He offered Tom a seat on a floral-print sofa, the Masters sitting down opposite him. Tom looked between them, feeling the need to speak to Leigh alone but realising he'd need to engineer a way for that to happen. Rod Masters looked to be settling in for the duration.
"You were a bridesmaid at the Felgates’ wedding, weren't you?" Tom asked. Leigh nodded, forcing a smile but it only served to make her appear nervous. "So, you say you go back a long way with the couple?"
"Yes, many years," Rod said. Tom had directed the question at Leigh, but he didn't seem to notice, choosing to answer. "We used to spend a lot of time together. Two couples, getting along." Rod's face split into a broad smile and he shot a quick glance sideways at his wife. "Not so much these days. Not since their split. Isn't that right, love?"
Leigh nodded, smiling weakly.
"I don't really know how much help we can be to you, Inspector," Leigh said, looking between Tom and her husband, all the while one hand fiddling absently with the pendant hanging from her necklace. "I mean, we hadn't really mixed with Gavin for a long time."
"That's right. A long time," Rod said quietly.
"I see." Tom took out his notebook and flipped through a couple of pages. "But you remain close with Jane?" He looked at Leigh directly, ensuring they both realised the question was meant for her to answer. That didn't stop Rod.
"You saw her from time to time, didn't you, love? We still live in the same town."
"I was hoping to speak to your wife, Mr Masters. If you don't mind?" The tone was such that Rod knew he'd been slapped down, politely. Tom fixed his eye on her. "Mrs Masters?"
She bit her lower lip, nodding. "We kept in touch, yes."
"And Gavin?"
Rod flinched, making ready to answer but thought better of it as Tom stared at him.
"N–No… I've not really seen much of Gavin for a long time."
"Right, that's what your husband just said." Tom looked at Rod. "I've been on the go all day. Would it be terribly inconvenient to trouble you for a cup of tea, Mr Masters?"
Rod's brow furrowed and he exchanged a look with his wife.
"I–I guess not, no." His gaze narrowed momentarily and his lips moved without uttering a sound.
"White, no sugar for me, please," Tom said, smiling and glancing at the door. It was clear what he wanted. Rod Masters wasn't keen but he rose and slowly made his way out of the room. He didn't close the door but Tom followed, listening to ensure he'd actually left, hearing his footfalls on the wooden floor making his way into the kitchen. Tom gently closed the door and returned to the sofa. Leigh was watching him, wide-eyed.
"You were saying… about the last time you saw Gavin Felgate?"
She shook her head. "I–It's been ages."
"Right," Tom said. "But here's the thing," he leafed through his notes, "we have multiple text messages exchanged between Gavin and an unknown person over a prolonged period, and it's quite clear that the person in question was in a relationship with Gavin Felgate."
Leigh shook her head, her lips pursed, before nervously glancing at the closed door.
"Any idea who that person might be?"
Again, she shook her head.
"And then there's Gavin's diary," Tom said, holding her gaze, "where he has pencilled in regular meetings with an unnamed individual, the same times each week. Now we've checked with his boss, asked around his work colleagues… neighbours… and we're stumped."
She averted her eyes from his.
"Although one particular neighbour was very helpful. A stereotypical nosy parker," Tom said softly. Her eyes darted up to meet his and away again. "He describes one particular frequent visitor to Gavin's home – a woman – and I dare say he could pick her out if needed."
"I–I don't understand why—"
"Because it's you, Mrs Masters."
She scoffed, attempting to appear dismissive but failing and looking flustered.
"Gavin mentioned you by name in one of the texts," Tom said, glancing at the closed door. "And I think I can see why you made use of an unregistered mobile. You were both very careful, but just that one little lapse, that one moment of carelessness by Gavin and here I am."
Leigh closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as the colour drained from her face.
"I'm not here to cause trouble for you, Mrs Masters, nor am I passing judgement. It isn't my place, but I need you to be straight with me."
