The Therapist

by B. A. Paris

  “It does sound as if Tamsin is doing everything to let you know that her husband didn’t kill Nina. On the other hand, she also told you that he didn’t take rejection easily.”

  “I know exactly how Eve and Tamsin must have felt when they heard that Nina had had an affair,” I say, sliding the omelettes onto plates and carrying them over to the table. “Those few seconds last week, when there was the possibility of Leo having known Nina, were hard. Even Maria must have wondered about Tim, if only for a few seconds. And he’s the least likely candidate.”

  Thomas looks appreciatively at the omelette. “This looks wonderful, thank you.” He picks up his knife and fork. “I’m curious as to why you think Tim is the least likely candidate. He and Nina could very easily have bonded over their interest in psychology.”

  “Maybe, but he and Maria are a really solid couple. So are Eve and Will, which is why my money would have been on Connor.”

  I sit down opposite him and watch him surreptitiously from under my eyelashes while we eat. It feels right, him sitting here at the table with me.

  “You know when you said that Nina having her hair cut off could have been some sort of judgment?” I say. “If someone was judging her, isn’t it more likely to have been a woman?”

  I regret my words immediately.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Thomas asks, reading my face.

  “I don’t know.” But I am, it’s just that I feel terrible for thinking it.

  “Tamsin definitely had a motive,” he says. “Not only had Nina turned her back on her, she also suspected that her husband was having an affair with her—”

  “But she’s always believed that Oliver didn’t murder Nina,” I interrupt. “She’s thought all along that he’s innocent. Why draw attention to the fact that someone else killed her, if she was the one who did it?”

  “Because, as we’ve already worked out, she could be playing a very clever game. And didn’t you overhear her say that everyone is capable of murder?”

  Suddenly, it becomes too much. “No. No. I’m a hundred percent sure it wasn’t Tamsin. I can’t believe the thought even crossed my mind.” I sit back in my chair, needing to physically distance myself from him, from everything that we’re doing. But it’s not far enough, so I stand and start gathering up our plates. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t right. Can’t we just accept that Oliver murdered Nina?”

  “Like everyone here was happy to do,” he says softly.

  “Maybe it was him,” I say.

  He stands and takes the plates from me. “Maybe it was,” he says. “But until I know for sure, I can’t rest, for Helen’s sake and for Oliver’s sake. Believe me, if I thought he was guilty, I wouldn’t be investigating the murder. But there’s too much that doesn’t add up. Also, Oliver swore to Helen that it wasn’t him. She says he wouldn’t have lied to her and I believe her.” He carries the plates over to the sink, then turns to face me. “I’m feeling more and more uncomfortable about having dragged you into this. I’m not sure—maybe it would be better if I leave?”

  “No, please don’t. But perhaps we could talk about something else.”

  “Yes,” he says, relieved. “Good idea.”

  I don’t know if it was the simple act of cooking for him that allows us to move to the point where we feel comfortable sharing information about ourselves. Thomas tells me he and his wife divorced three years ago and that he now lives in South London. I feel for him when he explains that he and his wife wanted to share childcare for their six-year-old son but because they didn’t want to disrupt his daily routine, they agreed that his wife would be the main carer for the moment.

  “All that will change when he moves school next September,” Thomas explains. I’ve made coffee and we’re back at the table. “His new school is nearer to where I live, so he’ll be staying at mine every second week. I can’t wait. I miss him so much.”

  He also tells me that he grew up reading Sherlock Holmes and, after studying Psychology and Criminology at university, he decided to become a private investigator instead of joining the police force, as he’d intended to do. In return, I tell him about me and Leo, how the move to London was meant to be our new start, how I feel guilty that I can’t forgive him for lying to me and how bemused I feel for not realizing that he could.

  “When you think about it, it’s not surprising you found living together hard if you only used to see each other at weekends,” Thomas remarks. “Two days a week over what—twenty months?—only amounts to around three to four months in real time.”

  “I never thought of that,” I say, feeling slightly less guilty.

  I also tell him about losing my parents and sister and admit that I’m worried my sister is the reason I’ve become invested in Nina’s murder.

  “I think, if it wasn’t for Nina—my sister Nina—I wouldn’t be here, talking to you, trying to help you get to the truth. I’m confused about my motives, I’m worried they’re not pure. I didn’t know Nina, I shouldn’t be this involved. But sometimes, when I think about my sister, or about Nina, they become intertwined. It’s like they’re the same person.”

  His eyes are full of compassion. “Do you think you and Leo are going to be able to work things out?”

  “No, because there isn’t any me and Leo, not anymore. Hiding his past from me is a lie too far. I can’t be with him.”

  He nods slowly. “What are you going to do?”

  “This is his house, not mine, so I’ll be going back to Harlestone. He’s agreed that I can stay here until next weekend. I think he felt it was the least he could do.”

  “Then—Helen was asking if she could meet you. I wasn’t going to mention it yet because I didn’t know if it was something you’d feel comfortable doing. But if you’re only here for another week or so—” His voice tails off.

