Dark Room

by Minette Walters

  "And it was after the phone call that he sent Miles and Fergus on to you."

  She nodded.

  "What happened then?"

  "I made up my mind to call off the wedding. It was the money more than anything, the fact that he wouldn't pay their taxi fare." Her lips thinned angrily. "He'd been scrounging off me for so bloody long, and he wouldn't even pay one miserable taxi fare, and I thought, I'm mad. What the hell am I doing tying myself to this selfish bastard who doesn't give a toss for anyone except himself?" She looked at Alan. "So I packed it in for the evening, got the boys into the car, and went back to have it out with him. And he wasn't there." She shrugged. "So I ordered a pizza, made the boys eat some, and sent them to bed to sleep it off."

  There was a short silence.

  "Weren't Miles and Fergus angry when you hit them?"

  "I think they were too shocked.'' She thought back. "The funny thing is, I lost my temper with Fergus the other day and I thought it was the first time I'd ever done it, but it was nothing to the anger I felt that night. I remember screaming at them so much that I had a sore throat the next morning." She smiled slightly. "I didn't hit them very hard. It was the fact that I did it at all that shocked them. Miles burst into tears and said I was just like Adam, and I thought, for the first time I understand why Adam does it."

  "And why is that, Jinx?"

  She looked at him. "Because you're so bloody tired, you're working so bloody hard, you've tied yourself to a worthless parasite, and two immature drunks come along and ruin everything you've done because they think it's funny. I could have killed them all that night, every one of them. I got no sleep because I was so angry, and all I could think about was what hell the next week was going to be because I'd have to work late to catch up. And I kept worrying that the ruined film was the only film that was any good, and how was I going to explain to Cosmopolitan that we'd have to do the shoot all over again?"

  "Did Leo come back that night?"

  "If he did, I didn't hear him. I bolted the front and back door on the inside, so he couldn't get in." She brushed imaginary fluff from her sleeve. "He came back at lunchtime on the Saturday."

  "Were Miles and Fergus still there?"

  She nodded. "We were all in the kitchen when he came in through the back door. They couldn't go unless I lent them some money for the tube fare back to Miles's Porsche, which was parked outside a casino somewhere, but I was refusing to shell out any more. I said they could walk for all I cared, or phone Adam and explain what they'd been doing. He'd already told them that if they persisted with the gambling he'd cut them out of his will." She closed her eyes and touched her fingertips to her eyelids as if she had a pain there. "So Leo offered to drive them and they all left."

  There was another silence.

  "And what did you do then?" asked Alan.

  "I don't know," she said. "I can't remember anything after they left. I think I must have gone to sleep." She lowered her hand and looked at him with a kind of despair.

  THE VICARAGE, LITTLETON MARY-12:30 P.M.

  They sat in the drawing room in deep discomfort. Caroline Harris crouched on the sofa, misery etched into every line of her face. Charles sat as far away from her as he could, while Simon perched unhappily on a stool. Frank, overheated and tired, was offered a deep leather armchair which hurt his back.

  "We've located Leo's house in Chelsea," he explained, "and according to the information phoned through before I left, there are several boxes and suitcases on the premises which appear to belong to your daughter. Preliminary searches have uncovered a photograph album which shows several snapshots of Meg and Leo together, taken in July 1983." He addressed his question to Mrs. Harris. "Were you aware they had known each other for at least eleven years?"

  Her lips thinned to a narrow line. "No," she said.

  "Was she a secretive person, Mrs. Harris?"

  The woman glanced spitefully at her husband. "Not with me. She told me everything. It was her father she kept secrets from."

  "That's not true," said Simon.

  Frank glanced at him. "You'd say she was secretive."

  "Very. She didn't want anyone to know anything about her life, least of all Mum or Dad. Particularly Mum, in fact. She knew how much Mum hated sex, so she didn't tell her until recently how many men she slept with, and she only did that because she was angry." He closed his eyes to avoid looking at his mother's pain. "She loved sex, saw it as a healthy expression of life, love, and beauty, and couldn't bear to have it treated as something dirty and disgusting.''

