One day we sneaked into one of the sheds at the far end of the garden, and she danced with me.
‘Come on, India, move those hips!’ she called as she sang a song that had been in the top twenty when she’d arrived at Lakeside. I’d never heard it, of course. I remembered Dad dancing with Mum, and tried to copy his moves as Leah swayed and whirled beside me. In the end we both collapsed on the floor in fits of laughter. It felt good, and I realised that I rarely laughed. At least, I hadn’t until Leah came.
I knew what was coming, but I didn’t know how to tell her. I was certain she was starting to believe there was nowhere in the world as perfect as Lakeside, and I should have warned her that she, like everyone else who came to live with us, would have to suffer at Aram’s hands sooner or later. But I didn’t. It happened when she had been with us for about four weeks. We were all invited to the meditation room, and I knew someone was about to be commanded to acknowledge their imperfections and weaknesses. That day it was Leah’s turn.
There was a sense of relief in everyone else that they weren’t in the spotlight, and it changed what might have been sympathy to a kind of gloating, as if everybody was thinking, I’ve been there. It’s happened to me. Thank God it’s someone else’s turn today.
The hum of conversation died as Leah walked to the front of the room to stand before us. All eyes were on her as Aram listed the failings he had identified in the time she had been with us, presenting them as the reason she hadn’t been able to find happiness and fulfilment in her life. He accurately identified every insecurity she had. He stuck the knife in and twisted. I didn’t want to look at her, but I knew Aram would notice if I didn’t and I would be dragged up there too.
She stood straight, not lowering her head with shame, as expected. Only her clenched jaw and her pale skin, flushed pink above her cheekbones, gave away how much he was hurting her. He ended with his usual words: ‘We want you with us, Leah. We think we can help you understand the right way, the only path to contentment. But you must recognise that your self-centred, arrogant, evasive nature is disgusting to us. We will gladly give you our love – I believe we’ve shown you that – but you must earn it. Leave us now.’
With that, the community rose to its feet, and every one of us turned our backs as she left the room.
I didn’t see her for three days. I was desperate to go to her, to offer comfort, but that wasn’t the way it worked. If I’d done that, shown that she was in any way special to me, Aram would have banished her. He wouldn’t accept any friendship that undermined his authority, especially if it involved me, and I was certain I wouldn’t be the one to be cast aside. It would be Leah.
Finally she sought me out down by the lake. She looked pale, but there was a fire in her eyes, which I knew she would have to quell if she wanted to stay.
‘I’m so sorry, Leah. I should have told you he would do that to you at some point. It’s part of the process, you see, and you have to obey him. If you want his love and approval, it’s the only way. And then you’ll be happy. Really you will.’
She smiled. ‘Lovely India. You have no idea how delightful you are, you know. You’re so eager to please and I’m scared for you.’
I turned to her, shocked to the core. ‘No, Leah, you should be scared for yourself! If you don’t follow the rules, he’ll force you to leave and he’ll shatter you before you go.’
She reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘He won’t, you know. India, there are things I want to tell you, but I’m frightened of what that knowledge might do to you. It’s too soon, but some day I promise I’ll explain to you why I’m here.’
I didn’t know what she meant, but I was too scared to ask. I had long since learned that if I had thoughts, Aram could read them. I had seen others leave his room with a dazed expression on their face – an expression I was certain I sometimes shared – and I wondered what tricks Aram used to read our minds. I knew nothing of hypnosis.
‘Listen, let’s not talk about all of that – not yet,’ she said, smiling gently. ‘Let me tell you about my life before I came here. About where I lived, how I spent my days, who I’ve loved. I want you to understand that there’s a world beyond here, outside these walls.’
