The Adulterer's Wife

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by Leigh Russell


  ‘I hope you don’t mind my asking, but have you seen anyone hanging around outside my house recently?’

  She gave me a puzzled smile. ‘No. Should I have done?’

  ‘It’s just that- ’ I hesitated. This was a difficult subject to broach, but she gave me an encouraging smile, so I pressed on. ‘You know my husband was murdered recently?’

  My neighbour nodded solemnly. ‘I was so sorry to hear that. I never met him, but I’m really sorry for your loss.’

  ‘Thank you. The thing is, he was murdered, and I just wondered if you’d seen anyone hanging around outside on the night he was killed?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, I’m sorry. Only you and your friend.’

  ‘My friend?’

  ‘Yes. The woman who went into your house with you that night.’

  ‘That night?’

  ‘Yes. On the night your husband was killed.’

  I wanted to question her more, but it was nearly six o’clock, so I thanked her and turned away. But as soon as I was inside, I called Ackerman and told him what my neighbour had said. If she was right, two glasses had been spiked with Rohypnol that night, but there had been three people in the house.

  The following afternoon, at five, Ackerman rang my bell. I was ready. Together we crossed the road and marched up my neighbour’s path, aware that this visit could be crucial for my future.

  My neighbour smiled uncertainly when she saw us on her doorstep. ‘Yes? Can I help you?’

  ‘We wondered if you would be willing to answer a few questions?’ Ackerman said. ‘It would be very helpful.’

  I was surprised to hear him speaking so gently and persuasively. He had never adopted that tone with me.

  ‘I’d be really grateful,’ I added.

  ‘Of course,’ she smiled at my companion. ‘Come on in.’

  We followed her into a living room that was of similar proportions to mine, but very differently furnished. Where my house was smart and contemporary, hers was quirky and full of interesting artefacts that looked as though they had been gathered while travelling: wooden carvings, small stone statues, highly decorated classical urns and other memorabilia. I regretted not having made her acquaintance properly. She appeared to be an interesting woman, and I could certainly have done with more local friends. That was one reason why I had found myself a part-time job close to home. But I hadn’t been there long enough to have got further than recognising a few faces.

  ‘This is lovely,’ I said, with genuine enthusiasm.

  She smiled, accepting the compliment graciously. ‘Thank you. I think so. Now, you wanted to ask me something?’

  ‘Julie’s husband was murdered,’ Ackerman said.

  ‘Yes, I was sorry to hear that. And I heard that the police tried to blame you for what happened to him, when it was someone else all along?’

  I nodded. Her sympathy made me feel like crying.

  ‘So what did happen to him?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘He was smothered with a pillow while he was in bed,’ Ackerman told her

  . ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘I didn’t do it,’ I burst out. ‘I would never have harmed him.’

  ‘The police are still working on it,’ Ackerman said. ‘But while the investigation is ongoing, we’re trying to see what we can do to establish what actually happened the night he was killed.’

  ‘And you’re looking for a witness who saw Julie coming home that night?’ She nodded. ‘Okay, I’m happy to go over what I saw. But first, let me fix you a drink. What can I get you? I’ve got a selection of herbal teas: camomile, peppermint, or jasmine, or I can make a pot of fresh mint tea. Or if you’d prefer something stronger, we could crack open a bottle of wine?’

  ‘A glass of water is fine for me,’ Ackerman said promptly.

  I hesitated. My neighbour turned to me with a smile.

  ‘I’ll have whatever you’re having,’ I told her.

  She left us, and I hoped she would return with two glasses of wine. But she came back after a few moments with a tray holding Ackerman’s glass of water and a pot of tea with green leaves floating in it.

  ‘I hope this is all right,’ she said.

  ‘That looks lovely,’ I lied.

  She poured the mint tea and I blew on my steaming cup. It was a long time since anyone had shown me such unprompted kindness. Blinking back tears of gratitude, I took a sip.

  ‘Now,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell you everything I saw. What I can remember, that is.’ She gave an apologetic smile.

