‘You knew I’d read that book – you knew what the people at school were saying! And never once did you tell us the truth. Everything I know about you is a lie.’
‘That’s not true,’ Karla said, tears spilling down her cheeks. ‘Not everything, Brandon, just that one thing – just the past. The nights we spent taking turns at your bedside when you were sick, the day your dad spent six hours in the rain because you had a new bike and wanted to ride it until it was dark, the times you—’
‘The time I got punched at school because my mum and dad thought they were better than everyone else? The day someone broke into my locker and swapped my lunch for dog food because that’s what my dad used to have for lunch? All the times my bag has been searched at school because I’m a celebrity kid and therefore a junkie?’ Brandon was shouting now, unable to contain years of emotion that Karla had no idea he’d been holding in.
‘Oh, Bran,’ she breathed. ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’
‘So you could do what? Send your thousand-pounds-an-hour lawyer into the school? Or put it in Dad’s next book?’
‘We wouldn’t have . . .’ Karla trailed off, not knowing if Brandon’s teenage struggles would have been turned into another interview, another chapter in a book like the rest of their lives. She turned to Zach. ‘Have you had these problems?’
Zachary shrugged. ‘No, my friends think it’s cool that you go on TV. I just . . .’
‘You just what, baby?’
‘I just wanted a nan, the same as the other kids. Grayson’s nan died, and he was really upset because she used to take him loads of places and buy him ice cream. Then I got upset, and he asked if my nan had died too, and I said no, I’d never had one.’
Marcus let out a breath and looked at Karla. She knew what he was thinking because it was the same as her. Was it all worth it? All the stuff they had, all the fancy holidays, was it all worth this moment? The moment when they realised they’d failed as parents?
She heard the buzz of Marcus’s phone against the countertop and saw the number on the display. Marcus glanced at it and pressed ‘decline’.
‘Is it her?’ Karla mouthed. His mother, back again, just like the night of the party.
Marcus nodded. ‘She’s been turning up at my gigs. I’ve been seeing her sometimes.’
‘What, so you get to see her but we don’t?’ Brandon spat. ‘Fucking brilliant.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Karla said, throwing her hands open. ‘We both are.’
‘Yeah, well, sorry doesn’t change anything, does it? Answer your phone – it’s probably more important.’
Before his parents could speak again, Brandon stormed from the room and up the stairs, slamming his bedroom door shut behind him.
54
With the complete lack of respect it often shows for people’s personal situations, time moved on. The safe, self-contained weekend turned into another Monday morning, and not just any Monday, either. Harvest Festival.
Usually, Karla and Marcus would donate a reasonable sum to the local church at harvest, along with a huge basket of produce. They didn’t go in for grand gestures often, but when it came to harvest Marcus was determined to feed the world. The food was donated to local food banks – to which Marcus donated hundreds of pounds a year anyway – but his reasoning was that big, visible donations via the school created competition, and the winner was the charity.
This year, though, Karla was conflicted. Marcus had barely spoken a word to anyone since the row on Friday night, instead holding crisis talks from morning until night with his agent in his office, and she had no intention of asking him how many tins of food they should donate to the school right now. She had ordered the usual £50 hamper from Waitrose but this morning, packing it into the car while Zachary sat in sullen silence in the back, it seemed a bit vulgar. Had they really ever thought that flaunting their ability to throw money at every situation was a good idea?
The entire drive to the school had been spent in silence – not for the want of trying on Karla’s part.
‘Are you looking forward to Harvest Festival?’
Grunt.
‘Do you know all your lines?’
Silence.
‘Zach, you can’t stay mad at me and your dad for ever.’
‘Why not?’
And then nothing.
When they pulled up outside the school Zach swung open his door and bolted towards the school without looking back at the car.
Karla looked down the street at the other parents walking their normal, chatty children into school. How was she going to get out and just pretend like everything was fine? After Friday night she was certain that all eyes would be on her, waiting to see the famous Karla Kaplan break down at the school harvest performance.
