Love Lies Bleeding

by Evans, Geraldine

  But as he said to Llewellyn after they had thanked Jonas Singleton and left him to lock up, at least now that he knew their real relationship, Elaine Enderby's description of Stephanie Raine's fondling affection for Raymond as ‘inappropriate’ struck Rafferty as even more so. Obviously she had believed that Raymond was Stephanie's son — how much more inappropriate was her effusive fondling of a grown-up stepson?

  Llewellyn nodded. ‘From your description of Mrs Raine Senior's reaction when you broke the news of Raymond's death and his widow's confession, it certainly sounds as if she disliked Felicity, hated her even. But do you think her dislike of Felicity is due more to the jealousy of an older woman for a younger one's fresher beauty, or might it be a sexual jealousy?’

  ‘What? You reckon Stephanie had the hots for Raymond?’

  Llewellyn winced at this crudity and said, ‘I wouldn't have expressed it quite like that myself.’ Although Rafferty was beginning to suspect the possibility himself, he always had the devilish urge to force his repressed Methodist sergeant to speak of such matters — if only to save himself from inferences that he was obsessed with the sex lives of others.

  ‘The thought did occur to me,’ Llewellyn admitted, ‘even if I would have phrased it differently.’

  Rafferty grinned. There's nothing wrong in calling a spade a spade,’ he said.

  ‘And what about Felicity Raine?’ Llewellyn added as they reached the car. ‘What light do these revelations cast on her and her possible motives? Did she know about the terms of the trust? Or did Raymond keep her in ignorance of its contents and the whys and wherefores of how the family fortune was to be dispersed? Certainly, the fact that Raymond took steps to keep the identity of his legal advisers secret by concealing their contact details in a hidden compartment in his desk indicates his determination to keep Felicity in ignorance of his financial affairs.

  ‘But … Felicity Raine is a woman,’ Llewellyn observed as they got in the car and he started it up.

  ‘You spotted that?’

  Llewellyn ignored Rafferty's interruption. ‘Felicity Raine is a woman,’ he repeated. 'A member of a sex renowned the world over for its curiosity. It's possible that Felicity searched her husband's study and his two desks until she found the secret compartment.

  ‘Raymond Raine was a busy man with the family firm to run. He would presumably have spent many hours away from the marital home. His secretary told us how hard he worked. It took the two of us no more than thirty minutes to find the secret drawer. Felicity Raine, with hours of leisure time in which to pry, may well have found the secret drawer also.’

  ‘True,’ Rafferty conceded as they headed back to the station. ‘Not,’ he pointed out, ‘that it would have advanced her knowledge of her financial future one jot, unless Raymond had chosen to enlighten her.’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ Llewellyn contradicted him. ‘Even if she failed to locate the secret drawer in her husband's desk, there are other ways to find out how she stood financially. The wills of the deceased brothers would, like all probated wills, be open to public scrutiny. If Felicity Raine was aware of that fact, she could have applied for copies and learned the details of the trust.’

  ‘Yes, but if she did so, she would learn that killing Raymond wouldn't make her a wealthy widow — rather the opposite, in fact, which rather takes away her motive for killing him. Remind me to ask her if she knew the terms of the wills. Oh, and you can check with the Probate Office in the morning and find out if Felicity did apply for copies of the late partners’ wills.’

  Llewellyn nodded. ‘Certainly we can ask Felicity Raine if she knew the terms, but maybe, given the deceit practised by both Stephanie and Mike Raine, it might be unwise to take what she or any other member of the Raine family says at face value.’

  Rafferty nodded. As Llewellyn had said, given the ready lies of the other Raine family members, it would be extremely foolish to take what any of them said as gospel. And even though Elaine Enderby had told him that, as far as she knew, Felicity had no close family, and Felicity herself had confirmed it, Rafferty resolved to make sure of this, too, as soon as possible. He was determined not to give Llewellyn occasion to say ‘I told you so’ should Felicity turn out to follow her stepmother-in-law's failure to be as truthful as a murder investigation required.

  Having failed to check the truth about relationships once, he was not about to make the same mistake a second time.

