‘I hope you don’t mind, but we’ll ask Sergeant Robinson to get it for us. Saves any doubts about contamination of evidence. You know the sort of thing, I’m sure. Now, what I really need to know - and remember that you have been cautioned - is when did you last see Hugo Fletcher?’
‘It was December 1998. I can probably tell you the exact date and time, if pushed.’
‘And why was it so memorable, Mrs Kennedy?’
‘Because at the end of the visit, Laura and I argued, and I was never invited back to the house.’
James Sinclair thrust his head forward, and looked straight into Imogen’s eyes.
‘Why did you argue? Did you fancy your chances with Laura’s husband? Did you have a relationship with him?’
Imogen didn’t even try to hide her revulsion at the very thought.
‘I had no relationship with him at all. I didn’t find him remotely attractive, and apart from anything else, he was Laura’s husband.’
‘Ah, but did he find you attractive? Was that the problem? Did he pester you, put you in a difficult position with your friend and your husband?’
‘No. No.’
She hated the way he was questioning her, his large head looming across the table. She wanted to move her chair back - as far away from him as possible. She didn’t believe that any criminal would have a chance in front of James Sinclair. Then he backed away slightly, and she felt a flutter of relief. The questions were still coming, but he wasn’t in her face anymore.
‘So tell me, Mrs Kennedy. When did you last see Lady Fletcher, prior to the night of her husband’s death?’
This was her moment. Imogen knew it. If she got this right, she would be fine. If she got it wrong - well, she couldn’t even begin to think of the consequences. She sighed dramatically and for effect, hoping she hadn’t overdone it.
‘Okay, we haven’t been entirely honest about this. Force of habit, I think. After the argument, I wasn’t in touch with her until her second stay in hospital. We worked out a way that I could see her whenever I was in England without anybody knowing. Hugo would never have allowed it. We kept in touch when she returned home.’
James Sinclair was slowly shaking his head, with raised eyebrows.
‘That doesn’t quite answer my question, does it Mrs Kennedy. When did you last see her, prior to the night of Hugo’s death?’
Imogen needed to think. What would Laura say if asked the same question? They had to be consistent. She didn’t think that he’d missed her pause, but surely it was understandable that she had to think - to mentally check her diary?
‘It would have been in the summer. Laura was in Italy, and Hugo never went with her, so it was completely safe as long as I didn’t answer the telephone or anything stupid like that. I went to stay with her for a couple of days.’
‘And you’ve not seen her since?’
‘No.’
What do they say about people when they lie? Something about their eyes, looking down to the left? She couldn’t remember, so she tried to look him straight in the eye without wavering.
‘So why, exactly, was Lady Fletcher so appalled when you appeared on the doorstep? She looked as if she would like to murder you, let alone anybody else.’
‘Force of habit, I think. She was probably in another world, and when I appeared she no doubt expected Hugo to suddenly materialise from his study and strike her down. I don’t know - it was a bit much, but she’s over it now.’
She forced herself to continue to look him in the eye. She could see that he didn’t believe her.
‘One more question, Mrs Kennedy, and then we’ll take a break. Why did Lady Fletcher say ‘You have absolutely no idea what Hugo was capable of. This was the least of his crimes’ and ‘I am so very glad that Hugo is dead’?’
Imogen was stunned into silence for a few seconds. How in God’s name did they know about that?
‘I don’t know how you can possibly be aware that she uttered those exact words, Chief Superintendent, but out of context it’s a little difficult to say.’
Sinclair clamped his lips together and shook his head again, making her feel like a child caught out in a silly lie.
‘Cut the crap, please. You know very well what she meant, and you’re going to tell me.’
‘Fine. First of all, I think you should ask her, because I would only be guessing. More importantly I didn’t like Hugo - so anything I say is inevitably going to be coloured. In my view he was a difficult, unpleasant and manipulative man. Laura was not ill, but he made her seem so. I suspect she’s glad he’s dead because of the control he exercised over her life. But that can be nothing more than supposition, can it, Chief Superintendent, and therefore probably worthless.’
