The Other Side Of The Wall: A Gripping Psychological Thriller
Page 21
“Maybe you bought one without realising – it’s not like either of us are well up on gardens and plants. Oh my God, poor Bailey! Do the kids know?”
“Not yet. Tom, I didn’t buy one – I know I didn’t – someone must have put it there,” she says, holding the phone with her shoulder as she takes out cups and teabags. “There was a shattered plant pot in the garden.”
“Oh, come on, Sylvia – someone put a plant in our garden to kill our dog? Why? And how would they know he’d eat it? Since when does Bailey even eat plants?”
“That’s a good point. Maybe it wasn’t the plant. Maybe someone injected something and made it look like it was the plant?”
“Sylvia,” Tom says, in his calm-down-now voice, “that doesn’t make any sense. I know you’re upset, but why would someone do that? It’s not like he’s barking all night and upsetting the neighbours.”
She glances towards the back door. “Well, there’s one neighbour who might be bothered by him . . .”
“Who?”
“You know who – next door,” she answers, pouring boiling water into two cups.
“You think the man next door poisoned our dog by injecting something into him and making it look like he ate a plant? Come on – you see how crazy that sounds, right?”
“I know how it sounds,” she whispers, “but I just don’t trust him and it’s only since he moved in that all these things have been happening. And what about Noel visiting his house just before disappearing?”
Tom sighs. “Sylvia, you don’t even know if he actually went into the house . . . Look, I have a meeting now – I have to go. But I’ll be home tomorrow night and we’ll talk then – okay?”
She says goodbye and puts the phone down on the counter. Turning to the back door, she flinches when she sees Sam standing there, watching her. How long has he been listening? His face is neutral but something in his eyes tells her he heard her conversation.
She summons up a smile and passes over the cup of tea. He accepts it, nodding thanks without taking his eyes off her face, and goes back out to dig.
Suddenly, with every bone in her body, she knows she doesn’t want him here. What was she thinking letting him in? She should have said no when he offered. And she should get an autopsy. Can you even do that for dogs? She googles it quickly on her phone – yes, some clinics do offer autopsies for pets.
Outside, Sam looks surprised to see her running down the garden towards him. He stops digging.
“I’m sorry to have put you to all this trouble,” she says. “But Tom wants to say goodbye to the dog, so I said we wouldn’t bury him yet.”
Sam looks unconvinced and even to her own ears it sounds ridiculous.
“Sure, I can understand that – I was the same when Max died. Well, look, the hole is there now anyway, so you’ll be able to use it after your husband says goodbye. When will he be back?” He still has the spade in his hand.
“Tonight.” She reddens with the lie. “So, thanks again for your help.”
He nods and puts down the spade.
She lets out a quiet breath.
Sam hunkers down and pats Bailey who is lying on the ground under the blanket, and when he looks back up at Sylvia his eyes are sad again.
“I’m so sorry. I know how hard it is. Mind yourself.”
As he leaves, she stands for a moment staring after him. Could she have it all wrong?
Inside, her phone is vibrating on the counter – a missed call from Craig. She hits the button to return the call but then changes her mind and disconnects.
Instead, she calls UCD, to find out about booking an autopsy for a dog.
Chapter 45
Sylvia – Wednesday, September 7th
If Tom is surprised to find her drinking a glass of wine on a Wednesday night, he doesn’t say so. Two days of holding it together for the kids and answering questions about Dog Heaven earned her a bottle, she reckons, but a glass will do for now – plus some of the Toblerone Tom takes out of the Duty Free bag. He pours himself a glass of wine too, and only when he’s taken a few swallows does she tell him about the autopsy. The results will take six to eight weeks, she says, and the people were lovely – they do this all the time apparently. Tom is predictably sceptical and thinks it’s misplaced guilt about the azalea plant. He says he might have been the one who bought it, which is kind, because they both know he never buys plants.
“Tom,” she whispers, when they go upstairs, “I think we need to call in next door to try to make sense of all this. There’s definitely something wrong, and I can’t keep dealing with this by myself – I need you on board too.”
He sits on the bed and pulls her down to sit beside him. “Sylvia, you have to let this go. You’re tired, you’re stressed with work, you’re up at night with the baby. It has nothing to do with the guy next door.”
“Well, then explain all of it,” she says, rubbing her temples. “The child in the water, the black crosses through the photos, the cups and the dolls on the table, the light going off in the bathroom, and now the dog.” She looks up at him. “And even if you think some of those things were my imagination or that I did them myself, none of it explains the fact that someone ran down our stairs and out the front door that night.”
“But you know yourself that sometimes noises from next door sound like they’re coming from in here – the walls are paper-thin.” He raps lightly on the bedroom wall.
