These Little Lies

by GRETTA MULROONEY

  ‘Jo Malone Pomegranate Noir,’ Ali said, looking at the oil-filled jar on the narrow desk. ‘That’s more than sixty quid a bottle.’

  ‘Are you into home scenting then?’

  ‘My wife is. She’s always trying to mask the lingering smell of my fag smoke.’

  The room contained just the desk, a chair, a bookcase and one large framed poster, a stunning aerial view of a winding river with the slogan, Keep it clean. Keep it safe. Keep it for all our futures. The chair had a long yellow pashmina trailing over the back and a detachable lumbar support. Siv looked at the photo on the bookshelf, a selfie of Lauren and another woman, their arms linked, standing on a riverbank. She was wearing the silver wetsuit and the waiflike woman with her was in a black-and-orange one. The books were about swimming, wildlife conservation, birds and working with children. There were a couple of chick-lit novels. Nothing about Lithuania.

  Ali was looking through the desk’s single drawer. ‘Passport, throat lozenges, emery boards, envelopes, couple of blank greetings cards and one from the nursery, Congratulations on Your Wedding, with lots of kids’ squiggles. Posters and flyers for Minstergreen, about weekend clean-ups of the countryside and otter watching, etc. Piece of folded paper in the back of the passport. Take a look.’

  It was in neat, rounded handwriting, the same as yesterday’s shopping list in the kitchen. ‘Looks like a list of passwords and pin numbers. Handy.’

  Ali took one more look in the drawer. ‘Nothing from or to Matis Rimas, unfortunately.’

  Siv moved to the window. It overlooked a small back garden done in a Mediterranean style with pots of flowers and herbs and a gravel seating area covered by a jasmine-smothered pergola. ‘We have to continue to look for a connection, but I’m not sure Lauren knew Rimas. My guess is he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.’

  ‘Collateral damage — the murderer panicked?’

  ‘That’s my thinking,’ she said. ‘But that’s still to prove. Let’s look in the other bedrooms.’

  The middle bedroom had a single unmade bed, fitted wardrobe and chest of drawers. The couple’s bedroom was at the front, with wide blinds pulled halfway up at the windows. They stood inside the door, looking around. Everything was in shades of cream. There was a king-size bed with an oak headboard and matching drawers at each side, fitted wardrobes with mirrors inset into the doors and one upholstered chair. Two huge photos of horses that dominated the room provided the only colour. The nearest was a conker brown horse at full gallop along a sandy beach with the jockey standing in the stirrups, urging it on.

  ‘That’s Red Rum,’ Ali whispered throatily. ‘My da had some big wins on him back in the day. And the one on the far wall is Arkle. He’s reckoned to be the greatest racer ever. There’s a statue to him in Ireland.’

  They looked in the bedside drawers and wardrobes but found nothing of note. On the way down, they heard a vacuum cleaner. Visser was busy in the living room. The rubbish had been cleared away. He showed them out, handing Siv a sheet of paper.

  ‘Here’s Lauren’s passwords. Don’t forget that your two-week clock to find this killer is ticking.’

  Ali looked back at the house as they walked down the path. ‘What’s that crap about giving us two weeks to catch the killer?’

  ‘Asserting himself. Flailing around. Sheer pain and confusion. Maybe he killed her and Rimas and it’s a distraction effort, smoke and mirrors. Take your pick.’

  ‘I bet he’s a sulker,’ Ali said. ‘You’d get the silent treatment if he isn’t best pleased. Mind if I have a drag?’

  ‘Be my guest. I’d like him to see us hanging around. As yet, we’ve no proof of where he said he was late Sunday night into early yesterday. Put the pressure on in case he’s got something to hide. What’s your view?’ Siv stood upwind, enjoying the sun on her face and admiring the well-kept houses.

  Ali stood with his back to the car boot, inhaling deeply. His eyes had the faraway gaze of the addict getting their fix. His shirt was missing a button and he had a greasy smear of food on his jacket cuff. It looked unsightly. The sunlight glinted on his short cornrows. ‘Not sure. He looks done in, as if he’s genuinely sad. Definitely a control freak, though, and I reckon he’s got a nasty temper. Maybe Lauren wanted to go swimming once too often and he snapped, but then you’d expect him to have killed her at home in a moment’s rage.’

