by James, Peter
She glanced at her notebook. ‘Next, Rebecca asked, “How’s your week looking?” Niall replied, “Pretty dull – so long as I’m not rearrested for my beloved wife’s non-murder. Otherwise I’m free all week. Do you have something in mind?”
‘Rebecca Watkins was acting in a very provocative manner, arousing him discreetly with one hand. She then told him she had her firm’s annual sales conference in Eastbourne this coming week and that her husband would not be attending because he was away. She said she had to make a presentation on Thursday afternoon, then put in an appearance at dinner, but suggested they have a rendezvous afterwards. Subject suggested her hotel room, but Watkins dismissed that, saying she would have too many work people around. She suggested she would find somewhere and text him – she didn’t say what time precisely but suggested it would be around midnight. She said she could put the seats in her Range Rover flat and suggested Niall bring along some Prosecco and two glasses.’
Potting grinned. ‘A cosy little mobile love nest!’
‘Speaks a man from experience,’ Velvet Wilde retorted.
‘Nice work, Sharon,’ Grace said. ‘Right, today’s information – and revelations – about Rebecca Watkins are a significant development for our investigation. Let’s review where we’re at. Niall Paternoster reports his wife missing after allegedly dropping her off at Tesco Holmbush on Sunday September the first. We subsequently became suspicious of his story and he was arrested. The search of the Paternosters’ home provides strong evidence he may have murdered his wife.’
He glanced down at his notes. ‘Digital examination adds weight to this from analysis of his phone and computer, showing he appears to have lied about his and Eden’s whereabouts on that Sunday. Further, from tracking his movements on his phone and on his car’s computer, we find a shallow grave in Ashdown Forest, as well as the potential murder weapon. Niall’s movements indicated he may have deposited some body parts in that grave and others off the end of the east mole of Shoreham harbour. Under questioning following his arrest, Paternoster denies everything vigorously. We release him, having insufficient evidence to charge him at this stage, but put him under surveillance while we continue our investigation.’
He took a sip of water. ‘The Surveillance Team follow him to a rendezvous with Rebecca Watkins at the Devil’s Dyke parking area. They appear to be lovers. This is the same destination that, according to digital comparison, Niall visited on Sunday September the first, just two hours after – according to his story – his wife had gone missing. I suspect that we will be able to tally the phone records with the check on Watkins’s Range Rover Evoque’s computer that she was there at the same time as she alluded to in interview.’
‘Is it your intention to check the Range Rover now, sir?’ DC Wilde asked.
‘Not at the moment, no, Velvet. I think she’s more useful to us if she doesn’t know she’s a primary suspect.’ He looked up. ‘Anyone disagree with me so far?’
No one did.
‘So up until now we’ve had a clear motive for murder. Niall Paternoster has a girlfriend. Murder his wife to get her out of the way and clear the way forward for his relationship with Rebecca Watkins, who may herself be in a terminal marriage.’ He looked up at his team again. ‘So far so good?’
There were several nods.
‘Then this morning, following the discovery of a letter concealed in a desk used by Eden Paternoster, DI Branson and I visited the solicitor to whom it referred, Jill Riddle, Head of Wills and Probate at the law firm of Cardwell Scott.’
‘That lot!’ Potting exclaimed. ‘They had a toxic little runt of a Legal Aid solicitor called Donnelly – Paul Donnelly. I had a couple of run-ins with him. Then he got struck off after being found to be negligent.’
‘I didn’t know that, but good,’ Grace replied. ‘Jill Riddle confirmed she had drafted a new will, in which, basically, Eden Paternoster leaves almost her entire estate to Rebecca Watkins.’ He paused to let that sink in.
The effect on his team was seismic.
Emily Denyer raised a hand. ‘Boss, I’ve been looking into the overseas company into which Eden Paternoster transferred ownership of her Nevill Road house, along with most of her cash – Cormorant International Holdings. It’s an offshore company providing overseas tax shelters, with links to Cardwell Scott.’
