by B. A. Paris
And then I have another.
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 1ST
The next morning, when I see that it’s the first of October, it seems like a good omen, the right day to make a fresh start. The first thing I do is check the news and when I hear that a man and woman are helping the police with their enquiries in relation to the Jane Walters murder, I can’t help feeling a grim satisfaction that Rachel too has been arrested.
I never thought I was a vindictive person but I hope she spent a terrifying few hours being grilled by the police about her relationship with Matthew, about the row she had with Jane and about the tea towel containing the knife. She must be dreading her fingerprints being found on the knife. Of course, once I hand in her secret mobile, both she and Matthew will be released because the police will realise that neither of them killed Jane, that the knife they have is simply one Rachel bought in London to scare me with, not the murder weapon. And then what? They’ll live together happily ever after? It doesn’t seem right, and it certainly doesn’t seem fair.
I have a busy day in front of me but first I have a leisurely breakfast, marvelling at how good it feels without the threat of a silent call hanging over me. I want to take out a court order to prevent Matthew, and Rachel, from coming anywhere near me once they’re released, so I search on the computer and find that I can apply for a restraining order. Knowing that I’m going to need legal advice at some point, I phone my solicitor and make an appointment to see him at the end of the morning. And then I phone a locksmith and arrange to have the locks changed.
While the locksmith changes the locks, I put Matthew’s belongings into bin bags, trying not to think too much about what I’m doing, about what it means. But it’s still emotionally draining. At twelve o’clock, I drive into Castle Wells with Rachel’s little black phone in my bag and spend an hour and a half with my solicitor, who tells me something I hadn’t realised: thanks to the text messages, Matthew can be charged in relation to my ‘overdose’. When I leave, I drive to Rachel’s and dump the bin bags containing Matthew’s clothes outside her front door. And then I drive to the police station and ask to speak to PC Lawson. She isn’t available but PC Thomas is, so I hand him Rachel’s mobile and tell him what I told my solicitor, that I found it in my car that morning.
Physically and mentally exhausted, I drive home. I’m surprised at how hungry I am so I find a tin of tomato soup and have it with some toast. Then I wander around the house, feeling at a loss, wondering how I’m going to be able to move on when I’ve lost both my husband and my best friend. I feel so low, so depressed, that the temptation to sink to my knees and cry my eyes out is overpowering. But I don’t give in to it.
I turn on the television to catch the six o’clock news. There’s nothing about Matthew and Rachel having been released but when the phone starts ringing shortly after, I realise that nothing has changed, that the same crippling fear is still there. As I walk through to the hall I remind myself that this can’t be a silent call but when I lift the receiver and see that the number is withheld, I feel numb with disbelief.
My fingers fumble as I take the call.
‘Cass? It’s Alex.’
‘Alex?’ Relief washes over me. ‘You gave me a fright! Did you know your number comes up as withheld?’
‘Does it? I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Look, I hope you don’t mind me phoning you – I got your number from the card you sent me after Jane died – but I’ve just had a call from the police. They have Jane’s murderer in custody. It’s over, Cass, it’s finally over.’ His voice is heavy with emotion.
I try to find the right words but my mind is reeling with shock. ‘That’s wonderful, Alex, I’m so pleased for you.’
‘I know, I can’t believe it. When I heard yesterday that two people were helping the police with their enquiries I didn’t dare get my hopes up.’
‘So is it one of them, then?’ I ask, knowing that it can’t be.
‘I don’t know, the police didn’t say. They’re sending someone round to see me. I’m probably not meant to be telling anyone but I wanted you to know. After what you told me on Monday, I thought it might put your mind at rest.’
‘Thank you, Alex, it’s great news, it really is. Will you let me know what happens?’
‘Yes, of course. Well, goodbye Cass. I hope you’ll be able to sleep easier tonight.’
‘You too.’
