All Things Nice

by Sheila Bugler

  ‘I think he’s going to be fine,’ she said.

  She was smiling. So was Mark. He reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘Of course he’ll be okay, Ellen. He’s got you, hasn’t he?’

  ‘Poor boy,’ she said, withdrawing her hand. ‘Sorry, Mark. I didn’t mean to go on for so long. I know you’re busy. We both are. I dropped by on the off-chance you might have finished the PM on Virginia Rau?’

  Before Mark could answer, Ellen’s phone started ringing. Apologising, she answered it.

  ‘It’s Loretta,’ the caller said. ‘Nick’s assistant. I got your message and I’m wondering if you’re free to meet? There’s something I need to tell you.’

  ‘Of course,’ Ellen said. ‘I’m in Lewisham right now. I can drive straight over to Greenwich if you’d like?’

  ‘No,’ Loretta said quickly. ‘Not the restaurant. Could we meet in Starbucks? In an hour?’

  They agreed a time and a place and Ellen hung up. ‘Sorry Mark. I’m going to have to leave. Something’s come up.’

  He smiled but it seemed forced, or perhaps that was her imagination.

  ‘We should do a drink sometime,’ he said. ‘Maybe when this case is over and you have a bit more time. What do you say?’

  ‘That sounds great,’ Ellen said.

  ‘I have done the PM on the Rau woman,’ Mark said. ‘Was just about to call you, actually. She died from injuries sustained when the car hit her. No doubt about that. I’ve sent off for a tox test but we won’t have the results of that for at least a week. Judging by the stomach contents, she’d had a decent dinner about an hour before she died. I did find one thing unusual. It might not mean anything but I thought you should know. She had a hysterectomy. Which is strange for a woman her age, wouldn’t you say?

  ‘The operation was carried out a long time ago. Twenty-three years, in fact. I checked her medical records. It’s quite tragic really. Her partner beat her up, left her in a bad way.’

  Ellen thought of the pretty, bubbly woman she’d bumped into on Ennersdale Road. Thought of her own children and what her life would be like if she’d never had them. She shivered.

  ‘There’s something else too,’ Mark said. ‘The poor woman was pregnant at the time. Seven months. So she didn’t just lose her womb. She lost her unborn child as well.’

  As he spoke, Ellen saw Virginia Rau’s face, not as she’d been that day outside Freya’s house, but the way she looked in the photos on the whiteboard in the incident room. Photos taken from the crime scene. A woman’s broken, battered body lying on the side of a road in Blackheath, dark eyes wide open and staring, mouth open in a silent scream.

  * * *

  ‘Cup of tea?’ Freya asked.

  ‘No thanks.’ Abby shook her head. ‘Too warm for tea today.’

  Freya peered at the sun streaming through the window, looking at it as if she’d just noticed it for the first time.

  ‘It’s a bit of a change, all right,’ she said. ‘Might try and get out for a walk later. It’s getting to me, you know? Sitting here all day, waiting for you lot to tell me you’ve found who killed him.’

  ‘We’re doing the best we can,’ Abby said. She gestured at one of the armchairs. ‘Do you mind if I sit down?’

  ‘Yeah, sure.’ Freya plonked herself in the other chair and waited.

  ‘Well?’ she said once Abby was sitting as well. ‘Why are you here?’

  She looked pale and tired and her hair hung in greasy strings around her face. The smell of BO lingered around the flat and Abby wondered if she should suggest running a bath. Maybe she would in a little bit. She had to get this out of the way first.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I wanted to see how you were doing. And I had a question for you too.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  Abby nodded. ‘Something’s been bugging me. A while ago, you told me that your mum made a pass at Kieran when she was drunk one time. Do you remember that?’

  ‘Of course.’ Freya frowned. ‘I was mortified. So was Kieran. Why do you want to know about that now?’

  ‘When did it happen?’ Abby asked.

  Freya’s jaw tensed.

  ‘Why do you want to know?’ she asked. ‘Please, Abby. Tell me what’s made you suddenly interested in that.’

