She looked up sharply from the glass of wine she was fiddling with. “No, well, okay, we have spoken. The other day at your mum’s after Evie’s…you know.”
“I see.” And I did. “I suppose it was after Jon and I left?”
I wondered why she seemed so uneasy. Guilty almost. Eventually she looked me in the eye and said yes. She reached a hand out to me and grasped my fingers. “I understand how upset you are. Evie’s passing was a ghastly shock to everyone, especially you, as you found her. But you mustn’t forget how much Martyn loved her. As soon as they met he was bowled over by her, and now she’s gone, he’s completely devastated, broken-hearted. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. Moya, I know you and he have had your differences, but he really does care.”
“Really?”
“Yes. There’s something else I need to tell you, which you may not like to hear. If I don’t, you’ll probably hear about it anyway, and then I’ll feel bad I didn’t let you know. It’s all very innocent, but because Martyn’s feeling so depressed, I’ve invited him round here for a meal. I understand you and Jon wouldn’t want to come, but as Kate’s here and she’s such fun, I thought it might do him good. It’ll be just the four of us. There, I’ve said it. Matter closed.”
I stared at her. “Kate? I know you think I’m being ultra-critical, but I hope you’ll warn her about him.”
“Moya, Moya.” She shook her head. “Just stop it, or you’ll end up with no friends at all. I’m merely having two people I like over for a meal. People who have both found themselves alone in the world through no fault of their own, both having just gone or are going through a traumatic period. Now, can we please talk about something else?” Faye screwed up her face with her pleading.
“All right.” I said begrudgingly. “But please, for me, as a favour, just tell Kate to be careful.” I knew I had no choice but to shut up, when really I wanted to scream at Faye. I knew she liked Martyn; it was obvious. But I had said as much as I could before she would lose her temper. I bit my bottom lip. OCD was a real pain, and I didn’t have it that badly. My knee started jigging against the table, and I fought to keep it under control.
“I’ll keep it in mind.” She paused with her head on one side. “You know, have you considered maybe talking to someone other than a friend or the police?”
“What, you mean like a counsellor?”
“Yes. It might help you come to terms with Evie’s suicide.”
Suicide. There was that word again. I wanted to add forced, pressured, bullied, intimidated, driven. “No, I haven’t, but to make you happy, I’ll think about it.”
Chapter 27
I thought there was no time like the present and next morning, as soon as I had sorted myself out for the day, I rang Detective Inspector Gary Mitchell and asked if I might have a word with him. I had some free time, and he said he was happy to fit me in between his interminable paperwork and a fire-arms lecture, which he had to attend.
The inspector sat me down in his office, a cup of tea by my side, after escorting me politely upstairs from the station foyer. Okay, so the tea was from a vending machine and tasted much like the plastic cup it came in, but the gesture was thoughtful.
When I first met him at Evie’s house, I hadn’t taken much notice of him, apart from the fact that he was tall. As he seated himself behind his desk, I saw he was going prematurely bald but had a nice easy-going smile and manner. I stole a look round the room and through the glass walls to the outer office, where I saw various other officers hard at work, including policewoman Natalie Soames.
“Isn’t that your colleague from the other day?” I asked.
He glanced across. “Yes, Natalie. Would you like to speak to her?”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll say hello later.”
“By the way, please call me Gary. Is it all right to call you by your Christian name?”
I nodded.
He seemed satisfied with my answer and took a sip of his coffee before asking me how things were. He seemed relaxed, hands on his desk, fingers laced together.
“So-so, I suppose,” I muttered.
He quirked an eyebrow, knowing full well I was still feeling utterly miserable.
I sighed before continuing. “Actually, no. It’s been awful. I can’t get Evie out of my head. I know my mother can’t sleep and is going round like a zombie. My little sister has nightmares…it’s all frightful.”
“Having someone close to you dying and then coming to terms with it is always difficult, especially when it’s out of the blue.”
I felt a lump in my throat and took a gulp of tea. “I hope you didn’t mind me coming today.”
“No, of course not. I like to think the public feels free to access the police service at any time. Too often, we give an impression of not caring enough, when the majority of us indeed do.”
“Evie’s death has been really hard. I keep wondering whether I could have prevented it…got there earlier. Noticed any signs about how she was.”
He unlaced his fingers and placed his hands together, and for one fleeting moment, I thought he was about to say a prayer. “It’s too easy to become fixated, especially as you were the one to find her. Have you someone you can talk things over with? Someone you’re close to.”
I thought of my family, who were more or less as shocked as I. Jon was as considerate as ever, but he had a lot on his plate and was away. Faye—well, I wondered if I had blown it with her.
“I thought I had, but now I’m not so sure.” I explained about my family and Jon.
“I see,” he said, nodding. “Maybe a couple of sessions with a home counsellor might help.”
“Yes, someone else suggested that and I will. But I really want to talk to you.”
He blinked. “Oh?”
“I’ve got a couple of questions which you might be able to answer. And I’ve made some notes.” I withdrew a sheet of paper from my bag and smoothing the creases, placed it on the desk in front of me.