  It had turned into a long day. Jonas Singleton had agreed to stay late in his office especially to see them. By eight o'clock, Rafferty for one was more than ready to call it a day. But as they entered the station and he saw Bill Beard beckon him and nod towards a woman sitting in the waiting area, he suspected the day was about to become even longer.

  Chapter Six

  Beard nodded again towards a plump woman in her mid-thirties who was currently the only occupant of the station's waiting area. Her reddened nose and eyes revealed she was upset. This redness did no more to improve her plain appearance than did her mannish tweed trouser suit and stout brown brogues.

  ‘Name of Sandrine Agnew — Ms, I shouldn't wonder,’ Beard added. ‘Claims she's a good friend of Felicity Raine and demanded to speak to the officer in charge. Said she's got evidence—’

  ‘Evidence, yes. I'm always glad of more of that. Ms Agnew, you say?’

  Beard nodded.

  Rafferty beckoned Llewellyn and they crossed the floor to the waiting area. ‘Ms Agnew?’

  The woman, who until he spoke had seemed lost in her own thoughts, looked up and nodded.

  Rafferty introduced himself and Llewellyn. ‘I believe you've been waiting to see me?’

  She nodded again, before earnestly asking, ‘I spoke to Stephanie Raine earlier. She said that you've arrested Felicity Raine for the murder of her husband? Surely it can't be true?’

  She didn't wait for Rafferty to confirm or deny it, but immediately continued. ‘You've made a dreadful mistake. Felicity didn't kill Raymond. She couldn't — wouldn't. Besides, you do know he beat her, don't you? Raymond really was a very violent man and if Felicity had to resort to self-defence measures—’

  It was interesting that she should make the same claim as Elaine Enderby. To have two independent witnesses suggest the same thing strengthened the likelihood that their accusations were true, and also increased the chances that the charges against Felicity Raine would be reduced to manslaughter — if they even advanced as far as a trial. It was now clear that Felicity was no longer the only suspect with a good motive for murder; and whilst any financial motive she might have had for killing Raymond was now dead in the water, the same wasn't true of Stephanie and Mike Raine, who had both been less than open with them.

  ‘I understand your concerns, Ms Agnew,’ Rafferty told her. ‘But as you're a friend of Mrs Raine, what would you say if I told you that on the very morning of Mr Raine's death, she gave us a confession — a voluntary confession?’

  Sandrine Agnew looked suitably startled. ‘What can have possessed her?’ She searched Rafferty's face for clues. ‘You didn't believe her, I hope?’

  ‘At the moment, since your friend has now retracted her confession, I'm not sure what to believe,’ he admitted. ‘But let me assure you that my entire team will be putting in long hours in order to find the truth. If Mrs Raine is innocent of this crime we'll find out.’

  Hope glistened briefly in her eyes at his words.

  ‘Perhaps, while you're here, you could explain why you believe that Mr Raine was violent towards his wife.’

  ‘One would have had to be willfully blind not to notice. It was perfectly obvious that he beat her. One only had to look at Felicity's poor, bruised face to know what went on. And then I saw her several times in Casualty — I work there as a volunteer — but when I tried to speak to her, she rushed off without waiting for treatment.’

  ‘I see. But from what you say, Mrs Raine might have attended Casualty for something else, especially as it seems she didn't actually con
fide in you about this matter?’

  Sandrine Agnew looked put out that this was so and that she was obliged to admit it. ‘Though I suppose it's understandable that Felicity suffered from misplaced loyalty. Many women do, I'm afraid. I urged Felicity to leave him. But even though she told me several times that she would, she kept putting it off. I think she was too frightened of what his reaction might be if she did so, even though I was more than happy to offer her a roof.’

  Rafferty, as he studied the rather mannish Ms Agnew, got the unmistakable impression that Bill Beard's political incorrectness had been spot on and that a roof wasn't all she would like to offer Felicity.

  ‘She wouldn't even allow me to speak about the abuse. She just changed the subject very pointedly every time I brought it up. She was in denial, of course. Willfully so.’

