These Little Lies

by GRETTA MULROONEY

  ‘I’ve no idea. Your hospitality is much appreciated. And now a coffee would be appreciated too.’

  She spoke briefly with Patrick, checked that he had his staff list and returned to Jenna’s room. She moved her chair, drawing it to the side of the desk. While she waited, she looked at the photo of Jenna and a well-built man — Harvey the husband, presumably — kitted out in riding gear and sitting astride a pair of enormous horses. The receptionist brought in a coffee and a plate of chocolate chip biscuits. Both were delicious.

  All of the six staff she saw expressed variations of how terrible Lauren’s death was and how much they’d miss her. None of them had heard of Matis Rimas or recognized his photo or that of the child. None of them except the deputy manager had noticed any change in Lauren or knew of anyone she’d fallen out with. They all said they didn’t know she was planning an early-morning swim on Monday, although it was common knowledge that she regularly went wild swimming. All of them described the same kind of gentle, caring woman, wonderful with the children and so on. So committed to and serious about her voluntary work with Minstergreen. None of them had a bad word to say.

  The cook, Simon Rochford, was a jowly, middle-aged man with a beak of a nose and a confident manner. He brought his own coffee in with him and started talking before she had a chance to ask any questions.

  ‘I’ll tell you straight up that I had some disagreements with Lauren. I could see that she was really good with the kids but I had a couple of forthright discussions with her about the menus here. We didn’t fall out but we didn’t agree about the food. I plan careful, balanced meals, catering for all dietary needs and preferences. We send the parents a copy of each week’s menu in advance and we have regular consultation about the food we provide. Lauren thought I should use less meat and make most of the meals plant-based. I didn’t agree and Jenna backed me up. We already have two meat-free days a week and I never use red meat. Currently, only two of the children are vegetarian. Lauren was vegan and I felt she wanted to push the kitchen in that direction. I did point out to her that hers was a minority diet and her response was that one day, everyone would have to be vegan because the planet would demand it. That’s as may be. I’m dealing with the here and now. She was persistent, brought me in magazines about veganism, and left them in the kitchen. Trying to convert me, I suppose. I don’t care what anyone’s dietary preferences are but I didn’t like the feeling I was being preached to.’ He sounded amused rather than annoyed at the memory.

  ‘It wasn’t a dispute then? Are we talking raised voices and bad feeling?’

  ‘Not at all. I’ll cook anything for anyone if they pay me. If Jenna told me we were cancelling meat tomorrow, it would be a challenge but I’d rise to it. She’s the boss so what she says, goes. But no cook likes someone interfering in their kitchen. Jenna told her to leave off in the end, and she did.’

  By this time, Siv was beginning to think that Lauren had been a bit of a preachy bore. She was finding it hard to concentrate in the stuffy room. She opened a window and rolled her neck. Second day in, and her limbs and brain felt sluggish. She took a bottle of water from her bag and drank half of it.

  The last staff member, Betty Marshall, was the deputy manager. A sturdy, competent-looking woman in her fifties with a country face and short brown hair flecked with silver. In her black trousers and navy tabard with deep pockets, she looked much more like Siv’s mental picture of a nursery head. She volunteered all of the same sentiments expressed by her colleagues, adding well-mannered to Lauren’s stockpiled virtues. Siv was just stifling a yawn when there was a shift in Betty’s tone.

  ‘I don’t know if I should say this,’ Betty said hesitantly, glancing around, ‘but sometimes I wondered if Lauren was cheating on her husband.’

  ‘What makes you say that, Betty?’

  ‘Well, as deputy manager I spend time in all the groups, help out with any problems and I supervise the staff on a day-to-day basis. I know all of them well and their patterns and habits. You know, when they like a snack, when they take their loo breaks, if they’ve problems at home or illness in the family. Lauren rarely used her phone at work and then all of a sudden there were days when she made or took calls or sent quick texts. Never for long, but she often looked a bit flushed afterwards. Oh, dear, I’m not sure I should have told you that but I worried about her at times.’