Sylvia climbs into bed as Tom begins to undress. “Yes, and I know sometimes I’ve made that mistake, but this was very loud and very close. It couldn’t have been next door. And what about Noel – the police were in talking to Sam about it. That must mean something, right?” She sees him open his mouth and cuts him off. “Yes, yes, I know only because I sent them in there but still. Please, Tom, there’s nothing to lose – let’s just call in to say hi or to thank him for helping with Bailey the other day. There’s something not right with him – you’ll see when you meet him.”
Tom gets into bed too and his eyes are closing as soon as his head meets the pillow. “Fine, let’s do it straight after work tomorrow when Jane is still here – anything for a quiet life.”
If only, thinks Sylvia, as she stares at the ceiling. If only.
Sylvia steps back from the sitting-room window. “Tom, he’s home – he’s just pulled into the driveway. Let’s go in now – Jane says she’s fine to stay on as long as we need.”
Tom puts down his phone. “Grand, but give him a chance to get into his house – he’ll think we’re hounding him if we go in straight away.”
It’s a good ten minutes before Sylvia can tear Tom away from his phone, and in heavy rain they run up Sam’s driveway. The tiny shelter above the front door provides no cover at all, and though they huddle as close as they can, both of them are getting wet. The car is still in the driveway, but there’s no response when they ring the doorbell.
Tom looks delighted and is turning to leave, but Sylvia pulls him back and presses the bell again. Still no reply.
“If he’s there and not answering, that says something in itself,” she whispers to Tom. But then they hear footsteps, and the door opens.
Sam looks surprised, then he smiles and it transforms his face.
“Oh hey, is everything okay?”
“Yes, I just wanted to thank you for all your help on Monday with Bailey – this is Tom, my husband, and he wanted to say thanks too.”
On cue, Tom nods and says, “Thank you.”
“No problem – God, don’t stand there in the rain – step in.” He pulls the door wide. Tom hesitates, but Sylvia walks in and he follows. The carpet underfoot is wet now from their shoes and Sylvia apologises.
“Don’t worry, it’s all being pulled up anyway – as you can see, the house is a work in progress. Come in and have a cup of tea, will you?”
Tom starts to say something about letting the childminder go home but Sylvia interrupts and says they’d love tea, following Sam through to the kitchen.
“So how is the work on the house going?” she asks, looking out the kitchen window at the still overgrown garden.
“Yeah, I know, the kitchen and the back don’t look great, do they? I’ve mostly been focussing on the upstairs so far. Tea or coffee? I’m sorry now, I don’t have any biscuits – Kate’s always the one who buys the biscuits in case people call – I don’t think of it now she’s gone.”
Tom looks uncomfortable and waves away the apology – he never eats biscuits anyway, he says.
“I met Kate for drinks on Friday actually – she seems to be doing great in spite of everything,” Sylvia says, conscious of the horrified look Tom is giving her.
Sam’s sheepish smile disappears momentarily, but it’s back just as quickly. “Ah, I’m glad she’s got someone to talk to. Most of her friends are living in the UK and the States now so it’s all email and WhatsApp. Not the same as having someone real to talk to.”
“Yes, especially with all she’s going through. I mean –”
“So, Sam, I spotted the golf clubs in the hall – do you play?” Tom asks, cutting Sylvia off mid-sentence.
“I do, though those clubs are Kate’s – she took up golf a few years ago and of course she’s passed me out now – she’s way better than me already. I must get back out there actually. Any good courses around this neck of the woods?”
And they’re off – talking about golf and then football and then whether or not the Dubs will do it again this year.
Sylvia sips her tea, listening to everything and saying nothing. Tom has forgotten all of his unease and is delighted to have found a fellow Leeds fan – what were the chances? Every now and then, Sam’s eyes flick back to Sylvia, watching her watching him.
She gets up to walk over to the back door, looking out into the garden. The pond is just about visible.
“Do you mind if I take a wander outside? It looks like the rain has stopped,” she says.
Sam looks at her, searching her face. “Sure – the door’s open.”
The garden is soggy and the air smells like oncoming autumn. Sodden leaves lie on the ground between the tangled bushes. There’s no green space at all until right down at the end, and then there’s the pond. The dark brown water sits still now the rain has stopped, and Sylvia hunkers down to take a closer look. A stick on the ground makes a handy probe – she pokes it in to the water. Deep enough for a child to drown.
“We’ll have to cover it over of course.” His voice behind her makes her jump.
She gets to her feet and drops the stick.
“Even with my kids gone, I’d hate for anyone else to wander in here and fall in. Like your little girl.”
She tries to answer but her mouth has gone dry. Swallowing, she tries again. “Covering it over sounds like a good idea,” she manages, barely above a whisper. “In the meantime, I’ll keep Megan on our side of the wall. Just in case.”
He smiles and his voice is light and friendly when he replies, “Just in case.”
She turns and heads back up to the house, walking fast now through the water-logged grass.
“Tom, we should go – Jane needs to leave soon.”
