The Ties That Bind

by Anthea Fraser

  As she walked to work on Monday morning, Jess, heart in mouth, again clicked on DS Stuart’s number. And this time it was his brisk voice that answered.

  ‘DS Stuart.’

  ‘Oh, good morning. I’m Jess Tempest. I came to see you a few weeks ago, with some information on Bruce Marriott.’

  ‘Yes?’

  It was clear he didn’t remember her. ‘Well, I’ve just learned something and this time it really is urgent.’ She bit her lip. That made it sound as though she’d been wasting his time on the last occasion.

  ‘Then would you please leave a message with the Murder Room, madam. Their number is—’

  ‘No – please!’ She stopped dead on the pavement and someone cannoned into her, swearing fluently. ‘I really must see you! You gave me your direct number and asked me to contact you if there was anything else. And now there really is, so please could I come and see you, preferably around lunchtime?’

  If she went after work, questions would be asked about why she was late home, and she couldn’t let that happen.

  ‘I’m afraid that’s out of the question; I’m just back from leave and haven’t a spare minute all week. Really, the Murder Room are dealing with the case, they can—’

  ‘But you gave me your personal number!’ she pleaded, and he might have heard the tears in her voice, because his softened slightly.

  ‘What was the name again?’

  ‘Jess Tempest.’

  He grunted; apparently that wasn’t much help. ‘Lunchtime, you said? Well, I certainly can’t manage today, but if it’s really urgent I suppose I could sacrifice my lunch tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh, thank you so much! What time would suit you?’

  ‘Somewhere between twelve and two, but I’ll only be able to spare you a few minutes.’

  ‘Thank you, I’ll be there!’ she said, and breathed a little prayer of thankfulness.

  Another twenty-four hours to wait! With her nerves keyed to this pitch it wouldn’t be easy, but at least he’d agreed to see her. She realized humbly that that was all she could expect.

  Although no one could possibly see in, the bedroom curtains were drawn and the sun shining through them bathed the room in pink shadow.

  Sex in the afternoon was thoroughly decadent, Hilary thought, lying back in post-coital languor. It had been wonderful, especially after the long gap, but, she reminded herself uncompromisingly, it was for the very last time. Three months was quite long enough to wean herself away from him and she’d no intention whatever of their affair resuming on her return – if, that is, she ever came back permanently. Clive’s suggestion, repeated on Saturday, that she should consider moving over there was seeming ever more tempting.

  Beside her Justin stirred, his hand trailing caressingly over her breast. ‘God, I needed that!’ he said. ‘And so, it appeared, did you!’

  She smiled. ‘It was good,’ she conceded, ‘but it was for the last time.’

  He moved impatiently. ‘Oh Hills, don’t start that again!’ Time enough to tell her when he was ready. ‘You know we’ve thrashed this out a dozen times. You really don’t have to worry—’

  ‘No,’ she interrupted, ‘this is different. I’m going to stay with my son in the States for three months.’

  ‘What?’ He raised himself on one elbow and stared down at her.

  ‘I think you heard,’ she replied steadily, though her heart was thumping.

  ‘When was this arranged? You never told me!’ Ironic indeed that he was being pre-empted!

  ‘It’s all happened very quickly – since I last saw you, in fact. And believe it or not, Justin, it has nothing to do with you! Clive suggested it because he thought I needed a long holiday and the new place he’s moved into has a granny flat.’

  ‘You’re not a granny!’ he said ridiculously.

  ‘I don’t think I’ll have to prove my credentials!’

  He leaned closer. ‘You’re not really set on going, are you? I mean, not yet? In another month, say?’

  She shook her head. ‘My flight’s booked for the tenth.’

  He fell back on the pillow. ‘My God!’

  ‘Look, I’m sorry, Justin, but you know I’ve been uneasy about this for some time, much as I enjoy being with you. This seemed to offer the perfect way of ending it with no hurt feelings on either side.’

  He lay still, trying to absorb the sudden change in his life. He’d miss her like hell, but to be fair he knew it was time to put the brakes on. He’d been given a yellow card, after all.

  He turned to face her. ‘One more once?’ he asked, mimicking Count Basie.