She spoke with spirit. She didn’t want to appear rattled, but how did they know all this? A quick knock came on the door, which opened to reveal a young Asian man in the doorway, beckoning the DCS, who excused himself and left the interview room.
Imogen breathed a sigh of relief. She thought she had done okay, but only time would tell.
*
In the corridor, James Sinclair was faced with a beaming detective. Whatever he’d found, he was certainly excited by it.
‘What is it, Ajay?’
‘We’ve just had another call from the bodyguard company. One of the guys who looked after Sir Hugo is on holiday. He was contacted at the start to answer some questions, but he was probably too busy enjoying himself to give much thought to it, and apparently he phoned back today with a bit more information. There was one incident that he thought we might be interested in. He was driving Hugo from Oxford into London one night a couple of years ago when he realised they were being followed. They hadn’t quite reached the motorway, so he turned down a quiet road in the middle of nowhere. He said the guy following was pretty rubbish. So with Hugo’s blessing he pulled a stunt. He raced ahead, shut off his lights, and did a one eighty - fancies himself a bit, I think - then when the other guy came round the corner he shone his lights straight into him, and he swerved onto the side of the road.
‘The bodyguard was out of the car in a flash, and had the guy by the scruff of the neck within seconds. I didn’t ask how they got him to talk, but they did. He said he’d been paid to follow Sir Hugo, night and day. They asked who was paying him.’
Ajay paused, and James knew that he was waiting for him to ask.
‘And did he answer?’
‘He most certainly did. It was the wife. It was Laura Fletcher.’
CHAPTER 29
Tom’s ‘informal chat’ with Laura had been interrupted more than once, with a mix of good news and bad.
The first interruption was Kate. He wouldn’t normally have taken a personal call, but this was too important. Tom had heeded Laura’s words of wisdom, and much as he loved his daughter he really couldn’t see himself living with her mother again. Last night they’d had an emotional discussion on the subject, but he had been resolute. Kate was calling to say she was going back to Manchester at the weekend ‘to think’. He would have to wait and see what happened next.
He wished he could talk to Laura about it - but he knew he’d already overstepped the mark. And then James Sinclair had phoned, so he’d stepped out into the hall to take the call. He was now certain Laura knew far more than she was revealing, and he couldn’t prevent a feeling of regret that he was going to have to ask her some difficult questions.
But it was the third call that really excited him.
*
Laura could tell by Tom’s face when he returned to the drawing room that there had been some news, and she was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. She was struggling to remain in control, and increasingly she didn’t want to lie to this man. He had shown her nothing but compassion and consideration, and she could tell he wasn’t happy himself. She’d watched his face when he was talking to Kate, and the only thought that came to her mind was why does there have to be so much grief in the world?
Tom sat down in hi
s usual position opposite her.
‘Laura, do you want anybody with you while I ask you some more questions?’
‘No, I’m fine. Just ask whatever you need to,’ she answered, hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible.
‘We talked earlier about your illness, and you described what caused your first stay in hospital. But we have been led to believe that the second stay was different. Some sort of delusional disorder was reported in the papers, although of course that could be wrong. We also know that one of our own Chief Constables - Theo Hodder - was involved in some way, and we are trying to track him down to understand his involvement. But I’d really rather it came from you.’
Laura had been dreading this. She knew that her answer had to be plausible, but since Tom had raised this when he last saw her, she had been practising. She would give him the facts, but try to keep emotions in check. Nevertheless, she could hear that her voice shook slightly.
‘When I returned from my first stay in hospital, things were a little more stable between Hugo and me, although I could sense that things were subtly different. I assumed he had a mistress, and perhaps that was understandable as I’d been away for a couple of years. Then Danika came to see me about her missing friend Alina, and I got it into my head that something might be happening to the girls. I believed that Hugo could be involved. I dreamt up this whole conspiracy thing. I thought he might be enticing them away. Perhaps for sex, or maybe to just sell them on again. I don’t know what I was thinking.’