  “I’d love to meet her,” I say.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  For the first time since I’ve known him, he looks slightly awkward. “What about next Wednesday? Perhaps I could take you to lunch, and then we could go to Helen’s together?”

  I feel a rush of pleasure. “That would be lovely.”

  “And while we’re having lunch, maybe you could explain to me how to get to Harlestone. Just so that I can let you know if there are any developments,” he adds with a smile.

  “I’m sure I could,” I say, smiling back at him.

  “Good.” He looks curiously at me. “How did Leo take it when you told him it was over?”

  “Resigned, I think. It’s not just his lies, it’s also the stupid thing with the hair.”

  “What stupid thing?”

  “It’s actually really embarrassing, which is why I didn’t mention it before.”

  “What happened?”

  Reluctantly, because it shows Leo in such a bad light, I tell him about the hair scattered around the house and how I found a blond ponytail in the wardrobe.

  “The funny thing is, he was probably trying to scare me into thinking it was Nina’s hair that I kept finding,” I say. “Except that it didn’t occur to me that it was. I presumed it was mine, because I lost a lot of it after my parents and sister died and I thought it was happening again, because of the stress of the murder.”

  “Is that why you always wear it up?”

  I raise my hand and touch my hair self-consciously. “Yes, it’s become a habit now. I also think Leo has been prowling around the house at night, another tactic to scare me. I can’t be with a man who thinks it’s all right to psychologically manipulate someone.”

  Thomas frowns. “What do you mean, prowling around the house? I thought you said he wasn’t living here.”

  I give a dry laugh. “Exactly.”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “Just that there have been a few nights when I’ve thought there was someone in the room, watching me. It was pretty terrifying the first couple of times, but as nothing ever happened, I managed to convi
nce myself that there wasn’t anyone there, that it was Nina’s spirit I could sense.” My cheeks grow hot. “I know that sounds stupid, but after my sister died, I used to sense her presence, especially at night, so it was easy to convince myself I was experiencing the same sort of thing. As I said, nothing ever happened and there was never any trace of anyone having been here, so I was fine with it. But then, the other day, Eve told me that before Nina died, there were a couple of occasions when she’d also thought there was someone in the house. Which kind of smashes my spirit theory.”

  “But why would Leo do that?”

  “To scare me into leaving the house.”

  “But, as it’s his house, he would have been entitled to ask you to leave.”

  “Yes—but maybe he wanted it to come from me, so that people in The Circle would think I was leaving because I was too scared to stay in the house, not because he was kicking me out. Everyone knows he didn’t tell me about Nina. He needs to redeem himself if he’s going to carry on living here.”

  “But if Nina experienced the same thing, it must be someone else doing the prowling.” Thomas sounds perplexed. “Who else has keys to your house?”

  “No one, as far as I know.”

  “Are you sure about that? It’s quite usual to give keys to neighbors, in case of emergencies. My neighbor has a set.”

  “Leo never said that he’d given anyone keys but I can always ask him.”

  “Did you ask him about the prowling?”

  “No, I forgot, probably because it didn’t seem important compared to his other lie. But I asked him about the hair. I told him it was pathetic and he said he didn’t do it so that I would like it. It makes me wonder if I ever really knew him.” I give him a rueful smile. “Can we change the subject?”

  By the time he leaves an hour later, I feel we’re finally friends. I know he feels it too. As we stand at the door, saying goodbye, I don’t think either of us wants the afternoon to end.

  “Are you sure you still want to be involved in all this?” he asks, locking me with his eyes so that I can’t look away.

  “If Oliver didn’t kill Nina, I want her killer brought to justice.”

  “No matter who it is?” he says softly.

  I think of the people here in The Circle, some of who I consider friends. But then I think of Nina, of how she died and how she must have suffered. And of my sister, who didn’t get justice for her death.

  “No matter who it is,” I reply firmly.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Before going back to the hotel, I call Leo. He’s still at work but I’m no longer worried about disturbing him.

  “Apart from you and me,” I ask, plunging straight in, “does anyone have keys to our house?”

  “Why—is there a problem? Have you locked yourself out? I can come over.”

  “No, it’s not that.” I take a steadying breath. “I’m going to ask you something and I’d like an honest answer. Have you been letting yourself into the house at night?”

  “Sorry?”

  “It’s a simple question, Leo. Have you been letting yourself into the house at night and creeping around, trying to scare me?”

  “It’s also a bizarre one. Why would I do that?”

  “To get me to leave the house.”

  “You really think that’s something I’d do?” His voice is low and I remember that he’s at work. “Anyway, I’m in Birmingham most of the time, remember?”

  “But not all of the time.”

  “Can you hold on a moment?” I hear him say something to someone about needing to take a couple of minutes and then he’s back. “Look, I might be dishonest but I’m not a psychopath.”

  “Really? What about the hair?”

  “What hair?”

  “The ponytail in the wardrobe.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Come on, Leo, you admitted it!”

  “Admitted what?”

  I can’t keep hold of my anger. I’m tired, so tired of his lies.

  “Hiding hair in the wardrobe and spreading it around the house to make me think that it’s Nina’s!”