I hang up, still stunned at what he’s just told me. If the police have Jane’s murderer in custody, Matthew and Rachel must have been released. So who has confessed? Did the murderer have a crisis of conscience when he heard that two people had been arrested? Maybe someone was harbouring him – his mum, his girlfriend – and they decided to turn him in. It seems the most logical explanation.
I’m so on edge that I can’t sit still. Where are Matthew and Rachel? Are they back at Rachel’s flat, have they found the bin bags with Matthew’s clothes inside? Or are they on their way here, to collect the rest of his things? His laptop, work bag, toothbrush, razor – they are all still here. Glad to have something to do I go around the house gathering them together, putting everything in a box, wanting to be prepared in case they do turn up, because I don’t want to have to let them in.
Night falls but I don’t go upstairs to bed. I wish Alex had phoned back to tell me who killed Jane. He must know by now. I should feel safer with the murderer in custody but there are too many doubts clouding my mind. The air reeks of unease. It shrinks the walls of the house; they close in around me and squeeze the breath from my lungs.
FRIDAY OCTOBER 2ND
I wake to find myself on the sofa, the lights still on because I hadn’t wanted to be in the dark. I have a quick shower, nervous about what the day will bring. The doorbell rings, making me jump. My first thought is that it’s Matthew, so I keep the new chain in place as I open the door. When I see PC Lawson standing there, I feel as if I’m looking at an old friend.
‘Can I come in?’ she asks.
We go into the kitchen and I offer her a cup of tea. I presume she’s come to warn me that Matthew and Rachel have been released, or to quiz me over how I came to be in possession of Rachel’s secret mobile. Or to confirm what Alex told me last night, that they have Jane’s murderer.
‘I’ve come to keep you up to date,’ she says as I take mugs from the cupboard. ‘And to thank you. Without your help, we would never have solved Jane’s murder so quickly.’
I’m too busy trying to look surprised to make sense of her words. ‘You know who killed Jane?’ I say, turning to face her.
‘Yes, we have a confession.’
‘That’s wonderful!’
‘And you led us there,’ she says. ‘We’re very grateful.’
I look at her in confusion. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘It was just as you said.’
Just as I said? In a daze, I walk over to the table and sink onto a chair. Matthew killed Jane? I feel a rush of fear.
‘No, it’s not possible,’ I say, finding my voice. ‘I dropped a mobile off at the station yesterday. I found it in my car when I was on my way to see my solicitor and when I opened it I realised that it was a phone Rachel was using to communicate with Matthew. If you read the text messages between them—’
‘I have,’ PC Lawson interrupts. ‘Every single one of them.’
I watch as she pops a tea bag into the mugs that I abandoned. If she’s read them, she should know that Matthew is innocent. But she told me that it was just as I said. My stomach churns at the thought of having to tell her the truth: that I implicated Matthew in Jane’s murder in retaliation for what he did to me. I’m going to have to retract everything I said and I’ll probably be charged with perverting the course of justice. Yet what is there to retract? I didn’t actually tell any lies. I didn’t see Matthew when I got home that night so it is possible that he wasn’t in his room. But out murdering Jane? He didn’t even know her. Why would he confess to Jane’s murder if he wasn’t guilty? And then I remember t
he look on Jane’s face when she saw him through the restaurant window. I was right, it had been a look of recognition. He did know Jane.
‘I can’t believe it,’ I say weakly. ‘I can’t believe that Matthew killed Jane.’
PC Lawson frowns. ‘Matthew? No, Matthew isn’t our murderer.’
My mind spins. ‘Not Matthew? Then who?’
‘Miss Baretto. Rachel has admitted everything.’
The breath goes out of me and the room swims before my eyes. I feel the blood draining from my face, then PC Lawson’s hands on the back of my head as she pushes it gently to the table.
‘You’ll be all right,’ she says, her voice calm. ‘Take a couple of deep breaths and you’ll be all right.’
Shock shudders in and out of me. ‘Rachel?’ I say hoarsely. ‘Rachel killed Jane?’
‘Yes.’
