She typed Shane Gilbert’s name into Google, scanning the thousands of results. A few references to the murder trial, and lots of other Shane Gilberts – company directors, self-published authors, an orthodontist in New York City – but none of them the one she was looking for.
There were plenty of Shane Gilberts on Instagram and Twitter, but as far as she could tell, none of them was the one she wanted. She logged into Facebook and typed his name again. Another list. She scrolled through it, a quick glance at each photo to see if any of them could be him.
And then, suddenly, there he was.
He was older, of course. His hair was shorter and he’d filled out quite a bit. But the eyes were the same dark blue, and so intense it seemed as if he was staring into her soul. Dee shivered. No wonder poor Katie had fallen for him.
His privacy settings were locked down, which meant she wasn’t able to see any details of what he posted or who his friends were. She could send him a friend request, but if he checked her profile, he’d see she’d spent most of her adult life as a journalist. Chances were he wouldn’t want anything to do with her. She needed to find some other way of contacting him. There had to be a way. All she had to do was work it out.
But it had been a long day, and she was tired. She needed to take a break. Her body told her it was wine o’clock and her mind told her that if she was going to think this through, she’d need something to unlock the tight knot of tension in the centre of her body.
It was still warm, traces of the day’s heat lingering long after the sun was gone. Her skin was damp and sticky. She used a sheet of paper to fan herself, wondering how much of her body heat was down to the weather and how much was caused by early menopause. Her periods had stopped, abruptly and without warning, nine months earlier. The final confirmation that she would never be a mother.
Living next door to Katie and Jake had helped with that too. Dee had fooled herself into thinking she could be some sort of surrogate mother to the boy. She’d let her imagination take her places it should never have gone – helping get him ready for his first day at school, waiting up with Katie for him to come home after his first date, waving him off to college, watching him get married to the love of his life, holding his first child in her arms. Trying to live her life vicariously through a young woman and her son she had nothing in common with apart from the fact that they were neighbours. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
The regrets swooped in across the dark sea, wrapping themselves around her until she knew the only way out of this black depression was to pour herself some wine and to keep drinking until the pain became bearable.
She was on her third glass when the doorbell rang. She thought it might be Louise. They’d left several messages for each other throughout the day, but so far they hadn’t actually spoken. When she opened the door, however, she was greeted by Alex Mackey.
‘Hey.’ He grinned and held up a bottle of Pinot Grigio. ‘This is for you. It’s not too late to call, is it? I was hoping we could chat.’
She should probably tell him this wasn’t a good time, but the wine she’d already drunk meant her mind wasn’t working as quickly as it should have been.
‘Sure.’ She stepped back, turning her head sideways when he passed so he wouldn’t smell the alcohol on her breath.
She poured him a glass of wine and told him to sit on the deck while she made herself a coffee. She couldn’t risk drinking any more while he was here. Didn’t trust herself not to do something foolish again.
‘I wanted to see you,’ he said when she came out and sat down.
‘Well, now you have.’
‘Don’t be like that. I care about you, Dee. You know that, don’t you?’
Dee took a slurp of coffee. It was too hot, and it burned her tongue and throat. She barely noticed, every bit of her willing Alex not to say anything else. Clearly he was rubbish at reading her body language, because he carried on regardless.
‘Do you remember the other night?’ he said. ‘Not the last time I was here. The time before?’
Dee groaned. ‘I wondered how long it would be before you brought that up,’ she said. ‘Listen, Alex. I’d had too much wine and I made a pass at you. It was bloody stupid of me and I’ve regretted it ever since. I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again.’
‘I can’t think about anything else,’ Alex said. ‘I mean, I know how I feel about you, Dee. I never for a second imagined you’d feel the same way. I was happy being friends because I didn’t think you wanted anything more than that. But if you do…’
‘Even if I wanted to sleep with you – and I don’t, by the way – you’re married. Maybe you’re okay to forget that fact, but I can’t.’