  There’s a long pause. “Alice. You’re beginning to worry me. I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  The calmness of his voice infuriates me further. “I messaged you! I told you the hair was pathetic and you said you didn’t do it so that I would like it!”

  “Yes, the shorter hair, my beard. It wasn’t for you, I wasn’t trying to impress you or anything. I just didn’t shave for a few days and liked it, so thought I’d carry on letting it grow.” There’s a pause. “Can we rewind? To the part where you accused me of creeping around the house?”

  My mind is still trying to catch up with what he said about the hair. “I’m not imagining it, Leo.”

  “I didn’t say you were. I thought there was someone in the house after our drinks evening, remember?”

  “After the first couple of times, I did think I was imagining it,” I say. “Because nothing ever happened. But Eve told me that before Nina died, she used to think there was someone in the house.”

  “The first couple of times?” His voice rises in alarm. “How many times has this happened?”

  “I don’t know—four or five, maybe.”

  “And you’ve carried on staying there?”

  “Yes, because nothing ever happened. As I said, I thought I was imagining it. But to get back to my original question, does anyone else have keys to the house?”

  “Yes, Will and Eve. I gave Will a set after we moved in.”

  My heart plummets. “Right.”

  “You don’t seriously think either of them have been letting themselves into the house to try and scare you?”

  “No,” I say, although my mind is screaming Will’s name.

  “What was all that about hair in the wardrobe?”

  I cringe internally at the mix-up. “Sorry, I’ve got a call coming through. It’s Debbie. Can I call you back later?”

  “Sure.”

  I hang up. Debbie isn’t calling but I need to think. I really need to think.

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, I’m on Eve’s doorstep waiting for her to answer the door.

  She flings it open. “Perfect timing!” I can hear voices coming from the kitchen. She opens the door wider. “Come in.”

  “No, it’s fine, I don’t want to disturb you, I just—”

  She reaches for my arm. “Don’t be silly, the others are here. It’s a bit noisy with the children but I thought it was about time we had tea at mine.”

  “Great,” I say, remembering that after their yoga session on Wednesdays, Eve goes with Tamsin and Maria to collect the children from school, and then they have tea together.

  I follow her to the kitchen, which is full of people. Despite the cooler weather, the French doors to the garden are open and Maria’s three boys and Tamsin’s two little daughters run backward and forward, taking cake from the table and carrying it outside to eat. Tamsin and Maria are sitting at the table and Will and Tim are leaning against the worktop, mugs of tea in their hands.

  “Hi, Alice,” they chorus.

  I give a little wave. “Hi, everyone.” I look over at Will and Tim. “I didn’t realize you were part of the Wednesday afternoon gatherings too.”

  “We’re only honorary members this afternoon, because we both happened to be at home,” Tim explains.

  “And because I overheard Maria offering to bring one of her chocolate cakes,” Will says. “You need to try some, Alice, it’s the best.”

  “Sit down.” Eve hoists herself onto the worktop next to the table. “Will, pass Tamsin a mug for Alice.”

  I pull out the chair next to Maria and she cuts me a slice of cake while Tamsin fills my mug with tea.

  “Thanks,” I say, trying not to think that at one time or another, I’ve suspected three of the people in the room of having murdered Nina.

  “Did you have a nice time a
way?” Eve asks.

  “Yes, thanks. Actually, that’s why I came over—Debbie, the friend I was staying with, is coming to spend a few days with me and I’d like to give her keys so that she can come and go as she pleases. Leo said that you have a set?”

  “Yes, hang on a second.” Will goes over to the wall next to the fridge. “How is he, by the way?”

  “Fine, thank you. Working hard as usual.” I still don’t feel ready to tell them that it’s over between me and Leo.

  “They’re here somewhere,” Will says, running his eye over a row of keys. He chooses a keyring and holds it up. “It’s not this one, is it?”

  “Those are mine,” Tamsin says.

  “I thought they were.” Will frowns and turns to Eve. “Apart from your mum’s spare set, Tamsin’s seem to be the only ones here that aren’t ours. Have you got Alice’s?”

  “No, I didn’t even know we had a set.”

  “Leo gave them to me after they moved in. I put them here with the others.” He turns back to the hooks. “Come and have a look, Alice, you’ll recognize them better than me.”

  I leave my cake and walk over to where he’s standing.

  “Can you see them?” he asks.

  “No.”

  “We did have them, because I remember seeing a label with number 6 on it. I don’t remember Leo taking them back but maybe you could ask him.”

  “I just spoke to him, he was the one who told me you had a set.”

  Will scratches his head. “I don’t know where they could be. Eve, did you move them, put them somewhere else?”

  “How could I, when I didn’t know we had any?” she says archly. She jumps down from the worktop. “Maybe they’re in the study.”

  “Why would they be there?”

  “I don’t know but it’s the only other place I can think of to look. Come with me, Alice.”

  I follow Eve to the study, and we search the desk and its drawers. But there’s no sign of the keys.

  “Weird,” Eve says. “I’m sorry, Alice, I’ll carry on looking once everyone has gone.”