Grace frowned. ‘Would you say, Emily, it might be more than a little coincidental that Eden Paternoster’s will was drafted by the same firm that helped put her assets potentially out of her husband’s reach?’
Denyer gave a wry smile. ‘It just might be, boss.’
‘So,’ Grace said, to the whole team. ‘Who is playing off who here? Eden Paternoster has moved the majority of her assets into a jurisdiction that is traditionally uncooperative with British police and tax authorities – assuming that is still the case, Emily?’
‘It is. Not just the UK but pretty much the entire world, sir.’
Grace was silent for some moments, then he said, ‘Emily, from your experience, is it possible that Rebecca Watkins might be able to access these overseas assets without any form of countersignature from Eden Paternoster?’
‘It would entirely depend what instructions Eden Paternoster has given, which we’re not privy to. But yes, in principle, very possible.’
‘Right,’ Grace said. ‘To hypothesize for a moment, could we have a scenario here in which Eden moves her assets overseas in the belief she and Rebecca Watkins have a future together, and in the hope that she has framed her husband sufficiently to get him convicted of her murder? A very clever ploy? Or is it Rebecca Watkins who is the clever one, in cahoots with Niall Paternoster, playing the long game?’
‘By the term “long game”, boss,’ Denyer said, ‘are you suggesting Rebecca Watkins has conned her lover, Eden, into moving her assets overseas and giving her access to them, with Eden believing she is secure in her relationship with Rebecca?’
‘I am, Emily, yes.’
‘But,’ Denyer said, ‘Eden doesn’t realize she’s been tricked – conned – and the woman she thinks is her future life partner, Rebecca Watkins, is about to run for the hills with her husband and scoop up all her assets?’
‘That’s what it increasingly looks like, to me,’ Grace said.
Glenn Branson, who had been silent for the entire meeting until now, spoke. ‘How much of any of this do you think Niall Paternoster was aware of, boss? I mean, if he and Rebecca were – are – an item, and he knew Rebecca had access to all Eden’s assets, why did he need to kill Eden? Couldn’t he and Rebecca simply have taken off, grabbed all the offshore money and had enough to start a new life somewhere else?’
‘Because she would track them down,’ Grace retorted. ‘If they ever wanted to live somewhere that recognizes international law, they’d never have been free of the threat of arrest.’
Branson nodded.
‘But,’ Grace continued, ‘are we making a dangerous assumption here?’
He had everyone’s attention.
‘Rebecca Watkins is an interesting character. Let’s look at the possibility she has another agenda altogether. What if she and Eden Paternoster have agreed – conspired – that Rebecca is going to seduce Niall and become his lover? Eden is going to fake her disappearance, leaving a trail of evidence that frames her husband for her murder. She needs to appear dead for her plan to work, to be free of him and free of the risk of arrest when she and Rebecca attempt to start a new life together. But she realizes her plan hasn’t worked out quite as well as she’d hoped. The police don’t have the evidence they need to charge him with murder. So she panics, perhaps?’
‘Knowing the threats Niall made to kill her, boss, that she might have seen on his phone?’ Branson suggested.
Grace paused to clear his throat. ‘Indeed. Perhaps she’s desperate now, and maybe not thinking clearly – as we know, that happens when people panic and they do irrational things.’
‘Such as what? What are you thinking?’
Everyone did.
‘Are you making this a full-blown operation, boss?’ Branson asked. ‘Gold, Silver and Bronze?’
Grace shook his head. ‘I’ve thought about it, but I want to make it very low key. The Surveillance Team will be behind them, and you and I, Glenn, will be out with them, tucked away but ready to move fast if anything develops.’
Grace looked at his phone again, tapping it for some moments. ‘The forecast is mainly clear.’ With a twinge of guilt, he asked, ‘Anyone got plans for Thursday night they can’t move? Defrosting the fridge or something?’
There were a few grins. Potting raised an arm. ‘I’ve got a date, chief.’