  ‘It’s probably nothing,’ Abby said. ‘I’m just doing my job, that’s all. You mentioned it and I never followed it up at the time so that’s what I’m doing now.’

  Freya shook her head. ‘What has she told you?’

  ‘Why do you think she’s told us anything?’ Abby said.

  ‘Of course she has,’ Freya said. ‘I know you’ve been questioning her. Who do you think she called when she couldn’t get through to my father last night? So what has she said? Whatever she’s told you, it’s a lie. She’s a drunk who cannot be trusted. Do you understand that?’

  ‘Yes,’ Abby said. ‘I do understand that, I promise you.’

  ‘You think something happened between them,’ Freya said. ‘Don’t you? That’s why you’re here. She’s told you some lie and you believe it because you look at her and then you look at me and you’re just like everyone else. You think, well, why wouldn’t he?’

  ‘What do you mean, just like everyone else?’ Abby asked.

  Freya shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Freya?’

  ‘One of the guys who works at the bar,’ Freya said. ‘Tom. I thought he was a mate. Turns out he’s another lying piece of shit. He tried to convince me that Kieran and my mother … he said Kieran told him something had happened between them. But it was a lie, right? I asked Kieran about it and he got so upset. I mean, he can’t stand my mother. Couldn’t. Couldn’t stand her. They hated each other.’

  Her voice wobbled and she started to cry. Abby, hating herself for being the cause of the tears, went over and tried to comfort her but Freya pushed her away. Abby thought she’d probably do the same in Freya’s position.

  She waited, standing awkwardly beside Freya, waiting for the worst of the crying to pass.

  ‘Can I get you anything?’ she asked.

  ‘You can go,’ Freya said. ‘Please. I want to be on my own.’

  She buried her face in her hands and continued crying.

  Abby touched the girl’s shoulder, as gently as she possibly could, and stayed where she was. Freya might want to be alone but Abby wasn’t leaving any time soon.

  Four

  Ellen was the first to arrive at Starbucks in Blackheath. She didn’t have long to wait. She had just ordered a double espresso when Loretta burst through the coffee shop door.

  ‘Get you a drink?’ Ellen asked.

  ‘Green tea,’ Loretta said. ‘Thanks.’

  Once they both had their drinks, Ellen and Loretta found a seat at the back of the coffee shop and sat down.

  ‘Thanks for seeing me at such short notice,’ Loretta said.

  ‘Not a problem,’ Ellen said. ‘Are you okay?’

  Loretta nodded and attempted a smile. It didn’t even reach the end of her lips, never mind any other part of her face. Her green eyes looked at Ellen then slid away, back to the cup she was twisting nervously between her hands.

  ‘Maybe we should have done this someplace else,’ she said. ‘We used to come here, Nick and I, when we first started … well, you know, seeing each other. God, that feels like another lifetime ago now.’

  ‘He used to take you to Starbucks?’ Ellen said. ‘Classy.’

  Loretta smiled again. More genuine this time.

  ‘It was the one place we could be sure of not bumping into anyone who knew us. Charlotte would rather die than be seen inside a Starbucks.’

  ‘How long were you together?’ Ellen asked.

  ‘A few years,’ Loretta said. ‘On and off. I really thought he’d leave her, you know. Sorry. I’ve already told you that, haven’t I?’

  ‘It’s okay,’ Ellen said. ‘I understand. He treated you badly and you’re still hurting.’

  She wanted to shake th
e woman, tell her to stop feeling sorry for herself and get on with her life. What had she expected, having an affair with a married man? Didn’t Loretta know they never, ever left their wives? But Ellen didn’t say anything because she needed this foolish woman to believe she was on her side.

  ‘The problem is,’ Loretta said, ‘I think I still believed we might get back together.’

  ‘The last time we met.’ Ellen forced her voice to sound soft and sympathetic. ‘You didn’t sound like someone who believed that.’

  ‘I must have been having one of my better days,’ Loretta said. ‘I mean, there are days when I know that won’t happen and I feel fine about it. But there are other days, like this one I guess, when I still hold out hope. Even though I know it won’t happen. Not now that little bitch has got her claws into him.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t know who she was,’ Ellen said.

