Lie in Wait: A dark and gripping crime thriller

by GJ Minett

  ‘No, really,’ she said. ‘I can’t. It’s – it’s too much, Owen. It must have cost you an absolute fortune.’

  ‘No –’

  ‘Please. I need you to take it back.’

  He sank back onto a stool, incomprehension writ large across his features.

  ‘I d-don’t understand,’ he said, and for one awful moment she feared he might be about to burst into tears. ‘It’s for your b-birthday. D-don’t you like it?’

  ‘Like it? I love it. It’s stunning.’

  ‘So why won’t you try it on? I d-don’t understand.’

  She could see the confusion and hurt in his eyes and wondered how best to deal with this. The one thought that screamed out to her was that she couldn’t accept the necklace. This was just wrong. Too inappropriate for words.

  ‘I know you don’t,’ she said, raising one hand to his cheek. ‘And it’s a beautiful present, Owen. I don’t want you to think that I’m not grateful, but something like this . . .’ She took her hand away, concerned that an incorrect signal now would only confuse things further. ‘Listen,’ she continued, ‘you and I are really good friends, right? We’ve known each other for a long time now.’

  ‘Twenty-one years and three months.’

  ‘Right,’ she laughed, happy for an excuse to lighten the mood for a moment. ‘Twenty-one years and three months.’

  ‘Multiple of three.’

  ‘Right. And because we’re such good friends it’s fine for us to buy each other a little something when birthdays and Christmas come round. Like Phil for instance,’ she said, picking up the DVD and book. ‘He came to see me and drop off these presents, right? They didn’t cost a lot of money but they didn’t need to because it’s the thought that counts. That’s what friends do. But this necklace – it’s just not the sort of thing friends give as birthday presents. It’s something a husband might buy for his wife or a man would think of getting for his girlfriend if they were involved in a serious relationship. It . . . it’s on a different level. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?’

  A cloud passed over his face and she began to realise that he understood only too well. First the offer to cook dinner for her and now the necklace. She was the one who’d been slow on the uptake.

  ‘If C-Callum had bought it for you, you’d have t-tried it on,’ he said, his breathing coming now in short, sharp bursts.

  ‘Yes. Yes, I would. Because he was my husband.’

  ‘But I lied for you,’ he said.

  ‘You what?’

  ‘When the p-police came round to ask what time you left, I t-told them it was later than it really was.’

  She picked up her glass and took a sip, then swirled what was left of the ice cube around inside the liquid and drained it. She rose and walked over to the sink where she rinsed the empty glass before opening the dishwasher and placing it inside. She’d always suspected this moment would come, although it was usually Phil she’d imagined sitting opposite her. Now it was here, she wondered how best to approach it. Maybe honesty was the best solution. Maybe she ought to come clean and tell Owen first as a dummy run. Then tell Phil. Then the police. Maybe then, last of all, she could start being honest with herself.

  ‘I didn’t mean for you to lie to the police,’ she said, sitting down opposite him again.

  ‘You told me to,’ he protested. ‘You s-said on the phone.’

  ‘I know. But what I meant was for you to cover for me if Callum happened to say anything to you. I didn’t mean the police. How could I? If you think about it, there were no police at that stage. It was before we knew anything had happened to Callum.’ She picked up the two birthday cards and started fanning herself with them as she picked her way through the route ahead. ‘Look, I need to tell you something, OK? Only you can’t tell anyone just yet. It’s our secret, right?’

  He thought about it for a moment, then nodded.

  ‘The thing is, that evening when I came round to see your plans for the garden, I didn’t go straight home afterwards. I’d arranged to meet someone from work, just for a quick drink, and I didn’t . . . I didn’t want Callum to know about it, because he could be funny about things like that. You know what he was like, right? Then, when I got home there was a missed call on the home phone and I was worried it might have been him, trying to get hold of me there because my mobile had run out of battery. I knew he’d want to know where I’d been so I asked you to say I’d stayed with you for a bit longer in case he asked. It was only an hour or so. I didn’t see what harm it could do.’

