These Little Lies

by GRETTA MULROONEY

  ‘Frankie is a name used by Mason Granger, the chair of Minstergreen. He’s Julia’s godson. You never saw them together or heard him refer to her?’

  ‘No. Julia said that after James died, she didn’t have anyone close, which was why it was so good . . . so good to have met me.’

  ‘That could have been true,’ Siv said. ‘Mr Granger says they weren’t close. I have to be on my way. If you think of anything else Julia told you, anything personal, please contact me. I’ll let you know when she can see visitors.’

  Betty stood, cleared the cups and put them in the sink. She was suppressing tears. ‘Don’t bother, Inspector. I don’t think I want to visit Julia now.’

  * * *

  Siv stopped at Berminster General next and spoke to Julia. A staff change-over was taking place and there was a quiet bustle on the ward. Julia looked pale but determined. A bruise on her right temple seemed darker this morning.

  ‘Back again, Inspector?’

  ‘You’ll be seeing plenty of me, so you’d better get used to it. I’ve spoken to your godson, Mason Granger, known as Frankie. He claims he didn’t know that Lauren was James’s daughter and that he knows nothing about the murders of Lauren Visser and Matis Rimas.’

  Julia waved a weary hand. ‘He doesn’t. I never told him about James’s by-blow. Leave Frankie alone. I’ve told you, I killed them.’

  ‘No, you didn’t. You gave me the wrong location for where you’d placed Sophie’s photo.’

  Julia’s eyes were tired. The eyelids drooped but there was a gleam of intelligence there. ‘I’m so confused. I can’t actually remember exactly where I put the photo. So much has happened and I’m exhausted. There’s no point in asking me about it. I killed them, so you can arrest me and then you’ll have sorted everything out.’ She closed her eyes and turned her head aside.

  ‘That would all be very neat and tidy, I agree. Neat and tidy and wrong.’ Siv waited a moment, then tried a different line. ‘I’ve also talked to your friend Betty. Why hadn’t you mentioned Sophie’s death or your connection with Frankie to her? You knew she volunteered with Minstergreen which Frankie chairs, but you never told her that he’s your godson. Pretty odd. Come to that, you didn’t confide in her about your husband’s letter nor the rage and bitterness you felt. You’re close friends, you meet every week. She told you about her bereavement and how her husband left her but you omitted big chunks of your history. That seems strange to me.’

  Julia turned her head back, her eyes half open. ‘I’m fond of Betty and she’s been a good friend but she’s an emotional woman. I didn’t want to encourage drama or expressions of sisterly solidarity. Not everyone wants to wear their heart on their sleeve. Betty tends to. That’s not my style. Some things are private and best left undiscussed.’ Her steady, challenging look said, and you can’t prove otherwise.

  ‘I think Frankie possibly carried out the first two murders. You could have planned it between you. You both had motives. You both had your own reasons for disliking Lauren and you shared a common bond of anger at James for frittering money away on her, leaving nothing for Frankie and much less for you than you’d expected. So much deception and disloyalty on his part. And I think that you didn’t reveal any details about Frankie or James’s betrayal to Betty because you were already planning murder when you met her, so you had to play your cards close to your chest. Was the meeting with Betty random, or did you engineer it because it was part of getting to know about Lauren?’

  Julia smiled faintly. ‘Now you’re engaging in flights of fancy, Inspector. I’ve confessed. I can’t say any more.’

  ‘Mason Granger is the sole beneficiary of your will. Why is that?’

  ‘Quite simply, he’s the only person left. I have no close family. I was terribly fond of Ava, Frankie’s mother. She was kind to me after Sophie died, and she gave me a lot of quiet support. Frankie had a difficult time, losing his father when he was young and then Ava when he was just a teenager. He was an affectionate little boy and he was the first child I could bring myself to hug after Sophie’s death. He brought me some small comfort when I was mad with grief. I’ve been fond of him over the years and for Ava’s sake, I wanted to know he’d be okay in the future. Then at least some good will have come out of all this pain and loss.’ Her voice was insistent, her cheeks flushed with the toll this was taking.