And so she did. For weeks we grabbed whatever moments we could to be together, and it was always the best part of the day. She told me about her life in a series of chapters, each sounding more exciting than the one before, and I couldn’t wait to hear more. She said that although she originally came from Stoke, she hadn’t lived there for years, but she didn’t want Aram to know. She talked about the place she loved most, the city where she had gone to university and had chosen to live after her degree. She painted vivid pictures in words of the clubs, the shops, the friendly people; how she had whiled away hours outside cafés in the sunshine with friends. She made me fall in love with all her favourite places, and I hung on every word.
The images stayed so clear in my mind that when I finally left Lakeside I knew where I wanted to go – to the city Leah loved. I planned to visit the places she had told me about, although I never did. I was too scared to go out, to be seen. But I felt I was there for her, knowing she would never come back herself.
I went to Manchester.
49
As Tom drew the car up outside Niall’s home, Becky ended a call on her mobile.
‘Rob?’ Tom asked.
‘Yep. Before we go in, I should fill you in on his chat with Genevieve’s friends, and mine with Sara Osborne.’
Tom nodded as Becky shuffled round in the passenger seat to face him.
‘Sara is probably the more likely to tell us the unvarnished truth, and she said that Genevieve had mentioned Eddie a couple of times recently – something about how he might prove useful. Sara hadn’t understood what she was talking about and had pushed her, but Genevieve just smiled and said, “You’ll see.” Later she’d said the stupid bugger had got married and the wife would be an inconvenience to the narrative she needed to create, but she thought she could take care of that.’
‘What the hell does that mean?’
‘Sara didn’t know. She’d tried to get an explanation, but Genevieve smirked and changed the subject. Rob got a bit more from one of the friends, though. She said she knew something was going on with Genevieve because she’d stopped droning on about her marvellous marriage. Every time she mentioned Niall, there was a self-satisfied smile on Genevieve’s face that could have suggested marital bliss, but the friend was sceptical. She’d seen Genevieve in a café in town with a woman she didn’t recognise – she wasn’t one of their group, and this made her curious, although God knows why. They were sitting in a window, so she’d taken a photo on her phone to show her other friends.’ Becky’s eyes were popping. ‘Honestly, Tom, what’s wrong with these people? What does it matter if she was out having coffee with someone different?’ She gave a hopeless shrug and continued. ‘Believe it or not – and I find it difficult to – she then went home and used Google Images to see if she could identify the woman. And she did. Kirsten Carlson. There are lots of photos of her online – that’s what comes of having a famous, or maybe infamous, husband. So Genevieve met Kirsten. And recently.’
‘Before or after her conversation with Sara?’
‘I’m not sure. The café and photo pantomime occurred the week before Genevieve was killed. Oh, and they seemed to be arguing.’
Tom pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through some screens.
‘Here we go,’ he said. ‘The message that invited Genevieve outside to her death. “Last week you begged me to tell you what I know, and I refused. But I’ve changed my mind. I’ll give you what you want if you give me what I want – and you know what that is. He’s mine – not yours.” We assumed this was Martha claiming rights over Niall. But what if it was Kirsten? And she was referring to Eddie?’
Becky nodded slowly but then frowned. ‘The words fit, but it was Martha’s phone.’
‘True. But we don’t
know it was in Martha’s possession, do we?’
Becky turned away and slumped back against the seat. ‘No, but how the hell would Kirsten have got it? Whatever was going on, however much you think it’s all too neat, it has to have come from Martha Porter or at least someone at XO-Tech.’
‘You know how my mind works. I never accept the most logical answer until every piece slots into place, and some bits don’t quite line up for me. Without a doubt Martha is key to our investigation, but let’s try to keep an open mind when we talk to Niall Strachan. If we assume he loved his wife – and as yet we’ve no reason to doubt it – then learning she was trying something on with Eddie Carlson will be a body blow. He’ll have no way of ever finding out the truth.’ Tom reached for the door handle. ‘I’m not looking forward to this.’