  ‘But why didn’t you t-tell the police the t-truth?’

  She sighed, dropped the cards onto the breakfast bar and leaned back too far, almost overbalancing on the stool.

  ‘Because I didn’t want to drag my friend into it if I could help it. He was just being kind. And, like I said, I didn’t think it would matter.’

  Owen’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘He?’

  She nodded. ‘Adam. He’s someone I work with at the bookshop. He’s just a friend, like you. There’s nothing, you know . . . going on. Nothing like that. He’s got this girlfriend, Freja – she’s a medical student and she’s doing voluntary work for twelve months in Africa somewhere so he gets a bit fed up with his own company, same way I do. He’s just a good friend. Someone I can talk to.’

  ‘T-talk about what?’

  ‘I don’t know. Anything. He’s a really good listener. I can sort of bounce ideas off him, you know? He helps me think straight. And he knew things weren’t going well with Callum so we agreed we’d meet up for a drink and I could get a few things off my chest and he could talk about how he was missing Freja. That’s all it was. And then, when they asked me where I’d been that evening, all kinds of things started buzzing round in my head like how would it look if I’d been having a drink with another man while my husband was being killed. Because I felt like I should have been home, you know? And I’d already told Phil I was with you, looking at plans for the garden, so I didn’t want to go back on that if I could help it. And then there was Adam – I didn’t want to cause any difficulties between him and Freja, if she came to hear about it somehow. So I just blurted out that I was with you, seeing as that’s what we’d agreed earlier. I know I shouldn’t have but I wasn’t thinking straight. It just seemed easier that way and I didn’t think that an hour either way made any real difference. But you’re right – maybe it’s time I went to the police and told them the truth.’

  ‘No. You c-can’t do that.’

  ‘It’s OK – I’ll tell them it was my fault. You didn’t know what time it was and I misled you into thinking it was later than it was. I’ll make sure they understand.’

  ‘No,’ he said, shaking his head vigorously. ‘No, it won’t work. I t-told them I looked at my watch and it was eight fifty-two.’

  ‘OK. So we’ll tell them the truth. I asked you to say it was later because I didn’t want to drag Adam into it. Maybe they’ll agree to keep it just between us if I explain.’

  ‘They’ll be angry.’

  ‘Not with you, they won’t,’ she said, anxious to reassure him. ‘I need to do this, Owen. I don’t like the fact that I’ve lied to Phil and to the police – it makes me look as if I’ve got something to hide and if they’re going to find out sometime it’s much better if it comes from me. Don’t worry – you’ll be fine. And Adam says he’s cool with it.’

  There was a silence, interrupted only by the insistent buzzing of a fly which smashed repeatedly in kamikaze fashion into one window pane after another in its frantic search for a way out.

  ‘How long have you known him?’ he said eventually.

  ‘Adam? Oh, I don’t know. A couple of years, maybe.’

  ‘You’ve known me f-for twenty-one years and three months.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m a g-good listener.’

  The implication dug its heels in and refused to budge. She understood that it was up to her to shift it but knew in
stinctively that she couldn’t. How was she supposed to explain different levels of friendship to someone who saw the world in such simplistic terms that longevity was all that mattered? As far as she was aware – no, for God’s sake, as a matter of indisputable fact – Owen had never had a relationship with anyone in his life other than his mother. What did he imagine might qualify him as someone she could have turned to for comfort when things started to go pear-shaped with Callum? And, more to the point, what on earth could she say to make him understand her reasons without giving offence?

  ‘Yes,’ she said, side-stepping the issue altogether. ‘You’re my oldest friend. And that’s why you were the first person I thought of when it came to sorting out the garden. And I was right – I can see that already. I can’t believe the progress you’ve made even this morning. There’s so much more light.’

  He hauled himself to his feet, nudging the necklace back towards her as he did so.

  ‘I’d better be g-getting on,’ he said.

  He didn’t look as if he’d bought a word of it.

  And he looked anything but appeased.