“May I see what you’ve written?” He held out a hand.
I hesitated. “I’d like to talk through it first. They’re really just my notes and questions I need answers to.”
He nodded, picked up a pen and sat poised with it over a notepad. “Then you don’t mind if I jot down a few relevant details?”
“Of course not. Some things you may already know about, as I’ve been here before.”
I then went through my suspicions, starting from the time I caught Martyn in my flat and how I threw him out, right up to my misgivings about Martyn doping Evie in order to get her to sign everything over to him and then how he could have compelled her into committing suicide.
After I had finished, he swung his chair round and stared out of the window in silence at the blustery day outside. After a minute or so, he turned back to face me, his chin held between thumb and forefinger, elbow resting on the desk.
“These are grave accusations to make.”
“I know.”
“And I don’t mind admitting that the idea of Martyn Cousins doping your sister had crossed my mind earlier on.”
At last! Someone who would take me seriously. “Then you’ll give it some more thought?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry. As much as I might like to, my chief inspector is satisfied your sister’s death was a straightforward suicide. Also, according to forensics, the amount of diazepam in your sister’s bloodstream wasn’t high enough to warrant further investigation. No DNA testing. It’s not as if a neighbour saw or heard anything suspicious either…a delivery boy or something like that. He’s closed the case.”
“The houses are well spaced apart and there are miles of fields out the back. But you’re missing the point. Evie would never have killed herself. She had just got married. She was a life-giver, a nurse. She believed in maintaining life not ending it. And no way would she have called me there that afternoon for me to find her like that. I don’t—I can’t—believe she’d have done that. Ever!”
“I’ve just thought of something else. Evie was taking a tonic of vitamins. Did you ever find any in the house? When I saw her take it, she kept it in the fridge, in fruit juice. The diazepam might have been crushed up with the vitamins. Martyn suggested she take it. Doesn’t that imply something to you?”
He shrugged. “What? A loving and concerned husband gives his wife a tonic to get her on her feet. No, we didn’t find any tonic or pills of any kind, as it happens, and Mr Cousins denied she was still taking it. He said she was a lot better the last week or so and didn’t see the need to carry on with it.”
“And you believed him?”
“Yes. I’m sorry, Moya, but I really don’t think—”
“I’ve just had a horrendous thought.” I gasped as I interrupted him.
“What have you thought?”
“What about the bruises?”
“What bruises?”
“On her arms. When I found Evie in the bath, I spent some time with her, waiting for the ambulance and you lot to arrive. I noticed how thin she was without her clothes on. I hadn’t realised just how much before, and I also saw how her arms were bruised. I assumed it was from the cuts, but what if someone held her down? Forced her into the bath?”
The inspector eyed me warily. “Implying what?”
“I’ve been assuming Martyn persuaded Evie to kill herself, but what if he drugged her, put her in the bath and administered the cuts himself? Oh my God.”
He sat more upright in his chair and frowned. “You’re now suggesting he killed his wife? He staged the whole thing?”
“Yes. And get this. When Evie rang me, she said that Martyn wasn’t going to be there in the house and that he had suggested earlier she get me over so we could have a talk, sister to sister. I thought she was implying we bury our differences. But she also said he’d left the house and was due back two hours later. I took about half an hour to reach Evie, and when I got there she was already dead, Inspector.” I sat back feeling exhausted as well as emotionally drained.
“Gary,” he corrected me. “What can I say, Moya? We checked out Mr Cousin’s whereabouts as a matter of course. He was at the hospital all day, and numerous people can vouch they saw him some time that afternoon, and besides, his car was there. It never left the hospital until some hours later after your sister died. What can I do? My chief…” he raised his hands in a gesture of hopelessness.
“Please, please, please investigate Martyn again. I don’t know how you go about it. I just know he knows more about this than he’s admitting. At the very least, he forced Evie. And quite honestly, knowing Martyn as I do, I feel it’s more than that.”
He stood up and wandered over to the window again. Without turning round he asked me about Martyn. “What is it that makes you so sure? I know you and he saw each other, and I’ve heard your explanation as to why you stopped seeing him. You had a bad time and now this family death. But why do you feel there’s more to it?”
“Because of what I’ve just told you! This isn’t about a personal grudge. I wouldn’t make wild accusations without due cause.”
“And I don’t normally get involved in domestic or private disputes.”
I sighed. “This isn’t any old domestic. A crime has been committed. I can’t give you more evidence,” I muttered, turning away, feeling sick and as if a heavy weight was descending upon my shoulders.
“Moya, please believe me when I say I’m sympathetic, and I’d like to help if we had more to go on, but I can’t. Can I suggest you take time off? Go away, take your mother and sister with you. Come back in a few weeks and start afresh. It won’t disappear overnight, but it will get easier.”
It was then that I mentioned Amanda, the front-desk girl. I didn’t want to drag her name into it as it might have jeopardised her job, but I was becoming desperate to get him to believe me. To consider that at least part of it could be true. I told him breathlessly everything she related to me about Sally.