‘The future Mrs Potting?’
He shook his head. ‘Nah, just meeting some old pals. I can – you know – reschedule.’
‘Your altruism touches all our hearts, Norman,’ Glenn Branson said.
100
Monday 9 September
‘God, I love you!’ Rebecca said, bursting through the front door of Eden’s cottage and throwing herself into her lover’s arms.
Eden kissed her on the forehead, riffling her fingers through her hair, and kissed her on her lips. Then, staring into her eyes, she said, ‘I’m crazy for you.’
‘I’m crazy for you, too!’
They kissed again. Then, kicking the front door shut, Eden asked excitedly, almost breathlessly, ‘So? How did it go?’
‘He fell for it. Hook, line and sinker.’
‘For sure?’
‘For sure.’ Rebecca smiled. They kissed hard. As they reluctantly parted, she said, ‘Trust me, he fell for it. He’ll be there. You’ll surprise him. One hard push. Ooops! Plop! Bye-bye, Niall!’
‘And what if he pushes me, instead? Ooops, plop, bye-bye, Eden? No more Eden for real, this time?’
‘It won’t happen. You’ll be taking him by surprise. He’ll be gone in the darkness before he knows what’s happening. And no one will see him fall, not at that hour. It could be several days before they find his body. I’ve heard that because you can’t see the bottom of Beachy Head from up top, it can be some while before a body is found. Probably someone from the pub will report his car has been in the car park for several days – whatever. By then we’ll be long gone, sipping margaritas on our sun-loungers. Sound good?’
‘Sounds – I guess . . .’ Eden said, still a little hesitant. ‘Sounds a plan.’
Rebecca smiled. ‘An elegant solution for the police. Niall Paternoster murders his wife, after a history of domestic violence against her. Then, wracked with remorse and scared the cops are closing in on him, he drives to Beachy Head in the middle of the night and ends it all. Constrained by their tight budgets and their need to show results, the detectives are only too happy to get this off their desks. Result. Boxes ticked. Case closed. And you and I swan off into the sunset. Guilt-free because you know what a monstrous shit he was, right?’
‘Right,’ Eden said, but her heart didn’t sound in it. ‘I’m – I’m just not sure I can do it, Bex. Murdering him was never part of our plan.’
‘No, it wasn’t. But the plan to get him arrested and charged hasn’t worked out how we’d hoped. And, of course, my affair with him was only to get the inside track on what he was thinking and doing.’
‘I don’t know how you did it.’
‘I hated every minute, Eden, and I don’t know how you pretended to put up with him for so long. What we’re doing will keep us moving forward. Just remember, he was planning to kill you. You do know that, don’t you?’
Eden nodded, still fretful.
‘And don’t for a moment think he’s not capable of it. He knows you’re up to something, obviously, and he’s not going to forgive you for this.’
‘I know, you’re right.’
‘So you’re just playing him at his own game. You don’t have to feel guilty, you’re doing what you’re doing to save your life. That’s why you ran away, faked everything. That’s why you’re going to do what you do on Thursday night, to give yourself a future. OK?’
‘I suppose.’
‘Good, give me a high five!’
Eden gave her a reluctant high five. As their palms met, she felt a flicker of hope.
The start of her new life?
But still a nagging doubt. ‘I need a drink – a stiff one.’
‘I need you first,’ Rebecca said.
Eden shook her head. ‘A stiff drink first – then you! Then another stiff drink. And then?’ She gave a smile. ‘What time do you have to leave?’
Rebecca waved a dismissive hand and gave a smile back. ‘No rush at all, I have all the time in the world.’
They went through into the kitchen. ‘Just think, after Thursday,’ Rebecca said, slipping her arms around Eden’s back, pushing her hair aside and kissing her on the neck, ‘the rest of our lives together.’
Eden pulled out two cut-glass tumblers from the cupboard and poured a generous slug of Macallan into each. ‘To the future,’ she said, handing her lover a glass.
