The Love Trap: an unputdownable psychological thriller

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The Love Trap: an unputdownable psychological thriller Page 21

by Caroline Goldsworthy


  I pulled into a visitors parking slot at the front of the single-storey building. It was slightly less exclusive looking than its address suggested. As I pushed open the door, I saw a metal box screwed to the wall with the word “keys” inscribed on it.

  I smiled at the receptionist and flashed my warrant card. ‘I’d like to see the manager please’ I told her.

  ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Can I ask what it’s regarding?’

  I nodded. ‘Yep, a black Range Rover.’

  ‘Okay, please wait here,’ she said. She tapped a few keys on the computer and locked the cash desk, before heading into the back office. When she returned, she was followed by a large florid looking man with thinning blond hair which hung down to his collar.

  ‘What can I do for you, officer?’ He said. ‘You want a coffee?’

  I nodded and gave my order to the young woman. I followed him into the back office and sat in the chair he indicated. Once in possession of the vending machine coffee I opened my notebook.

  ‘You hired out a black Range Rover earlier this year?’ I said

  ‘We hire out a lot of Range Rovers. They’re very popular.’ He sipped his coffee and looked at me over the rim of his mug.

  ‘You might remember this one,’ I said. ‘I gather it didn’t return in quite the same condition as it was when it left the yard.’

  He sighed and swore softly under his breath. ‘Oh yeah, that one,’ he said. ‘Not gonna forget that one in a hurry. Complete write off it was. Had to send it to the crusher. But it was all covered by insurance.’

  I cursed too. I supposed it was too much to hope the car could be examined forensically. ‘Who returned the car?’ I asked.

  ‘Dunno,’ he replied. ‘Sneaky bastard returned it in the middle of the night. Dumped the keys in the box by the front door and buggered off.’

  ‘You have CCTV though?’ I knew they did. I’d already clocked the cameras as I walked in.

  ‘Them was no good,’ he said. ‘He was all dressed in black with a baseball cap pulled down to hide his face. What I wouldn’t do if I got ’old of the bastard.’

  ‘I wouldn’t advise taking the law into your own hands, sir,’ I said but I smiled at him to take the sting out of my words. ‘Can you tell me how the hire was arranged?’

  He pulled his keyboard towards him, tapped in a few numbers which I took to be his password and began peering at the screen. ‘It were all done online,’ he told me.

  ‘So you have credit card details?’ I could barely contain my excitement. I had an off-the-wall theory, but this evidence would tell me if I was right or not.

  ‘I do that,’ he said. ‘Plus a copy of the guy’s driving licence. Want me to print it all out for you?’

  ‘That would be great,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’

  I took the printed sheet from him, said my goodbyes, and left the coffee on his desk. Outside I sat in my car and compared the credit card number on the printout with the number that Lily Gundersen had given me. They matched.

  Lily Gundersen’s credit card had been used to hire the car which ran her off the road.

  I squinted at the photocopy of the driving licence. It wasn’t truly clear, perhaps Dan or one of his team could tidy it up for me. I knew it was a fake. I was convinced the person in the photo was Mark Brown.

  Confirmation of the connection between the Gundersens and Brown. Just what I needed.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Lily

  I heard the crunch of tyres on the gravel. Dad had offered to collect James from school today. With Christmas getting closer it was good to have another pair of hands to help.

  ‘Go on, straight into the kitchen,’ Dad said. Not his normal relaxed tone. He sounded annoyed.’

  ‘What’s happened:’

  James glowered at me, dropped his bag by the Welsh dresser and made straight for the snack cupboard. He pulled out a bag of StarMix and ripped the bag open. Jellies scattered across the floor.

  Dad walked in and handed me an envelope. ‘He’s been fighting at school.’

  ‘James? Is this true? What happened?’

  He glared at me, grabbed another bag of sweets out the cupboard and tried to dash out of the room.

  I caught him by the collar of his polo shirt. ‘James, we need to talk about this. Fighting is naughty and certainly means you don’t deserve sweets.’

  He pulled one of the bar stools away from the breakfast bar and clambered on it. He folded his arms and stared at me.