“So, do you still think I’m making it all up? Get her in and ask her about her cousin. Amanda will give you all the facts and it might be supporting evidence. Martyn’s done something similar before.”
Gary looked at me with something between pity and awkwardness; he shook his head. “We know about the story concerning her cousin. I’m sorry, Amanda no longer works here.”
“What? Where did she go? When?”
“She became a bit of an embarrassment. Er…I’m not really at liberty to tell you.”
“Please!”
He eyed the closed door cautiously and lowered his voice. “Amanda was asked to take extended sick leave by my chief. He considered she needed help and suggested she saw someone. I can’t go into it, but she won’t be coming back.”
Aghast, I stared at him, open-mouthed. They had forced her to go, and if I understood what he wasn’t telling me, she had had some sort of nervous breakdown.
It was then I fully understood my dilemma. Amanda had given me her mobile number, but should I have contacted her? If she was sick, mentally ill, then how much of her story could I believe, anyway?
Chapter 28
I decided Amanda had been telling the truth, nervous breakdown or not. I looked up her cousin’s accident in the newspaper records. It was all perfectly feasible. But I was in for a further shock. I rung Amanda’s telephone number and was surprised when she refused to talk about Martyn, let alone arrange a meeting between us.
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
“But you said if I ever wanted to talk and meet up...if I suspected anything then—”
“Look, I know what I said. I was wrong.”
I waited a few seconds for this to sink in. I took another tack. “Did you know my sister, Evie, has died? In Antigua, you said I might be in danger, but I didn’t mention Martyn was seeing my sister. They got married, quickly like your cousin, and then in hardly any time at all, she was dead. Took her own life, apparently, but you and I know better.”
The silence between us stretched, and I hoped Amanda was making up her mind to arrange something. When she did reply, my heart sank like a stone in a deep pond.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and I wondered if someone was listening. “I’m really sorry, but I can’t help you.”
“Can’t or won’t? Who’s got to you, Amanda? Is it the police?”
And then without her even saying another word, I guessed, and I felt dreadful. That time before Evie and Martyn were married, I had confronted Martyn and told him I had met Amanda and I knew all about her cousin. Martyn must have gone to the police and complained. Harassment, he would have called it. Someone at the station obviously believed he was innocent. No wonder Amanda had been forced to leave. “It’s him, isn’t it? Martyn. What’s he said to you? What’s he done?”
“I have to go.” The line went dead.
***
It was less than a month to Christmas, and we had been having flurries of snow for a few days. My appointment book was as full as ever. It seemed women and men wanted to look and feel good for the forthcoming festive season, and money flowed as it had always done.
Jon returned, and although we jumped into bed within minutes of him walking into my flat, afterwards, he seemed a bit pre-occupied. I felt I couldn’t breathe. Had he found someone else in America? I couldn’t bear the thought, and to hide my misery, I talked more than usual as we shared a bottle of champagne in bed.
Eventually, he reached over, removed the glass I was waving around as I gesticulated with my hands and placed a finger over my lips. “Hush.”
I raised my eyebrows and waited, hardly daring to ask. “What? I know you’ve something on your mind.” I turned over onto my side and regarded him through my tousled hair.
He stretched out an arm and ran
his fingers lightly over my hips and down my thighs. I gasped as his fingers traced a feathery pattern, my limbs melting under his touch.
“I’ve been offered a new position.”
“Ah!” I let my breath out slowly…here it comes. The slow but gentle let-down.
“In San Francisco.”
“And?”
“There are lots of pros and cons. I wanted to run it by you first.”
“You did?” I asked. His news was pretty startling, but at least it wasn’t another woman. My vision blurred as a rash of tears threatened. Was I really still that strung up?
It transpired Jon had been offered a temporary post as director in a new office which was still under negotiation. The position was tentatively for a year to get it up and running. What did I think?
“A great opportunity. Do you have to make you mind up at once?”
“No. But I have to let them know after Christmas. I…I thought I might take it. It is only for a year.”
I nodded.
“You could come with me?”
I gaped at him. “Really? You’d like that? You’d want me to? But my job…”
He laughed. “I think so. Or if you didn’t come for the year, you could come for an extended stay. I’m not kidding when I say I’ll be frantically busy, and it won’t be much fun setting it all up. The Americans work damn hard and don’t have as much leave as us. You’d spend a lot of time doing things on your own, but,” he paused and in a deeper and softer voice explained, “we would have every night together.”
I was more tempted than I let on. I thought it might have been a good time to tell him what I had planned with my flat and business, but something stopped me. Did I really want anyone to know? I hadn’t breathed a word to anyone in case Martyn got wind of it. I trusted Jon, but the least people knew the better. The same went for my last visit down at the police station. Nobody knew. Faye hadn’t contacted me, and I certainly hadn’t told her.
“It sounds wonderful, especially the last part. I like the idea of going out, if not for the year then for a really long stay. I think you should go for it if you want to.”
Behind A Twisted Smile (Dark Minds Book 2) Page 15