by Susan Finlay
For a time she sat on a bench beside the stream that ran through Saint-Julien and breathed in the scent of flowers and fresh mountain air while she listened to the rippling water and thought about her strange, almost surreal situation. London seemed a long way away and with each passing day that distance grew somehow. Dave would be finding his way around the city by now. Was he enjoying the Tube, the pubs, and the local food? She glanced at the hill and was reminded of Reynier. What was happening back there? Were the gendarmes now swarming the area? What had Simone told them?
How otherworldly these small villages were compared with London; quiet, calm, peaceful. So why did she miss home? She looked toward the road that led out of town and part of her wanted to go, and yet at the same time she didn’t. Was it England she missed, or Dave? What? Now where had that thought come from, foolish girl? She found she wished she could show him around the places where she’d grown up, her mother’s former home and grave site. She closed her eyes, and tried to picture her mother’s face. Instead, she involuntarily saw Jared’s. She shivered, and stood up abruptly, shaken.
Continuing her walk, Maurelle found the general store and bought a phone card and more essentials for the house, careful to buy no more than she could carry each trip. She didn’t want to use the car unless absolutely necessary.
Late in the afternoon, Maurelle, Jeannette and Fabienne strolled out of the town’s one café after eating a sumptuous dinner. They strolled across the street to a pay phone, where Jeannette called Coralie at Brigitte’s house.
“Well, what did she say?” Fabienne asked. “Did she have any news? Has she heard from Dave?”
“Coralie couldn’t talk. I don’t know what’s going on, but before she hung up, she whispered that the gendarmes are looking for us and for the car.”
Fabienne raised her eyebrows and glanced over at Maurelle. She put one hand on her forehead and the other on her chest. “Tant pis! We’ll cover our tracks, that’s what we’ll do. We’ll hide that damned car so they won’t find us.”
Maurelle nodded, and the three women hurried back to the house. After looking around the grounds, they found a good hiding spot amid some wildly overgrown bushes behind the house.
“Who would have thought it would pay off to let the bushes grow wild?” Fabienne said. “I used to worry about neglecting this place.”
Maurelle moved the car into place and covered it with additional branches. Fabienne and Jeannette carefully erased the car’s tire tracks in the dirt with brooms.
Toddling back inside the house, Fabienne grabbed onto Maurelle’s arm for support. When Maurelle glanced at the older woman, she saw how pale her face was and that she was huffing and struggling to catch her breath.
Fabienne said, between breaths, “I haven’t been this happy in years. Let’s pray the gendarmes don’t go and ruin it.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes dear, I’m fine. These bones are just not used to this much excitement is all,” Fabienne said, not convincing Maurelle at all.
Dave and Kate left Elizabeth Raybourne’s office in Soho, walked to the train station, and boarded a train that would take them to Euston where Peter Raybourne and Robin Sutcliffe lived. Dave followed Kate to seats in the middle of the car. As the train began moving, Kate said, “What did you think of Elizabeth?”
“She was lying, or at least hiding something. She at least knows more about her son’s activities than she was letting on.”
Kate smiled. “She answered too much and seemed mainly keen on attacking her ex-husband.”
“I agree.” Dave paused a moment, reflecting on points of the interview with Elizabeth, then continued. “After we talk with the ex-husband, I think we should talk with her again, in her home this time. I really need to have a look inside the house. I doubt we’ll see much, but at least we’ll get a second chance at her, and you never know, maybe we’ll get lucky.”
Departing at Euston station, they walked several blocks to Peter and Robin’s house. After introductions, Robin Sutcliffe showed them to the living room and sat down in a stuffed chair across from Dave and Kate who were sitting on the sofa. Robin had neat straight brown hair down to her waist, parted in the center. She had brown eyes behind wire-rim glasses. Her eyes reminded Dave of an ex-girlfriend, eyes that were intelligent and watchful. She told them that Peter wasn’t home from work yet, though she expected him momentarily.
Kate said, “We know you’ve already given a statement to the police, but we’d like to ask a few questions. First, could you tell us about your relationship with Jared? Did you two get along?”
Robin shrugged. “We didn’t really talk much.”
“Why is that?”
She fidgeted, seemed nervous, twisting strands of her hair between her fingertips.
“He blamed me for his parents’ divorce. It’s understandable, I suppose. But I didn’t seduce Peter. It just happened. I tried to convince Jared of that. He wouldn’t listen.”
“How did you and Peter meet?”
“We worked together at Castle Magazine. It’s a publishing company. Peter is an editor. I was his assistant. I primarily researched and verified data.”
“You used past tense. Does that mean you are no longer working there?”
“That’s right. Our personal relationship was against company policy. Either Peter or I had to quit.”
“Were you involved while Peter was still married?”
“Yes, but that wasn’t the problem. He couldn’t be my boss.”
“How did they find out about your relationship?”
She shrugged.
Kate glanced at Dave. He said, “Did Elizabeth or Jared tell them?”
Robin took a cigarette out of a packet on the coffee table, lit it up, and took a puff.
“I can’t really say.”