  Loretta blinked. ‘I don’t. I just meant whoever she is.’

  ‘Loretta,’ Ellen said, ‘if you know who she is, it’s important that you tell me. It may be relevant to our case.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Loretta said. ‘What am I thinking? You’re so busy and here I am, waffling like some lovesick teenager. You must think I’m pathetic.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Ellen lied. ‘But I do have a lot on right now. It would be helpful if you could tell me why you wanted to see me.’

  ‘I wasn’t straight with you the other day,’ Loretta said. ‘I didn’t lie exactly, but I did leave something out.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I didn’t think it was important,’ Loretta said. ‘And I didn’t want to get Nick into trouble. I still care for him, you see. But the more I thought about it, the more I realised I have to put aside my personal feelings and do the right thing.’

  It was just as well Loretta was finally getting to the point. If Ellen had to listen to anymore self-pitying waffle, she wouldn’t be accountable for her actions.

  ‘Kieran came to see Nick,’ Loretta said. ‘He didn’t have an appointment or anything. Just walked into the restaurant like he owned the place, demanding to speak to Nick. I asked him to take a seat while I went to tell Nick he had a visitor. Except when I told Nick he went ballistic.’

  ‘Ballistic?’ Ellen said. ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘He completely lost his rag,’ Loretta said. ‘Started shouting at me and saying didn’t I realise what a busy time it was for him and there was no way he had time for visitors who didn’t have appointments. The problem was, he was making such a racket I think the people in the restaurant must have overheard him because the next moment, while he was in the middle of all his shouting, the office door opened and Kieran was there.’

  Ellen drank her espresso down in a single swallow, forcing herself to pause before she spoke in case her voice betrayed the excitement she felt.

  ‘What happened then?’ she asked.

  ‘Nick went white,’ Loretta said. ‘You know they talk about people going pale? I swear to you that’s exactly what happened. The colour literally drained from his face and he just stared at Kieran like, well, like he was frightened of him.’

  ‘Why would he be frightened?’ Ellen asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Loretta said. ‘All I know is Nick asked me to leave. I didn’t want to but Nick insisted. Kieran was inside the office with Nick for about ten minutes. No more than that. Obviously, I couldn’t hear what they were saying but I can tell you this. When the door opened, Kieran came out and his face was like thunder. He stormed through the restaurant and out the door without a word. And when I went to see if Nick was okay, he roared at me to shut the door and leave him in peace. I’ve never seen him so angry.’

  The different pieces of the puzzle were starting to slot into place. Bits and pieces of truth hidden amongst the lies everyone was telling. Something had happened between Kieran and Charlotte. Kieran had used this to get at Nick. Blackmail, or something else?

  ‘When was this?’ she asked.

  Loretta’s eyes widened. ‘Friday night. Why, the same night Kieran was killed. Oh my word, I hadn’t thought of that.’

  The pathetic attempt at amateur dramatics was too much for Ellen.

  ‘I’m taking you to the station,’ she said. ‘Now. I need you to make a formal statement.’

  Loretta started to protest but Ellen held a hand up, stopping her mid-sentence.

  ‘If you don’t,’ Ellen said, ‘I’ll have you arrested for concealing important information and perverting the course of justice. And while we’re there, you can tell me anything you know about the little bitch Nick is seeing. Now then.’ She flashed a smile every bit as false as the ones Loretta had been giving her all morning. ‘That’s your choice. What’s it to be?’

  Five

  Abby watched Nick Gleeson come out of the apartment building and run to his car, his hand over his head, protecting himself from the rain. When he switched on his engine, she did the same and followed him as he drove along the path that led away from the water. She passed several people jogging, oblivious to the weather, and remembered that Kieran Burton used to like running. She wondered if he’d ever run out this way and, if he had, whether that had any relevance to their case. Probably not.

