by Mick Bose
“You have the interview room to yourself for five minutes before we enter,” Rockford says.
When we are alone in the interview room, Jeremy leans over to me. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
I tell him word for word, going over what he knows already.
“Who was present when you attacked Joanne?”
“Eva, Suzy and Tim. Then we had an argument, and two teachers heard that as well.”
Jeremy writes this down in his notebook. I ask him, “Have you seen the video?”
“Yes,” he nods, and his eyes clear with a suppressed smile. “Good thinking about gathering evidence. We have the time as well from the video.”
Rockford comes in with Ingram. She gives me a hard, flinty look. I stare back at her, but I know I’m on slippery ground. The last time we met, outside Steve’s burnt art gallery, I lied to her. I’m sure Rockford has updated her by now.
They sit down opposite me and start the tape.
“I understand that you and Joanne Burton-Smyth have a history?” Rockford asks.
Before I can say anything Jeremy interrupts. “I don’t see how that has any bearing with this case.”
“It has every bearing, Mr Mansell. Your wife was involved in a violent altercation with the deceased’s wife just before he was discovered dead. By your wife, I might add.”
“Are you saying there is a connection?” Jeremy says.
Rockford looks annoyed. He points to me. “She’s here to give a statement. If she can’t do it, then it’s best not to waste valuable police time.”
“She is here to describe the incident, not talk about hypothetical issues.”
I want to get out of here as soon as I can, not hear these two argue about nothing. I raise my hand.
“Can I just tell you what happened?” I glance at all of them, and they shut up. Rockford nods.
I tell them what happened from my time at arriving at the hotel, to going into the room. I don’t mention the phone call I got from Clive.
Both of the detectives make notes. Then Rockford folds his arms and fixes me with a gaze.
“It’s all very coincidental, don’t you think?”
“What is?” I ask.
“Let’s start from the beginning. The missing baby. You found her, by yourself, in the park behind your house. No witnesses.”
“I didn’t know Suzy Elliot then. I had nothing to do with her.”
“So you say.” Before I can say anything Rockford continues. “But you did know Steve Ponting. His gallery burnt down, and you said you didn’t know the person who impersonated your husband.”
Both Jeremy and I are quiet. Rockford is on a roll. “Therefore your statement was false. Because apparently, an ex-boyfriend is trying to harass you. It was he who acted as your husband and cancelled your exhibition. Apparently it was also he who stood opposite your house. But when your husband went out there wasn’t anyone there. And now you also claim that this person spiked your husband’s drink when you went to the hotel in Central London.”
Rockford checks his notes. “Kensington Police got back to us. The sample in your husband’s glass was not found as the table had been cleared, unfortunately. However, we did find evidence of cocaine when we arrived at the crime scene eventually. A common recreational drug.” He looked up at us. “Do you or your husband take recreational drugs?”
Jeremy sits forward, his face tight, jaw flexed. “What is the point of all this?”
“The point, Mr Mansell, is that this fictitious person is being blamed for burning down the art gallery, impersonating you and then spiking your drink as well. I am sure he will be blamed for Mr Burton-Smyth’s tragic death as well. But no one has seen him. He doesn’t exist. All we have is your wife’s assertion that it’s him.”
I can’t help but feel shaken. “Are you saying I made all this up?”
“No. But we need proof and evidence.”
“You have her phone,” Jeremy says. “Didn’t you see the texts? And there will be CCTV images if you choose to look in the right places.”
“Anyone could have sent those. And I believe the numbers were different PAYG phones. They can’t be traced.”
I can’t believe this is happening. Are they trying to say all of this is my fault? That I made up Clive Connery to deflect blame from myself?
Jeremy has had enough. In a grating voice he says, “Are you going to charge my client?”
Rockford and Ingram look at each other. Jeremy says, “I have to say, any charge of homicide against my client will be laughed out of court. She called the police on discovering the body. There is no motive and she didn’t have the means to commit the murder.”
The detectives are listening to him. Jeremy says, “If you are not going to charge her, then can I assume we are free to go?”
