James frowned and looked towards his wife before answering. “Are you a father?” he asked Hunter.
“He’s at university.”
“Well then you should know; it’s no bed of roses when your son starts to believe he is becoming the man of the house because youth is on his side. He needed putting in his place more than once, and by that I mean grounding and or restricting the use of the computer, not violence.”
“Thank you for your time, Mr and Mrs Dolby. We’ll see our own way out,” Hunter said.
He slumped into the passenger seat and shut the door harder than Wednesday liked. He yawned loudly and instructed Wednesday to drop him back at the station so he could pick up his car.
Wednesday finally arrived home, exhausted and drained. On opening her car door a cloud of cigarette smoke billowed out and she noticed Scarlett’s car was parked in the drive, but the house was in darkness—which could have meant one of several things. Either she had taken a taxi to go on a drunken night out, or she was already in bed with the residual hangover or with someone she had just picked up.
Wednesday traipsed to the kitchen in the semi-dark, and grabbed whatever she could from the fridge to make a sandwich. She found an already opened bottle of red on the counter and poured herself a glass.
On turning around, she almost dropped her glass as she saw Scarlett slumped over the kitchen table.
“Good god Scarlett, are you okay?” she said, rushing towards her.
Bending over her, she recoiled from the stink of alcohol coming from her open mouth. Angry at being made to feel concerned, she shook Scarlett by the shoulders.
“Have mercy, sis, please . . .” she rasped with her dry mouth.
“What the hell is going on?”
“I’ve had a shit day. Someone’s put pressure on the paper to quash my cult story. I mean, how sick is that?” She slurred her words as her head rolled around on her unstable neck.
“It’s not surprising. It’s upsetting people, and there’s no proof.”
Wednesday put the kettle on to make Scarlett a coffee.
“Everything’s hopeless. Nothing will ever go right for me,” she sobbed.
Wednesday’s heart sank. She had been there before with Scarlett. Terror swelled in her as she thought about the baying sleepless nights, the duvet days, the wailing, the drinking, and the black cloud of despair suspended over the house. Scarlett’s highs were more bearable—if a little exhausting—than the lows, but both could be more manageable if she agreed to see a doctor, grumbled Wednesday to herself.
“Have you eaten anything?” Wednesday asked, believing she knew the answer already. She placed a mug of coffee in front of her.
“No. I thought I’d eat something with Jacob but he’s not answering his mobile. I’ve left loads of messages.”
Wednesday rolled her eyes. “He’s got a family emergency. Not everything in the world revolves around you.”
Scarlett shrieked and tossed her head around, sending strands of wild curls swirling around her shoulders. “I need him. I should come first. It’s so unfair. I bet he’s running back to his wife.” Scarlett banged her fist on the table, making the crockery chink.
Wednesday firmly believed Lennox was not going back to his ex-wife, but chose not to tell Scarlett for fear of raising her hopes about cultivating a genuine relationship with him.
“I think we should go to bed. You’ll have the mother of all hangovers in the morning and I’m plain shattered. Come on,” she said, linking her arm underneath Scarlett’s armpit to lift her up.
As they staggered upstairs, Scarlett kept moaning in Wednesday’s ear that she wanted Jacob to hug her in bed, as though believing Wednesday could do something about it.
Once she had tucked Scarlett into bed and placed a bowl on the floor next to her, she made her way to her own room. Her mind shifted through the events of the day and it appeared all the people she had interviewed that day had one thing in common. A secret sadness or a silent misery they kept secret from the one they professed to love.
Malevolent relationships could be the loneliest place in the universe, she thought to herself as her eyes began to close. The last thing she heard ringing in her ears was the sound of Scarlett vomiting into the bowl.
Lennox was already in his office, hunched over his desk, when Wednesday arrived. She grabbed herself a mug of coffee before knocking on his door. He signalled for her to enter then raised his hand to stop her from talking first.
“Before you try to dissect my personal life, Alex has given me—although I believe he was looking for you—the results from the blanket Pollock brought in.”
Wednesday pulled up a chair and leant towards him, nursing the mug between her hands, her cheeks glowing softly.
“It’s certainly the blanket used in Tom Dolby’s death. The fibres match, and they found skin cells matching Tom’s DNA. No prints were found on the plastic bag, except for Pollock’s.”
“Can we trace where the blanket was purchased?”
“Already underway.”
“Let’s visit the school now to interview the boys with their parents?” she said before finishing her coffee.
Lennox nodded, scraping his chair back to stand up so Wednesday could see his crumpled suit. She then noticed his face bore the shadow of stubble.
“By the way, I got a hell of a lot of messages from your sister yesterday,” he said with a degree of emotional detachment.
“Sorry about that. She’s having a rough time at work, so she got drunk, and when she’s drunk she can become rather obsessive.”
Lennox raised his eyebrows and then muttered under his breath how that was an understatement. As she followed him down the corridor, she noticed he did not have the familiar scent of musk that she liked so much. In fact, from behind, he wasn’t the same immaculately dressed man at all.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Winter sun streaked through the clouds and shone in their eyes as they drove towards Markham Hall School. Lennox drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, with a cigarette hanging from his lips so smoke circled around his head. Ash fell from the tip and landed on the lapel of his coat.