I feel panic surge. Despite everything I know she’s capable of I don’t believe this. I know I’d told the police things to implicate her, as I had with Matthew, but I had only wanted her to be frightened.
‘No, not Rachel, she can’t have. She wouldn’t have, she’s not like that, she wouldn’t kill someone! You’ve got it wrong, you must have . . .’ Despite my hatred for Rachel, for what she’s done to me, I feel so scared for her that I can’t go on.
‘I’m afraid she’s confessed,’ PC Lawson says, pushing a mug towards me. Obediently, I take a sip of hot, sweet tea, my hands shaking so much that some of it slops over the side and scalds me. ‘When we questioned her about it last night, she just caved in. It was incredible – for some reason she thought we were on to her. You were right when you said the row between her and Jane wasn’t over a parking space. Of course, we’ll have both of their DNA all over the knife – hers and Jane’s . . .’
I feel as if I’m caught up in a nightmare. ‘What – the knife I found in the shed – it’s actually the murder weapon?’
‘She cleaned it up, of course, but blood residue has been found in grooves in the handle. We’ve sent it to Forensics but we’re certain it’s Jane’s.’
‘But . . .’ It’s a struggle to keep up. ‘She said she bought it in London.’
‘She probably did, but before the murder, not after. She couldn’t very well tell Matthew that she already had a knife, so she pretended she’d bought it to frighten you with. Leaving it in your shed afterwards was a way of hiding it.’
‘I don’t understand.’ My teeth are chattering with shock so I circle the mug with my hands, craving some warmth. ‘I mean, why? Why would she do such a thing? She didn’t really know Jane.’
‘She knew her better than you think.’ PC Lawson sits down next to me. ‘Did Rachel ever tell you about her private life, introduce you to her partners?’
‘No, not really. I met one or two over the years but she never seemed to stay with any of them for very long. She always said she wasn’t the marrying kind.’
‘It’s been a bit of a marathon trying to piece everything together,’ says PC Lawson, with the air of someone with a lot of explaining to do. ‘Some things we knew from when we interviewed Jane’s colleagues at Finchlakers and, once she confessed, we were able to get the rest from Rachel. It’s a bit of a sordid story, I’m afraid.’ She looks at me, wanting to know if she should go on and I nod, because how can I ever come to terms with it if I don’t know the reasons behind it? ‘OK, here goes. About two years ago, Rachel had an affair with someone at Finchlakers. He was married with three young children. He ended up leaving his wife for Rachel and, once he had, she lost interest. So he went back to his wife, and Rachel started up the affair again. He left his wife for a second time and it was catastrophic for the family.’ She pauses. ‘Again, the affair ended but this time, his wife wouldn’t take him back. It was especially difficult for the wife as she also worked for Finchlakers, so she saw him every day, and she spiralled into depression.’
‘But what does this have to do with Jane?’ I ask, trying to hold the pieces of the puzzle up in my mind.
‘She was Jane’s best friend, so Jane got caught up in it all. Naturally, she hated Rachel with a vengeance for breaking up her friend’s family, not once but twice.’
‘I can understand that.’
‘Quite. But as they worked in different departments their paths didn’t cross very often. However, her opinion of Rachel fell even lower when she came across her having sex in the office late one evening. She confronted Rachel the next day, basically telling her to get a hotel in future otherwise she would report her.’
‘Don’t tell me that’s why Rachel killed her,’ I say, with a hollow laugh. ‘Because she was worried about being reported.’
‘No, things only became difficult for Rachel when Jane realised the man she’d seen her with in the office was Matthew. Sorry,’ she says, catching sight of my face. ‘If you need me to stop for now, just say.’
I shake my head. ‘It’s all right, I need to know.’
‘If you’re sure. Do you remember you told us that you thought Jane had recognised Matthew through the restaurant window? Well, you were right, she had.’
It seems unfathomable that something I’d made up has turned out to be true. It’s so absurd I want to laugh.