  She wasn't the only one, thought Rafferty. It was clear that Sandrine Agnew carried a torch for Felicity Raine. But it seemed unlikely the exquisite Felicity would have anything stronger than feelings of friendship for the plain and ungainly Sandrine Agnew.

  ‘But I want to do anything I can that might help her. Someone has to, and from what you say it's clear that Felicity is in no state to help herself. But until I can come up with some more pro-active way of helping her, the least I can do is make an official statement about Raymond's violence. I want to be sure it's taken into account.’

  ‘Of course. Perhaps you'd wait here while I get my sergeant to organise someone to take it?’

  ‘Can't you do it? I promise it won't take very long.’

  Rafferty, thinking of the evening with Abra that lay ahead, was tempted to refuse. But then he thought of Felicity Raine, who would surely, come the morrow, find herself in the cells, and changed his mind. Besides, he reminded himself, he might learn something valuable. Sandrine Agnew had claimed to be a friend rather than just a neighbour. It was possible she knew more about the Raines and the state of their marriage than Elaine Enderby.

  He collected a statement form from behind the desk and led her and Llewellyn to one of the interview rooms.

  Once the statement was taken care of, Rafferty asked Sandrine Agnew, ‘How come you and Mrs Raine know one another?’

  ‘We're unlikely friends, you mean? Me being so plain and Felicity so gorgeous?’

  Rafferty hastened to deny that such had been in his mind.

  To Sandrine Agnew's credit, she laughed.

  ‘I've found that not everyone is as reticent in airing their opinions as you, inspector.’

  Beside him, Llewellyn shifted restlessly. A tiny sigh escaped from his lips as if in protest at such a dubious judgment. But he said nothing.

  ‘Several people haven't scrupled to say exactly what they're thinking. Anyway, as to how come we became friends, we both used to attend the same keep-fit classes and a group of us would go out afterwards to the pub and undo the good we had just done. Gradually, people fell away, as you do when it comes to keeping fit. Felicity and I did the same, but we seemed to have struck up an acquaintance more deep than merely one of commiserating with one another over our aching bodies. And although we dropped the keep-fit, we continued with the pub bit for a while, but then that too petered out. I met her again shortly after she married Raymond and even though she said nothing, I could see that something was troubling her.’

  ‘Apart from the violence you've already mentioned, what else can you tell me about their relationship?’

  ‘Not a lot, I'm afraid. I didn't see much of him. Felicity and I generally met elsewhere and she rarely talked about him — I suppose she was worried that if she did so she might encourage more unwelcome questions about her bruises and black eyes.’

  ‘May I ask you something?’ Llewellyn asked.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Do you think there's any possibility that she could have killed Raymond?’

  Ms Agnew shook her head vehemently. ‘No. Never. I'd stake my life on it.

  Felicity Raine certainly didn't lack for champions. Though it must be sad to know, Rafferty thought, as Sandrine Agnew surely must, that your love was hopeless.

  Once Rafferty had ushered Sandrine Agnew out, with reassurances that he would do his best by her friend, he said to Llewellyn that that really was it for the night. ‘I don't know about you, but I for one can absorb nothing more.’

  By now it was eight thirty. He'd just have time to shower and change into one of the fancy Italian suits he'd treated himself to a couple of investigations ago and, with the associations they conjured up, he thought he'd never bring himself to wear. But memories fade, even black memories.

  Tonight, more than anything, he felt the best thing he could do for the investigation was to relax and let his brain and thought processes mellow during a long-booked and long-looked-forward-to evening with Abra.

  ‘We'll sit down tomorrow morning and digest what we've learned so far and then decide on our priorities.’

  After they had said good-night and Rafferty had popped into the Incident Room to check on anything else that had come in, he followed Llewellyn out to the car park. Gradually, he became aware of what a beautiful evening it was. The sky was a deep, vibrant blue where it wasn't already washed with the yellow, pink and orange of a fabulous sunset.

  He smiled as he pulled out his car keys. The weather was certainly an improvement on the lashing rain that had heralded Raymond Raine's murder and Felicity's confession.