  Siv pushed the biscuit plate towards her. This was more like it. The virtuous Lauren’s halo might be slipping. Betty had come to life a bit more, and there was a hint of disapproval in her voice. ‘Have a biscuit. They’re amazing. You’re right to tell me about your concern, Betty. When did that behaviour start?’

  Betty crunched a biscuit, holding her other hand out to catch the crumbs. She had fat, homely fingers. ‘I’d say last autumn. I asked Lauren if everything was okay and she said yes and that she had an increase in her commitments to Minstergreen. But you see, I volunteer with them too and I hadn’t noticed we’d got that much busier, so it didn’t quite seem to add up. Although Lauren was on the committee, so I suppose she had more to do.’

  Siv liked the way Betty left things implied and guessed she was practised at it. ‘And did the phone use continue up to this week?’

  Betty made a little gesture with her hand. ‘Not as much, I don’t think. Or not that I noticed.’

  ‘Did she ever say anything to give you the impression that she was seeing another person?’

  ‘No, never. I might be wrong. It’s just that my husband cheated on me before he left and he’d have that same look. A bit sly and excited at the same time. Of course,’ she went on hurriedly, ‘Lauren did a lot with her conservation work so it might have been perfectly innocent.’

  Siv looked at Betty’s round face with its hint of a double chin and her quick eyes. Her instincts would be accurate and she’d have a nose for trouble. ‘What you’ve told me doesn’t chime with your colleagues’ accounts. They’ve all indicated that her marriage was happy.’

  ‘I can’t comment on what other people might think. But her husband worked away a lot and she might have been lonely and wanting company. Loneliness can make you vulnerable, depressed even. You can start doubting yourself.’ She stopped for a moment and Siv guessed she was speaking from her own experience. ‘I suppose I thought that some man might be taking advantage of that. She did say to me once that she hated being on her own in the house, especially at night. Any creak or unexpected noise alarmed her.’

  ‘Yet she went swimming alone, so she didn’t mind her own company.’

  Betty nodded. ‘True, but that’s different. An activity occupies the mind and the senses. Wild swimming would involve planning and focus in such a way that you’d forget yourself. And as I said, I might have added two and two about the calls and made five.’

  Siv had warmed to Betty. She wondered how she got on with fashion mannequin Jenna. ‘Have you worked here since the nursery opened?’

  ‘Yes, I helped get it started. First time I’d ever been in at the beginning like that, building something up from scratch. It was great to roll up my sleeves and get everything just right. And such a lovely house, airy and well designed, with wonderful equipment. Everything here is carefully planned to be child-centred, which makes the job rewarding. I’d worked in a council-run nursery before and believe me, this is heaven compared to the tatty old premises that was in. It’s a pleasure to come here every day.’

  ‘I’d guess you must be invaluable to Ms Seaton. She looks like a woman who prefers to keep her nails clean.’

  There was a glint of a smile but Betty kept her expression impassive. ‘Well, of course as the owner and manager, Jenna has an entirely different role. She’s the money and ideas woman. I focus on the welfare of the children, and the staff too. Good example from the top down is crucial in this kind of work. I wouldn’t want to blow my own trumpet but I do ensure that the nursery runs efficiently from day to day. Jenna’s part-time, you see, just three days a week, so I have the complete overview
and she knows I’d always alert her if anything was wrong. She appointed me because I’ve so much experience in nursery management and she needed that. She’s often told me she doesn’t know what she’d do without me.’ She gave a satisfied smile. ‘And I have to agree with her, I don’t know what she’d do!’

  She was interrupted as Jenna Seaton opened the door. ‘Sorry about this, but we have an open session for parents every week and Betty runs it. People are waiting and, of course, it’s particularly important in the present circumstances.’

  ‘Okay, that’s fine. I’ll take the opportunity to have a word with them and show the photos.’

  ‘Is that necessary?’ Jenna’s nostrils flared, horse fashion.

  ‘Yes. Betty can introduce me.’ Siv nodded at Betty, who led the way to an airy room on the other side of reception. A group of parents, all young women, were seated in a semicircle, talking excitedly. Absolutely appalling in a town like this, Siv heard as she walked in. She sensed a slight air of feverishness. Murder always added its quota of drama to the everyday.