  She’d driven over here on a whim. After leaving Freya, she’d called the office and got Alastair, who told her Ellen had no luck finding Nick Gleeson at either of the restaurants. Abby asked Alastair to give her the address of the riverside apartment where Nick Gleeson went when he didn’t go home. She’d experienced a sharp sense of satisfaction when she saw his blue BMW parked by the river.

  At Surrey Quays, Nick continued on the A200, heading towards the river. For a moment, Abby wondered if he knew – somehow – that she was following him and was playing a trick by driving directly to her home in Canary Wharf. Her sense of unease increased as they approached the Rotherhithe Tunnel and she realised he was definitely heading north of the river.

  Out of the tunnel, he swung right. Now, they were only a short walk from Abby’s apartment. But instead of slowing down, Gleeson drove faster, following the north curve of the Docklands development, driving past New Billingsgate Market and further east.

  Until now, the buildings around her had been the familiar mix of brash new glass-and-concrete modernism interspersed every now and then with tired-looking, post-war concrete high-rises. Another right turn and everything changed. They were on a street lined with Victorian terraced cottages. At the end of the road, Abby could see the river. She had seen pictures of roads like this from an earlier era. Black-and-white images of children playing outside. Behind them, the street made tiny by the looming dark outline of a huge container ferry pulled into the dock.

  There were no ships today, hadn’t been any for a long time. These were no longer working docks and the children in that old black-and-white photo were mostly dead by now. Those families, Abby knew, all moved out of this area during the sixties and seventies, relocating to modern, soulless housing estates on the outer fringes of East London where city met countryside and London became Essex.

  Ahead of her, Nick slowed down, parked his car in the only free space on the street. Abby drove past, pulling her hair over the side of her face so he wouldn’t see her if he looked. There was a pub at the end of the street. A well-maintained, modern affair – more gastropub than local boozer. Through her rear-view mirror, Abby watched Nick climb out of his car and run into the pub.

  She turned into a narrow street lined with imposing warehouse buildings that had been converted into luxury apartments. She squeezed the car into a space outside one of them, ignoring the yellow lines. From here, she had a clear view of the pub and would be able to see Nick Gleeson as soon as he left.

  She switched off the engine, sat back and waited.

  Six

  Charlotte had been released on bail. The solicitor, Jeremy, said she shouldn’t read anything into this.

  ‘They can only hold you for 24 hours without charging you,’ he said. ‘So it’s good in one sen
se because it means they don’t have enough to charge you. And they haven’t applied for an extension to keep you in longer. But it doesn’t mean they won’t want to see you again. You understand that, don’t you?’

  She should have gone straight home but the station was close to Ennersdale Road and she was lonely. And more than a little bit scared. If she went home, Nick might be there and that would mean confronting him. She didn’t have the strength for that. So she chose another sort of confrontation instead.

  When Freya answered the door, Charlotte burst into tears. She moved forward, hoping for some affection, but Freya stepped out of her reach.

  ‘Oh darling, I’ve had the most terrible time. I’ve been kept in a police cell all night. It was truly terrifying. Of course, they’ve had to let me go because they can’t find a shred of evidence against me, but I was so scared. And I know maybe I shouldn’t have come here but I didn’t know what else to do or where else to go. Please don’t turn me away, Freya. I’ve never needed anyone as much as I need you right now.’

  ‘Get a grip,’ Freya said. ‘And tell me what’s happened.’

  The prospect of sitting up there in that gloomy room with her daughter’s judgemental eyes drilling into her was such a horrible one that Charlotte wondered – with a rare flash of insight – why on earth she’d thought this was a good idea.

  ‘Couldn’t we go to the pub?’ she asked meekly. ‘The rain has stopped and it’s quite nice out now. I promise I’ll behave, darling. It’s just, well, I could really do with something to settle my nerves. And food. My gosh, I can’t remember the last time I ate. I know the little place where you work serves wonderful food, doesn’t it? Let’s go there and I’ll treat us both to some lunch. How does that sound?’

  She smiled brightly and willed Freya to say yes. She expected Freya to put up a fight, but instead her daughter nodded her head and said, ‘Okay. Let me go upstairs and grab my bag. Wait here.’