  She nodded, tears in her eyes, and they made love again, more tenderly now the pent-up passion was spent.

  ‘I’ll miss you,’ he said half an hour later, as he was doing up his shirt.

  ‘Me too,’ she acknowledged.

  He looked down at her, then bent and kissed her. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘For everything.’ And, as she made a move to get up, he waved her down. ‘No, stay there. I’ll let myself out. Goodbye, Hilary. Be happy.’

  ‘Goodbye,’ she whispered, and as she heard the front door close behind him, she buried her face in her pillow and wept.

  Justin was in a sober mood as he drove back to the office from his two o’clock ‘appointment’. He’d granted himself four weeks’ grace before terminating the arrangement and this had been snatched away from him without warning. In spite of himself he felt a little resentful. However, since some gesture seemed called for to mark this change in his fortunes he decided to buy a large bouquet for Kathryn on the way home – before remembering this was a well-recognized sign of a guilty conscience.

  A meal somewhere, then. He couldn’t remember when he’d last taken her out to dinner. Not this evening, of course; she would as always have his meal ready when he arrived home. Perhaps tomorrow, then, or at the weekend. And somewhere really special.

  Conscience slightly appeased, he parked the car and, having checked in the rear-view mirror for telltale signs of his recent activities, went into the office. As luck would have it, he met Patrick on the stairs, and they passed each other with a brief nod. His son would be pleased at the turn of events, Justin thought sourly, and wondered how long it would take him to become aware of it.

  Jenny was propped up in bed when they arrived with their various offerings. Her arm was still in a sling, her leg still raised by a pulley; there were bruises under her eyes and a bandage round her head, but her face lit up when she saw them.

  ‘You’re looking a bit better, Mum,’ Gemma said as she bent to kiss her. ‘Are you in less pain now?’

  ‘I’m fine. Doped to the eyeballs, so no pain!’

  Ron conscientiously passed on messages from the neighbours, and Jenny nodded towards the stack of get well cards on the bedside locker. ‘Everyone’s so kind,’ she murmured. ‘Lynn and Tony sent the most beautiful bouquet – we’re running out of places to put things!’

  ‘Then I’d better take my grapes back again!’ Freddie joked.

  Jenny smiled, then her eyes fell. ‘I suppose Dad told you Fleur phoned and asked if she can bring Cassie to see me when they get back from holiday?’

  Gemma said awkwardly, ‘That’s great, Mum.’

  ‘Which brings me to something I have to say, now that I have all three of you together. Two things, actually. The first is a heartfelt apology.’

  Gemma reached quickly for her hand, which closed round hers.

  ‘For almost twenty years,’ Jenny went on, ‘I’ve behaved in a thoroughly selfish and thoughtless way, and I want you to know I’m bitterly ashamed. I’ve thrown the whole family out of kilter and caused untold hurt, and I’m asking you, if you can, to forgive me.’

  Ron moved awkwardly and started to speak but she shook her head at him. ‘No, let me finish. Of course I’ll always have feelings for Cassie – I carried her for nine months – but she was never mine and in my heart I knew that – I just wouldn’t accept it. But most importantly I want you two to
know I’ve always loved you both with all my heart, and I’m just sorry that when it mattered most I didn’t show it.’

  ‘Mum, it’s all right!’ Gemma whispered. ‘You don’t have to say any more. I behaved badly too and I’m sorry.’

  Jenny squeezed her hand. ‘You’ve nothing to apologize for.’

  Ron cleared his throat. ‘Right, love, you’ve said your piece and I’m sure the kids understand. So let’s lighten the mood, eh?’

  ‘Just one thing more. Last night I overheard something that absolutely appalled me.’

  They exchanged startled glances.

  ‘Everyone seems to think I stepped in front of that bus deliberately, and I’m telling you categorically that isn’t true! Yes, for the last week or so I’d been very unhappy, but I would never, never be so desperate as to do anything like that. It was just that with my thoughts in such a jumble I wasn’t looking where I was going. That is God’s truth and I want you all to know it.’

  She looked from one face to another, saw they all had tears of relief in their eyes. ‘Right – end of sermon! Now, what did you do with that box of Milk Tray?’