The question hangs in the air, and I hold my breath. Time seems to stop, coalescing into a solid drop of tension on the table. I could reach out and touch it.
Then Rockford lowers his head and shuffles his feet. “No charge at the moment. But we have a homicide on our hands now, and already the wife has been in touch.”
Inwardly, I groan. Joanne will be on the warpath now, and she will slam down anyone in her way.
“Therefore you will hear from us soon, and we will need you for additional questioning,” Rockford says.
CHAPTER 38
I don’t know what to feel or think when we come out of the station. Jeremy is calling a cab. He finishes the call and we sit down on a bench to wait. I haven’t eaten anything all day but I don’t feel hungry. I look at my watch and its almost two pm. I call Eva once more to ensure she will pick up Molly. She tells me not to worry. I’ll go straight to her house from here.
When I hang up Jeremy turns to me. His eyes are deep-set, hollows under them. There is a haunted look in them.
“Emma, I need you to be completely honest with me on this. Forget about the law. This is you and me, and as your husband, you know I’ll back you all the way.”
My heart skips a beat as I hear his words. He is breathing heavily. “The senior partner at our firm is dead, and both of us knew him personally. I still have to work in that firm, but I don’t know how.”
He clutches his head in his hands and my heart fills with anguish for him. I can now see how far this trail of destruction is going to spread. Then I think of Clive and I tremble with rage. He has calculated this with cold-hearted precision. He is out to destroy everything Jeremy and I have.
Jeremy says, “I need to know. Did you have anything to do with Tim’s murder?”
I feel awful, but I keep my voice firm. “No, Jeremy. I promise you, I had nothing to do with this.” After a pause, I say, “He called after it happened. While I was waiting for you.”
His head jerks up. “Who called?”
“Clive. He said from now it’s going to get worse.”
Jeremy hangs his head once again. “Oh Jesus.”
*****
By the time I get to Eva’s house, it’s almost three pm. I ring the doorbell of her nice, semi-detached house and hear the dog starting to bark. Eva lives on the slopes of Copse Hill, where the larger houses can fetch multimillion price tags.
Eva answers the door, her face bright pink and smiling. The smile fades when she looks at me. I step inside and she hugs me. I’m emotional again but I hold it back.
“Where’s Molly?” I ask.
“Upstairs playing with Lottie.”
I hear little steps running down as we speak. Molly appears on the landing above, her eyes large and shining.
“Mummy!” she squeals. She runs down and jumps into my arms. I hold her so tight I feel she’s going to merge into me. She doesn’t mind and hugs me back tighter.
“Are you OK, Mummy?” she asks.
I smooth her hair back. “Yes, darling, all OK. Shall we go home now?”
Eva is my friend, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome. She won’t hear any of it. “No, stay. Let them play and you come in for a drink.”
>
My protestations are feeble. I could do with a drink. We wander into Eva’s large, open-plan kitchen, the floor made of polished cream Italian gloss tiles and the counters of black granite.
She reaches inside a cabinet that’s actually a door to a chilled wine fridge. She pulls out a bottle of Sauvignon and pours us both a glass.
We don’t speak for a while. In all honesty I’m still getting over the shock. Eva buzzes past me, laying tables for dinner. Then she sits down on one of the bar stools.
“The police aren’t blaming you, are they?”
“Oh yes, they are,” I say bitterly. “They haven’t seen Clive as yet so they think he doesn’t exist. Apparently I’m making all this up. Can you believe it?”
Eva says nothing, shaking her head. I hear a thump from upstairs, heavy enough to jar the glasses on the counter. Then there’s a rush of little feet. Eva and I look at each other, and I put my hand up.
“I’ll go and check,” I say. I go up the stairs, feeling the soft carpet swallow my footsteps. The landing is wide and then the stairs break to go in two directions. The sound came from the left, which is where the bedrooms and studies are, and just above the kitchen below.