  ‘It would definitely have been a lot more trouble for him to go to the river. Unless she was having an affair with Rimas and he thought he’d catch them there.’

  ‘A river romance? That’s possible. Plenty of space around there for al fresco shenanigans.’

  Don’t I know it. ‘It’s a masculine kind of house,’ she said, ‘dominated by Visser’s equine interests. How many horse pictures does one man need? There’s very little sign of Lauren except in the study. It’s as if the smallest room in the house was the only space she claimed.’

  ‘Or was allowed to claim?’

  ‘Maybe. The elusive Errol’s Valencian hideaway is a nuisance. If he doesn’t contact us soon, we’ll have to ask the Spanish police to help. In the meantime, I need to hear someone else’s view of this marriage of twin souls, so I’m off to visit Lauren’s workplace. There are twelve staff, so I’ve arranged for Patrick to join me later for interviews. You’ve got a stain on your sleeve, just there.’

  Ali took out a used tissue and rubbed the spot. ‘I’m a mucky terror,’ he said. ‘My wife’s always asking if I was born in a hedge.’ He glanced down at Siv with his merry eyes. ‘Do you always look so well turned out, guv?’

  Siv laughed. You should have seen me four months ago, still unwashed and in my pyjamas in the afternoon. ‘Can’t help it, Sergeant. Just comes naturally.’

  Chapter Nine

  Caterpillar Corner

  Where Children Become Beautiful Butterflies

  Siv stopped to look at the sign, painted in purple and yellow with multicoloured butterflies flitting through the letters. No doubt, many butterflies would emerge but she reflected cynically that some of the children would metamorphose into slugs and poisonous snakes. Given the well-heeled look of Caterpillar Corner, it would be white-collar crime. The odd murder, some domestic abuse, but mainly financial fraud and tax avoidance.

  She pressed the intercom by the front door of the detached, double-fronted 1930s house and announced herself. The reception was furnished with a pale wooden desk, hard-wearing hessian flooring and rows of bright yellow pegs with children’s names underneath. Gaily coloured mobiles of sunflowers, daisies, roses and birds dangled from the ceiling. The walls were covered in children’s paintings and lime green plastic arrows supported signs pointing to Kidcave, Tigger Corner, Teddy Club and Rainbow Room. It was unrelentingly cheerful amid the blur of primary colours. She could hear children chanting a jolly song. She announced that she’d come to see Jenna Seaton, the nursery school owner. The receptionist took her through to a small office that looked onto a pretty walled garden.

  Siv imagined a maternal, comfortable, middle-aged woman with rolled up sleeves. Jenna Seaton came as a surprise. She was tall and big-boned but slim. Her long hair was gleaming, the colour of almond butter and gathered loosely in an antique silver clip at the base of her neck. She had shiny hazel eyes. She wore a knee-length pale blue dress with a V-neck, which subtly exposed an impressive cleavage, and matching bracelet and necklace, made of teal glass discs. Her bare, tanned legs seemed endless. This woman didn’t change nappies. Like the reception area, her office was busy with children’s drawings and artwork. Wide shelves were stacked with trays of craft materials, glue, ribbon and stick-on shapes.

  Jenna Seaton sat with her hands clasped on her desk. Her fingers were heavy with rings. ‘This is a very sad time for us all, Inspector. The news of Lauren’s death was a terrible shock. I can’t begin to imagine what Ade is going through.’

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s very hard when a person you know suffers a violent death.’

  Jenna shivered. ‘I explaine
d it to the staff and children this morning, as best I could. We’re doing a letter for all the parents, printed copies ready for this afternoon and to email. The little ones might get distressed at home.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure you’re doing all you can.’

  ‘Would you like some coffee, Inspector?’ Jenna asked in a low voice.

  ‘Not just yet, thanks. I’d like to ask you about Lauren. Did you see her over the weekend?’

  ‘No. The last time I saw her was on Friday, just before lunch. I asked after Ade and she said he was fine and going to a conference on Sunday.’

  ‘Did she tell you she was planning to swim on Monday morning?’

  ‘She didn’t mention that. We really just passed in the corridor when she was heading out to eat a sandwich. I was busy with a delivery of new equipment.’