The door opened and moments later, Rod Masters backed into the room carrying a tray bearing three mugs. He'd made the brew quickly. Tom guessed the tea would look like dishwater. He swiftly got up and crossed the distance between them. As Rod turned, Tom lifted two mugs from the tray, nodded his thanks and blocked the man's path into the room.
"I need to speak to both you and your wife separately if you don't mind? It's for the best, professionally speaking."
Rod hesitated, shooting a look at his wife who didn't return it. She had her hands clasped together in her lap, perched as she was on the edge of the sofa staring straight ahead.
"Well, I might have something to say about that."
"And I'll be delighted to listen, Mr Masters. Once I'm done speaking to your wife. If you'd care to wait in another room."
Tom gestured to the door with an open hand leaving the man in no doubt that it wasn't a request. Grumbling, Rod Masters retreated but not before holding a lingering gaze over his wife. She didn't look at him once. Tom placed both mugs down on the coffee table between them as the door's latch clicked upon the husband's departure. Leigh didn't register its presence. He sat down again, watching her expectantly, but allowing her a moment to gather herself. She closed her eyes and took another deep breath before opening them and meeting Tom's eye.
"Gavin was an intriguing man," she said, pensively. "I always thought so. Difficult, certainly," she tilted her head to one side, "but he could be witty and charming… and his knowledge about the world was a joy to engage with. Time with Gavin was altogether very different to my average day." She pursed her lips.
"And when did your relationship begin?"
Leigh sighed, wringing her hands and looking to the ceiling, her eyes watering. "A year ago, perhaps? I'm not sure. We bumped into one another… hadn't seen him for ages." She smiled nervously. "And it was great to see him, to catch up. He looked different somehow, vibrant! He hadn't been like that in years. We went for a coffee a–and we got chatting." She looked away from him, fearful of his judgement maybe. "And it… it just went from there really."
"And you used to meet him regularly?"
She nodded. "Yes, at his place in Heacham."
"I'm not particularly interested in your personal life, Mrs Masters. You're a grown adult but I need to know if you were with him on the night he died?"
She swallowed hard. Her throat must be dry. She nodded again. "Rod was working. He's a rep for a pharmaceuticals company and he had a deadline for something or other," her tone was dismissive, as if his work was a source of friction in their marriage, "and I knew he'd be back late." Leigh took a deep breath, lifting herself upright and adjusting the way her long skirt sat over her legs. She was on edge. "We didn't often get to spend an evening together – Gavin and me – and so it was nice to… to be like a normal couple for once," she said, lowering her voice.
"What did you do that night?"
She thought about it. "Nothing special. We watched a film, streamed it online. We ordered a takeaway – an Indian – from the local place. It was a normal sort of evening but it was nice. He was pleasant company."
"And how did he seem, Gavin?"
She raised her eyebrows, open mouthed, answering as she briskly exhaled. "Normal." She smiled, shaking her head. "He was upbeat, funny. He had me in stitches at some points."
"But you weren't intending to stay over?"
"No, not at all," she said, firmly shaking her head. "That was never on the cards, unless Rod was away we could never do that. I think I only stayed over once or twice and not recently. I left
around nine, I think." She lowered her head. "Rod was due home by ten and… I needed to shower first."
"How did you get there?" She looked at him, confused. "Did you drive, take a taxi?"
"I drove."
"Did Gavin drive? There is a car at his home registered in his name."
"Yes, of course he did. A big blue thing," her brow creased in thought, "Japanese, I think. Sorry, cars aren't my thing."
"And what were his plans for after you left that night?"
"I don't understand," she said, her eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"
"Did he say what his plans were, whether he was going out anywhere or meeting someone perhaps?"
"No. I didn't think he had any plans. Why?"
"Because he ordered a taxi to collect him from his home shortly after you left his place. Why might he do that do you think? Had he been drinking?"
"Dear Lord, no!" she said shaking her head. "Gavin didn't drink."
Tom was surprised by the ferocity with which she delivered the comment. Leigh noticed.