  In spite of the increasing questions about the case and his early but anticipated loss of Felicity Raine's confession, he felt surprisingly upbeat. Not, of course, that his happiness had anything at all to do with the case — how could it when they now faced the long haul of a murder investigation rather than the easier confession-and-guilty-as-charged route?

  But for tonight at least, he mused as he climbed in the car, he intended to enjoy himself. It might be the last chance he had for some time.

  He was taking Abra out for a late meal, a special meal. He had booked a table for two for nine o'clock in the romantically softly lit courtyard area of one of the town's most upmarket restaurants, hoping to encourage Abra to finally forgive him for his less than chivalric showing in June.

  He was looking forward to it. And since even the weather had decided to come out on his side, he felt he had reason to be optimistic. A balmy night, soft lights, sweet music, wine and an excellent meal would, he was convinced, encourage Abra to accept that to err is human, but to forgive is divine. It wasn't as if he had meant to be obtuse and hurtful. His hopes were high that tonight would see them back to how they had been but a few months earlier, and he was determined to spare no expense on the evening.

  That was why the call on his mobile just before he inserted the key in the ignition came as such a blow.

  Chapter Seven

  Rafferty felt a curious reluctance to answer the demanding ringtone. He always turned his mobile off prior to interviews and had only just turned it back on.

  He felt an even greater reluctance when he pulled the phone from his pocket and saw that it was Abra calling. Why was she calling now? he wondered. He had told her he would be home in good time for their restaurant date and he would be. He'd promised her that morning as he'd given her a quick goodbye kiss.

  It was only just after half-eight now, so he was in plenty of time. His uneasiness increased and he found himself wishing he hadn't turned the damn thing back on because some sixth sense told him he wouldn't like what she had to say.

  Squashing down his uneasy thoughts, he forced out a cheerful greeting. ‘Hello, my little Abracadabra. I hope you're looking forward to this evening as much as I am. It's going to be magical, I know it. Promise me you'll dress up in that houri's outfit that Dafyd told me you threatened to wear to his wedding.’

  Rafferty still couldn't understand how he had failed to spot Abra at Llewellyn's wedding or the reception afterwards. He could only put it down to the fact that, without a partner and painfully conscious of the fact, he had made sure the night was clouded by
an anaesthetizing alcoholic haze.

  To his dismay, Abra's reply confirmed his fear that he wouldn't like what she had to say.

  ‘Oh God, Joe. You're making me feel guilty now. Sorry, love, but you'll have to cancel the restaurant booking. I can't come. I've been trying to reach you for the last hour to tell you, but all I got each time was your voicemail.’

  ‘Can't come?’ Rafferty became aware of the little-boy anguish in his voice and he did his best to eliminate it. ‘But—’

  ‘Please, Joe. Don't go all pathetic on me. You know I can't stand it when you do that. And it's not my fault that I have to cry off tonight, so don't think I'm doing it deliberately.’

  Rafferty, about to but another but, buttoned his lip instead. When he spoke again, he tried to recapture his former breeziness. ‘So, what's the matter? Why can't you come?’

  ‘It's nothing for you to worry about — just some stupid family problem of Gloria's that I need to sort out.’

  ‘Family problem? Dafyd said nothing about a family problem.’ Llewellyn was Abra's cousin on his mother's side. ‘So what is it? Don't tell me his mother's got tired of pretending to be a prim Methodist widow and has put on her dancing shoes again to star at some seedy pensioners’ nightclub?’

  Gloria, Llewellyn's mother, had been a dancer before becoming the unexpected bride of Dafyd's Methodist minister father, more than proving the adage that opposites attract. Since discovering this glorious news about the mother of his sergeant, who could be a tad holier-than-thou at times, Rafferty had often wondered which of the two was the more astonished at their choice of partner.

  ‘Dafyd doesn't know,’ Abra told him. ‘And you're not to mention anything about this to him. I don't want you teasing him about it.’

  ‘What?’ Rafferty gasped. ‘You mean his mother really has—?’

  ‘Don't be stupid, Joe. Of course she hasn't. It's nothing like that.’