‘You don’t want to sleep with me?’
‘I really don’t,’ Dee said.
‘Thanks for breaking it to me gently.’
‘My pleasure. And Alex?’
‘Yeah?’
‘You can stay and have a glass of wine, because I’m bored. But I don’t want to have sex with you. Not now, not any time in the future. Is that clear?’
‘Crystal.’
‘One more thing,’ Dee said.
‘Can’t wait to hear it.’
‘If you ever – and I mean ever – try to tell me your wife doesn’t understand you, I will kick you off this deck and forbid you from ever coming back here again.’
That made him laugh, and the tension eased between them.
‘So,’ he said. ‘You want to tell me what you’ve been up to?’
And because she’d already had three quarters of a bottle of wine, and she was lonely and missing someone to talk to, Dee put down her cup of coffee, took the bottle from the wine cooler to refill her empty glass, and told Alex about her trip to London and why she was increasingly convinced the wrong girl had been killed.
Sixteen
Dee
Streaks of golden sunshine filtered through the gaps in the curtains. Dee turned her head away, trying to go back to sleep. Random moments from the previous day drifted to the surface of her mind. The green glow of Pinot Grigio under the lighting in the Soho club. Trevor’s smile, teeth white against his dark skin, and the warmth of his body as he held her when they said goodbye. Leonard Mann coughing down the phone. Alex standing in her doorway, a bottle of wine in his hand and a self-satisfied grin on his face.
Alex!
She shot up, wide awake now, searching the bed for another body. But there was no one else here. She raced back through her memories, trying to recall how the night had ended. She remembered sharing her theory about Katie being the intended victim. To her surprise, Alex had seemed to take the idea seriously. So seriously that she’d let herself relax, drink some more wine. Until… nothing. The last thing she remembered was standing in the kitchen unscrewing the lid off another bottle.
She fell back on the pillows, hot with shame as the moral hangover took control of her mind and body. She was drinking too much, doing things she never would have done when she was younger. Practically throwing herself at a married man, prancing up to London pretending she was someone special; someone better able than the police to solve the mystery of the dead girl.
She heard someone moving around the other side of the bedroom door. Her stomach contracted. Glancing at the clock on the bedside cabinet, she saw that it was only 6.45. Either she had an early-morning burglar, or Alex bloody Mackey had spent the night.
The smell of fresh coffee filtered into the room, and she pulled the quilt over her head, thinking she would lie here until he left. He had a job and a family and a life. It was only a matter of time before he’d remember one or all of them and realise he couldn’t sit here in her house drinking coffee all bloody day.
‘Dee?’ A knock on her bedroom door and the creak of an unoiled hinge as he pushed the door open.
‘I’m asleep,’ she said, keeping the quilt over her head.
‘Doesn’t sound like it,’ he said. ‘I’ve made coffee if you fancy it?’
She threw the quilt off, anger making her forget how embarrassed she was.
‘Jesus, Alex. It’s not even seven o’clock. I know you have to go to work, but I don’t. Can’t you leave me to sleep on?’
He grinned, and her heart did that stupid flip-flop-fluttery thing.
‘You didn’t get enough sleep last night?’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You fell asleep in the sitting room mid rant,’ he said. ‘Something about your ex-husband and how you were going to show him.’
‘Show him what?’
‘You fell asleep before you could enlighten me,’ Alex said.
Another memory then. Dim, more a dream than a memory, but real. Waking up in the armchair, her neck stiff and sore. Alex lying on the sofa, arms crossed over his flat stomach, fast asleep.
‘Your snoring woke me,’ she said. ‘A right bloody racket. How does Sandra put up with that noise every night?’
‘She doesn’t.’ He grinned again. ‘Why do you think I spent the night here?’