  Betty clapped her hands, as Siv imagined she would do with the children.

  ‘Hello to you all. This is Inspector Drummond from Berminster CID. I know that Jenna’s told you the dreadful news about Lauren. The inspector would like to have a word.’ She stepped back, nodding to Siv, who rested against a table at the front of the room.

  A sea of interested, expectant faces awaited. ‘I’m sure you’ve all had a bad shock. Could you pass these photos around? I’d like to know if anyone recognizes this man or child. The man’s name is Matis Rimas. He was from Lithuania and worked as a plasterer.’ She handed them to the woman nearest her who looked at them and passed them on. Siv watched as they went along the line but saw no sign of recognition.

  A woman in the middle of the row with pink-and-purple-dyed hair put a hand up. ‘What’s the little girl’s name?’

  ‘I don’t know and I’d like to. Thanks for looking. Does anyone think they recognize either of these people?’

  They glanced at each other. A shaking of heads and little murmurs.

  ‘Did any of you speak to Lauren recently, or think she was worried about anything?’

  There was a silence, more glances around, more head shaking. A pale woman in a linen smock shifted in her chair and cleared her throat.

  ‘I worked with Lauren, volunteering for Minstergreen,’ she said. ‘I saw her last Tuesday for a committee meeting. She’d had a cold but she was getting over that. She did have a difference of opinion with our chair, Mason Granger. He wants to broaden what we do and take on more challenges but Lauren thought we should focus on a few areas and do them well. It got a bit heated but, you know, we all feel passionately about what we do.’

  ‘What was the outcome of that discussion?’ Siv asked.

  ‘We agreed to think it over and talk about it again next time we meet.’

  ‘And your name is?’

  ‘Cilla. Cilla Falkner.’

  ‘Okay, thank you. And thank you all for your time. If you think of anything, please contact me.’ She handed out a wedge of cards with her number and spoke briefly again to Betty.

  ‘This difference of opinion with Mason Granger, did you know about it?’

  ‘No, Lauren didn’t mention it. I know Mason, of course, but only in passing. He does do some grunt work but he’s more of an ideas person.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll let you get on with your meeting.’

  A hubbub of talk broke out behind her as she left the room. Patrick was coming back through reception, thumb flying on his phone screen, as she headed to Jenna’s office. She said she’d see him at her car in a minute.

  ‘Was that a helpful session?’ Jenna asked. She was standing in the doorway to her office with one hip forward in model pose. Her legs and hair gleamed in the light. Siv thought again that she was such an unlikely owner of a nursery school.

  ‘Possibly. Betty seems very competent.’

  ‘She is, yes. She can be a bit bossy at times. I think her private life is lonely, or at least I have that impression although she’s never said anything. Sometimes she makes comments and I’m not sure how to take them, but I do rely on her to keep everything ticking.’

  ‘Your cook mentioned that he’d had some disagreements with Lauren about the menus here.’

  Jenna rolled her eyes. ‘Poor Simon. Yes, Lauren nagged him for a while about adopting a meat-free cuisine. She could be unrealistic and a bit sermonizing on the subject of meat. Simon’s a good cook and the parents like the meals he presents. Certainly, we never have any complaints. In the end I asked her to drop the subject and she did.’

  ‘Did you ever have the impression that Ade Visser suspected his wife of having an affair?’

  Jenna’s mouth fell open. She looked astonished. ‘Absolutely not! What makes you ask that? Has someone said something?’

  ‘I just wondered.’

  ‘I hope you’re not going to start spreading hurtful gossip. Lauren would never have betrayed Ade’s trust, not in a million years. I can’t believe that you’d try to damage her like that.’

  ‘I think the damage has already been done by someone else, Ms Seaton. Thanks for the coffee and biscuits but I didn’t come for a tea party. My work involves asking hard questions. That’s how we catch criminals.’

  Jenna pressed her lips together and retreated into her office. A small table had appeared in the corner of reception, with a photo of Lauren in the centre of a group of children. A couple of soft toys lay beside it, flanked by cards with crayoned drawings. Siv stopped to take a look at the messages. We will miss you. We love you, Lauren. With the angels.