The first door on the left is a study and I peer in to find a bookcase toppled over on its face. Before I go in, I decide to check on the girls. I can hear them from Lottie’s bedroom and I knock on the door and go inside. The room is big and full of Lottie’s toys. There’s a kiddies’ bed and a sofa set as well. The girls are on the floor and from their faces I can tell they’ve been up to mischief. They start to giggle as soon as they see me.
“Who made that noise?” I ask in mock sternness.
“We were playing hide-and-seek,” Lottie says.
“Yes and the bookcase fell over when I was hiding behind it.” Molly makes a face.
“You shouldn’t be playing in the study, girls. And, you could’ve got hurt.”
They say sorry and go back to their blocks of Lego on the floor. I debate whether I should go in the study, then realise that as Molly made the mess, I should clear it up.
The study is large enough to be a bedroom but from the dust in it I can tell it’s not used much. There’s a leather top table to one side with a chair. Papers are strewn over the desk with some folders. The free-standing bookcase is on the floor and books have spilled out of it. It’s not too heavy and I can lift it up. I stand it back against the wall and begin to stack the books on it. Most of the books are paperbacks with some family albums as well. As I lift one album up a stack of photos fall out of it.
I grab the photos and open one of the album pages to put them in when my hand stills. I frown and look closer at the photos. I can make out a much younger Eva, wearing a bikini. She’s on a beach, with her arms around a man’s shoulder. Somehow, the man looks familiar.
I look at the next photo and this one is a close-up. Nausea suddenly hurtles up my throat. My eyes dim and I think I’m going to fall. I kneel down and hold my forehead. My vision clears and I blink several times to clear the muzzy feeling in my head. It doesn’t go but I can see again.
The close-up photo is of Eva and Clive. It’s clearly taken on the same beach. Their faces are tanned, smiling, happy. Cheeks pressed against one another. With numb fingers I move to the next one. Both of them again, this time in a kiss. After that, in the water, splashing. Then inside a house, and she’s sitting on his lap. There’s no date on the photos. They fall from my hands, landing on the carpet like grenades.
There’s an unbearable pressure inside me. Bursting to break out like water from a dam, ripping me in two.
The photos show Clive as I remember him ten years ago. When it all happened. All that time, him and Eva…
Through a mist, I sense someone standing at the door. My eyes shake from side to side as I look up. I can’t focus. There’s a ringing in my head, like an alarm gone berserk.
“What are you doing, Emma?” It’s Eva’s voice, and it seems to be coming from a distance. Dislocated, floating, like it doesn’t belong to her body. I rub my eyes and focus. I’m still kneeling on the floor as Eva steps inside. I stand up and stumble backwards. My back hits the cabinet behind me. Eva is coming towards me and I have nowhere to go. Her eyes fall on the photos on the floor. She bends down and picks one of them up. It seems to be happening in slow motion.
She looks up at me. “You weren’t supposed to find these, Em.” Her voice is heavy, dull like it’s drugged, or is it my hearing?
In the back of my mind, synapses are clicking, nerves firing as things fall into place. Eva told me about Suzy’s missing baby. She knew I was heading back to the park to put posters up. She knew about my solo exhibition and what it meant to me.
When I told her about Clive, she encouraged me to contact him. Tim Burton-Smyth…it was Eva who told me to see him.
All this time, it’s been her. I can’t control the sudden shakes that have come over me. I feel cold, and I’m trembling like a bare boughed tree in a winter wind. I turn my wide, pulsatile eyes to her, feeling they will pop.
“You…you did this to me?”
CHAPTER 39
Eva shakes her head, her eyes full of remorse. But she seems puzzled by my question. “Did what to you?”
I stare at her uncomprehendingly. “You and Clive…”
I can’t complete the sentence. Eva shakes her head, her eyes full of shame. She must be one hell of an actor. I’ve never seen this side of her. “It was just a fling,” she says. “It was never meant to last.”
I hear voices, they pierce the confusion in my mind. It’s the children, and they’re coming out of their room. I suddenly see the whole plot. Her plan to keep Molly while Clive went to murder Tim. They must think I’m some sort of fool, playing along with their games.
