my sorry confirmation can’t damage me anymore. Indeed, it would fan more interest in the book and increase sales.’

  A heady elation threatened to sweep Lexie along, but she pushed it down. His expression told her that he would enjoy the notoriety, but she wouldn’t go down that path. Madelaine was dead but the living needed to be considered. Her previous boss at the magazine followed stories without any thought of possible consequences. Even without the memories of those consequences, Lexie didn’t believe a story was worth hurting people. She put away her notebook.

  ‘Thank you so much for your time. I’ve enjoyed meeting you.’

  ‘Likewise.’

  They both stood and as he took a step around the coffee towards her Lexie had the awful feeling that he might suggest they meet for a drink later. The door opened and blonde-haired publicist stuck her head around the door.

  ‘Oh good, you’ve finished. The camera people are here.’

  ‘Thank you again,’ said Lexie, and strode across to the door before he could say anything else. She nodded and smiled at the publicist. ‘And thank you for your assistance in arranging the interview. I appreciate it.’

  Two men carrying cameras, tripod and lighting equipment stepped out of the lift and Lexie hurried to get in before the doors closed. She pressed the button for reception and let out a breath as the lift descended, allowing herself a moment of celebration. Her heels clicked on the tiled reception floor and the hotel porter moved to open the wide main door for her.

  Outside, she marched along the street and her hand closed into a fist by her side. Yes! She’d been right. However, the victory wasn’t sweet.

  The London air wasn’t exactly clean and fresh, but it was good to be outside. Sleeping with Madelaine had probably meant little more to Damien than any of his other liaisons, but it set other tragic events in motion. From what the friends said, he hadn’t tried to stop his wife in her mistaken revenge against Renelle.

  No one from the university group knew about her interview with Damien, but she doubted it could remain like that. According to Helen’s version of events only she, Renelle and Eden knew that Madelaine had an affair with a married man, but as far as Lexie was aware, she was the only person who knew that man was Damien Featherstone.

  19

  Lexie Wyatt

  Nettleford, Dorset

  2018

  The higher than usual summer temperatures returned to their normal levels, which gave the new week a peaceful feel, or at least more peaceful than the previous ones. With only Mitch in Nettleford, Helen appeared brighter, the purple smudged shadows around her eyes less noticeable. Lexie told Mitch to visit whenever he wanted and not wait for an invitation. When she walked Max, they passed him once or twice and Lexie stopped to chat but kept it brief when she thought he needed to be on his own. After talking to her about Renelle, he withdrew from such confidences.

  ‘Mum, can we have a picnic tonight instead of dinner?’ Tilly asked one afternoon on their way home from school.

  ‘I don’t see why not.’

  She winced at the volume of the delighted shrieks from the back of the car, but at least she’d made three girls happy.

  She had already prepared a lasagne and decided that it together with a salad would pass for a picnic. Because of the novelty value of eating in the garden, Tilly, Ruth and Fiona were helpful in taking out the plates and cutlery, and pulled the garden chairs over to the patio and placed them around the rectangular wooden table.

  ‘This looks like a great idea,’ said Nathan when he arrived home from work.

  ‘It was our idea,’ yelled Ruth and Fiona.

  ‘And mine,’ said Tilly.

  ‘I’m sure all three of you had the great idea,’ he said, chasing them around the garden to more
high-pitched squeals of delight.

  The girls competed with each other to tell Nathan about their day at school when Lexie finally got them to sit at the table.

  ‘We have sports day soon,’ said Ruth. ‘And I’m good at jumping into the sandpit.’

  ‘I’m best at running.’ Fiona never liked to be outdone by her twin.

  ‘That sounds great,’ said Lexie. ‘I’m looking forward to sports day.’

  Through all the noise Max lay under the table and demolished anything that fell his way. Overall Lexie considered it much easier than clearing up the dining room.

  They’d just finished when a car drove along the road and turned into their gravel driveway.

  ‘I’ll see who it is,’ said Tilly and bounded away from the table and into the house before the car doors even slammed shut.