Niall Strachan led them through to the back of the house, where wide open bi-fold doors led from the kitchen-cum-dining room into a perfectly manicured back garden. Becky chose a seat with her back to the view because she would have found it difficult to concentrate without staring out at the plants. She was desperate for a garden, and all she had was the balcony of their central Manchester apartment.
‘I apologise for disturbing you again, Mr Strachan,’ Tom said. ‘I know this must be a difficult time for you, but I want to assure you we’re doing everything we can to find out what happened, and who your wife met in the lane on Monday night.’
Niall was facing the light, and the sunshine illuminated a face that looked pale, with black circles around bloodshot eyes. There was no doubt this man was suffering, and they were about to make him feel worse.
‘I thought you knew the answer to that,’ Niall said, his voice slightly croaky as if it hadn’t been used for a while.
‘We have a suspect, but at the moment the evidence is circumstantial, so while that’s the case we have to keep looking.’
Niall’s eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean, circumstantial? How can that be if it was her phone that called Genevieve? And Spencer said the knife looks like the one from our kitchen. She’s an oddball. I’ve always felt there was something weird about her, even though she was bloody good at her job.’
‘We’ll have to take your word for that, but as I said, sir, the evidence is not conclusive and it allows for more than one interpretation. At least, that’s what any defence team will say. For example, her emails. How certain can you be that they came from her?’
Niall scowled. ‘You saw them. They were from her account.’
‘Come on, Mr Strachan. Even I know that anyone could have set up that account, and you know far more about technology than me. Did you seriously never suspect they could have been from someone else?’
‘Why would I, after her behaviour at the party?’
‘When we find Martha Porter, and we will, it’s one of the questions we’ll be asking her. We’re getting closer.’
Becky wasn’t sure that was the case, but she wasn’t about to disagree with Tom.
‘I’d like to confirm one piece of information. On Monday night – or rather, the early hours of Tuesday morning – you made a phone call from outside the lawyers’ offices in central Manchester. Can you tell me who you spoke to, please?’
‘Of course. It was Spencer. He wanted to know whether the deal had gone through. He has a vested interest – his future’s on the line too, you know.’
There was no point in him denying it. Strachan knew they could check.
‘Thank you for confirming that. Now, if it’s not too painful, we’d like to talk to you about your wife. We feel it would help us if we understood more about Genevieve and your relationship with each other,’ Tom said.
Niall leaned back and folded his arms. ‘All that matters is who killed her. Not what came before. We were happy, okay? We were like every other couple – good days, bad days. But we both got what we needed from the marriage, and that’s about as good as it gets, I think.’
‘What do you believe your wife got from the marriage, as you put it?’ Tom asked.
‘The life she wanted. A man who didn’t try to control her, who let her do her own thing, took her to the right places, wasn’t an embarrassment.’
Jesus! Becky thought. Was that his definition of a good marriage? For a moment she wondered if Genevieve had gone looking for Eddie Carlson for a bit of sheer passion, even if last time it involved lamping someone for getting too close.
‘And you, Mr Strachan?’
‘I had a very presentable wife who had the same values as I do. We enjoyed the same things – we loved the life we shared. Look around you. This house isn’t a mansion, but there were only the two of us and it has everything we need.’
‘I’m sorry to have to ask,’ Tom continued, ‘but did either you or Genevieve – to the best of your knowledge – have an affair during your marriage?’
Niall leaned his forearms heavily on the table. ‘What the hell has that got to do with anything?’
‘I’m sorry if the notion upsets you, but we have to rule out current or ex-lovers as part of the process. I’m not here to judge and neither is DI Robinson, but it would be helpful to know.’
The most interesting part of that speech as far as Becky was concerned was that Tom had referred to her as DI Robinson, whereas he usually referred to her as Becky when talking to the bereaved. She knew what that meant – Tom didn’t like Niall, and he didn’t trust him.
‘Well, you won’t find any skeletons in my cupboard. I didn’t have time, to be honest. We had an active social life, and I had a hectic business life. Genevieve had far more time, but I doubt she had the inclination.’
