“It couldn’t have been suicide?” she ventured.
Parker shook his head.
“The cause of death, and the fact that there was no note, ruled that out straight away.”
“Oh,” Chandra said, disappointed.
“Good thinking, though,” Bruton said approvingly, and Chandra felt a flicker of pride.
“Is there anyone manning the front desk?” Parker stared meaningfully at the camera screen that showed the reception area. Following his gaze, Chandra saw that a member of the public was walking in.
“I’m on my way,” she said.
She hurried out of the interview room and to the reception area.
The lady waiting inside was a tall, slender brunette with hair cut in a perfect bob, and she wore a stylish suede jacket that Chandra immediately coveted, while knowing it probably cost more than her entire month’s salary.
“Sorry for the delay, ma’am,” Chandra said. “How can I help?”
“My name is Trish Ellis,” the woman replied in a calm, authoritative voice. “I believe you’re holding my au pair, Cassie Vale, as a murder suspect. I’ve come to bail her out.”
Chandra stared at the woman in utter shock.
She couldn’t believe what was happening. The victim’s widow had arrived to bail out the murder suspect. Why?
All she could think, in her confusion, was that Parker was going to be furious.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
Cassie sat hunched on the bed with her elbows on her knees. Throughout the questioning she’d held out hope that the police would believe her, but nothing had gone her way. Now she felt a deep depression overwhelming her.
The police hadn’t brought her meds along. They had been left at the house, which was a blow, because in times of severe stress, she relied on them. Without them she knew from experience that her anxiety would escalate. The panic attacks would start—the warning signs were already there and she knew she could expect one soon.
She had no idea how long she’d be kept prisoner here or what the next step was. She guessed it would be a court appearance. By tomorrow, she’d be in pieces—anxiety played havoc with her memory. There would be no way she’d be coherent on the witness stand and she might well end up giving a different version of events and contradicting what she’d said today. Her own confusion would seal her fate.
Perhaps it would be better to confess. To flesh out the scene she’d so powerfully imagined about pouring the poison carefully into the wine glass, and stirring it slowly so that no trace of the residue remained.
They’d believe her in an instant if she told them that. There would be no doubting or second-guessing her story. After all, there was nobody to contradict her version, so perhaps she had.
Tears stung her eyes as she thought about the bad choices that had landed her here.
Then a rattle at the door startled her out of her despair.
She looked up, hoping it would be the friendly constable from the front desk, because maybe there was a way she could fetch Cassie her meds from the house—if she pleaded that they were prescribed medication, it might be possible.
Her heart plummeted as she saw it wasn’t the constable.
It was Parker, and he looked livid. His jaw was clenched and she could see a vein pulsing in his forehead.
He spoke, and it was clearly an effort for him to keep a normal tone of voice.
“Come with me,” he snapped.
Cassie wanted to ask why, but was sure he wouldn’t tell her. What could it be? Only more trouble for her, that she was sure of. Perhaps her court date was today and they were going to take her there in a van. If so she should probably ask to use the toilet first, but she couldn’t bear to do that in front of Parker because what if he didn’t look away?
Her legs felt wobbly, and when his hand clamped around her arm she was grateful for the support.
She did her best to keep pace as he marched along.
When Cassie reached the front desk she nearly fell over from shock.
Trish was there.
She was busy signing a sheaf of official-looking forms, and barely looked up when Cassie walked in.
The friendly constable gave her a sympathetic smile but Cassie was too nervous to acknowledge it.
What was going on? Had Trish come up with more evidence that would convict Cassie immediately?
Bruton provided the answer.
“Ms. Vale, Mrs. Ellis has kindly offered you bail. We have decided to allow it, subject to certain terms. We are permitting bail because at this point, we do not have sufficient evidence for a conviction. However, we are continuing our investigation, and if or when additional evidence comes to light, you may be rearrested. Do you understand what I am saying to you?”
She nodded, although her head was spinning and she was starting to wonder if this might be a realistic dream that her anxious mind was conjuring up.
Dream or no dream, Cassie was certain that Parker had opposed the decision, but been overridden by the more senior detective. That would explain his angry demeanor.
Bruton continued. “You must remain at the Ellis family’s premises. You are not to leave the premises unless accompanied at all times by at least one adult, and even when in the company of an adult, you are not allowed to leave the village. You will cooperate with further questioning at all times. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she said, realizing her voice was so faint it was almost soundless.
“You will be required to check into the police station every Friday, between the hours of four and five p.m. Starting from this Friday.”
“I will,” she said.
“And we are holding your passport,” he concluded.
Parker stepped forward.
“Ms. Vale, breaking any of the bail conditions will be immediate grounds for your rearrest.”
“I understand,” she whispered.
Her hands were shaking so badly that she could hardly sign in the places where Parker was indicating.
Trish squeezed her shoulder.
“It will be all right,” she said.
Cassie looked up, astounded by the unexpected kindness.
“I’ve parked round the back. Can we leave now, Officers? I’ve a lot to get done today.”