Tom drains his tea and shakes Sam’s hand. “So listen, if I can get an extra ticket for that match I’ll give you a shout, yeah? And let me know if you dust off those golf clubs – I could do with a round myself.”
Back home, once the kids are in bed, Sylvia rounds on Tom. “You’re going golfing with him? And to a match?”
Tom looks confused. “What?”
“We went in to get a better sense of who he is and what’s going on – not to become best friends with him!” It’s raining again – she pulls the sitting-room blind halfway down and switches on the table lamp.
“I was just being friendly. In fairness, he just seems like a nice, normal guy who’s a bit lost since his wife left him.” Tom picks up the remote control and switches on the Nine O’Clock News.
The Austin Granger murder is the top story tonight, with Gardaí following a new line of inquiry. And Edie Keogh is still missing.
Sylvia mutes the TV. “She didn’t leave him – he had an affair and she found out – that’s a bit different.”
Tom throws his hands up in the air. “Whatever. Look, you need to get past this – he’s just a regular guy. He’s not breaking into our house at night and putting cups on the table.”
“Tom, he just threatened our daughter.”
“What?” He sits up straighter.
“Down at the pond. He said I’d want to be careful that she doesn’t wander in there. That it’s dangerous.”
“Do you even hear yourself, Sylvia? How is that a threat?”
“We need to go, Tom, at least for a while. I think we need to consider moving in with my mum.”
“You cannot be serious. Look, you just need a break – I know work has been awful. Any sign of the money?”
“Well, there’s a chink of light at the end of the tunnel – DBK were in touch today to say they’ve an unapplied payment that matches it.” She holds up crossed fingers. “I’m fairly confident it’s our money, so I just need to spur them on to send it back. But, in the meantime, I’m still being pulled into daily meetings to give updates and still nobody remembers I wasn’t there when it happened.”
“I take it Justin’s not back then?”
“No. Actually there’s something I didn’t tell you. Don’t go mad, but I went to his house last Saturday – when I was getting the manicure? I stopped outside his house, and saw him getting in the car – it looked like he was going to play a rugby match. Anyway . . . okay, look this is going to sound a bit mad, but I took photos of him.”
Tom’s eyes widen.
“And then I called in to him when he came back, and said I’d show the photos to Craig. He’s supposed to be sick in bed – I knew well he wasn’t.”
“Jesus, Sylvia – could he complain about you to HR?”
“No! He’s faking an illness so he can avoid admitting a huge error – he doesn’t have a leg to stand on!”
“But he didn’t show up at work?”
She slumps down against the back of the couch and closes her eyes. “No. He deleted the photos. It was a complete waste of time. I can’t decide what to do. I could tell work about calling to him but, knowing Craig, I’ll just end up in trouble again, and without photos I’ve no proof he’s faking.”
Then he surprises her. “What if you get him to admit it, or at least not deny it?”
She opens her eyes and sits up. “What do you mean?”
Tom nods. “I mean record him on your phone – there’s loads of apps out there you can use. It means you can do it without confronting him in person – you just call him, and the app records the call. Then you email it wherever. Like straight to Craig’s inbox.”
“Is it legal?”
Tom nod. “Yep, totally legal to record a call if you’re party to the call – it’s not the same as tapping a call between two other people.”
“Wow. Okay then – can you find me a good app?”
Tom takes her phone. “On one condition – let’s do this and fix the situation at work before we do anything drastic like moving in with your mum – agreed?”
Raindrops pelt the window outside and she gets up to pull the blind the rest of the way down. “Agreed. But if anything else happens, we’re going.”
Chapter 46
Sylvia – Friday, September 9th
“Gardaí say they are satisfied that two-year-old Edie Keogh, missing from her Dublin home since July, is not with her father. Earlier reports suggested that the child had been taken out of the country but this has now been ruled out. The search is continuing, and Gardaí wish to speak to a man in his forties who was seen in the area on the night of July 27th.”
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Sylvia turns down the radio as she pulls into the driveway. God, the thought of what might have happened to that little girl! She needs to check with Jane that she’d never let Megan out of her sight – not even for a second. Though Jane will think she doesn’t trust her at all . . . maybe she’ll get Tom to say it – he’s better at that kind of conversation. A movement catches her eye – someone is ringing the doorbell of Sam’s house.
Curious, she gets out of the car and takes her time to check her phone and gather her handbag. The caller is tall, and wearing glasses that look far too big for his thin face. He has his hands in his pockets as he waits. He’s in a grey hoodie and black jeans, and doesn’t look like a delivery person. Sam’s car is there but there’s no answer. Sylvia keeps checking her phone, and watches as the man eventually gives up and walks away.
“That’s the brother!” Rosemary’s stage whisper startles her.
“Sorry?”
“The man you were watching – it’s the wife’s brother. Miller is his name if you don’t mind. Something about a salesman who died.”