  ‘So, let me get this right. You have no close family, you’re fond of Frankie and have left him everything, yet you’ve chosen not to give the hospital staff his details, and he had no idea that you were in here until we told him. That too seems peculiar. It suggests that you’re trying to keep a distance from him so that we don’t ask too many questions.’

  ‘I didn’t want to worry Frankie. I’d have asked the staff to contact him as soon as I had the strength.’

  ‘Julia, you have answers for everything. I can see that you’ve planned carefully and that you want your godson to walk away from it all. Many of your answers sound plausible and I admire your forethought, but we’re going to examine every detail of your and Frankie’s lives and we’ll get to the truth.’

  Julia clasped her hands across her chest, fingers linked as if she was an effigy on a tomb. ‘Be my guest. Did you ever play that game when you were a child where you tell someone they’re hot or cold in finding a clue? Well, you’re very, very cold, Inspector. I know you’re just doing your job but please go away now. You don’t need to make life so hard for yourself, you know, battling on when there’s no need.’ There was a taunting glance, a little smile at the corners of her lips. ‘But of course I can’t stop you. We can’t stop people being stupid, charging about and doing what they want. I’ve certainly found that out.’

  * * *

  Back at the station, Siv checked the updated information and called a meeting with all officers. She was buzzing now, her brain sharp. She felt almost back on form. She was going to rise to Julia’s challenge. She walked up and down at the front of the room, sipping coffee.

  ‘We’ve found Alan Vine’s phone and the knife and protective gear that Julia Stenning used to kill him. The knife has his blood on it and her DNA has been retrieved from the hood of the coverall. Their phones have calls between them on the day before he died. We know that Julia Stenning can’t have killed Lauren and Rimas. For one thing, there’s her incorrect statement about the photo. She doesn’t know where it was positioned. She claims to have thrown the weapon and Lauren’s rucksack very conveniently into the sea. Polska opens at 8.30 a.m. and the cleaner confirms that Julia arrived at 7.45 on Monday 29th. CCTV shows her car on the road from Aldmarsh into town at 7.30 but there’s no sign of her before then and no trace of her car around Lock Lane that morning. Working within those times, she can’t have carried out the first two murders. I’ve spoken to her again but she’s not budging. She might be protecting her godson. It’s as if she’s decided to sacrifice herself and it’s giving her a kind of satisfaction. I’ve never seen a woman so keen to be charged. She seems desperate for Granger to be okay, to walk away and eventually inherit her estate. Ali, have you been in touch with the hospital?’

  ‘Julia Stenning was moved from Intensive Care to a High Dependency ward last night. They’re arranging a psychiatric assessment now she’s stronger and can mobilize. Granger has been ringing twice a day, asking to see her. When they’ve refused, he’s asked if he can speak to her on the phone. According to the ward he’s being very persistent. He turned up there last night and got antsy when they refused to let him in. Laid it on thick about being her only family. The copper on duty sent him away sharpish.’

  ‘Signs of desperation. Good. So, we crawl over every inch of Mason Granger’s life. Julia’s landline and mobile show no trace of any contact with him in the last six months, but they must have been in touch somehow. Ali, you can delegate who and where but I want you and one of our team to speak to all the members of Minstergreen to find out if they’ve ever seen Granger with a car or with Julia. Patrick, I want you and one other
officer to speak to all staff and regular members at Polska, asking the same questions. I want Polska’s phone records checked for any calls to Granger’s number. The other two officers are to trawl Julia’s friends and networks in Aldmarsh, asking if they’ve seen her with Granger. I’m going to see the other people who live in Granger’s house, find out if he has friends in town or around that we don’t know of. Have I missed anything?’

  The room was silent but she sensed an energy there, as if they were picking up on her renewed vigour. Maybe Mortimer had a point and she hadn’t been pushing hard enough. ‘Okay. There’s a car somewhere and we need to find it.’