  ‘Tell me what happened?’ I sat next to him and tried to hold one of his hands. He yanked it away from me.

  ‘Wasn’t my fault,’ he said. ‘They started it.’

  I sighed and opened the envelope. My eyes skimmed over the letter.

  ‘Okay, so who was teasing you?’

  ‘Peter and Noah. They said you’d killed Auntie Stephanie.’

  I gasped and looked at Dad. He shrugged. ‘It’s been in the papers,’ he said. ‘I suppose people have been speculating about who killed her.’

  ‘But neither Topher nor I have been mentioned by name.’

  ‘She was here at Darcy’s party wasn’t she? People will remember that.’ He moved to the kettle, shook it, filled it, and put it on. ‘People talk, Lily. That’s what they do. Children listen and then repeat what they’ve heard.’

  ‘ Are you saying I shouldn’t punish him for fighting?’

  ‘That’s not for me to say,’ Dad replied. ‘He was standing up for you. Boy’s will be boys. He’ll grow out of it.’

  ‘And what if he doesn’t?’ I whispered.

  James remained on the bar stool his eyes dating back and forth between his grandfather and myself.

  ‘I’d like you to go to your room, please James. We’ll talk about this some more when Daddy comes home.’

  He slid down from the stool and stomped up the stairs.

  ‘He’s not going to be like his father,’ Dad said.

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Because he has you to care for him. Topher lost everything. He was just a few years older than James is, and his life was ripped apart. That’s not going to happen to James.’

  ‘Dad, I know Topher killed Stephanie. What is it going to do to James, to Darcy when their father goes to prison?’

  ‘They’ll still have you,’ Dad said. ‘Are you going to tell Topher when he comes in?’

  I haven’t decided,’ I replied. ‘But he probably already knows.’

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Denise

  Topher Gundersen stretched across the table to shake my hand. After a moment’s hesitation, I accepted the gesture. Then he sat down, unbuttoned his jacket and put his right ankle across his left knee. I knew it was done entirely to show me how much at ease he was. I was determined to rile him.

  He had with him Peter Robinson who I had met earlier with Lily. I’d always found Robinson rather inept myself. I didn’t know if Gundersen rated him or if Robinson was merely available.

  After cautioning Mr Gundersen and taking him through my preliminary questions I asked, ‘what’s your marriage like?’

  ‘My marriage? I thought we were here to talk about her friend’s murder.’ Gundersen looked surprised.

  ‘Yes, but Mrs Gundersen is part of the marriage. I just want to get a sense of your relationship, especially since you’ve been having an affair with her best friend.’

  ‘Is that what Lily told you?’ he rolled his eyes.

  ‘Perhaps,’ I said. ‘Do you deny it?’

  ‘Why would I? It was just a bit of fun. Nothing serious. She was good in the sack, and we had my wife’s permission.’ He smirked, perhaps reliving the memories.

  ‘Your wife give you permission to have an affair with her best friend? Why do you think she’d do that?’

  ‘Because she was convinced I was spying on her.’ he sighed, holding out his hands to give the impression of a wronged man. ‘She has this mad idea that I’ve hidden cameras around the house?’

 
‘But you had hidden cameras around the house. We found them when we searched the property,’ I said. ‘Did Mark Brown install them for you?’ He jammed his hands together, the knuckles of his fists turning white. A flash of annoyance flashed across his handsome face. For a second, I saw what he’d be like when angry. Peter Robinson shot Gundersen an anxious glance. It seemed he knew the name of the petty thief too.

  ‘I have to keep an eye on her,’ Gundersen said, ignoring my reference to Brown. ‘She’s always been a bit flaky, but recently it seems to have got worse. I suppose she’s told it was my fault she broke her fingers.’

  I raised my eyebrows. ‘That’s not quite how Mrs Gundersen sees it,’ I replied.