  She reappeared a few minutes later with Rachel and Jake, yelling that Auntie Helen was here.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ Lexie asked Rachel. It was unusual for Helen to come round at this time in the evening.

  ‘Mum’s trying not to cry, but I reckon she will.’

  Lexie and Nathan glanced at each other, not wanting to say anything in front of the children. What had happened now?

  ‘You go and see them,’ said Lexie. ‘I’ll be in as soon as I’ve sorted out something to keep the children occupied while we talk.’

  Nathan headed off to the lounge while Lexie pulled a box of ice lollies from the freezer and handed them to Tilly with instructions to share them out in the garden and not let Max eat any them.

  Helen and Gareth sat together on the sofa, holding hands, while Nathan perched on the edge of a seat. As Lexie sat on another chair, Nathan gave a subtle shrug to indicate she hadn’t missed anything. All sorts of wild ideas played through Lexie’s head, but she waited patiently, staring at her friends.

  ‘Spike’s dead.’ Gareth’s words hung in the air, wreathed in harsh but sombre tones.

  Lexie stared at the pair opposite her. In her craziest of imaginings she hadn’t expected this. Sardonic Spike, the famous film director, droll storyteller and enigmatic character, dead. This would not be suicide. No way.

  Lexie moved across the gap; kneeling in front of her friends, she placed her hands over theirs.

  ‘Oh my….’ Words failed her for a moment, but she took a deep breath and carried on. ‘I’m so sorry. You’ve been friends for so long. This is awful.’

  Gareth attempted to say something but no words came.

  ‘Do you know how?’

  ‘Not much.’ Gareth took a breath and pulled his shoulders back. ‘It feels so much like a repeat of all that’s gone before. Eden rang us. She’s absolutely distraught. Hunter’s with her, but she and Spike were as close as lovers.’

  ‘Did she find him? That would be awful for her.’ Lexie spoke before remembering Gareth had found Madelaine.

  ‘No. It was Mike, a friend of Spike’s. He’s been collaborating with Spike on the script. Spike didn’t answer his phone all day so Mike went round to the house. He let himself in and…’

  ‘Do they know how he died?’

  ‘Not for sure until the post mortem, but when Mike spoke to Eden he told her there were traces of cocaine on a table top.’

  ‘An accidental overdose?’

  Helen gave a sniff and dabbed at her eyes. ‘We’ve been here before.’

  ‘Can you die from an overdose of cocaine?’ asked Nathan.

  No one seemed sure.

  Lexie checked on the children, but they were having great fun playing in the garden with Max. Judging by a red stain on the fur around his mouth he’d perfected his begging skills. Back in the house, Gareth talked about Spike and the things they’d done together at university and since. During a moment when Helen sobbed quietly and Gareth comforted her, Lexie and Nathan shared a glance across the room. What if this wasn’t an accidental overdose? What the hell was happening?

  In bed that night, Lexie whispered the unwelcome thought uppermost in her mind. ‘Do you think someone’s knocking them all off?’ She used the flippant term to hide the tremor in her voice. ‘We thought it must be one of them, but what if it’s not. What if something else is behind all this?’

  ‘I can’t imagine what.’ Nathan’s voice was quiet but firm and Lexie snuggled into his strength.

  Spike was enough of a celebrity for his death to be splashed across the front pages of the papers, and then the inside pages for a number of days. The post mortem showed a mix of alcohol, cocaine and fentanyl in his bloodstream. Lexie resorted to her usual Google searches to discover that fentanyl was far stronger than cocaine, and that cocaine was sometimes cut with fentanyl without the user’s knowledge. Eden had said Spike was a recreational user and Spike’s friend and script collaborator confirmed he hadn’t changed his habits.

  Spike owned a house in the area known as World’s End, not far from a street bearing his surname, although there was no connection. He’d renovated the house, but from the outside it looked no different to the others surrounding it. Spike had said he loved living there as it was a low-key, anonymous place where no one bothered him. So low-key that none of the neighbours realised Spike was a film director and most were hard-pressed to describe him. They had no idea if anyone had visited him during the evening and night of his death. Residential areas were not as well serviced by security cameras as the general “big brother is watching you” campaigners might believe.