  * * *

  There were three other flats in Granger’s house. She tried them all that evening, showing the occupants Julia’s photo. None of them had seen her or seen Granger with a car. As she was leaving, Granger rode up on his bike. He ignored her as he bent and folded it and carried it into the house. He slammed the door, humming loudly.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Two days later and they still had no results. That morning, a neighbour had reported seeing a back window broken at Julia Stenning’s house. Patrick had gone to look and reported that there was no major damage. Just the broken kitchen window and signs that someone had gone through drawers and cupboards downstairs. Forensics had been out but couldn’t find any fingerprints bar Julia’s. Siv was in her office at eight p.m. going over all the information and interviews again, when Bartel Nowak rang her.

  ‘Good evening, Madame. A DC Flore left me a message today, asking me about Julia Stenning and someone called Granger, whether I’d seen her with him. I just finished work and picked it up. I don’t think I know this Granger. Is there a problem?’

  ‘Are you still in Pevensey?’

  ‘Still here, working away. Got another couple of weeks in this job.’

  ‘So I presume you haven’t heard about Julia Stenning.’ She gave him a brief outline.

  ‘Mrs Stenning killed someone? But she’s a real lady.’

  ‘That’s very old-fashioned of you. Have you called because you can help?’

  ‘Yes. But it’s also good to hear your voice.’

  She took a breath. ‘Mr Nowak, I’m investigating three murders. Do you have information? Have you seen Julia with this young man at all?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I might have.’ He sounded deflated. ‘I saw Julia a couple of weeks ago, talking to a man at the back of the centre, where there’s a little service road and bins. I was making a phone call one night and there’s a poor signal in the centre so I went to the back door.’

  ‘Did you recognize the man?’

  ‘No. That is, I thought there was something familiar about him but I can’t be sure. He had his back to me and it was dark. I’d had quite a few beers and shots so it’s all a bit hazy. I thought he was just someone who calls in there. He was tall, quite slim, jeans and a shirt.’

  ‘Young?’

  ‘Hmm . . . I think so. He had longish fair hair and he was carrying something in a black case. Well — more like a square box. I was pretty pissed you know and they were in the shadows.’

  Long, fair hair. That didn’t sound like Granger. His was short, dark. ‘Did this man have a bicycle?’

  ‘Don’t think so.’

  ‘Can you remember when this was?’

  ‘Not exactly. Before I started this job, so say mid-April. Probably a Tuesday because I always try to go on a Tuesday. I play backgammon. You might like it.’

  ‘Did Julia and this man seem friendly?’

  ‘He kissed her cheek when he was going. Julia gave him something. I’m pretty sure it was some keys.’

  She wanted to kiss him now. ‘She gave him keys? How do you know? You said it was dark.’

  ‘She held them up and they were glinting. He put them in his pocket, then walked off. Does that help?’

  ‘Yes, it does. Thank you.’

  ‘Good. Don’t forget we’re going to have a cup of tea sometime.’

  She sat for a few minutes, thinking about Nowak’s description of the man Julia had been talking to. She’d been so certain that Granger had played a part in these murders. Well, if Nowak was right, she had to do a rapid gear change and rethink the whole thing. If he was right and hadn’t been so drunk that he couldn’t see straight. Bloody hell. Okay, then, she’d push Granger to the back burner for now.

  She closed her eyes, remembering dancing in the sunshine with Nowak’s arm around her waist. As she whirled around, people’s faces had passed in a blur. In the shifting crowd, the musicians had been visible and then obscured as they swayed to the rhythm of the music. She could feel the heat again and Nowak’s sturdy hand pressed against her back. A case like a square box. She concentrated and saw a face that she’d come across in another context in the last few weeks.

  Her scalp prickled but this time the feeling was good. She brought up the investigation records and scrutinized them, looking at names and addresses and cross-referencing them. She traced the details about the man she was looking for and then sat back and thought about the break-in at Julia’s. Such incidents did happen if it became known that a property was empty, but it had seemed a strange coincidence. Now she thought she might know who had broken in and why. When Julia had told her she was very cold in pursuing Granger, she’d thought the woman was taunting and double bluffing her. Maybe she’d been telling the truth.

  She rang Patrick and talked to him for a couple of minutes, going over information and background searches with him and asking him about his interview with the man she now had in her sights.