  ‘It’s absolutely preposterous,’ he said. ‘It had absolutely nothing to do with me. She went outside in a raging storm because she thought the cellar doors were open. I had to go after her. It’s a good job I did, because when I found her, her hands were trapped. I had to fight the storm to get the doors open and off her fingers. Naturally, I rushed her to hospital. But I know Lily. She will have told you a completely different story. She has, hasn’t she?’ He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

  I wasn’t sure if it was meant to intimidate me or not. I didn’t move. We were almost nose to nose. ‘Please sit back in your seat, Mr Gundersen,’ I said. ‘I have spoken to your wife about those events and her memory of that evening is different from yours. I am waiting on the medical report from the hospital in the US. Mrs Gundersen has given me to understand there were some anomalies with her injuries and she had a follow-up visit from the police.’

  Gundersen laughed and pushed back from the table. ‘It’s all nonsense,’ he said. ‘Lily has been making up stories since she was a child. Just ask her mother. Her parents used to call her Lily liar. Did you know that?’

  ‘Mrs Gundersen and I have had that conversation, yes,’ I told him. ‘But it was only her mother who called her by that name. I’ve spoken with her father on the phone, he gave a different version of events.’

  ‘Him! You can’t believe anything he says,’ Gundersen said dismissively.

  ‘Is that how it is Mr Gundersen?’ I said. ‘Anyone who disagrees with you is either mad or a liar?’

  Peter Robinson perked up and was about to intercede when Gundersen shushed him. ‘It doesn’t matter Peter,’ he said. ‘It’s all on the tape and we’ll have a copy of it.’

  Gundersen turned back to me. ‘DC Jones,’ he said, ‘my wife is a fantasist. She makes up lies all the time. She has a very tenuous grip on reality. After the accident in the States she was committed to a psychiatric hospital for a while. I had to assume power of attorney over her affairs.’

  ‘Your wife seems perfectly sane to me, Mr Gundersen,’ I said.

  ‘Forgive me, DC Jones, are you a psychiatrist?’ He arched his head back and sneered at me down his beautifully shaped nose.

  ‘I am not,’ I replied.

  ‘Then you’re not really qualified to tell me anything about my wife, are you?’ He suddenly grinned at me. And, just as Lily had told me, the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

  I changed tack. ‘Where were you on the night of eighth November?’ I asked.

  ‘As I’ve already stated, I was heading to a conference,’ he said. ‘I changed my mind and decided to drive back. Lily hadn’t been quite herself and I decided I didn’t want to leave her alone all weekend.’

  ‘Any witnesses?’ I asked.

  ‘No, I was on my own.’

  ‘What about your satnav?’

  His eyes narrowed as he glared at me. This time I saw the emotion had reached his eyes.

  ‘What you mean?’

  ‘What I mean Mr Gundersen,’ I said. ‘Is that if you had set your satellite navigation system for the conference venue then it would still be listed as a recent destination, won’t it? In fact, doesn’t your model of BMW have a top-spec GPS?’

  Gundersen stared at me and then looked at his solicitor. He turned back to me and I was pleased to see he’d gone a little pale under his tan.

  ‘We’d like your permission to inspect the car’s GPS system,’ I told him. ‘That would be a perfectly adequate alibi for you wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Go ahead, but I knew where I was heading and so I didn’t need to use the GPS. I told you last time which route I used. Haven’t you bothered to check the ANPR in the meantime?’

  Robinson opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He repeated the gesture two or three more times looking for all the world like a gaping guppy. Eventually he spoke. ‘Are you planning to arrest my client, DC Jones?’ He said. ‘Have you any grounds to suspect him of Ms Silcott’s murder?’

  ‘I know he wasn’t heading to any conference,’ I replied. ‘Firstly, there was no conference. I have checked this with the clerk at Mr Gundersen’s chambers. Secondly, I know from a witness statement I have that Mr Gundersen was with Ms Silcott on the night she died.’

  Gundersen sniggered. ‘You have no such thing,’ he said. He was right of course, but I hoped to have such a statement in due course. It was just a simple matter of talking to Stephanie’s stalker.

  ‘You have no evidence Mr Gundersen murdered her, do you?’ Peter Robinson started to gather his papers together. ‘This is a fishing expedition, DC Jones. When you have some concrete evidence, my client and I will return but, until then, we’ll both bid you good day.’