  PHIL

  The first thing he did when he got back from Abi’s was check the text that had announced its arrival with a beep while he was driving. It was from Anna:

  Fight cancelled. Other side of Horsham before they phoned. Took day off work for nothing. Bummer. You OK?

  He texted back straightaway to say he was fine – she was welcome to come and paint his house for him if she was bored, ho ho. His finger was hovering over the Send key before he thought better of it and deleted the draft. Trying again, he simply told her that was how he would be spending his day. Casual conversation. Bit of a hint but much less presumptuous. That way she could decide for herself without feeling any pressure.

  The second thing he did was phone Baz to check whether it was OK to borrow the ladder that was kept in the maintenance store at the rear of the gym, given that he’d forgotten to pick up his own. By the time he’d driven round to collect it, the morning had just about dwindled away with next to nothing to show for all his good intentions. Determined to make a start at least, he decided to sugar soap the walls now, break for lunch at around 1.30 and then start the actual painting an hour or so after that. If he could just make sure he got the first coat out of the way today, it would provide him with the incentive to finish the job tomorrow.

  When he came in for lunch, he checked his mobile and found two texts and a missed call. The texts were from Anna again. He read the first one, sent just after midday:

  Need an extra pair of hands for a couple of hours? Pretty good with a brush. Can help out till 2.30ish if that’s any use. Just let me know x

  He looked at his watch and cursed under his breath, wishing he’d taken the phone up the ladder with him instead of leaving it inside. A bit of company would have brightened up the day. The second text had been sent nearly an hour later:

  No worries. Guess you’re busy. See you Monday x

  He started to text a reply to explain what had happened, but gave up after three or four attempts. He’d explain when he saw her on Monday. Make a joke of it. Much better that way.

  The missed call was from Abi. He rang the home number and there was no reply so he tried her mobile which she answered immediately, the tinny quality and background traffic suggesting she was on hands-free. He apologised for not answering earlier and asked if it was anything important. There was a pause before she told him it was.

  ‘Actually I’m on my way round to see you,’ she said. ‘About ten minutes away. Is that OK?’

  ‘Of course,’ he told her. ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘Yes . . . no,’ she said. ‘I’ll explain when I get there.’

  The ten minutes were just long enough for him to wash and tidy a few things away while he waited. When she pulled up outside he went out to meet her and gave her a hug. She noticed the ladder propped up against the wall and the scrubbed exterior and joked about how he could make a start on hers when he’d finished. They laughed and swapped silly throwaway comments for the next few minutes, but even if she hadn’t phoned to tip him off in advance he’d still have known something was up. It was one of the things Sally had always loved about her daughter-in-law, even when she was just a teenager – ‘Wears her heart on her sleeve, that one,’ she’d said. ‘Couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it.’

  It turned out Sally was wrong.

  He sat across from Abi and listened while she told him everything – or what he had to assume was everything: where she’d been the night Callum was killed, how she’d left Owen’s an hour or more earlier than she’d claimed, not just to him but to the police as well, all about this friend of hers she’d met for a drink and a heart-to-heart. Someone from work. Someone who only turned out to be male about five minutes into the explanation – no actual name mentioned until he made a point of asking. She was dry-eyed throughout; red-faced, but clearly past the stage where tears solved anything.

  Nothing she had to say about her relationship with Callum came as a great surprise. He might not have been privy to any of the detail but he did know his own son and harboured no illusions about him. It had been one of life’s great mysteries that someone as grounded and self-possessed and downright likeable as Abi should have seen enough in him to want to extend their relationship beyond the teenage years when image is everything. Sally had always thought of them as the perfect couple but he’d never subscribed to that. Callum was only ever governed by the dictates of his own whims and any relationship with him was wholly dependent upon the extent to which others were prepared to let the dazzle outweigh the substance.

  So no, he hadn’t been surprised earlier to learn about Callum’s woman in South Mundham and he had no problem now in believing Abi when she told him that she was just the tip of the iceberg. And, under the circumstances, it was entirely understandable if she felt the need from time to time to let off steam or cry on the shoulder of a friend who might be able to help her find perspective.