‘It’s easy to imagine how Jane must have felt when she realised that the man she’d seen Rachel having sex with was the husband of her new friend,’ PC Lawson goes on. ‘Outraged on your behalf, she sent an email to Rachel, who was away in New York at the time. She reminded Rachel that she’d already broken up one marriage, and said she wasn’t going to let her do the same to you, especially as you were meant to be her best friend. Rachel told her to mind her own business but when she went into work on her return from New York, Jane confronted her in the car park. She threatened to tell you about their affair if she didn’t break it off with Matthew immediately. So Rachel promised to break things off with Matthew that evening. But Jane didn’t trust her and when she returned to the restaurant after her friend’s hen party, to use the phone there, she not only phoned her husband, but also Rachel – when Jane confronted her in the car park earlier that day, she had demanded Rachel’s business card and had jotted her mobile number on the back. We found lots of business cards in Jane’s bag, most of them from people who worked at Finchlakers, so Rachel’s didn’t stand out. Anyway, Jane asked Rachel if she’d broken things off with Matthew and when Rachel admitted that she hadn’t, saying that she needed more time, Jane told her that since she’d be passing by Nook’s Corner on her way home, she was going to stop off and tell you about their affair.’
‘What, at eleven o’clock at night?’ I say. ‘I doubt that she would have.’
‘You’re right, she probably only said it to threaten Rachel. Anyway, Rachel panicked. She told Jane that before she said anything to you, there were certain things she needed to be aware of – hinting at your fragile state of mind, saying that she couldn’t just tell you brutally. She suggested that they meet in the lay-by and that once Jane had heard her out, if she still wanted to go ahead and tell you, they would do it together. Jane agreed to listen to what she had to say, so Rachel drove to a track off Blackwater Lane and ran to the lay-by on foot. And, well, we all know the outcome. Jane didn’t buy what Rachel told her about you having mental problems, and they began arguing. Rachel maintains that she had no intention of killing Jane, that she only took the knife to frighten her with.’
Slowly, things fall into place. When I stopped in the lay-by on the night of the storm, Jane hadn’t needed any help because she was waiting for Rachel to arrive. She hadn’t known it was me in the car; if she had, she would have run to me through the rain, climbed in beside me and told me that, strangely enough, she’d been on the way to see me. And, sitting in the car, she would have told me that Rachel and Matthew were having an affair. Would I have driven straight to the house to confront Matthew, passing Rachel’s car on the way? Or would Rachel have arrived as I was trying to come to terms with the devastating news, and killed us both? It’s something I wi
ll never know.
‘I can’t believe it,’ I mumble numbly. ‘I still can’t believe that Rachel would do such a thing. Even if Jane had told me, so what? Their affair would have been out in the open and Rachel would have got what she wanted, which was Matthew.’
PC Lawson shakes her head. ‘As you know from the text messages, this wasn’t just about Matthew, it was also about money. Your money. She felt very strongly that your father should have made some kind of provision for her in his will – she kept saying that your parents used to call her their second daughter – so she felt cheated when everything was left to you.’
‘I didn’t know about the money, not until Mum died.’
‘Yes, Rachel told us. And while you remained single, she felt that she would be able to have some sort of share of it. But when you got married, and she could see she wasn’t your top priority any more, resentment towards you built up and she decided that the only way to get her hands on what she felt was her due was through Matthew. I’m afraid she deliberately set out to have an affair with him, and once he was in love with her, they concocted their plan to have you certified as mentally unstable, so that Matthew could get control of your money. The day Jane confronted her, they were about to start their campaign against you – it was bad timing, if you like. If Jane had told you about Rachel and Matthew, all her carefully laid plans would have been for nothing.’
Tears spill from my eyes. ‘I bought her a house in France. She fell in love with it and I bought it for her. I was going to give it to her for her fortieth birthday, it was to be a surprise. I didn’t tell Matthew about it because I thought he would disapprove. He didn’t really like Rachel – at least, that’s what I believed back then. If only she had waited – her birthday is at the end of the month.’