Dee’s throat was dry and scratchy. Her body craved liquid, and the smell of coffee was impossible to ignore a moment longer. She told Alex to leave, said she’d be out in a moment. It was only when she got out of bed and went to look for her clothes that she realised there was no need. She’d fallen into bed last night fully dressed.
They sat outside, drinking coffee and watching the sea and sky change colour as day crept in, pushing the night further west until it disappeared altogether.
‘So how does it work?’ Dee asked.
Two cups of coffee and a pint of water later, the effects of the hangover were receding. Hydration coupled with the realisation that they hadn’t slept together meant that she was starting to feel pretty good about herself.
‘How does what work?’ Alex asked. He was rolling a cigarette on his lap, not looking at her. Which maybe was why she found it so easy to ask the question.
‘You and Sandra,’ she said. ‘When Billy stayed out all night, it drove me crazy. I would literally lose my mind, obsessing over who he was with, why he hadn’t bothered to call and tell me he wouldn’t be home. I hated it, hated him too for putting me through it.’
Alex put the finished cigarette in his mouth and lit it. Held the smoke in for several seconds before exhaling slowly.
‘I sent her a text,’ he said. ‘Told her I was staying over at Ian’s.’
‘Who’s Ian?’
‘My brother.’
‘I didn’t know you had a brother.’
‘There’s lots you don’t know about me.’
‘He lives in Eastbourne as well?’ Dee asked. Alex was from Glasgow. His rich, lilting accent was one of the reasons she found him attractive.
‘Brighton,’ he said. ‘Runs a bar in the Laines. I go and see him quite a bit. He and Sandra don’t exactly see eye to eye, so she’s never bothered if I go see him without her.’
Dee doubted that was true but didn’t challenge him on it, deciding to save her energy for the early-morning visitor who’d announced themselves by ringing her doorbell.
She thought it would be Louise, but when she opened the door, she found Ed Mitchell standing in her porch, telling her the coffee smelled good and asking if she had time to answer a few questions.
‘This early?’ Dee said. ‘I hope it’s important.’
‘It’s a murder investigation,’ Ed said. ‘I’ve got one dead woman, one missing woman and a missing child. Is that important enough for you?’
Up yours too, Dee thought, following him into the living area.
‘I see you already have a visitor,’ Ed said. ‘Sorry to break up your morning date.’
At the sound of their voices, Alex stood up and came inside.
‘You okay?’ he asked Dee.
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Alex, this is Ed Mitchell. He’s leading the investigation into the hit and run. Says he’s got a few more questions for me.’
‘We’ve already met,’ Alex said. He looked at Dee. ‘You want me to stay?’
‘No. It’s probably better if you leave. If that’s okay?’
‘Sure.’
He came over to her, seemed about to kiss her or give her a hug, but in the end simply patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. A moment later, the front door opened and closed and Dee was alone with Ed Mitchell.
‘A bit early for a visitor,’ Ed said as she handed him a cup. ‘Unless he stayed the night, of course.’
‘Coffee, milk and sugar on the table outside,’ she said.
‘Boyfriend?’ Ed asked. ‘Or a one-night stand?’
‘That’s none of your business. I didn’t realise you two knew each other.’
‘Alex Mackey works in a boatyard a few hundred yards along the beach from Katie’s home.’
‘And?’
‘So of course we’ve spoken to him as part of our investigation.’
Dee didn’t ask Ed what Alex had told him; she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer. She went and sat outside, wanting to get her thoughts in order before she spoke again. Predictably, Ed followed her, sitting in the chair recently vacated by Alex.
‘I know Mackey’s wife.’ He poured himself some coffee, then sat back and crossed his legs, cradling the mug in his huge hands. He looked so smug and comfortable that Dee wanted to reach across the table and slap him – hard. ‘Sandra. Lovely woman. Paediatric nurse at the Conquest hospital. She a friend of yours too?’