Laura thought that in all of this she had become the master of the understatement.
‘Anyway, I’d met Mr Hodder at one of the charity dinners, so I went to him with my theory. It must have been clear to him that I hadn’t thought it through at all, and my imagination was working overtime. I realised I was making a fool of myself. He was one of the few people who knew I’d been ill before, and he obviously saw this as some sort of a relapse. So he called Hugo. I wasn’t able to get the idea out of my head at all, so they diagnosed me as delusional, and he provided some supporting evidence. That’s it, really.’
Laura as usual was avoiding Tom’s eyes, but she risked a glance. She saw concern, but she saw something else. She saw a glimmer of excitement in his eyes, and she realised that she hadn’t been convincing enough.
‘Look, Tom, I know it sounds completely ridiculous now. I made an idiot of myself. Mr Hodder and his family apparently had one of the Allium girls themselves at one time. I gather it didn’t work out too well, but he had nothing but praise for Hugo. I’m very embarrassed about it, so can we please forget it?’
‘Did you know that Hugo asked Jessica to shred all the documents relating to the missing girls?’
Laura was startled. She hadn’t know this - but somehow it all made perfect sense. Hugo was a bastard, but he was a clever bastard. Tom had clearly not missed her expression.
‘You didn’t know, did you? He also arranged to pay Jessica eight thousand pounds a month as ‘a little bonus’ for doing something for him that she’s not prepared to divulge. He paid her in cash, so that explains where a big chunk of the twenty thousand a month went. And then you employed a private detective to follow Hugo. Hugo found out, and no doubt scared you off. Then you went to the Chief Constable. How am I doing so far?’
Too well, thought Laura. Far too well. But she said nothing and just looked levelly at him, hopefully hiding her surprise that most of the ten thousand she didn’t know about was now accounted for.
‘Well here’s the good news. I’ve just had a call from one of my colleagues who is at the Allium offices. The delightful, but apparently rather lazy Rosie has just admitted that the girls’ details seemed too big a pile to shred, so she hid the boxes. We’ve got people going through them - starting with the past five years.’
Tom’s face was a picture. He thought this was going to provide all the answers, she could see that. She almost felt sorry for him, but he hadn’t finished.
‘Laura, I need you to tell me. Do you still think it was a delusion? You don’t do you? You never did. But what I don’t understand is, if you thought something was happening to the girls, why didn’t you say something to me when you heard that Danika was missing?’
She didn’t know how many more lies she could tell this man. But he had a daughter of his own. Perhaps he would understand.
‘I couldn’t see the point in telling you - I thought it would do more harm than good. Hugo’s dead, so it would be too late for any girls that have already disappeared, and he can’t do it any more, can he? It was so much better if you didn’t investigate it. I had to protect Alexa. I kept quiet for her sake. She had to be my number one priority. And they’re safe now - the girls. They must be.’
She suddenly felt racked with guilt. She had known so much, but not enough. She had been sure that the police would act all those months ago, but she had ended up back in a mental institution. She could have told them everything she suspected when she heard Danika was missing, but she assumed it was either too late, or that the girl would be safe now that Hugo was dead. She chose to keep quiet to protect Alexa. Tom was too smart to let it lie.
‘Hang on, Laura. You said that in your delusions you imagined that something “might be” happening to the girls, and Hugo “could be” involved. But it sounds as if you knew that something was happening. When Danika turned up, she told us the reason she’d been away. Another of her friends has gone missing very recently. Mirela Tinescy. And she left a note - a note that nobody believed. She’s still missing, Laura. If Hugo took her, what do you think he’s done with her?’
‘You’re assuming that I was right, aren’t you - that it wasn’t just a delusion? You believe that I wasn’t mad, don’t you?’
Tom was looking at her with such empathy that Laura wanted to cry. His eyes were filled with sorrow, and she knew that he was picturing her life with Hugo and her years in the care home. He stood up and came to sit next to her on the sofa, turning his body to face her. He reached out and clasped her cold hands between his. His voice was infinitely gentle as he spoke.