  Justin turned into his driveway full of good intentions. Kathryn had mentioned the lawn needed cutting, so he’d do it this evening. And he’d also fix that shelf in the bathroom that had been wonky for months.

  He saw it as soon as he opened the front door, the single sheet of paper on the hall table, folded over to display his name. He came to a dead halt, a sudden coldness in the pit of his stomach. A Dear John letter? From Kathryn?

  Heart in mouth, he snatched it up, opened it and read.

  Dear Justin,

  After some thought, I’ve decided we need some time apart until things become clearer. I’m going to stay with Anne for a while, and I would ask you not to try to contact me. I shan’t answer my phone, so please don’t call. I’ll be in touch in due course.

  Kathryn.

  In due course? What the hell did that mean? Oh God, this couldn’t be happening! Two women dumping him in one day! The gods of chance must be laughing their bloody heads off!

  Regardless of the message, he immediately took out his phone and called her number. The call was declined. This was ridiculous! She should at least allow him a chance either to explain or to defend himself! But wasn’t that exactly what she had done, when she’d asked what the children knew? If he’d answered honestly then, he could possibly have forestalled this drastic action.

  He looked about him, suddenly at a loss what to do. He wandered into the kitchen, to find another note waiting for him. This one read Dinner in the fridge. Pre-heat oven to 150 degrees, cook for 30 mins.

  He opened the fridge door and saw a foil-covered dish containing shepherd’s pie, doubtless made from yesterday’s roast. When would he eat another home-cooked meal?

  He straightened his shoulders. Well, he’d get nowhere by feeling sorry for himself, and he had to accept he deserved no sympathy. So he’d do what he’d originally intended: cut the grass and fix the bathroom shelf. Then he’d open a bottle of wine, heat up his meal and, contrary to normal practice, eat it on his knee in front of the television. And if he had enough wine it might help him to sleep tonight.

  Tuesday at last. It took all Jess’s concentration to keep her mind on her work that morning, but she was grateful for its distraction. With crossed fingers, she informed the office manager that she’d a dental appointment and might be a little late back from lunch, feeling guilty when it was accepted without question. So at twelve forty-five she set off for her second visit to the police station, praying that the detective would believe her story and provide the perfect solution.

  This time, when she gave her name at the desk she was asked to take a seat, and minutes later the two detectives she’d met before came through the security door and approached her.

  ‘Ms Tempest? DS Stuart and my colleague, DC Masters.’

  Jess stood up nervously and nodded acknowledgment. ‘Thank you so much for seeing me.’

  ‘Would you like to come this way?’

  He showed her into the same interview room, and as she seated herself murmured, ‘Ah, now I remember you! The lady who didn’t want to give her name!’

  Jess flushed. ‘Yes, and I’m afraid what I told you last time wasn’t exactly true.’

  He glanced at the notes he’d brought with him. ‘I hope you’re not saying you didn’t see Marriott after all?’

  ‘Oh, I saw him all right, but he was lying dead on the floor in my flat!’

  The two men stared at her blankly.

  ‘Oh, I didn’t kill him,’ she hurried on, ‘I just found him there. But I thought if I told you, whoever had killed him would know it must have been me who reported it. Quite apart from the fact that they hadn’t left a shred of evidence to back up my story.’

  DS Stuart leaned back in his chair and regarded her for a moment in silence. Then he said slowly, ‘I think you’d better start at the beginning.’

  So she went through the whole episode again – the forgotten paperback, the shock of finding Marriott, the approaching voices, hiding in the wardrobe and then, on emerging, the total absence of anything incriminating.

  ‘I didn’t think anyone would believe me,’ she ended. ‘I’d no idea who he was and there was nothing to show he’d been there at all! So I drove down to my sister’s eighteenth and the next day went to Italy for two weeks.’

  ‘And when you got back, you came to see us.’

  ‘Yes. He’d been found and identified by then, so I had to do something. I thought if I said I’d seen him going into the block of flats you might be able to suss something out.’

  ‘You have a touching faith in our abilities,’ Stuart said drily. ‘Have you discussed this with anyone else? Anyone at all?’