  Gundersen rose from his chair and buttoned his jacket. I got the first genuine smile I’ve ever seen him give and he held out his hand to shake mine. I knew it was childish, but I refused to shake his. I couldn’t remove the vision of Lily’s broken fingers from my mind.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Denise

  After I’d spoken with Topher Gundersen, I wasted no time and I got Heather Elliott, the housekeeper cum child minder in for interview.

  When I’d met Heather at the Gundersen’s house she seemed relaxed, but here at the police station, she was more nervous. Her eyes darted around as if she was looking for an escape.

  I took her through the preliminaries and advised her that she was here to help with our enquiries, she could have a solicitor if she wished, she was not under arrest and she was free to go any time.

  ‘I won’t need a solicitor,’ she said.

  ‘How long have you worked for the Gundersen’s? I asked.

  ‘Coming up for six years now,’ she said. ‘Mrs Gundersen was very poorly when they came back from the States. She couldn’t do much with those poor hands of hers and so I came along to help before baby was born.’

  ‘And are you happy there?’

  ‘Happy enough,’ she replied.

  ‘You’d not choose to work for anybody else?’

  ‘No, no I wouldn’t, she said. ‘Mrs Gundersen is a lovely lady. She has troubles, of course, like we all do. But she and the children are really lovely.’

  ‘What kind of troubles does she have?’

  ‘Well they always tease her about losing things. She isn’t very tidy and she’s always putting things down and forgetting them.’ she smiled as she thought about Lily. ‘And then because she takes so long to find anything, she’s often late. Her mother always teases her about Lily standard time. But I don’t think she’s as bad as they make out.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Well I know they all think she’s a bit dizzy. But even someone who is a bit dizzy doesn’t leave their keys in the freezer, do they?’ Heather fixed me with a stare, and I saw that, despite her anxiety to be loyal, she knew more about this marriage than anyone.

  ‘Does she often leave things in the freezer?’

  ‘Well that’s what I’m telling you. She’s a bit dizzy, not stupid. She’s fine when he’s not around. Her mother makes her panic too. But I reckon it’s all him.’

  ‘By him, do you mean Mr Gundersen?’

  ‘Yeah I do,’ she said reluctantly. ‘He’s always having a go at her about this or that. She can’t do anything right. And then he’ll ring
up and cancel me for a day when I know she needs me and she’s gonna be busy.’

  ‘Can you give me an example?’

  ‘Well it’s not happened so much since her accident,’ Heather mused. ‘But thinking back, it was just before the car crash. They had a party at the weekend to celebrate their wedding anniversary and on the Sunday night he texts me to tell me not to bother coming in the next day. Well I know she’s got all that cleaning up to do after the party and she’s got the kiddies to look after, so I knew she’d need me. When he does that, I pop round anyway and just make sure she’s okay. Often as not she’d tell me there’s been a misunderstanding or miscommunication as she likes to call it, since she does need my help after all. I mean, how difficult is it to say I need the housekeeper?’ Heather shrugged. ‘It’s not hard is it?’

  ‘No,’ I said. I decided to change tack. ‘Is Mr Gundersen good with the kids?’ I watched her face carefully, her mouth twisted, just briefly, but the truth was there.

  ‘He’s all right with the boy,’ Heather said after a short pause. ‘But little Darcy I think she’s a bit afraid of him. Sometimes when he comes in the room, she just sits there head down. You know, it’s almost as if she’s trying to make herself invisible. Poor little mite. But like I said, he is good with the boy and he does take them both out sometimes. Gives their mum a bit of peace and quiet.’

  ‘So you’d say it was a happy marriage?’

  ‘I’m not saying it is, I am not saying it isn’t. There’s just something, something a bit odd. Can’t quite put my finger on it. The house is weird too.’

  ‘Weird?’ I said. ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Well it’s supposed to be one of those smart houses, isn’t it? But you put the kettle on and it switches off half-way through boiling. Lights turn themselves on and off. And the heating, don’t get me started.’ She pushed up the sleeve on her left arm. ‘Look, are we done? Can I go now? I’ve got to pick James up from school up in twenty minutes. Darcy’s with her granddad. She’s really perked up since he’s been staying.’

 

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