“Certainly, ma’am,” Bruton said.
Cassie walked with Trish, but as she rounded the corner, in her nervousness, she dropped her jacket and fumbled to pick it up.
Behind her she heard a heated conversation at the front desk.
“She’s a flight risk!” Parker was almost shouting.
“We have her passport. There was no reason to deny bail,” Bruton said, in a more level voice.
Then the desk constable spoke in impassioned tones.
“Parker, please. If you find she’s innocent, promise me one thing. Promise that you’ll try as hard to help her as you’re trying to go after her now.”
Cassie didn’t hear any more. She hurried after Trish and out the door into the cold, fresh air.
She climbed into the car feeling numb with shock, and decided her best course of action was to keep quiet, because she didn’t know what she would babble out if she started to speak. Why was Trish helping her? Was Trish even helping her, or did she plan to get her revenge and then dispose of Cassie in some untraceable way?
Cassie’s mind was spinning as she considered the possibilities.
“I’m sorry you had to wait so long,” Trish said as they drove away.
She glanced at Cassie as if expecting a response, but she had no idea what to say. Trish sounded normal, just the same as she always did, but Cassie still didn’t understand why she’d helped her.
As the car wound its way through the village, she felt certain that she was dreaming. She’d become too stressed out in the police cell and had fallen asleep and was in the throes of what would probably turn into a nightmare.
She waited for the plush, leather-lined interior of the car to melt away, and for her to be hanging off th
e side of a tall building, with Jacqui screaming with laughter above her, her voice as high and sharp as the shriek of seagulls.
It didn’t happen. Instead, they pulled up outside the house and Trish climbed out as if everything was normal.
“What do you want to do first?” she asked. “Bath? Sleep? Something to eat?”
Once again, Cassie felt blindsided by her kindness. She felt guilty for having considered Trish to be a suspect. While Cassie had been wondering how to convince the police to focus on Trish, she had been trying her best to exonerate Cassie and find out who the real killer was.
“I—I’d like a bath,” Cassie stammered, needing to wash the feel and the smell of that claustrophobic police cell from her skin.
She noticed that there were two arrangements of lilies on the coffee table in the family room. People had already started to offer their sympathies for the death.
“Come and have a cup of coffee first. The children are with family today, and I’ll pick up some fish and chips when I fetch them. We all need a treat tonight.”
While Trish made the coffee, Cassie hurried to her room.
Everything was in its place. Her phone had been put onto the charger. Her luggage and drawers had clearly been searched through because her meds had been moved, but they were still there, which was all that mattered.
Cassie swallowed down her pills and gasped with relief.
Then she went to the kitchen, to find Trish had made coffee and set out a plate of cookies.
“I have to apologize for my behavior earlier,” she said. “I wasn’t thinking clearly and I was beside myself with grief.”
“I’m so sorry about everything,” Cassie began, but Trish shook her head.
“What’s done is done. There was fault on both sides; it would be wrong of me to say otherwise.” She lowered her head and pressed her hands over her eyes for a minute before continuing.
“However, I don’t believe you killed my husband.”
“You don’t?” Cassie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Trish was on her side after all.
Cassie felt tears well up again, but this time they were caused by relief and gratitude.
“I can’t tell you what that means to me,” she whispered. “I’ve been feeling so bad about everything.”
“It’s a complicated situation, and I’m sorry you have been caught up in it,” Trish sympathized. “However, the fact remains my beloved Ryan was murdered, and somebody did it. So the question is—who?”
With her meds starting to work, the coffee in front of her, in the safe familiarity of the kitchen, Cassie found herself able to think more clearly.
One person came immediately to mind.
Harriet the cleaner.
Could she have done it?
Yes, she could. Harriet had worked on Monday—it had been her last day before leaving, and she had left on bad terms, extremely angry, with a serious grudge.
She could have opened up one of the wine bottles and added the poison. She wouldn’t have known who would drink the wine or when, but she could have guessed that Ryan would probably drink most of it, and might not have cared if the poison affected other people too.
Cassie hesitated. Telling Trish about Harriet would open a can of worms. For a start, she was sure that Ryan had slept with Harriet. Trish didn’t know that yet, and Cassie didn’t want to tell her. She didn’t feel brave enough—or medicated enough—to deal with Trish’s reaction.
The other suspect was even more likely, but if she spoke up, the consequences might be worse.
Cassie couldn’t forget how Dylan had sat in bed, watching her, and the chilling words he’d spoken. He’d been factual, and the only emotion he’d shown had been faint amusement at her shock and disbelief.
Dylan had shown he could steal without any guilt, and that he could kill with no remorse. Did he see a moral difference between an animal and a human? She didn’t know. He might be only twelve years old but she was frightened of him. She didn’t know what his motive would have been for adding poison to the wine, but perhaps he hadn’t needed one; or had done it for some sort of twisted revenge.
Her bail conditions meant she couldn’t leave the house. If she told Trish she suspected Dylan, and he learned what she’d done, it might put her in danger.