She couldn’t get out of the car. One of them had always been there for their children’s performances, but this time she didn’t think she could do it. It was his last ever harvest performance – he would go to secondary school next year, and Karla would have no more babies to watch – but Zach didn’t even want her there.
Frozen to the spot, Karla’s chest began to tighten. She tried to take a deep breath in but her lungs betrayed her and it came out as a sob. She couldn’t do this. She had to get away from this place, from the stares and whispers, real or imagined. She shoved her foot on the clutch and put the car into gear, when there was a banging on the window. Looking up, she saw Miranda Davenport leaning down to her window, Felicity at her side. Karla took the car out of gear and wound the window down.
‘Get out,’ Miranda instructed.
‘I can’t.’ Karla’s voice was practically a whisper. ‘I can’t do it. I need to go home.’
‘Get out of the car, Karla.’ Miranda pulled open the driver’s door. ‘Now. You’re coming to this performance. Come on.’
Karla undid her seat belt and got out.
‘How can I?’ she said, looking around. ‘What is everyone going to be saying about me, about Marcus? They’re loving this, Miranda, you know that.’
Miranda reached down and took Karla’s key, locked the car with a loud beep and put the keys in her pocket. Reaching down, she took Karla’s hand in hers and Felicity did the same on the other side.
‘We all make mistakes, Karla. You stood by me after mine, so now we’re walking into that church with you. Hold your head high. We’ll get through this, together.’
Karla nodded, tears of gratitude forming in her eyes.
Together they walked towards the church.
55
‘Sir, we’ve got Tristan’s phone records back.’
Harvey’s head snapped up from the CCTV footage report. Allan was jabbing a finger at a piece of paper like it contained the Holy Grail.
‘Well?’
‘Two calls to Mary-Beth King on Sunday the 19th of August. Just seconds in call duration – maybe answerphone, or they literally spoke a couple of words to each other. Then a text message to her number on Monday the 20th. A few hours later, the calls and texts stop completely.’
‘Same as her records then?’ Harvey mused. ‘Anything in the lead-up?’
‘Nothing, sir. If they were having any kind of an affair they weren’t using those phones to carry it on. I’ve checked three months back on both phones. Nothing suspicious at all on either. All her numbers match up to known contacts: Peter, the school, dentist, et cetera. Tristan’s match his parents, friends and work.’
‘They might have had pay-as-you-go phones.’ Harvey had seen it before – a second phone that looked identical to their main phone, to avoid arousing suspicion. Nothing like that had been found in either of the houses, which meant either they didn’t exist or Mary-Beth and Tristan had taken them wherever they had gone.
‘If they had burner phones, why use their own phones on the days before they left? Seems sloppy, considering how careful they had been.’
‘Yeah, I don’t buy it. Until we find proof otherwise, we have to operate under the assumption that these we
re their only phones. Which means they might not have been having an affair, after all. But why the contact on the day they both disappeared?’
‘I hate to say it, I mean I really hate to say it, but I think it has something to do with that podcast.’
56
Miranda eased the door of Charity’s bedroom closed and let out a breath. She’d been convinced that her daughter would take forever to go off to sleep tonight, it was always the way when she was desperate for Charity to go to bed early – as if her daughter knew Mummy had somewhere else she’d rather be than reading three chapters of Matilda .
‘Ready?’ Alex raised his eyebrows as she entered the front room. He’d lit a fire – he knew she loved it when the fire was roaring – and had the laptop on the coffee table ready. He’d even poured her a glass of wine. Good, she was going to need it. Even though she knew her part in the story was over, she was still waiting for something to rip another hole in their existence.
‘Is it there?’ Miranda imagined what the others would be doing now, whether they even knew another podcast had been released. They were no longer a week apart any more, just four days had passed since the voice had exposed Karla and Marcus Kaplan as frauds. Had the others been waiting, as she and Alex had, for the next one to drop into iTunes?