  She glanced through the tiny window of the staffroom.

  Patrick was still mid-interview. He glanced up, saw her looking and raised a hand to indicate he’d be five minutes. He’d been hearing about what a saint Lauren had been all morning. Now he was finishing with Jerry Wilby, one of the nursery nurses. Wilby sat very straight in his chair, almost to attention. He had a quiet, easy way of speaking if nothing very interesting to add.

  ‘Lauren was terrific, really good with the kids. I just can’t imagine why anyone would take her life.’ He passed a hand over his eyes. ‘My God, her husband must be gutted.’

  ‘Did you socialise with Lauren and her husband?’

  ‘No, but he dropped her off sometimes and she was so happy when they married. I suppose you’ve already talked to him.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Does he have any idea about who could have done this?’

  ‘I can’t discuss that, Mr Wilby.’

  ‘No, I understand.’ He swallowed. ‘Sorry — I suppose I’m just keen to hear that you have someone in custody. Everyone here is.’

  Outside, Siv was waiting, leaning against his car boot. ‘Let’s sit in your car and you can tell me what you made of your interviews,’ she said.

  Inside, the car smelled strongly of shampoo. He slung a stuffed holdall into the back, and tapped the wheel with one hand as he glanced at his notes.

  ‘They all seemed shocked and keen to help, and they all said they liked Lauren. She got on with everyone. She didn’t seem worried about anything. None of them knew Rimas or the child. None of them saw her over the weekend. They all knew she went wild swimming but didn’t know she was going yesterday morning. That last one said Lauren was dedicated to her job. To be honest, she sounded a bit boring, guv.’

  ‘I got all that with a few exceptions. The deputy manager thought she might have been having an affair and one of the parents told me she’d had a disagreement with a Mason Granger, the chair of Minstergreen. I also heard that Lauren and the cook had some conflict over the menus.’

  Patrick’s eyebrows shot up. ‘That all sounds more like it.’

  ‘Could provide motives. See you back at the station.’

  As she started her car, she switched her phone on and saw a text from Ali Carlin.

  Steve’s sent a file of stuff downloaded from Rimas’s ph
one. He’d emailed someone about Lauren Visser.

  Chapter Ten

  After the police left, there was a strained, flat atmosphere at the nursery. Once the children had gone home, Betty made tea for the handful of colleagues who didn’t have families waiting. They milled about discussing what had happened. She didn’t fancy heading back to an empty house herself. A shared pot of tea would be a morale booster. Jenna was busy on the phone in her office, reassuring parents whose childminders had fetched their children. Betty brought the tray of tea to the staffroom. She’d made it good and strong and had opened a fresh packet of biscuits.

  ‘Here,’ she said, pouring. ‘We need this after the day we’ve had. I hope none of us ever has to go through anything like that again.’

  Vicky Flynn, who headed up the infants’ room, had been crying. ‘I still can’t take it in,’ she said, shivering.

  Jerry Wilby handed her a mug of tea. ‘Get this down you. None of us can believe what’s happened.’

  ‘D’you think it might affect the nursery?’ Alison Welsh, who was just eighteen and one of the assistants, turned saucer eyes on Betty.

  ‘How do you mean, Alison?’

  ‘Well, parents might take their children away. You know, because of the scandal. Jobs might go.’

  In Betty’s opinion, Alison was a silly girl who needed to grow up. ‘No, I don’t think it will affect the nursery,’ she said repressively. ‘And I think you need to be careful about what you say outside of these walls. Mrs Seaton has already asked us not to discuss it.’

  ‘You’re right, Betty,’ Jerry said. ‘We all value our work and we don’t need to add to any gossip.’

  Betty nodded at him. She had a thing about men with ponytails, thought they were a daft affectation, but Jerry was being sensible.

  ‘I didn’t mean anything, I was just saying,’ Alison mumbled.

  ‘I suggest you think before you speak, Alison, and take heed of what I’ve told you,’ Betty said sternly.

  Vicky looked at them with raw eyes. ‘Poor, poor Lauren. She must have been so terrified!’