Dee wanted to tell him she hadn’t done anything wrong. That Alex was nothing to her and the last thing, the very last thing, she wanted to be was someone who broke up another person’s marriage. Because she knew better than anyone how painful it was to be at the other end of that situation. But she kept quiet, because it was none of his business and if he wanted to judge her based on something he didn’t know the first thing about, well then, let him judge her to hell. It wasn’t like she gave a damn what Ed Mitchell thought of her, anyway.
‘I assume you’re not here to ask questions about my personal life?’ she said.
‘What were you doing in London yesterday?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Rachel spoke to Crispin Marsden,’ Ed said. ‘Name sound familiar to you?’
Dee couldn’t think of anything smart to say, so she kept quiet.
‘What did you think you were doing? According to Rachel, you told him you work with Louise. That’s bullshit, Dee.’
‘Why would he tell Rachel I was in London?’ Dee asked. ‘He told me he didn’t know Katie. And he certainly didn’t seem to care where she was or what had happened to her. As far as I could work out, the only thing he was interested in was getting a date with Louise.’
‘Rachel called him yesterday afternoon,’ Ed said. ‘As Katie’s ex-boss, he’s a person of interest. He mentioned that an Eastbourne journalist had been asking questions earlier in the day. He couldn’t remember your name, but he told Rachel what you looked like. When I heard the description, I knew right away who he was talking about.’
‘And that’s why you’re here?’ Dee said. ‘Because I went to London pretending to work with Louise? I was doing her a favour because she wasn’t able to go herself. What’s the big deal? Shouldn’t you be spending your time trying to find Katie and Jake, instead of driving out here and asking me pointless questions?’
‘What did Crispin tell you about Katie?’ Ed asked.
‘Nothing,’ Dee said. ‘Like I already said, he told me he’d never even met her. Why?’
‘That’s what he told Rachel,’ Ed said. ‘She believed him, I think. It seems odd, doesn’t it? Apart from you and her piano students, we can’t find anyone who knows Katie. What do you make of it?’
‘I think she did a good job of keeping a low profile.’
Apart from you and her piano students. Dee hoped the omission had been a mistake on Ed’s part. She could ask him outright if he knew Alex had also been a friend of Katie’s, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.
‘
Could I take another look at the paperwork your mother kept?’ Ed asked.
Dee stood up. ‘Why not? If you really think it will help.’
Again she was hit with a rush of memories as she pushed open the office door and walked over to the grey filing cabinet. She imagined she could smell her mother’s perfume, even though there was no way the scent would have lingered after all this time. And when she leaned down to pull out the drawer, she caught a fleeting glimpse of her mother sitting at her desk working on her computer, fingers moving fast across the laptop keyboard.
‘You okay?’ Ed asked as she handed him the file.
‘Fine. There’s a photocopier over there. Copy whatever you need and leave the file on the desk. I’ll put it away later.’
She told him she would be in the kitchen if he needed her, and got out of there as quickly as possible. Memories of her dead mother chasing after her along the corridor, fizzling away until suddenly there was nothing left except the burning bright sunshine and the endless sound of the waves rolling in and out across the shingle beach. When she started to wash up, she noticed her hands was shaking and knew the tremors had nothing to do with the wine she’d drunk the night before.
She had cleaned the kitchen and was making a fresh pot of coffee when Ed joined her.
‘Any chance of another cup before I go?’ he asked.
The deck was already hot from the morning sun. Dee wanted him to leave. All she could think of was a swim in the sea – diving into the icy-cold water, letting it cool her hot, hung-over body.
‘Did you find what you were looking for?’ she asked.
‘I’m not sure I know what I’m looking for,’ Ed said. ‘I’ve gone through everything again and I can’t find anything new.’
‘What about the other girl? The victim. Do you know who she is yet?’
‘I have a theory,’ Ed said. He patted the pile of photocopied papers on the table beside his cup of coffee. ‘That’s why I needed to take another look. To see if there was anything in here that backs up what I’m thinking.’
I Could Be You Page 10