  ‘You own and manage the nursery?’

  ‘That’s right. We opened about six years ago and Lauren had been with us for four years. She started as an assistant but she achieved an advanced child care qualification during her third year and was promoted.’

  ‘Was she good at her job?’

  ‘Excellent. So committed and kind-hearted. Really, Lauren was one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met. Perhaps a bit indulgent with the children at times, but that was her nature and of course, they all adored her.’

  ‘Did she have problems with anyone here, or with any of the parents?’ Siv asked.

  ‘None at all. Lauren was a sweet woman, very caring. It would have been hard to pick an argument with her because she was so gentle. Our staff members are completely gutted about her death. We’re all . . . well . . . stunned.’ She fingered the discs on her bracelet, rearranging them.

  These intense expressions of sadness felt disingenuous. Jenna did it well but she sounded mechanical. ‘Do you know a Matis Rimas, or did you ever hear Lauren mention him?’

  Jenna lifted an eyebrow. ‘Can you say that name again?’

  ‘Matis Rimas. A young Lithuanian man.’ She showed Jenna the passport photo.

  ‘I don’t know anyone of that name and I don’t know the face. I don’t think I ever heard Lauren talk about him. It’s not a common name. I’d have remembered it, I should think.’

  ‘His body was found near Lauren’s.’

  Jenna put a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, good heavens! It said on the news that two bodies were found. This must be some kind of maniac, killing two people like that.’

  Siv nodded at the computer on the desk. ‘Can you search your database with his name to see if it’s associated in any way with the nursery? Do you have that kind of system?’

  Jenna Seaton looked flustered. ‘Well . . . yes . . . I do . . . I suppose . . . it’s an unusual request.’

  ‘A double murder is unusual,’ Siv said mildly.

  ‘Yes . . . sorry . . . I’m still trying to come to terms with what’s happened. Can you spell the name?’

  She typed as Siv spelled it out, and then shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. His name doesn’t feature in any way, regarding either the children or the staff.’

  ‘Okay. Mr Rimas was a plasterer. Have you had any work done on the building recently?’

  ‘No. I had the premises completely refurbished when I bought it. I had to meet lots of regulations to open it as a nursery, you see. So, apart from the occasional odd repair, nothing. Certainly no plastering.’

  ‘Tell me about Lauren and Ade. He said that they met through you and your husband.’

  Jenna looked relieved at being back on familiar territory. ‘That’s right, at Harvey’s birthday party. Harvey met Ade quite a while ago. Harvey rides, you see — well, so do I, but it’s his particular passion — and Ade deals in all things horsey. We got friendly with him and his first wife — used to have dinner together regularly, socialize, you know.’

  ‘Ade Visser was married before? He didn’t mention that.’

  ‘Well, given the circumstances, I don’t suppose Melody was on his mind.’ She sounded suddenly brusque.

  ‘Of course. So what happened to Melody?’

  ‘She died of breast cancer about a year and a half before Ade met Lauren. It was fast — just months from diagnosis to dying. So tragic. He went through a very bad time. That’s why losing Lauren like this must be like a recurring nightmare for him. That poor, poor man.’ She pressed her fingers to her temples. Her nails were smooth and beautifully shaped.

  ‘That is sad. So would you say that Ade and Lauren’s marriage was happy?’

  ‘Absolutely. They fell for each other in a big way and they were devoted. We were so happy for Ade, after what he’d been through. We had dinner with them just a couple of weeks ago and they were in good spirits. Lauren was so different to Melody, who was gregarious. Ade and Melody used to clash sometimes because they were so similar. Both had strong personalities. Lauren was a quieter, calmer person, so she was good for Ade, especially after the turmoil he’d experienced.’

  ‘You’d say then that Lauren was your friend, as well as your employee?’

  The slightest hesitation. ‘Yes, of course. As I said, we socialized. We could see that Ade thought the world of her, so we did too.’

  ‘He made it clear he didn’t approve of her wild swimming.’

  Jenna nodded. ‘He did struggle with that. I told him a couple of times that he should relax about it and he acknowledged that he needed to try harder. But you see, I suppose that, after what happened to Melody, he was over protective of Lauren. I could understand that.’