"I know he used to be a drinker, Inspector. Heaven knows I listened to Jane lamenting his drinking habits often enough. They used to argue furiously about it… but…" she stammered and Tom encouraged her to continue. "Gavin had put a great deal of effort into… into his problems." She nodded briskly. "And he was winning, making real progress. He knew he had addiction issues and was getting help."
"Professional help?"
"He attended AA regularly, had a support network and a sponsor," she said, eager to praise her lover. "He'd been on the programme long before the two of us were together. I remember he was struggling with the whole religious side of things, though."
"Is Alcoholics Anonymous religious?" Tom asked.
"Well, no… but Gavin used to speak of it like he was part of some type of spiritual club. Attendees had to accept their lives had become unmanageable and needed to look to a higher power, be that God or whatever supreme power they believed in, and hand their lives over to it. As a committed atheist, I think he struggled with that aspect."
"But he was successful in the programme?"
"I think so, yes," she nodded, smiling. "I know he wasn't keen on Step Five but he didn't elaborate on why and, in any event, he hadn't got there yet."
“What is Step Five?”
"Confessions. Of your sins," she looked up at the ceiling, rocking slowly in her seat, "to someone else rather than just to yourself which is Step Four.”
"I see. What about his work, did he ever discuss what he was working on with you?"
She shook her head. "He said he gave enough of his head space over to work as it was and we didn't see each other much – our time together being precious – and so while he was with me, he'd stay out of the office." She looked apologetic. "I'm so sorry. I'm not much help, am I?"
"And your husband?"
"Please! It would devastate him to find out like this."
Tom frowned. "I'm sorry, but I'm not a priest, Mrs Masters."
"But he is a lovely man," she said, reaching out with a hand as if she could touch Tom, somehow implore him to keep the secret. "And he has nothing to do with this! He wouldn't harm anyone. He's a gentle giant, and he arrived home early – at a quarter to ten – and was with me for the rest of the night. He knows nothing of all this. Please, I beg y—"
The door to the room opened and Rod Masters strode in, stopping before them with hands on hips, looking flustered. Leigh visibly retreated into herself under her husband's fierce gaze. Tom wasn't sure if he could have heard the tail end of their conversation or not. His body language implied it was possible.
"I think you've had more than enough time alone with my wife, Inspector." He was red-faced and agitated. "You've turned up here unannounced, turfed me out of my living room and deliberately kept me in the dark in my own home… my own marriage, no less! Now, what's this all about? I demand to know."
Tom looked at Leigh and she appeared to be on the verge of panic, ashen faced. He looked up at Rod Masters, rising purposefully from his seat.
"I think that's enough for now, Mrs Masters," he said, smiling at Leigh. "But if I need to speak with you again then I'll be in touch. Is that okay?"
She looked up, nodding and forcing another artificial smile. Tom turned to her husband, who was still bristling. "Perhaps you can see me out, Mr Masters?"
Rod Masters wore an expression like thunder while escorting Tom to the front door. He opened it forcefully and stepped aside, glaring at Tom as he passed by. Tom stopped on the porch, looking back at him.
"Thank you for your time, Mr Masters." He fixed him with a stern look. "Take a deep breath after I've gone, won't you?"
Masters said nothing and Tom walked to his car. He heard steady footfalls on the gravel behind him and turned, partially minded to adopt a defensive stance but it wasn't necessary. Rod Masters' anger had already dissipated, his expression now looked strained, almost pitiful. Tom realised. The bravado and indignation were all for show. Rod Masters' lower lip trembled as he tried to form the right words.
"Y–You know, don't you?" he all but whispered, his lips remaining slightly parted.
Tom inclined his head, toying with the key fob in his hands. "What's that?"
Masters met his eye. "About Leigh… and Gavin." Tom didn't speak, pursing his lips. "For crying out loud, man," Rod said, looking skyward, choking back the emotion. "Don't make me say it."
Tom nodded, catching sight of Leigh standing in the bay window watching them, arms folded across her chest. "How long have you known?"