  ‘My friend Rachel; I told her when we were on holiday. And my cousin Patrick, just in the last week or so.’

  ‘No one local, who might know those you suspect?’

  She shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘Well, please don’t repeat anything we discuss now with anybody. So, how many people are you sharing this flat with?’

  ‘Only one, Maggie Haig, though she keeps open house so there’s nearly always a crowd round. But it’s Maggie I need to tell you about.’ And she repeated Patrick’s tale of Tasha seeing her in Sydney with Bruce Marriott.

  Stuart whistled through his teeth.

  ‘Is that enough to charge her?’ Jess asked hopefully.

  He shook his head. ‘I’m not saying I don’t believe you or your cousin’s girlfriend, but it’s all uncorroborated and we need evidence before we can make a move.’

  Seeing her crestfallen face, he added, ‘But at least it gives us a platform to start from. Now, you said there’s a group of people who often visit the flat. I’ll need names and addresses.’

  Jess supplied what she could, though she didn’t know where any of them lived. ‘Laurence Pope is the most likely bet,’ she added. ‘He’s Maggie’s boyfriend and he made a point of letting me know he’d heard me mention Australia on the phone to my friend. He asked if I knew Maggie had lived there.’ She gave a little shudder.

  ‘Do you think you’re in danger?’ Stuart asked sharply.

  She considered. ‘Not really. I’m careful not to be alone with him.’ Though she couldn’t always prevent it, she remembered uneasily, as when she’d been peeling potatoes. She hesitated. ‘If you’ve not enough to go on, suppose I call their bluff in some way?’

  Stuart frowned. ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Perhaps one evening, when everyone’s there. Safety in numbers!’ She gave a nervous laugh. ‘I could say something that proved I knew what had happened. The police could be listening outside and rush in when they gave themselves away.’

  Stuart sat back, pulling at his lip as he reviewed possibilities. ‘We couldn’t do that, but there’s a possibility we could make use of that open house policy.’

  Jess leaned forward eagerly. ‘How?’

&nbs
p; ‘We might be able to bring in an off-duty officer. Suppose he posed as a work colleague and you suggested inviting him round for the evening. Would that work?’

  Her face lit up. ‘Perfectly! Especially if I said he was new to the area and didn’t know anyone!’ She broke off. ‘But what could he do, if he was off duty?’

  ‘Oh, he could put himself straight back on if the need arose, don’t worry on that account. In the meantime, you could start talking about this new colleague and how he seems to be at a loose end. Incidentally, where do you work? He’d need to gen up on it.’

  ‘Steadman and Maybury.’

  ‘The PR people?’

  She nodded.

  He thought for a moment, tapping his pen on the desk. ‘When do you suggest would be the best time for this operation?’

  ‘Oh, Saturday,’ Jess said promptly. ‘Some weekdays only a couple or so turn up, but on Saturday we have a takeaway and usually it’s a full house.’

  ‘What time does the evening start?’

  ‘They begin to drift in round about half past seven and we sit and talk over drinks till eight thirty, when the food arrives. Then we go out to a pub or club.’

  Stuart nodded, still tapping his pen. He turned to the DC. ‘Bob, would you nip up to my office and check the duty roster? See who’s off on Saturday, and if any of them happen to be around, bring one down, would you?’ He glanced at Jess. ‘And pick the prettiest!’ he added.

  ‘Right, skip.’ With a grin, Masters left the room, returning soon after with a fellow officer.

  Not exactly pretty, Jess thought, amused, but then she hadn’t seen the others! He was personable enough, though – mid-thirties at a guess, tall, blue eyes, mid-brown hair and a bump on his nose, probably broken at some time. He was introduced to her as DS Ben Ridley, and once again Jess related the circumstances that had brought her here.

  ‘Looks as if this might wrap it up!’ he commented, when it was explained to him what he was required to do.

  ‘Let’s certainly hope so. To recap: with it being the weekend you wouldn’t have been in the office, so you won’t need to meet till around seven thirty.’ Stuart turned to Jess. ‘Say he waits for you in the foyer and you go down to collect him?’