  Maybe. ‘Did Lauren seem worried about anything recently?’

  ‘Not that I know of. She didn’t indicate anything to me and when we chatted, she was fine. She’d had a cold — everyone here had it, it went around like wildfire. I had to buy in extra tissues.’

  ‘Would you agree that Ade Visser has a temper?’

  Jenna leaned forward, her cleavage forming a deep furrow. ‘What do you mean?’

  Siv was thinking that an expanse of cleavage, impressive though it was, seemed out of place in a nursery but perhaps it encouraged business among some parents and suggested maternal comfort. ‘I mean that Mr Visser can get angry fairly quickly.’

  ‘I’ve never seen him like that, no. Upset and despairing, yes, as he must be right now. I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Inspector.’

  ‘Nothing in particular.’ Siv looked at the garden. Half a dozen tiny children had emerged and were milling about a wooden tepee, a huge table with a sand tray and a set of interlinking plastic dinosaurs. A tall bearded man with his hair in a ponytail was overseeing the activity and succeeded in stopping a boy who was trying to push another’s head in the sand tray. He squatted down beside the aggressor, reasoning with him, while the intended victim dug in the sand with a plastic trowel. Jenna would never go out there. She might get grit in her cleavage. ‘What attracted you to this job?’ she asked.

  Some people might have found the question intrusive but Jenna seized on it. ‘I wanted to start my own business, be my own boss. I’d been in marketing and needed a change. I did my research and saw that there was a demand for good-quality preschool care in Berminster. We offer a holistic, child-centred approach and prepare all our meals on the premises from locally sourced food. We complete a daily report on the little people in our care for their parents. We have an excellent reputation and a huge waiting list. Parents put their children’s names down here even before the birth. Blowing my own trumpet, I know, but I’ve achieved a big success with this venture.’

  Child-centred. Holistic. A daily report. Siv couldn’t help thinking of her own rackety childhood, with a mother who sometimes forgot to fetch her from school and had never attended a parents’ evening or read a school report. Meals consisted of haphazard combinations — brie and marmalade quiche or chicken curry pie for breakfast, chorizo and pickles or haggis with gherkins for lunch, rye crackers with duck terrine for dinner. It had been a relief to have three square, home-cooked meals a day at her father’s house. He’d done wonders wit
h a simple roast chicken. ‘I suppose it costs a fair bit to send a child here.’

  ‘Quality care doesn’t come cheap. Why are you asking? Are you looking for a nursery place?’

  ‘Me? No, no. Just curious. I have another photo I’d like you to look at. Do you know this child?’ She took the blown-up, A4-size photo from her briefcase and laid it on the desk.

  Jenna picked it up and held it to the light. ‘Pretty girl. I don’t know her.’

  ‘Could she have attended the nursery at some time?’

  ‘Possibly.’ She drew the word out slowly. ‘It would be best to ask the staff. They have the day-to-day contact with the children.’

  ‘I have another copy of the photo and one of Mr Rimas. I’d like you to put them up at the reception desk and ask all parents to check them when they’re here.’

  ‘If you like, I can scan them and attach them to the email I’m sending to the parents.’

  ‘Yes, that would be helpful. Did Lauren ever give you any indication that she’d had a child? Perhaps a child she’d had adopted, for example?’

  ‘Lauren? No. She was so young!’

  ‘She was twenty-five. She could easily have had a child before you or Ade met her.’

  ‘True, I suppose, but no, there was never any mention of a child. And for heaven’s sake, Ade would have known! In fact, he was saying only recently that they wanted to start a family soon. You do ask some strange questions!’ Her well-groomed eyebrows were raised.

  ‘That’s true. But people’s lives are often strange.’ The post-mortem would tell her what she wanted to know, but she’d been interested to see Jenna Seaton’s reaction. There was a smugness to the woman that riled her.

  Jenna’s desk phone rang. ‘There’s a DC Hill in reception,’ she said.

  ‘He’s come to help me interview the staff. We’ll speak to six each. I’ll use this office, if that’s okay. Can you give DC Hill another room?’

  Jenna looked irritated. ‘He can use the staffroom. It’s small but I think it will do. Will you be long?’