“I have some ideas,” she said. “I want to tell you but I need more time to get my head straight. Could we discuss it later?”
Trish smiled sadly.
“I had a feeling you would sense who it was. I also have strong suspicions based on what I’ve heard and seen, but I’ll be truthful, Cassie, I am scared to share them with you, although I know I must. So yes, please take more time. This is a serious issue. Neither of us wants to make unfounded accusations, but both of us will have to be brave and honest if we are going to work together. Have something to eat, have a rest. We can speak again later.”
Cassie felt a surge of relief that Trish’s suspicions clearly didn’t include her. It reassured her that the sleepwalking, and her fragmented memories, had simply been due to a nightmare. After all, if Trish thought she’d committed the crime, she would never have bailed her out.
“Where are the children?” Cassie asked.
“They’re visiting their aunt, Ryan’s older sister. She asked if they could keep each other company today and I thought it would do them good. I’m fetching them at five, and I’ll bring back supper on the way home.”
Trish stood up.
“I’ve tried to keep this as quiet as possible, but word gets out. I’ve already had phone calls and visits from people in the village, and some deliveries of flowers. However, please let the phone ring to voicemail, and don’t speak to anybody who knocks at the door, in case they’re a journalist, as you know what the gutter press in this country is like.”
Trish headed out of the kitchen, and Cassie poured herself a glass of water and sat at the table. Trish had said eat, but she didn’t feel hungry in the slightest. Not when she thought about telling Trish that her son had admitted to breaking the neck of his pet rabbit.
She relied on Trish’s goodwill; that was what had gotten her out of jail. That goodwill might disappear if Cassie made an accusation that hurt or angered her.
Cassie knew she had to do whatever it took for Trish to be able to trust her, because she was at her mercy now.
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
Cassie felt uneasy being alone in the house. She couldn’t bear to look at the balcony where Ryan had died. She was terrified of breaking her bail conditions and wasn’t sure if they extended to the garden. It would be better to stay indoors, especially since the tabloids might be waiting with their zoom lenses ready to photograph her.
Trish would have to do all the fetching and carrying of the children. Cassie couldn’t even walk them to the bus stop. It scared her to realize how useless she was, and what a burden she would quickly become. If she and Trish were going to have their discussion, then the sooner it took place, the better.
When the family arrived home, she was encouraged to hear some laughter as the children ran to the front door. She hurried to greet them.
“Hello! How are you both doing?” she asked.
She was pleased to see that Madison looked more cheerful, and hoped that her day out had distracted her from her grief. As they walked into the house, both the children became more solemn and Madison’s smile disappeared.
“We’re all right, thanks,” Madison said.
Dylan didn’t greet her at all but trudged past with his head down.
“Food’s up!”
Trish, carrying the fish and chips in a large brown paper bag, closed the front door.
“Come on, everyone. It’s been an exhausting day. Let’s eat, and then you children need an early night.”
“Can I help you get ready for bed, Madison?” Cassie asked.
Glad to have something to do, Cassie ran her bath and helped her choose her favorite pair of pink pajamas.
“Do you think I can g
o to boarding school soon?” Madison whispered, as Cassie folded her bath towel.
Cassie was sure that Madison must feel as if her world had fallen apart. Perhaps boarding school would be a good idea in the long term, especially given the amount of traveling Trish did.
“We can ask your mum,” she said. “If you’re sure you want to go then let’s discuss it with her.”
To her surprise, Madison grew tearful and began sniffing hard.
“I already asked her. She said no. I asked her as soon as she came back from her trip. I asked her so nicely, Cassie, and she laughed at me. She said no. She said I was going to do what I was told and that until I was top of the class in math, I can’t do any more plays.”
“Oh, Maddie, I’m so sorry,” Cassie said, realizing why Madison had been so uncharacteristically moody for the past few days.
“I hate her, Cassie,” Madison whispered. “I’m never going to be top of the class in math. Telling me I must is unfair. I wish she was dead. She told me I couldn’t be Veruca Salt because I didn’t get good marks, and although my dad said I could, I was still scared. I had to make sure she wasn’t watching me, because she said if my marks weren’t good enough, she’d come up onto stage and drag me away. I wish she’d died instead of my dad.”
She burst into sobs as Cassie hugged her hard, but even as she did her best to comfort the young girl, whispering that her mother loved her and only wanted what was best for her, she felt deeply concerned about the implications of Madison’s words.
*
Supper was a quiet affair. Cassie could do no more than pick at her food. Tension knotted her stomach as she thought about the discussion to follow, and what she would say to Trish.
Dylan was the only one with an appetite. He piled his plate with food and had a generous second helping. Trish ate sparingly and Madison, clearly still upset, refused everything except chips.
“Put the children to bed, will you? I’ll clean up here,” Trish said when everyone was done.
Cassie was surprised that the obligatory hour of television was being skipped, but felt grateful that she and Trish could get onto the difficult conversation they needed to have.
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