“Did you and Jared ever argue?” Kate asked.
She lowered her eyes, then said, “No.”
“What about his mother, Elizabeth? What’s your relationship with her?”
Robin looked up, her eyes full of anger, taking the cigarette and placing it on an ash tray. “It’s no secret that she and I don’t like each other. I’m sure you’ve already heard. Have you talked to her already? What did she say about me?”
“One of Elizabeth’s friends told us that you and Elizabeth argued several times before Jared’s murder. Is that true?”
“We argued because she was trying to get Peter back. She would make up excuses to call him over to the house.” She retrieved the cigarette and took another nervous drag, blowing smoke into the air.
Dave interjected. “Who do you think murdered Jared?”
“Peter thinks it’s either Elizabeth or that woman, the teacher who rented a room from Elizabeth.”
“But what do you think?”
“Elizabeth could have killed him. She’s an alcoholic, you know. Jared disapproved of her drinking, and the two of them fought about that all the time.”
“Are you sure she’s an alcoholic? That’s a pretty big claim.”
Robin took another drag and stubbed the unfinished butt out in the ash tray. “She was often drunk. That’s part of what drove Peter away. He would stay at work later than necessary frequently so he wouldn’t have to go home and deal with her.”
The front door opened, and a man’s voice called out to Robin.
“I’m in the living room,” she answered. When he appeared, Robin went to him and kissed him, made the introductions, and explained why they were there. Peter Raybourne watched her walk out of the room, then sat in the spot she’d vacated.
Peter’s hair, the color of wet sand, was a darker shade of blonde than his ex-wife’s and their son’s, and was wavy. He looked older than Elizabeth, certainly older than Robin. Dave tried to recall the man’s age. He’d read it in one of the reports or an article. Forty-one or forty-two.
“Robin told us you used to be her boss,” Kate said.
Peter nodded.
“Did she leave the comp
any?”
“Yes.”
“How long ago was that?”
He shrugged.
“Where’s she working now?”
“I don’t see why you’re asking,” he said with an edge of truculence.
“We’re trying to get to know the main people in your son’s life.”
“Why? We already know who killed him.”
Dave noticed a slight twitch in Kate’s jaw.
Kate said, “Who do you think it was?”
“I’ve already been through this with the police.” He leaned forward with his arms resting on the chair’s arms.
“But not with us.”
“And I still don’t see why I should talk to you.” He sighed. “All right. I’ll say it again. The schoolteacher, Maura Barrington, had a key since she’d previously rented a room in that house. And she had a motive. The school officials told us she was under investigation of an affair with Jared.”
“And you believe they had an affair?”
He walked over to the fireplace, picked up a framed photograph, and stared at it briefly before handing it to Kate. “He was a good looking boy. It’s not surprising, really, that she could fall for him,” he said.
“Have you met her?” Kate asked, avoiding the obvious affirmation.
“Briefly.”
“She is attractive, too, isn’t she? Is it possible that he had a schoolboy crush on her and that she didn’t really have an affair with him?”
Peter shrugged.
“Is it possible that he was obsessed with her and that’s why she moved out of the house? That he spread rumors about her because he wanted it to be true?”
Kate handed the photo to Dave. It looked fairly recent. Jared was dressed in school uniform, his hair groomed and his expression cocky. Jared was slender and good-looking. A slightly older woman might be attracted to him, as distasteful as that seemed to him. Maura had denied that. Dave looked up at the fireplace mantel at another photo, a picture of Peter and Robin. She didn’t appear to be much older than Maura. Dave handed the photo back to Peter, who was still standing.
Peter sat back down, the frame in his lap, and leaned toward Kate. “Even if that was the case, that he was obsessed with her and made up everything, she still had motive.”
“How is that?”
“She was under investigation by the school’s governing board. Wouldn’t she save her job if Jared was gone?”
Dave said, “Not really. Jared’s murder only added to the suspicions, not made them go away. Also, if that was true, she would have stayed here and fought the allegations, wouldn’t she, if she was so desperate to keep her job?”
Peter looked deep in thought. “I don’t know. But if she didn’t kill him, then who did?”
“Did your son have any enemies?”
Peter shrugged. “I won’t lie to you. He went through some difficulties after his mother and I split. He got into fights in school. He was accused of vandalism at school and around the neighborhood. I can’t tell you who he might have angered.” He stared at them with an oddly defiant expression. “Look, I think I have given you enough time now. I will expect to see anything you write before it is published.” He stood, and waited for them to follow suit.
After Dave and Kate left the house, Kate said, “Do you want to go to Elizabeth Raybourne’s house tonight, or wait till morning?
“I’d really like to talk with her now, if you don’t mind.”
She reached into her handbag and pulled out her phone.
Dave said, “Wait, why don’t we surprise her, not give her a chance to turn us down?”
She nodded and dropped the phone back inside.
They took the train from Euston to Hampstead, then made the familiar trek to the neighbor.
At the Raybourne house, Elizabeth did indeed look surprised when she answered the doorbell.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
Dave detected the smell of alcohol on her breath. Maybe Robin was telling the truth and it wasn’t simply malice on her part.