  ‘Thank you, thank you,’ I mumbled, and she smiled at me again.

  ‘So it was about eleven, maybe half past. I can’t be sure of the exact time, but I was going to bed. I heard a bit of a commotion in the street and glanced out of the window. A taxi had drawn up outside your house. A woman must have got out onto the pavement because I saw her walk around the vehicle and open the passenger door on the road-side. It looked as though she was struggling to drag someone else out, and then you fell onto the road and she grabbed you by the arm and pulled you to your feet. Together you staggered around the taxi onto the pavement. I couldn’t see you for a few seconds but then the taxi drove off and I saw you both walking towards your front door. Except you weren’t walking, exactly. One of your arms was around her neck, and she was holding it there with one hand and her other arm was wrapped around your waist, and she half carried you along the path to your front door.’

  She paused and took a gulp of her tea. ‘Is it all right?’

  ‘Yes, it’s lovely, thank you.’

  I drank some tea and actually it was quite pleasant.

  Ackerman leaned forward and thanked her. ‘Was there anything else?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, that was about it. I wouldn’t have seen anything if I hadn’t happened to be going to bed and went to look out of my window because I heard voices outside.’

  ‘Did you hear what they were saying?’

  ‘No. I just remember hearing hysterical laughter, and a woman’s voice urging you to ‘Come on,’ before she hauled you out of the taxi.’

  Ackerman nodded, but I was impatient to know more.

  ‘What did she look like?’ I asked.

  ‘I couldn’t see. It was dark outside, and the only time she would have been clearly lit up by a street lamp, the taxi was blocking my view of her. After that you were draped across her shoulders, so I couldn’t see the back of her head.’

  ‘What about when we got to the house? You said I collapsed in a heap on the doorstep.’

  She shook her head. ‘Whoever she was, she was leaning over, rummaging in your bag for the key. Then, when she found it, she was bent down over the keyhole. Once the door was open, she grabbed you and dragged you inside, which meant you were shielding her again. There were no lights on inside the house until after she shut the door. Then I went to bed. And that’s as much as I can say.’

  ‘You must have seen something of her. The colour of her hair? Her shoes? Was she short, tall, thin?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m really sorry. It was impossible to see anything in detail. It all happened so quickly, and I wasn’t really paying that much attention. If you hadn’t gone into your house, I wouldn’t have known it was you, because I couldn’t see you that well either.’

  ‘But you’re sure it was a woman who was helping me out of the car, and not a man? So you must be able to tell us something about her,’ I insisted.

  She nodded. ‘I can’t tell you how I know it was a woman.’ She paused, as if struggling to recall what she had seen. ‘No, I’m sorry. I think I assumed you were with a woman because of her voice when she was helping you out of the car.’

  ‘Was she wearing trousers?’ Ackerman asked.

  ‘I don’t know. I can’t remember.’

  ‘Is there anything else you can tell us? Anything at all?’

  ‘She looked about the same height as you, although I didn’t see her standing up straight.’

  ‘What
about her voice?’ I asked. ‘Can you tell us anything about that?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, but I’ve told you everything I can remember.’

  By now it was ten to six and I had to leave.

  Thanking my neighbour again, we stood up. With assurances that her observations had been very helpful, we said goodbye. At least we now knew that I hadn’t returned home alone. But while it was heartening to hear an honest statement in a world of shifting truths, it was depressing to realise that a stranger was the only person I could trust.

  41

  The following morning, I took the tube to London to speak to Paul’s former colleagues. Uncertain what I was hoping to learn, or even why I was really going there, my curiosity about my husband’s affairs drove me on. Even though I already knew where he had been on the evenings when he was home late, part of me was still hoping to discover that Bella had been the only other woman in my husband's life. The number of women he had been sleeping with didn't alter the fact that he had been unfaithful to me, yet somehow one mistress seemed preferable to three. It would mean he hadn't lied to me quite so often.