  "You wanted her too, Simon," said Caroline in a whisper, "just like your father. Never mind she was your sister. You think I didn't notice. I saw how you looked at her."

  A dull flush rose in Simon's face. "It was you who made her uncomfortable," he said quietly, "not Dad. Everything she did was the opposite of what you've done. She got herself a decent education, she rejected God, she loved sex, she stayed single, she dove into London life to get away from the sterility of village rectitude. She experienced more in her thirty-four years than you will experience in a whole lifetime." Tears glittered in his eyes. "She didn't strangle life, she glorified every minute as if it were her last. I wish to God the rest of us could do the same."

  There was a desperate and terrible silence.

  Frank cleared his throat. "One of the photographs has a somewhat cryptic caption underneath it. It reads"-he consulted a notebook-" 'Happiness AA.' I'm told Meg is sitting in Leo's lap on a beach." He looked up. "Do you know what 'AA' stands for? It seems unlikely that Automobile Association or Alcoholics Anonymous would fit the bill."

  Simon looked towards his mother, but she had retreated into some internal world and was rocking herself tenderly on the sofa. "After Abortion," he said quietly. "Married couples always talk about their lives BC-Before Children. Meg always referred to life after her abortion as 'double-A time.' She said she'd never realized before just how awful it would be to have children and she thanked God she'd discovered early on that she wasn't cut out to be a mother."

  "Was Leo the father?"

  "I don't know. She never told me who it was, and I didn't ask."

  "Did you know about Leo before your parents did?"

  "Not by name. I knew she had a long-term lover who came and went between her other affairs. She was very fond of him, called him her old standby. I presume that was Leo if she'd known him eleven years."

  "Did she ever say why she didn't marry him?"

  Simon shrugged. "She said once that he was permanently broke, but the truth is, I don't think she wanted to get married. She certainly didn't want children." He glanced towards his father. "She always felt that I fitted into our family better than she did, and she was afraid of bringing a child into the world who didn't belong. She said it wasn't fair."

  "It can't have been Leo," said his father. "Surely she wouldn't describe a man with a house in Chelsea as permanently broke."

  Frank Cheever tucked his notebook into his pocket. "In fact, sir, he had several properties both in this country and abroad, but no one knew about them, not even his parents. He made a habit of pleading poverty when, according to his solicitor, he was worth a very tidy fortune. Miss Kingsley describes him as a parasite who was obsessively secretive about money. His mother describes a disturbed young man with a pathological dislike of sharing. He wasn't a straightforward character by any means, so it's highly probable he did give your daughter the impression he had no money."

  "How very tragic." Charles Harris looked distressed. "One tends to think the type doesn't exist anymore, certainly not amongst the young. I suppose we must blame Dickens for creating so extreme an example that the rest pass unnoticed." He saw the Superintendent's perplexed expression. "Scrooge," he explained. "Misers. People who need to hoard wealth but can't bring themselves to spend it. You come across them in the newspapers from time to time, old people who've died in shocking squalor only to leave a fortune behind." He folded his hands in his lap. "As I say, not some
thing one associates with youth, but presumably a miser is a miser all his life. Poor Leo. What a sad, sad state of affairs."

  His wife began to scream. It was a piercing terrible sound that curdled sympathy and frayed nerves.

  THE NIGHTINGALE CLINIC-12:45 P.M.

  "Let's try a different tack," suggested Alan. "You said you and Leo were supposed to be staying with his parents for the weekend. Have you any recollection of doing that, or was the whole idea abandoned when you decided you weren't going to marry him?"

  Jinx's expression cleared. "No," she said, "we did go. I had a row with them. I seem to have had rows with everyone that weekend."

  "It's not surprising. You were under a lot of pressure. The wedding was only a few weeks away and you were having second thoughts about going through with it."

  "But why did I go down there with him if I knew I wasn't going to marry him?" It was a puzzle, but not one she thought Protheroe could solve.

  He recalled her acceptance of Matthew Cornell's invitation to lunch. "Presumably they were expecting you, so perhaps you thought it was the polite thing to do."

  "Yes," she said in surprise. "I didn't think it would be fair to Philippa not to go."