Alex placed a hand on her arm, letting her know he was there for her, whatever the voice on the laptop said next. ‘It’s here.’
‘Karla, there’s another one.’
Karla looked up from her book and uncurled her legs from her husband’s lap. She shifted position so she could see what Marcus was looking at on the laptop balanced on the arm of the sofa.
‘What, another episode?’ She sank back into the sofa. ‘Delete it. I don’t want to hear what that bastard has to say.’
‘We have to listen to it,’ Marcus said with a sigh. ‘We need to know if there are any more accusations against us.’
‘Should I call Felicity? The others?’
Marcus shook his head. ‘I don’t want the kids to know about it, if they don’t already. There are some Bluetooth headphones in the basket next to you, grab them, will you? I want to know what we’re dealing with before the kids round on us again.’
‘It’s me. Can you come round? There’s been another episode.’
Peter groaned. ‘I’ve been with the police all evening, Felicity, do we have to do this tonight?’
‘Yes,’ Felicity’s voice was urgent. ‘Why do you think we’ve got away with it so far, Peter? I’m sure he’s saving us until last. I think this might be about us.’
‘Fine,’ Peter sighed. ‘I’m on my way.’
57
Hello, listeners, and welcome to The Truth About Erica, where we aim to find out what really happened the night Severn Oaks resident Erica Spencer fell to her death at a Halloween Party at the Kaplan Residence on 28th October 2017.
Last time we heard about how Marcus and Karla Kaplan built their brand on a bed of lies. I wonder what kind of week they have been having in Severn Oaks? Enjoying this new level of fame, guys?
Well, this week I promised you a closer look at our other suspects, so here we are. For a long time in Severn Oaks people have had the feeling that something is going on right underneath their noses between Peter King and his next-door neighbour, Felicity Goldman. Felicity, as you may be aware by now, is a beautiful single mother who has managed to develop a business in marketing, specifically brand management. She moved to Severn Oaks two years ago with her three-year-old twins, who I won’t be naming – I don’t believe children should suffer because of the sins of their parents, although so many children do.
Erica herself had suspicions about this pair; her diary charts clandestine meetings in the back garden, an unusual amount of Peter’s energy spent fixing things at the Goldman residence, and secret looks that would pass between the pair. Here’s a couple of extracts – there’s more on the blog.
‘It’s laughable that Peter and Felicity think they can hide their relationship from Mary-Beth for ever. He was at her house again earlier! When he saw me putting the bin out he made some excuse about her toilet seat needing tightening. ***Note to self – mention loose loo seat to FG and see what she says!’
And another . . .
‘Wonder if Peter will get a Father’s Day card from next door this year!!!’
So did she threaten to expose their secret? Did one of them arrange to meet her in the tree house to plead with her not to tell King’s wife about the relationship between the pair?
And how did their relationship begin? Well, for her sins, Erica was nothing if not persistent when she wanted information. And Erica had found a new place to buy her jewellery. From a little studio in a back garden in Shropshire, from a woman who looked almost identical to her neighbour, Felicity Goldman.
The relationship begins with months of sexual tension, building slowly at first and then crashing into a crescendo of furious, passionate sex, made all the more exciting by the thrill of the illicitness of sex with a married man. Then, a mistake. A positive pregnancy test. And nine months later the twins, Felicity and her sister Melissa, are born. Their father, Peter King, has already moved away with his new wife, Mary-Beth, unaware of the lives he has created, and he will remain unaware until twenty-one years later, when his daughter Felicity contacts him out of the blue.