  Paul had worked for a large corporation based in an impressive office block not far from Euston station. On my arrival, a smartly dressed receptionist smiled an impersonal welcome and enquired whether I had an appointment.

  ‘I’m Paul Barrett’s widow. I’d like to speak to the senior partner here.’

  I had nearly called myself his wife.

  ‘But do you have an appointment? I’m afraid Mr Edwards’ diary is full for the rest of this week,’ she added without even glancing down at her screen.

  ‘Please tell him I’m here. Tell him I’m Paul Barrett’s widow. Please, just tell him.’

  Raising one pencilled eyebrow, she asked me to wait. Then she picked up her phone and I heard her telling someone that a Mrs. Barrett was asking to see Mr Edwards. Listening to her, I regretted having travelled all the way into London. I didn't know what I was doing there and was tempted to turn and scurry out of the building. I had been reduced to begging to see Paul’s boss, but what for? Apart from the fact that it was a humiliating waste of time, I didn't know what I was hoping to discover. But before I had a chance to slink away, the girl put her phone down and nodded at me.

  ‘You can go up,’ she said brightly, as though she hadn’t just told me her boss was too busy to see me. ‘Take the lift to the fifth floor.’

  Mr Edwards’ personal assistant was waiting for me as the lift door opened. She was young and slim, with masses of dark hair. It was possible she was the dark-haired woman Katie’s husband had seen Paul with. She led me straight to her boss’s office, a spacious room with large windows overlooking the busy main road. Far below us, traffic drove by with a barely audible hum.

  ‘Mrs. Barrett,’ a small man seated behind a very large desk greeted me. He stood up and extended his hand to shake mine. ‘Our condolences once again. It was a terrible shock. We’re all still trying to come to terms with what happened. Have you come to tell us about the funeral arrangements? There are definitely a number of my colleagues who would like to attend- with your approval, of course,’ he added, seeing my expression.

  It was an understandable enquiry, since more than a month had passed since Paul’s death.

  ‘I’m afraid the police haven’t finished looking into things yet,’ I replied.

  I wasn’t sure which of us was more embarrassed. He gave a delicate cough to cover the silence.

  ‘Of course,’ he said, as though it was normal for the police to be conducting such a lengthy investigation into the circumstances of a death. ‘I understand. There are sometimes certain things that need checking.’

  ‘My husband was murdered.’

  ‘So, please, how can I help you?’ he asked, sitting down and speaking slightly more briskly.

  I dismissed a temptation to ask him for money, but his next question indicated that the thought had crossed his mind as well.

  ‘Paul’s death in service pension has gone through? There shouldn’t be any problem with that.’

  I nodded. No doubt the money was being paid into my account where it would accrue nicely until such time as I could touch it. Mr Edwards had no idea that I was under suspicion, with all my accounts frozen. Without thinking, I tucked my tagged ankle behind my other one, to reassure myself that the grey bracelet was concealed under my trousers. Mr Edwards cleared his throat and offered me a cup of tea. Tapping a phone, he summoned another young woman.

  Stammering that it was later than I thought, I jumped up saying I had to leave. Promising that I would let Mr Edwards know the details of the funeral, I left, having learned only that Paul had worked surrounded by attractive young women. He had scarcely needed to go out clubbing to meet more. But of course, his liaisons had been furtive which only made his conduct seem even more shameful. I wondered if he had been hiding his affairs from his work colleagues, or from me, or perhaps both. He might have been conducting an affair with one of his work colleagues as well as with Bella, and Amelie, and possibly Nina, and goodness knows who else.

  The next afternoon Ackerman and I went to see Nina. Her car wasn’t in the drive and there was no answer when we rang the bell. We waited. Several hours passed while we sat in the car without speaking. By five o’clock I was growing anxious. I didn’t have much time. At last Nina’s car drew up outside her house. She didn’t notice us climbing out of Ackerman’s car and follow her up her front path to her door. I felt like a criminal stalking my victim, but it seemed I had no other choice. As she reached her front door, she spun round and glared at me.

  ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ she demanded. ‘I thought I made my feelings clear. And who the hell’s this?’ She turned to Ackerman. ‘You can bugger off as well. Get away from me!’

  Ignoring her outburst, I introduced Ackerman as my friend. He immediately stepped forward and began smooth talking my irate friend.

  ‘If you would be kind enough to give us one moment of your time,’ he said, ‘we won’t keep you long. You must understand that we are trying to avoid a miscarriage of justice. I believe your friend here is innocent-’

  ‘So am I!’

  ‘I’ve no doubt you are, and no one is suggesting otherwise. But surely you appreciate that Julie is under suspicion-’

  ‘Suspicion? She downright accused me of sleeping with her husband behind her back! How’s that for suspicion?’

  As before, Nina’s outrage seemed genuine.

  ‘The police are accusing her of murder,’ Ackerman reminded her quietly. ‘It’s not quite the same.’

  Nina’s black eyes gleamed angrily. ‘Someone must have done it, and it certainly wasn’t me. No one has even suggested I was involved. Listen, Ackman, or whatever your name is, this whole thing has got nothing to do with me. I was a friend of Julie’s, that’s all. We’re no longer friends. Now please leave.’

  Ackerman nodded. ‘Hopefully you’ll be friends again, once this has all blown over.’

  ‘Listen, I was a good friend to her, until she spread lies about me.’

  ‘I didn’t spread any lies about you,’ I burst out. ‘I asked you to your face whether what I’d heard was true. I never mentioned it to another living soul.’

  ‘What about your friend here?’

  Ackerman shook his head. ‘I know nothing about your conduct, and I’m not interested in your private life, nor have I levelled any accusation against you. Now, may we please come in for a moment and talk about this?’

  Nina hesitated, then glared at me. ‘You can say whatever it is you have to say right here. You’re not coming into my house.’

  Ackerman sighed. ‘Very well. I would like to ask you one question, if I may.’

  ‘Go on then, ask. But I might not answer.’

  He inclined his head. ‘That’s your prerogative.’

  ‘Thank you very much,’ she snapped.

  I was growing edgy. It was past five and I had to be home in less than an hour.r />
  ‘Were you with Julie at any time on the night of her husband’s murder?’

  ‘She knows perfectly well I was. We went out, all three of us, Julie, me, and Katie, and we had dinner together. She could have told you that.’

  ‘And Julie had a few drinks? From what I’ve heard, that wouldn’t be unusual,’ he added, with a smile of complicity at Nina. ‘Our witness says she was staggering about in the street, obviously drunk.’

  ‘Hang on a minute-’ I began, but he silenced me with a warning frown.

  Meanwhile, Nina’s demeanor towards him had changed. She smiled, staring at him as though I wasn’t there. Seeing what he was doing, I kept quiet.

  ‘It’s not unusual for people to become violent when they’re drunk,’ he added then muttered something else that I couldn’t hear, and she laughed. ‘So, then you took a taxi home?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And you took your friend Katie home first?’

  ‘No,’ Nina said. ‘They dropped me off first.’

  Ackerman leaned forward slightly. ‘They dropped you off first? You’re quite sure about that?’

  ‘Yes, that’s what I said. We’d gone to a Chinese restaurant in Eastcote not far from here, and I live the closest. You can check with the taxi driver if you don’t believe me. I’ve got a record of the cab booking on my phone, with the time of the pickup, the registration number of the vehicle, and I can even send you the name of the driver and his photograph, because the cab firm always send that information and I haven’t deleted the text. At least, I don’t think I have. And even if I can’t find it, the taxi firm will have a record of the booking and the time of the pickup. Why are you so interested in the taxi journey anyway?’

  ‘A woman was seen entering Julie’s house with her on the night her husband was killed.’

  She snorted. ‘And I suppose Katie invented that little detail, did she?’

  ‘No,’ Ackerman said quietly. ‘This has nothing to do with your friend Katie.’

  ‘She’s not my friend,’ Nina muttered, with a dark look at me.

 

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