  "Tell me about the row."

  "I remember it so clearly," she said. "It was after lunch on the Monday and I blew my stack when Leo asked his father for some money and Anthony said he was a bit short because he'd been forced to pay for some building work he'd had done." She shook her head. "The job had been completed six months before and he was angry because the builder had gone to a solicitor." She pulled a rueful face. "I'd been holding myself back for twenty-four hours, and I went berserk. I called him every synonym for 'skinflint' I could think of, then turned on Leo and let rip at him. Poor Philippa looked mortified, and I was sorry about that because she'd always been so sweet to me." She sighed. "I wish I'd had the sense not to go in the first place. It wasn't a very dignified display. I kept spitting saliva all over the place because I couldn't get the words out fast enough."

  "Was that when you told Leo it was all off?"

  A look of irritation crossed her face. "I never got the chance. I just made an awful lot of noise, screaming and yelling and calling them names. I don't know what I thought I was doing really except getting all the poison out of my system. It was Leo who said he wasn't going through with it." She gave a small laugh. "He said he'd been having an affair with Meg and was planning to marry her instead." She looked at him. "I did tell you I wouldn't have wanted to kill myself over Leo and Meg. Do you believe that now? I can remember my relief when he said it. Thank God, I thought. I'm off the hook."

  "But it must have been a shock."

  "I suppose it was. I never thought she'd do it again, not after what happened to Russell."

  He was lost. "Do what again?"

  She looked at him rather blankly. "It was history repeating itself," she said impatiently, as if it was something he ought to have known. "Meg was having an affair with Russell when he was murdered."

  Mystery Surrounds Murdered Couple's Relationship

  Hampshire police revealed this afternoon that the murdered couple, Leo Wallader, 35, and Meg Harris, 34, had kept their eleven-year relationship secret from their families. "It is not clear at this stage," said Detective Superintendent Cheever, leading the investigation, "why secrecy was important, but we hope that by publishing photographs of them someone may come forward who knew them as a couple."

  Further mystery surrounds Leo Wallader's estate, which has been valued at over one million pounds. "He told friends and relations that he was in financial difficulties," said Det. Supt. Cheever, "and it came as a surprise to everybody to discover how much he was worth."

  Sir Anthony Wallader, Leo's father, who accused Hampshire police yesterday of lethargy, refused to comment on his son's financial affairs. "My wife and I are too upset to talk to anyone," he said. In the absence of a Will, Sir Anthony and Lady Wallader, as next of kin, will inherit their son's fortune. Sir Anthony is believed to have a substantial fortune in his own right.

  Det. Supt. Cheever agrees that Hampshire police were unhappy about the accusation of lethargy. "We have been working very hard to find Leo and Meg's murderer," he told journalists, "but cases like this are never easy. The length of time that the couple knew each other clearly puts a different emphasis on what has happened here, and we need to establish why they felt it important to keep their friendship secret."

  He went on to say that he recognized the pressure both families were under and regretted any insensitivity Hampshire police may have shown. "We have a tendency to assume," he admitted, "that the families of victims understand we are working hard on their behalf. Clearly this is not always recognized, and we will make sure there is no misunderstanding in future."

  Southern Evening Echo-28th June

  *16*

  TUESDAY, 28TH JUNE, THE NIGHTINGALE CLINIC, SALISBURY-12:50 P.M.

  Alan Protheroe wiped a weary hand across his face, then pushed himself out of his chair and wandered restlessly towards the window. Could he, hand on heart, say he believed anything Jinx told him, when what she claimed to remember could be as fantastic as she chose because there was no one left to contradict her? There were three dead people, and all three were intimately connected with this one woman. Logic dictated that she must know something about their deaths. Logic also dictated that her father knew something, or why had he put her in here with such very precise instructions concerning her care? Adam was as anxious as she was, it seemed, that her memories lie dormant.

  "I'm not sure I can believe that," he said with his back to her. "You described Russell to me only a couple of days ago as possessive and jealous. You said your marriage was stifling. Now you tell me he and your best friend were having an affair. That doesn't quite square, does it?"