  There were no specific links between Renelle’s death and Spike’s, but eventually the police came to question Mitch again. His alibi for the time in question was a guy’s night out with Nathan and Gareth.

  After the police visited them, Lexie and Nathan sat at the dining table, mulling over the implications of the questions.

  ‘They asked a couple of times about the time you left the pub, when you got home and whether you all left together.’

  ‘They didn’t tell us the window of time for Spike’s death, but I assume they think it’s enough for Mitch to drive to London and supply Spike with fentanyl-laced cocaine after having a drink with him.’

  ‘Or you or Gareth.’

  ‘Hopefully I’m the odd man out in the reckoning, but why would any of them want to kill Spike?’

  Lexie wandered around the room, picking up the girls’ sandals and placing them on the shoe rack in the corner. ‘Dad says it’s generally about money and after that jealousy and sex. The deadly trio.’

  ‘Mike, the guy that found Spike, had a key, so maybe they were lovers as well as working together on the script. Perhaps he got jealous thinking Spike might have someone else and they got into an argument over that, or the script, I suppose. But it could be an accidental overdose if Spike didn’t know the cocaine contained fentanyl.’

  ‘It could be as simple as that. I hadn’t heard of fentanyl, but when I checked online I found plenty of newspaper reports on how many people have died from fentanyl-laced drugs.’ Lexie grabbed her light sweater from the back of the sofa, suddenly feeling a chill that probably had nothing to do with the temperature. ‘But it feels like too much of a coincidence, coming so soon after Renelle died.’

  ‘What if it is about the money, then? Does anyone know if Spike has a will, and if he did, who benefits? He must have made a packet from his films and would no doubt have more money than the others.’

  ‘Oh!’ Lexie slapped the heel of her palm against her forehead. ‘When we were at Little Stillford someone said that Spike’s parents were rich. Are they still alive? If they’re dead and left it all to him then he would be worth even more.’

  ‘And the amount is relative. If someone’s got money problems, even a moderately small amount could make all the difference.’

  ‘I wonder how we can find out about his will. Eden might know.’ Lexie sat at the dining table again, resting her forearms on the table. ‘But if it is money, then it doesn’t have anything to do with Renelle and I can’t believe this is a coincidence.’

  ‘Let’s assume that Mi
tch is wrong and Madelaine’s death doesn’t have anything to do with it. Why would someone kill Renelle?’

  ‘Perhaps he’s trying to confuse everyone, and it’s as simple as a domestic argument that went wrong.’

  ‘Pills and alcohol don’t sound like a heat of the moment domestic. Stabbing or strangling would fit better with that scenario.’

  ‘Most crime novels say poison is more of a woman’s weapon.’ The conversation appalled Lexie, as neither of them were cold-hearted. She hoped being in shock at what happened was responsible. She hadn’t known Renelle and Spike for long, but she had talked with both of them only days before their sudden deaths, and that lent an intimacy to the relationship that wouldn’t otherwise have existed.

  Nathan rested his chin in his hand for a moment, puckering his bottom lip with his thumb and finger. ‘Both deaths appear to have elements of premeditation especially with Renelle’s body being posed on the stone at Little Stillford. But, like we said, perhaps Spike was unlucky and the fentanyl-laced drugs weren’t specifically meant for him.’

  ‘I think Spike was murdered. When Dad investigates crimes, he doesn’t believe in coincidences. He said the reason might be deeply hidden but there’s always one there.’ She sighed and drew a lightning strike on the pad. ‘It’s like there’s a piece of the puzzle missing and if we found it everything would slot into place.’

  Nathan nodded slowly, thinking. ‘Or the piece of the puzzle is there but we’re not looking at it the right way.’

  20

  Lexie Wyatt

  Nettleford, Dorset

  2018

  Initially, the papers ran with Spike’s death and an assumption it was an accidental overdose. The journalist added a list of other celebrities who’d died in the same way. The following day, presumably in an effort to keep the story going, another paper printed an item about Madelaine’s death as she had starred in Spike’s first major film and died of a supposed overdose.