Rod scoffed at the question, hanging his head and drawing a deep breath. He looked at Tom with a haunted expression. "Are you married, Inspector Janssen?"
Tom didn't answer.
"Well," he looked over his shoulder at his wife, his sixth sense seemingly telling him she was there, "if you ever do get married, and stay married as long as we have, then you'll understand how you get to know someone inside and out. Sometimes, you know them better than they know themselves… and they, you." He sniffed hard, biting his lower lip. "And you'll know… you'll know when something's changed. You might not know what at first, but you will know because you can feel it," he raised a closed fist to the centre of his chest, tapping it firmly, "in here. I love my wife, Inspector." He glanced at the window, Tom following his gaze but Leigh was no longer visible. "You see, I know how the mind works… when you feel trapped, stuck in a rut." He looked around. "We have our nice house, a comfortable life. Leigh has her admin job at the local primary school and I have had a pretty successful career… but it is exactly that – comfortable. It’s not exciting and doesn’t light the fires of passion anymore. It’s normal. So, I can see why her head was turned. Everyone wants to feel wanted, special… and I'll forgive her almost anything."
"And what about Gavin Felgate? Could you forgive him?"
Rod Masters held Tom's eye for a moment longer before turning on his heel and striding back into the house. The door slammed and Tom took one more look at the bay window, still empty, before walking to the car. Leigh Masters described her husband as a gentle giant and crucially, also provided him with an alibi. However, an alibi from a spouse, particularly one having a long-term affair with a mutual friend was worth very little in a murder case. There was an edge to Rhodri Masters that Tom didn't care for. Not at all.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The access road to the rear of the seafront houses ran parallel to the promenade, albeit at sea level blocking a view of the sea. To Eric's right was a large car park that tourists would use a short walk from the beach. Right now, it was empty as were the extensive caravan parks beyond. They looked sad to Eric without families milling around. He spotted the liveried police car outside one of the newer buildings. Each plot was fairly extensive with access for multiple cars. Several had outbuildings or storerooms beneath the living space for garaging or storage of water-sports equipment and anything else that was only of use when at the coast. It saved people from
having to cart things back and forth, although Eric knew it wouldn't be desirable to leave much of value here in the off season.
Many of the houses had stood in the same place since Eric was a child. His parents once owned a caravan nearby and they'd spent many weeks over the school holidays there over the years. Looking back, it seemed odd to him, his parents owning a caravan on the Norfolk coast when they only lived a short drive away from the beach the rest of the year, but at the time he'd loved the trip away and it seemed somehow exotic to be going to stay by the sea for a while. His father had never been one for foreign travel – the definition of which, Eric concluded, also encompassed much of the United Kingdom as well. His father was one to describe himself as proper Norfolk.
Eric passed through the open gate, parking the car between a chain-link fence and a double garage. He cast an eye over the house, raised on stilts and clad in silver-grey fibre cement weather boarding, increasingly popular due to its resistance to the rotting capabilities of the sea air and spray. Walking to the stairs he noticed the windows were aluminium and contemporary light fittings adorned the exterior walls. As he climbed the stairs running to the right-hand side of the property, he was greeted with a broad smile by PC Kerry Palmer, appearing from within, having heard his presence on the creaking stairs. The two of them had joined the police in the same intake and had remained friends ever since.
"I heard you were back at work this week, DC Collet."
"PC Palmer," Eric said, smiling. "No need for you to go to the trouble of producing a dead body just to say hello."
"Perish the thought," she said, stepping to the side and allowing Eric to pass through. "How are you?"
He recognised the concern in her tone, more so than just looking out for a colleague. He felt guilty then. She'd contacted him several times while he was convalescing after his stabbing but he'd never returned her calls. If he was honest, Becca didn't like him having female friends. Not that she'd ever said so, but he felt it was an unspoken view she held. He stopped at the threshold, looking back and smiling.
A Dark Sin: Hidden Norfolk - Book 8 Page 16