Kate said, “We need to ask you a few more questions.”
“Then make an appointment at the agency.” She started to close the door on them, but Dave stuck his foot in between the door and the jamb.
“We really need to talk now. We’ve just come from your ex-husband’s home.”
She pursed her lips. “Give me a minute to tidy up.” She closed the door.
Dave looked at Kate and shrugged. He wasn’t sure what Elizabeth would do.
Elizabeth returned a few minutes later, hair combed. She opened the door wide and led them into the living room. “Please have a seat.” She motioned toward the beige sofa. Dave glanced around and peeked through the kitchen doorway. An empty glass and an uncorked wine bottle sat on the countertop.
Elizabeth sat in a chair beside the sofa, her hands wrapped together in her lap.
Kate said, “How would you describe your son’s mental condition immediately prior to his death?”
Her eyes widened. “I—I don’t know. I’m not a doctor.”
“But you’re a mother. You told us that your son wasn’t happy about your divorce, and he had been acting out.”
“Peter wanted to take Jared to a psychologist, but Jared refused, saying he would do something dreadful if we forced him to go.”
“Do you think he meant suicide?”
“No, he wouldn’t kill himself. I’m certain of it.”
How many times had Dave heard that from the families of people who had taken their own lives? Rarely did a parent or spouse believe their loved one would resort to suicide. Was Elizabeth one of those who refused to believe, or did she know her son well enough? And if she didn’t think he would kill himself, what did she mean by ‘do something dreadful’?
He glanced at Kate, waiting for her to ask the questions he wanted to ask.
“What did you do when he threatened to do something terrible?”
“We let him believe we would hold off, but he overheard us discussing it one night. He came in and flew off the handle, raging at both of us. After that, well, we didn’t really know what to do. All we could do was keep an eye on him. You know, try not to leave him home alone if we could help it.”
“What were you afraid he would do?” Kate asked. “You said you didn’t believe he would harm himself.”
Elizabeth shook her head, hesitating and chewing on her lower lip.
“You mean you thought he might hurt someone else?” Kate asked.
She shrugged, suddenly looking close to tears.
“I’m a bit confused here. Just now you said you were trying not to leave him home alone. Then why did you leave him alone that night if you were worried he might do something? He was home alone the night of the murder, was he not?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said, in a shaky voice. “The one time we left him alone, he died.”
“You haven’t answered the question. Why did you leave him alone that night?”
“Because my career was on the line, that’s why! The agency was struggling in the bad economy. Roger Newton—he’s my boss— was desperate to acquire a client, Fournier Industries, which could save the company. He planned a dinner party with the heads of Fournier as guests of honor. Roger made it quite clear that it was my duty to attend the party and snag the client. If we landed the client, he promised me a promotion and a raise. But if I failed, my promotion and raise wouldn’t happen. He intimated that I might even find myself jobless. I really had no choice. When Maura Barrington moved out, I lost the rental income. I needed the job and the raise.”
With the mention of Maura, Dave decided to broach that subject. “Did you know Maura well? Do you really believe she killed your son?”
“I barely knew her, but who else could have done it?”
“Do you believe that she was having an affair with Jared before she moved out?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “She told me once that he had made advances toward her. I didn�
�t think much of it at the time.”
“Could Jared have instigated the rumors?” Dave asked. “Could it be that he wanted a relationship and that when she refused, he started spreading rumors to get back at her? Or maybe he really believed there was something going on between them when there wasn’t.”
She leaned back in her chair, looking defeated. “I suppose that’s possible.”
“If true,” Dave said, “then maybe she didn’t kill him either. So, the question is—who might have had a grudge against your son? Who might he have angered?”
Elizabeth shook her head, her eyes now filling with tears.
Changing the subject, Dave said, “We heard that you and Robin Sutcliffe quarreled several times before the murder. Can you tell us what you argued about?”
“Who told you that? I wouldn’t dream of seeking an argument with Robin. We don’t like each other, but we tried to get along as well as possible for Jared’s sake.”
“You never quarreled with her?”
“It’s none of your business!” Elizabeth looked away. There was a silence, and then she finally shrugged. “She complained sometimes, but I wouldn’t say we argued. She—she disliked Peter’s spending so much time at the house. But we were civil to one another.”
Dave recalled Ian Waitley’s words and Robin Sutcliffe’s words, both of them contradicting what Elizabeth was currently saying. “Why was Peter spending so much time here?”
“Because of Jared’s problems.” Elizabeth seemed defeated, answering mechanically.
“Did Robin know that?”
“Yes. Of course she did. It didn’t really help, though. She thought that if Jared needed his father, he should spend time at their house, where Peter wouldn’t have to see me. I could understand that.”
“And did you suggest that to your son?”
Elizabeth nodded. “He refused.”
“What was your last conversation with Robin—before Jared’s murder—about?”
Elizabeth sighed. “Robin accused me of taking advantage of the situation to get Peter back home. She thought that I was in some way causing, or perpetuating Jared’s problems, to get Peter to come around more often.”