  "Russell believed in double standards," Jinx said reasonably. "If he was capable of cheating customs, do you not think he was equally capable of cheating his wife?"

  "That's hardly an answer, you know. Obsession with one woman doesn't usually lead to philandering with others. Surely the two are mutually exclusive?"

  "It depends what sort of obsession you're talking about. Russell was far more obsessed with himself than he was with me. I was little better than a trophy that he could show off to his middle-aged friends, the child bride who adored him so much she forsook fortune and fame to marry him. Meg was a different kind of trophy, the one that proved to himself he was still sexually active and attractive at forty-plus. But we had no more value to him than the paintings in his collection. He liked owning things."

  He turned round. "My problem is, I have to take your word for that. Sadly for Russell, the dead can't speak for themselves."

  "Is there a reason why you shouldn't take my word?" She said it without hostility but there was anger in her eyes. "Suddenly, you're a policeman, yet ten minutes ago you only wanted to help." She made as if to get up. "This is just a professional exercise for you, and I'm hungry anyway. I want some lunch."

  He refused to be intimidated. "Don't be so childish," he said sharply. "Healthy skepticism and a wish to help are not mutually exclusive, Jinx. Arguably, the one strengthens the other. Convince the skeptic and you will have a stronger ally for the future. Perhaps if you changed your mind-set vis-a-vis the police in that area, you could shed your paranoia and make a positive attempt to help them find Meg and Leo's murderer. Or are you as disinclined to do that as you were to have Russell's murderer named?"

  She looked at him with dislike. "I'll phone Colonel Clancey and ask him to post Russell's diaries and letters to you. I keep them in my bookcase at home. For what it's worth, the entry on the day we got married went like this: 'Felt and looked great. Wore black velvet suit and white satin shirt. Speech afterwards was a triumph of wit and erudition. What a pity there were so few guests to enjoy it.' I interpret that as self-obsession but then, admittedly, I'm an arrogant woman and I was put out that his bride didn't rate a mention."


  "Still, I'm surprised you didn't mention the affair before. It's a little odd, don't you think, that Meg should have slept with both Russell and Leo? Was she in the habit of stealing your men friends?"

  "If you want to be strictly accurate about it, I stole them from her. She had a six-month fling with Russell, got bored with him and introduced him to me. She did the same with Leo, told me he was a business acquaintance and said he and I would get on like a house on fire. It was only later that I realized 'business acquaintance' meant lover."

  "Didn't it upset you to get her castoffs?"

  "Everybody's somebody's castoff. In some ways it's easier if you know your predecessor, because then you know you're not competing with Superwoman."

  He resumed his seat. "You're avoiding the question. Were you upset?"

  "Only in retrospect. Meg was a great deal more attractive than I am and completely careless of other people's feelings, particularly men's. She had no qualms about taking up with someone, then dumping him two or three months later for somebody else. The trouble is, I'm less adept at that so I got lumbered with the jerks when it suited her."

  "But she took up with them again later when that suited her." He shook his head in genuine bewilderment. "If this is true, Jinx, then I can't understand why you describe her as the only real friend you've ever had."

  "I'm not doing this very well," she said, surprisingly sanguine about his disbelief. "You'd have liked Meg." She marshaled her thoughts. "Look, when I say I got lumbered with them, that doesn't mean I hold her responsible for what happened afterwards. She kept telling me not to marry Russell, said I was mad to tie myself down at twenty-one, but by then it was too late. I couldn't just abandon him after what Adam had done, and that wasn't Meg's fault."

  Alan was highly doubtful that Meg Harris was a woman he would have liked. If Jinx had said one thing that was true, it was that she was unable to make sensible decisions about her personal life, particularly where her choice of friends was concerned. She appeared to be completely blind to their character flaws, and he wondered if she realized that it was only the egocentric personality that seemed to attract her. Was this because she found it difficult to differentiate between self-centeredness and self-confidence? She had so many mixed feelings about her domineering father that it wasn't surprising she found people impossible to read. "I suppose it wasn't Meg's fault either that she had an affair with Russell after he was married?"