Getting out of the car, they heard children’s voices chattering and shouting, although they were not visible. On entering the building, they realised they had arrived as a lesson had finished, so the corridors were heaving with students jostling one another with their rucksacks.
The receptionist greeted them with the same chilled cordiality as she had always afforded them. Within minutes, the interim head, PE teacher Patrick Gould, walked towards them with his arm extended out.
“Detectives, the three boys and their fathers are waiting for you. They’re very busy men, and the boys have lessons, so I hope you won’t keep them for long.”
“We’ll keep them as long as we need to,” snapped Lennox.
Gould led them towards the waiting group lined up in the corridor. He begrudgingly allowed the detectives to use his new, temporary office. Wednesday offered a smile to the gathered group, but was met with a frosty reception.
“Ralph and Mr Saunders please,” said Lennox as he opened the door for Wednesday to pass through first.
Father and son appeared very similar in stature and colouring. Both were tall with broad shoulders which tapered to a slender waist.
“I’m not sure what we’re doing here. The woman on the phone was very cryptic. I can’t imagine my Ralph being in any kind of trouble,” said Mr Saunders, brushing the seat with his hand before sitting down.
“He’s not in trouble, but some more information has come to light involving Ralph which we wish to clarify.”
Ralph shuffled in his seat but kept his head high. He listened intently as Lennox recounted Lucinda Edwards’s conversation about him being a boyfriend.
“And does this make him a suspect for her murder?” asked the father as he folded his arms across his chest.
Ralph sat up straight, and looked towards his father for reassurance.
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“No, Mr Saunders, but it does connect him to Claudia, and we need to find out what she was doing, and with whom, in the days before she died. When was that last time you saw Claudia, Ralph?” asked Wednesday, turning to him.
He gave a quick look in his father’s direction, and was encouraged by the nod he received.
“I told you already, I saw Claudia at school on Thursday and she was hyped up because she had the house to herself again.”
The adults looked on as he cleared his throat and continued recounting.
“She asked me to go round that evening,” he gave a sideways glance at his father and drew a deep breath. “She wanted me to stay over, you know, the night.” His face was now as red as a lacquered pepper, and even his father looked tight-lipped.
“Would you like to speak to us alone?” Wednesday suggested.
“I’m not leaving,” said Mr Saunders, jutting out his chin.
Ralph remained silent, so Wednesday took that as her cue to carry on.
“Claudia was pregnant at the beginning of this year. Did she mention that to you?” she asked, keeping her focus on him constantly.
Ralph’s face drained of colour. His father, looking clearly shocked, turned to his son and demanded that he reply.
“I didn’t know about that,” he exclaimed in a cracked voice. “It couldn’t have been me . . . not me.” He was almost pleading with Wednesday to end his misery, and allow him to leave the room.
“Are you saying that you never slept with Claudia, or that you had protected sex?”
Mr Saunders got up and paced to the window, where he stood gazing out onto the autumnal garden, waiting to hear his son’s answer. Ralph looked in his father’s direction and then replied in a low voice.
“We only did it once, and it was safe, you know, I used a condom.” After speaking, he hung his head and crushed his hands between his thighs.
“Were you aware she had an abortion?”
“Hell no.”
“Now you have all you need, I presume we can go,” Mr Saunders said as he walked over to his son and made him get up by tapping on his shoulder.
“Thank you, we’ll get back to you if we need to,” replied Wednesday as she stood up and extended her hand. Mr Saunders ignored her gesture and hurried Ralph out the door, leaving a chill in their wake.
Lennox then invited Tony Pennymore and his father, Dick, into the room. Both looked uneasy and subdued, and neither relaxed when Wednesday informed them that she wanted to know more about Tony’s relationship with Claudia.
“Relationship is a strong word to use. Kids are never serious at this age,” said Dick Pennymore, relaxing visibly.
“Claudia was pregnant. Did she mention that to you?” she asked Tony.
“Not bloody likely,” replied Tony, sitting up straight. “She wouldn’t sleep with me. I wasn’t good enough for that, I was only good to flirt with and tease. I was an easy way to get some alcohol.”
Tony slumped in the chair once more, but kept his eyes locked with Wednesday’s.
“Did that make you angry?” she asked, maintaining his gaze.
“I see what you’re getting at,” interjected Dick. “You think my lad killed her ’coz she wouldn’t sleep with him.” He rose to his feet and glared at Wednesday.
“Sir, enquiries sometimes lead us to ask difficult and uncomfortable questions. Rest assured that presently we are only gathering information.”
Dick Pennymore remained standing and was about to tell his son that they were going, when Lennox spoke.
“Please sit down and allow us to finish,” he said as he gestured for him to sit.
“When was the last time you saw Claudia?” continued Wednesday.
“On Thursday in geography. She was buzzing about something; I saw her whispering into James’s ear. They sat together.”
“Who would you say was Claudia’s boyfriend? Was it James?”
Tony rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders, not caring to answer the question.