‘Laura, James Sinclair asked Becky to retrieve Imogen’s laptop from her bedroom. Lying next to it on the bed was a letter. From you, Laura.’
He gently massaged some warmth back into her hands as he spoke, his compassionate eyes never leaving her face.
‘And I know what it says.’
CHAPTER 30
DECEMBER 2006
Dear Imogen
Today’s been a peculiar day all round. The weather has been stormy one minute with the rain pelting down, and then there have been flashes of sunshine in between. But it wasn’t nice enough to get out into the garden and finish tidying up for winter. I know we’ve got gardeners, but if I don’t do something I really will go mad!
So all I did all day was sit gazing out of the window, wishing I’d gone back to Italy. At least there I can keep the demons at bay. Here, they confront me at every turn. Then I thought of you, my dear long lost friend.
I’ve been back at Ashbury Park for a year now, but I’ve still got to be so very careful. I can’t step out of line. I have to appear cowed and under Hugo’s complete control. I’m here for one reason, and one reason only. A reason I haven’t told you about. I don’t think I could bear to see it written down, if you want the honest truth.
I really should have gone to Italy. I only stayed this week because I thought Hugo wanted me to help prepare for Christmas, and in particular to buy Alexa’s presents. In the event, he seems irritated that I’m here.
We barely see each other now - which is fine by me. Hugo goes out regularly, and stays away often. Sometimes he seems positively exhilarated about the prospect of the night ahead, so I can only assume he’s got a mistress. Poor woman.
Having asked me to be here to organise the shopping, he phoned earlier today to say he was going to be gone for a day or two. And he didn’t want to be contacted. He sounds really angry about something, but at least I don’t have to give yet
another Oscar-winning performance this evening.
So I settled down by the fire with a glass of wine and a good book. Then the intercom at the gate rang. I was startled for a moment. Nobody ever comes here uninvited, and very few invitations are issued. I did wonder for a moment if it might be you!
When I answered, it was a voice I didn’t recognise.
‘Hello. I would like to see Sir Hugo Fletcher please. My name is Danika Bojin.’
‘I’m sorry, but my husband isn’t here. And I’m afraid he doesn’t like doing business from the house. Perhaps you could go to the office?’
‘I already go to the office two days ago, and nobody helps me. You are his wife? Please. Can you help me?’
I had no idea what this was about, but it was cold, wet and dark outside, and the girl sounded very distressed. She looked extremely young in the video monitor, and I felt sorry for her, so I invited her in.
It turned out that she’d come to talk to Hugo about a friend of hers who’s missing. She’s disappeared, and Danika doesn’t believe she would have gone without saying anything, so she suspects something has happened to her. She was clearly very worried.
I was impressed by her loyalty - coming all this way just to try to talk to Hugo. And she must have walked at least the last three miles in the pouring rain. Her English is amazing. I wasn’t surprised to learn that she’d been an excellent student. How tragic that she’s been dragged into a life of prostitution. My own life is sad, but it’s nothing compared to this girl’s story. She was so very anxious.
‘I know I’m told I must not to come to here, and I’m so sorry, but I don’t know what I must do. Alina would not go away and not tell to us. She is happy where she live. Something has happened to her. I know this.’
‘Did you have any idea at all that she was thinking of leaving?’
Danika thought for a few moments. She looked very worried.
‘I don’t know. The last times we see her, she seem to be too happy. Big smile and shiny eyes. It was like that. Mirela see it too - so we ask her about it, and she say she has a secret, but she cannot tell to us. I think perhaps she has fallen in love with husband of family, so I asked it. She laughed and said I mistook her. The family is wonderful, and she never want to make them to be angry with her. She want to stay with them until she find a man to look after her in a proper way, you understand? Perhaps she find him - but I do not think she would leave without explaining it to the family.’
(2011) Only the Innocent Page 32