‘Can you explain?’
‘She loved our life and wouldn’t have risked it. That’s all I mean. She loved me – not in a gushing, romantic way, but we were a team. We were happy.’
Tom was quiet, and Becky waited for the moment she knew was about to come. She was watching Niall Strachan carefully for his reaction.
‘Would it surprise you to know that Genevieve had been in touch with Eddie Carlson recently, and that she had suggested they should get together?’
‘What? You’re joking, surely? She said he was a total tosser – an embarrassment. I think you must have got that wrong, Chief Inspector.’ Two spots of colour brightened his otherwise pale cheeks, and Becky was in no doubt at all what he thought of this revelation. He was surprised. But he was angry too. Angry at what she’d done, or angry because he didn’t know?
Tom waited, saying nothing, hoping Niall would jump in with some telling statement that would change everything, but he took a few deep breaths and stood up.
‘If you have no more questions, I’d like you to go, please. What you’ve just told me is hurtful, and I need some time. Was there anything else?’
Tom pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘No. That’s all for now. We’ll keep you informed.’
With a last longing look over her shoulder at the garden, Becky followed Tom out of the room.
50
It was the end of another frustrating day for Tom. They had made some progress, but not enough.
‘Okay everyone, a last review of where we are, and then home for a well-earned rest for us all. Becky will fill you in on our conversation with Strachan, but where the hell was Charley? I thought she was spending time at the Strachan house to keep him informed – and us, for that matter.’
‘He asked her to leave,’ Keith answered. ‘Apparently he said – and I quote – “It’s doing my head in having someone lurking round my house making it look untidy”.’
‘Bollocks,’ Tom muttered. He wasn’t surprised, but he’d have much preferred her to be there, picking up on any nuances of Strachan’s behaviour. ‘I guess there’s not much we can do about that. Becky, can you recap on Strachan, Eddie Carlson and his wife Kirsten?’
When Becky had summarised the various conversations, Tom looked around the table. ‘Any thoughts?’
‘Not really,’ Rob said, looking bewildered, ‘other than it makes no se
nse to me that Genevieve would try to entice Eddie into a relationship.’
‘I thought Niall was angry,’ Becky said. ‘Not in a hurt way – in a “what the hell was she playing at?” kind of way. Sara Osborne finds it hard to believe that her sister wanted to get back into a relationship with Eddie, and even if she did, why would she meet up with Kirsten? I think I should call in at the Carlson house on my way home and ask her.’ Becky looked at Tom.
‘Good idea. Where are we with Martha Porter? Keith, Rob?’
Keith shook his head. Progress was frustratingly slow.
‘Nothing at the flat, boss,’ Rob said. ‘I don’t think the bike’s much help either. The chiropodist’s prints are all over the handlebars, and the only others we found did match some from Martha’s flat, but they were on the crossbar. The bike was propped against some children’s toys and it looked as if she might have grabbed it so she could get at them.’
It was proof that she had touched the bike, but nothing more. They needed one piece of hard evidence – one single irrefutable fact that would tie Martha to the murder.
‘DCI Douglas and I have been pondering the fact that Martha’s obviously been trying to live under the radar for years,’ Becky said, ‘so all this secrecy isn’t because she killed Genevieve Strachan – if she did. Does that suggest she’s done it before? She’s certainly hiding from something. We’re waiting for the lab to get back to us on the DNA collected from the flat so we can run it through the system, but in the meantime we’ve looked at unsolved murders of women in the right age range, but there are very few, to be honest – shows what a splendid job we’ve been doing!’ She gave a cheeky grin, and there was a bubble of laughter from around the table. ‘We’re widening the search to include missing women, on the assumption that she may have killed a previous rival and we just haven’t found the body. I’ll ask the night duty team – and Rob, that doesn’t mean you – to go through the list and come up with the most likely so we can follow them up tomorrow.’
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