“Did you want to be her boyfriend, or was she dating all three of you and you all found out that Thursday?”
“Again, you’re insinuating my son’s a murderer. Come on Tony—we’re off.”
He yanked Tony up by the arm and dragged him out of the office, startling James and his father, Keith, as they sat waiting in the corridor. Lennox beckoned the pair in and closed the door behind them.
Wednesday ran through the same batch of questions, waiting for a similar response to the previous pairs, from both father and son, and she was taken aback by the coolness of the pair.
“Claudia and I were having sex on a casual basis—did it every time her folks went away to London, actually.” James held his head high and looked proudly over to his father after he had spoken.
“Were you aware that she was pregnant?” she asked, watching him closely, but he never flinched.
“Nope, it never came up.”
“Is it possible that you were the father?”
“Could have been. We usually used condoms, but who knows?”
“You said ‘usually’ and yet you don’t seem that concerned. Were you aware of this, Mr Almond,” asked Wednesday as she turned towards the father.
“I remember what it’s like to be a teenage boy, all those hormones bouncing around. But I didn’t know she was pregnant. James knew what to do if that happened.”
Wednesday raised her eyebrows at James and waited.
“He means get rid of it. Dad said he’d pay if I got into a fix.”
“So, had Claudia got you into a ‘fix’, so to speak,” asked Wednesday, feeling irritated by the pair’s casual attitude to sex and relationships.
“I think my son has already answered that question, Detective.”
Wednesday sat back in her chair and folded her arms, whilst she crossed one leg over the other.
“I would imagine that your father owning a hotel is a bonus, all those bedrooms to choose from. Did you ever use the hotel with or without your father’s knowledge?” asked Lennox.
Wednesday gave him eye contact fleetingly, admiring his cool thinking whilst she had become entwined in her anger at the chauvinistic viewpoint echoed by father and son.
“We don’t have secrets, apart from those we keep from his mother,” replied Keith Almond with a glint in his eye as he nudged his son.
“When did you last see Claudia, James?” Wednesday said, interrupting the father-son jovial moment.
“Not sure. I suppose it was on the Thursday.”
“The same Thursday you sat next to her in geography and she told you her parents were away.”
James cocked his head, and for the first time during the interview, his cheeks blushed a gentle shade of pink.
“Yes, just like you said. We already told you she said we could go over that evening. Tony was going to get a bottle of vodka from the pub like always.”
“Were you all dating Claudia at the same time?”
James snorted and then placed his hands behind his head as he tilted back on two chair legs.
“None of us were actually going out with her exclusively. We were all just having fun.”
“Was Claudia having fun too?”
“Oh yes,” leered James.
“So what happened Thursday evening?” asked Wednesday, ignoring his ego trip.
“Like we’ve already told you, we all met at her house and kept ringing the doorbell, but she wasn’t in. We assumed she’d chickened out, so we hung around together in the maze garden at my dad’s hotel and drank the vodka.”
“Did you not wonder where she was?”
“No, and once the alcohol kicked in, we’d forgotten all about her.”
Wednesday closed the interview and thanked them for their time. As they left she turned to Lennox and declared that they had gleaned very little from their time there.
“I’m not sure what to make of Claudia now,” said Wednesday, climbing into the passenger seat.
“Does it make
any difference? She didn’t deserve to die like that.”
“I know that. It’s just she’s not the girl her father painted, half the girl her mother painted, and a whole other person as painted by the boys.”
“We’re all different people to the various people around us.”
As Lennox started the engine, Wednesday received a call from the forensic team—it was Alex. Wednesday made humming noises whilst writing notes down. After thanking him she relayed the details to Lennox.
“Forensics have found Darren’s DNA on the sleeping bag from the vicarage attic, but only unidentifiable smudges on the crisp packet from the crypt.”
Lennox stared straight ahead, keeping his focus on the road.
“We’ll need to visit the vicarage again, but now I think it’d be useful to visit Claudia’s GP, to see whether they could enlighten us on the baby’s father.”
Without waiting for his response, she called the station and left their new itinerary with Jones. She then pushed her head into the headrest and gazed without focusing at the passing skyline.
“Did you want to talk about your family troubles?” she asked without looking at him.
“Not really, can’t get my own head around it, never mind trying to explain the quagmire to you.”
The journey into town was conducted in silence, broken periodically by Lennox’s manic drumming on the steering wheel.
After a short wait in reception, Doctor Hall agreed to meet them both.
“Patient confidentiality prevents me from answering your question,” she replied to Wednesday’s request to know who the father was regarding Claudia’s pregnancy.
“This is a murder enquiry, Doctor. We can wait for a court order if you prefer.”
The doctor scanned her notes on the computer, frowning at the screen for a few minutes. “A court order would make no difference, she didn’t tell me the father’s name. I even spoke to her without her mother being present, but she insisted she didn’t know who the father was. Sorry.”
“You weren’t concerned about her being abused, by her father, for example,” asked Wednesday.
“Certainly not. I’ve been their family doctor for years. Her mother had spoken to me about her concerns regarding Claudia’s burgeoning sexuality and interest in school boys, and their interest in her.”
In the Light of Madness Page 22