  But the fact that it was a male friend did surprise him. And, if he was honest, it did more than that. It bothered him. It shouldn’t have but it did. He didn’t like the thought that Abi was involved in a friendship that needed to fly under the radar. He didn’t like the deceit – knew how much it would have hurt him if he’d ever discovered Sally had been doing the same thing at some point in their marriage. He felt no outrage on the part of his son who deserved nothing better, but there was a level of disappointment that Abi had not been above that sort of thing. She could swear on a stack of bibles that it was all entirely innocent and she might conceivably mean every word she said but even she wouldn’t know for sure. The moment you felt the need to keep any sort of relationship quiet, that always told you something, didn’t it? Whether you knew it or not. Why else the need for secrecy?

  ‘I’m sorry I misled you about that evening,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how it happened. I just sort of drifted into it. Embarrassment as much as anything.’

  Misled. Interesting choice of word. So much more innocent than lied, he thought. But then the tears came. Or tear, to be precise: a solitary pearl gleaming as it tracked its way down her cheek, hovering for a moment before falling from her chin – and he was out of his chair, knees protesting as he squatted down next to her and pulled her head into his chest.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, patting the back of her head while trying to shift as unobtrusively as possible into a kneeling position. ‘We can ring the police now, go in and see them if necessary to straighten it all out. It’s no big deal.’

  He wondered, even as he said it, whether Andy Holloway would agree with him.

  And he also realised that the house wasn’t going to get its first coat that afternoon either.

  11

  NOW: MONDAY, 6TH OCTOBER

  HOLLOWAY

  Owen Hall was upset. And Holloway for one thought it was entirely understandable. The man needed his truck for work and to be
asked to give it up for as long as it took the lab technicians to check it over, with no guarantee as to how long that might actually be, was never going to go down well. They’d gone out of their way to appease him, stressing that this was intended as a supportive measure. If the check for fingerprints produced a match somewhere in the system, they would know at last who this Julie Mowbray really was, which was in everyone’s best interests. If it didn’t, what had they lost? Long shot or not, surely it was worth a go?

  Edmund Mitchell, who had been scribbling notes in his small notebook since the start of the interview, raised a finger and asked if he might establish a point of order here for the record. Holloway asked him to go ahead.

  ‘Is it fair for Owen to assume that this search for fingerprints will be confined to the cab of his pickup truck only?’ he asked.

  Holloway looked at Horgan who raised one eyebrow to express his surprise.

  ‘I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking, Mr Mitchell,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, I suspect you do, Inspector. Owen has been one hundred per cent consistent in his version of what happened and has made it quite clear from the very beginning that the only time this young lady was anywhere near his truck, she was in the front passenger seat. This means there would be no reason for you to waste valuable time examining any other part of the truck for fingerprints that cannot possibly be there.’

  ‘Why would that be a problem?’ he asked.

  ‘It would be a problem because it would be tantamount to what I believe you call a fishing expedition.’

  ‘Mr Mitchell,’ said Horgan, who was clearly not enamoured of this puffed-up little man and would have welcomed nothing more than the chance to put him in his place. ‘I believe you may be misinterpreting your role here as Appropriate Adult. It’s not for you to offer legal advice to Mr Hall.’

  ‘Indeed,’ answered Mitchell with a quiet smile. ‘That would be the responsibility of any legal representation to which Owen is entitled but which you’re more than happy for him to waive for the time being – in the interests of clarity and expediting things, I believe you said. Well, thank you for reminding me of my duties as an Appropriate Adult but I think I have them fairly well established in my own mind. You’ve made it clear that you would rather not simply impound Owen’s truck because you know that would change the basis on which this interview is being conducted. He would have to seek legal advice on it. As it happens, Owen is prepared to co-operate with your request, despite the considerable inconvenience it will cause him in his work, because he has nothing to hide and is as anxious as you to identify this woman. If you want to do anything more than that however – if you’re going to start examining the truck in its entirety – it does rather suggest that you’re not being entirely honest with him and I’m afraid I’d have to take legal advice on it. I’m sure you understand my position here.’