I brush past her, and she lets me go. “Molly!” I shout. She’s on the hallway, just outside Lottie’s bedroom. I grab her and start to pull her down the stairs.
“Mummy, what are you doing?!” she screams. I’m pulling on her hand so I bend down and take her on my lap. She puts her legs around my waist and I run down the stairs. I can hear Eva running behind me.
“Emma, wait!” Eva shouts.
Wait. Yeah, right. So you can run off with my child. I pick up my handbag and open the door. I took a cab down here. I’m on foot but I can run, and get as far as possible from here. Eva is running down the driveway as I get out on the road.
“Emma!” she shouts again. I’m afraid she’s going to come after me. If she gets into her car I’m done for. A cold fear grips me when I think of Clive. He could be around, and if she calls him…I’m running as hard as I can, down the hill, gasping.
“Mummy, we’re not going to fall, are we?” Molly says.
“No,” I gasp. I keep looking at the road, trying to flag a cab down. There’s none. I can see the bus station up ahead. There are some people waiting and that helps. Surely Eva or Clive won’t try anything here. My legs feel like they’re going to slide loose from my hips. Sweat pours down my face. I put Molly on the ground. She’s strong from her gymnastics and can outrun me any day, bless her. Together we make a dash for the bus station. Both of us are exhausted by the time we reach it.
It’s only then that I notice Molly doesn’t have her schoolbag. We left it at Eva’s house. I feel like kicking myself but there’s not much I can do. I can never go back there. I keep an eye out for her 4x4. Luckily the massive car doesn’t make an appearance. After what seems like the longest wait, finally, the bus approaches. Its only when we are on it, upstairs, with my arm around Molly, that I allow myself to think.
What the hell just happened?
Eva, my best friend from when we were teenagers. Clive and her were sleeping together behind my back? How long for?
The questions come and go, twisting together like loops of spaghetti. I don’t even know if I want the answers. And now, she’s playing me in a dangerous and reckless game. Clive and she are still together. And Simon? I guess cheating on her hus
band is nothing new to Eva. If she could do it to her best friend, she can do it to her husband.
But why is she helping Clive? To take our money and run away, to start a new life? She could take Simon’s money. She probably will, I think, and they’re just greedy. Clive knows he can blackmail me over Molly so they will try to destroy me as well.
I feel like a fool. No wonder Clive was always one step ahead. No wonder he knew about the dinner at the Mandarin Oriental. And where Tim was staying.
I trusted her with everything. Now I’m paying the price.
The bus gets near our stop and we get off.
“What happened at Lottie’s house, Mummy?” Molly asks. I’m holding her hand firmly as we walk back home.
“I’ll tell you later, honey,” I say. I can’t stop Molly playing with Lottie at school. Neither can I stop bumping into Eva at school. But I have to do something, or I will go insane.
We get back inside the house and I disable the alarm. It’s finally quiet, and I guess there are perks of living behind a park. Fewer neighbours mean less noise. I am still a mess, and I think I will be for a while. Before I start making dinner for Molly, I pull out the bottle of gin and drink from it, neat. Then I pour half a glass and mix it with some tonic water.
They can’t keep this up for too long, I think to myself. This is ludicrous. Sooner or later the cops will realise I’ve been speaking the truth. If they start an investigation into the waiter at the hotel, on Tim’s murder, they will know I wasn’t making things up. Instead of treating me like a suspect, they’ll go after him. I can see the problem, however.
For every situation, it’s my word against theirs. I don’t have a single witness. I could have spiked my husband’s drink and then changed my mind. I could have slit Tim’s throat and then called the police. I could have stolen, then given Suzy’s baby back.
I could be the psycho bitch. Not Eva.
How well did I know Eva, really? After all these years? Bitter bile rises in my throat again and I swallow it with some gin.
The faint sound of a key turns in the lock. I’m at the door in a flash. It’s Jeremy, and I heave a sigh of relief.