To his credit, Peter King was devastated when he discovered that he had been missing for such a huge chunk of his twin daughter’s lives. Less forgiving than her sister, Melissa decides she will have nothing to do with him, but Felicity is thrilled to have a father at last and Peter throws himself into the role, even securing the house next door for his daughter to bring up his granddaughters close to him. He invests in her business, which turns out to be a shrewd move, and spends an inordinate amount of time with his grandchildren. There is one little snag. He can’t be sure that, even after all this time, his wife will forgive the mistake he made twenty-plus years ago. So he lies to her, time and time again, until, one night, at a Halloween Party, Peter’s secret is about to be exposed. Not only that, but Erica knows all about Felicity’s life before Severn Oaks, and the controversy surrounding her children’s father. Did Peter King kill to protect his secret? Or Felicity hers?
Last week we heard about the heels that Erica was wearing when her body was found at the bottom of the tree house. Peter King wasn’t wearing heels that night, but his wife and his daughter were. As was your hostess.
So many guilty faces walk the streets of Severn Oaks, the place where your dreams come true and your family is safe. But is one of those faces a murderer? And if so, which one?
Next week, murder inside the gates: The Confession.
58
‘Well,’ Karla looked at Marcus as the episode came to a close, ‘I wasn’t expecting that. Explains a fair bit, though.’
‘You’re telling me you didn’t know? All those times you were getting your nails done, or whatever you women do, she never told you anything?’ Marcus slid the laptop onto the table. ‘Want a drink?’
‘No, thanks. Honestly, she’s never said a word. I’m desperate to know who the twins’ dad is, though. What do you reckon, a politician?’
‘Ask her. You’re her best friend, she’ll tell you.’
‘She won’t. I’ve dropped so many hints, if she was going to tell me she’d have done it by now. Do you think I should call her? Or is that going to look like I’m being nosy?’
‘Which you are.’
‘Am not! I’m worried.’
Marcus raised his eyebrows and Karla raised her hands.
‘Okay, and curious. I’ll just text her.’ She tapped out a text to Felicity and held it up for Marcus to see.
U okay, hun?
‘There – not nosy. Just concerned.’
Marcus grinned. ‘“You okay, hun?” is basically code for “tell me everything”, but okay.’
Karla stuck her tongue out and snatched up her phone as it beeped a reply.
Was g
oing to happen sooner or later. Free tomorrow for chat?
‘Looks like she’s ready to spill the beans,’ Marcus observed, reading the text over Karla’s shoulder. ‘If none of us have been arrested by then.’
59
‘Thanks for coming down. You probably know why I’ve called you.’
‘The podcast last night,’ Peter said.
‘Well, yes, obviously I’ve got to ask you about that – although you did tell us about your affair you didn’t mention that your next-door neighbour was your daughter.’
‘Mary-Beth didn’t know about that. There didn’t seem to be any need to tell you.’
‘And if she’d found out? She might have been mad enough to leave.’
‘Me, yes, but not the kids. What happened last night changes nothing. Mary-Beth wouldn’t leave without contacting the children. I thought we’d dismissed the runaway idea.’
‘We have. Tell me, what was Felicity Goldman’s relationship with Mary-Beth like?’
Peter shrugged. ‘They were neighbours. Friends, I suppose. Our kids went to the same school, different years, but it’s such a small school that they still played together.’
‘Did Felicity ever put pressure on you to tell Mary-Beth about her?’
‘Yeah, sometimes. Although – sorry, where is this going? I hope you’re not about to suggest that Felicity—’
‘Your daughter.’
‘Yes, although it feels weird to hear someone say that out loud. It’s been a secret for so long that I never thought I’d be able to tell anyone.’
‘But now you can.’
‘Yes, no, we can.’
‘Because your wife is gone and this podcaster made sure that everyone knew your secret.’
‘I suppose you could say that. Although we were going to tell Mary-Beth, then Erica died and she was so upset. It was just the wrong time.’
‘Ah,’ DC Allan said, closing the folder in front of him. ‘It very often is the wrong time to tell someone you’ve lied to them, cheated on them. Not that it would matter if Mary-Beth didn’t come back. Maybe, with her gone, Felicity could have her dad all to herself?’
Someone Is Lying Page 19