‘To our future,’ Rebecca corrected, downing a large amount of whisky in one gulp.
A short while later, they lay in the large bed, entwined around each other, with Elbow playing on the Sonos system. ‘There’s just one thing that’s still worrying me about the plan,’ Eden said.
Rebecca took her hand and kissed it. ‘My love, don’t let anything worry your pretty little head.’ For emphasis, she lifted herself up a little and kissed Eden’s forehead. ‘Has that made your worry go away? Is it better?’
Eden grinned. ‘Much.’
‘So what’s worrying you? Your cat – Reggie? We can figure a way to bring him to Cancun, or wherever we ultimately decide to settle.’
‘Not Reggie, no, Bex. It was when the police were questioning you – I just had the sense, from what you told me, they weren’t buying that Niall had murdered me. Not totally.’
‘You’re right. They’re not buying it totally. But my sense is nor are they discounting it, they still think it’s a strong possibility. That’s what I mean by this bringing our plan back on track. Cops are suspicious and cynical – that’s in their DNA, yes?’
‘I guess,’ Eden replied.
‘But, as I’ve said, they’re all under pressure to solve crimes, meet targets. When Niall’s body is recovered from the bottom of the Beachy Head cliffs, it’s going to be an easy tick-box exercise for them. He’s claimed his wife has gone missing. The evidence points to him lying, and to him having murdered her, even if they don’t have actual proof. All the stuff you did with his phone, our clever work making sure your car was in all the right places at the right times, all the evidence you planted in the house. And the master stroke of the shallow grave. It’s there on a plate for the plod. If they had concerns before, this deals with them. They’re going to be happy, you and I will be happy. It’s a win-win!’
‘Can’t we do this without killing him?’
Rebecca cocked her head. ‘You’d be taking a big personal risk. Think about it. You’ve faked your disappearance and in the process left a complex trail of evidence indicating that your husband’s murdered you and disposed of your body. Do you want to risk ending up in court and getting a criminal record? That would finish your career and prevent you from ever getting a decent job again. And leave your bastard, abusive husband out there biding his time for revenge?’
Eden was silent for a long while. Finally, she said gloomily, ‘What a sodding mess.’
Rebecca shook her head. ‘Nope, not at al
l. As I said, trust me. I have a plan.’
101
Monday 9 September
When Roy Grace arrived home shortly after 6.30 p.m., Cleo was sitting on a sofa in the living area, her laptop on the coffee table in front of her, wearing headphones and nodding her head to music while reading a book.
She clearly hadn’t heard Humphrey barking his greeting to his master, nor the sound of the door, and she looked up with a start as her husband entered the room. Instantly, she tapped a key on her laptop and removed the headset. ‘Darling, hi! Great you’re home early! I thought you’d be much later.’
He kissed her, then hesitantly said, ‘Managed to escape!’
‘Good!’
‘What are you reading?’
‘It’s by Laura Whitmore.’ She held the book up and he looked at the catchy cover.
‘No One Can Change Your Life Except For You,’ he read out. ‘Is it good?’
She nodded. ‘It is, yes, very. I bought it because I thought I might learn something for Bruno. I like the way she writes, really down to earth, no nonsense. Listen to this.’ She flipped back a couple of pages and read aloud, ‘“We can blame the selfish or thoughtless actions of others for our circumstances, but we can’t change those actions. We can change how we comprehend them or how we act.”’
He nodded. ‘Very true. So, how are you?’
She gave him a wan smile. ‘I’m bearing up, I suppose – how about you?’
He took a deep breath. ‘The same. I’m fine so long as I’m busy. The moment I stop, I start thinking about everything. How’s Noah?’
‘Kaitlynn said he’s been bloody awful all day. She reckons he’s finally entering the terrible twos.’
‘So if he’s started late, let’s hope he finishes them early,’ Roy said, peeling off his jacket, loosening his tie and fiddling with the top button of his shirt until he prised it open. ‘We can only hope!’