  ‘Do you want him to come in?’

  ‘No,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Not yet.’ She still needed to join the dots.

  She phoned Betty Marshall then and asked her some questions. Betty sounded low and distant but her information added to Siv’s tiny flickers of hope.

  She fingered the mass of soft hair that was growing in at the back of her scalp, and then went to look again at all the names on the incident board. The keys that Julia had handed to the man might have been for a car. She had come to hate her husband after his death and derived pleasure from taking revenge on him. How about the killer using his car to find and murder his daughter? She thought it would have provided Julia with a perverse satisfaction. The question was worth asking.

  She hurried out of the station and drove to Aldmarsh, hoping that Peter Bacon wasn’t one of those older people who went to bed early. She was relieved to see the lights shining behind his curtains and an external lamp on over the door. He welcomed her in, offering tea, saying he hadn’t baked for a couple of days but he had biscuits.

  ‘No, that’s fine, Mr Bacon.’ Although she hadn’t eaten since a sandwich at lunchtime, and could have devoured one of his scones.

  He fussed around in the sitting room, switching the TV off and turning lamps on before sinking into his recliner chair.

  ‘One of your officers called on me yesterday, and asked me again about Julia’s godson and whether he’d been driving a car. I said I’d told you what I know.’

  ‘Yes, that’s fine, thanks. That’s not why I’m here.’

  ‘Oh, I see. How’s Julia?’

  ‘She’s improving. Mr Bacon, I’ve come to talk to you about James Stenning. He drove a car?’

  ‘Oh yes, a Volkswagen Golf. He’d bought it not long before he died. He liked his cars, did James. Traded up regularly.’

  Julia’s was a Nissan. ‘What happened to the car after he died?’

  Bacon puffed his cheeks out. ‘Well, I really have no idea. I suppose Julia sold it. I haven’t seen it, put it that way.’

  ‘So did James keep his car on the road or in their garage? There’s only room for one in there.’

  ‘It varied, really. I think they took turns. But when they went on holiday, James left his at the Galloway place.’

  ‘Where would that be?’

  ‘Couple of miles away. James originally agreed it with Sammy Galloway but he died. Joan, Sammy’s mothe
r, is still there, running their animal feeds place, or trying to. I think she’s struggling with it on her own. Not getting any younger, like myself.’ He tapped his forehead. ‘I heard that her memory’s not as good as it used to be. Now, can I put the kettle on?’

  ‘Thank you, but I don’t have time now. You’ve been very helpful, but I have to go.’

  In the car, she googled Galloway and saw that there was a smallholding off the main road back towards Berminster, on Stowe Hill. She rang Ali as she drove there. He answered, voice muffled, saying he was at the cinema with Polly.

  ‘Sorry, but you’re going to miss the end of the film. I need you to meet me at Aldmarsh. Get Patrick out here too.’ She gave him a quick summary and then slowed, not wanting to miss the turning for Stowe Hill.

  She turned off the road by a tatty sign saying Galloway’s Feeds. The night was dark and clear with a full moon. The house was down at heel, a wide bungalow with straggling flowers in baskets by the door. She could see a number of outbuildings. She knocked on the bungalow door. There was no answer and no light on. She knocked again and then walked around the side, past broken pots and a smelly drain blocked with leaves. A light shone from the kitchen window and as she looked through, she saw a slender, white-haired woman in a fleecy dressing gown asleep in a chair with a TV flickering in front of her. It was so loud she could hear it outside. She tapped on the door and the window until she saw the woman’s head lift and she looked around groggily. Siv tapped on the window again and got her ID ready while the woman struggled from the chair and crossed to the door.

  ‘Mrs Galloway, I’m DI Drummond from Berminster police. I need to talk to you.’

  ‘The police? Is something wrong?’ Her hair was in an old-fashioned net and she’d removed her front dentures for the night.

  ‘You don’t need to worry. I just want to check a few things with you.’ She stepped inside, taking in the mess of the kitchen. Boxes of hen food, birdseed and dog biscuits jostled on the table with the remains of beans on toast and empty yogurt pots.