Dark Waters

by Mary-Jane Riley

Maybe. Alex had been in court often enough looking at men or women found guilty of assault, abuse, rape, murder and had glanced over at their families, wondering if they really hadn’t suspected anything, if in their hearts they had known. After all, if you are that close to someone, how could you not be aware of a large chunk of their lives? It beat her.

  ‘And my memories of a loving father and happy childhood are completely tarnished. More than that. Smashed to smithereens. How can I think of happy times with Dad without wondering what was going on in his head at the time? A beach holiday – was he looking at the kids and wanting to photograph them without their clothes? He always had a camera with him. It was a part of him, even when he became really successful. Now we know why. And those times he took me to the theme park? Or the zoo? Or just the local park? Was he really only looking for subjects for his nasty hobby?’ She buried her face in her hands. ‘I’ll never know.’

  ‘Laurie,’ began Alex, hesitating, not wanting to add to the other woman’s distress, ‘do you think your father killed himself because he’d been found out?’

  Laurie lifted her head out of her hands and looked at her with haunted eyes. ‘I killed him,’ she said, simply. ‘I killed him because I found out about all his so-called models.’ She looked drained.

  Alex patted the bench beside her. ‘Sit down. You didn’t kill him, Laurie. He took his own life.’

  ‘But I might have been able to stop him if I’d only talked to him properly. Instead I lost my temper and threw all the accusations at him, told him he was an ugly, evil old man.’

  ‘How did you find out about—?’ Alex asked.

  ‘The modelling stuff? His secret life?’ She shook her head. ‘Christ. It was a letter through the post. A letter, can you believe it? In this day and age. Pictures. Testimonies. Evidence.’

  ‘And who was the letter from?’

  Laurie shrugged. ‘No idea. One of his victims, I guess. There was nothing in the envelope to suggest who it might have been. The pictures were horrible, horrible.’ She dashed away more tears. ‘Their faces were full of hope to start with. But then Dad – Derek –’ she spat out his name, ‘made them do more and more lewd stuff and you could see the hope dying in their eyes. And he’d documented it all. What sort of sicko does that? I expect he threatened to tell their families about the photos if they tried to object.’ She plucked at her sleeves. ‘How could a man like that be my father? I can’t believe it. Not really.’

  ‘Was your dad in the pictures?’

  ‘No. You just see a hand or a foot.’

  ‘When you lost your temper with him it was what? A few days before he died?’

  She smiled grimly. ‘Yes. It was near the boats, by the water. Obviously.’ She gave a hiccuping laugh. ‘I wanted him to go to the police, give himself up. But you know what? He denied it all, everything. Said he hadn’t taken the photographs. He’d been set up, he said.’

  ‘Set up?’

  ‘Yes. He said the pictures weren’t his; any proof had been fabricated; he knew who had sent them, blah, blah, blah. They always say that, though, don’t they? And so I said, tell the police it wasn’t you. Tell them who it really was. But he looked at me, tears in his eyes and said he couldn’t. That’s when I realized I didn’t believe him.’ She gulped down more tears. ‘I told him … that day … I said I wished he’d die.’ She clenched her fists. ‘And then he did. When I saw him on the day we argued he said he had to do it for me. I didn’t understand what he meant then; I didn’t know he was going to kill himself. And then he did.’

  He had to do it for me. The same sort of phrase Roger Fleet used in his letter to his sister. A shiver went down her spine.

  Alex put her hand on top of Laurie’s. Her skin was cold like ice. ‘Were those his exact words?’

  Laurie nodded. ‘As far as I can remember, yes.’

  ‘And did he give any reason why he had to “do it for you” as he said?’

  Laurie shook her head. ‘Not really. I suppose he thought he had let us down.’

  ‘And you went to the police.’

  ‘The day his body was found,’ she whispered, ‘I’d been up all night wondering what to do. But then I kept thinking of all those little faces and I knew I couldn’t – I didn’t know it was him on that boat. Not then. I didn’t know.’

  ‘So,’ said Alex, ‘had you told him you were going to go to the police?’

  ‘You mean, could that have pushed him over the edge?’ She gave a twisted sort of smile. ‘No, of course I didn’t tell him. If I had he would have got rid of all the evidence, wouldn’t he? What I wanted was for him to go to the police himself. Then I began hoping there had been some sort of horrible mistake.’ Her shoulders drooped. ‘Though I knew there hadn’t been, otherwise why wouldn’t he have tried to clear his name? Then I became so angry, so angry.’ Her whole body had gone rigid and she was clenching her fists. ‘So angry. And now he’s dead.’

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ Alex said softly.

  ‘It is. If I had been more understanding, I could have persuaded him to give himself up. I’m sure of it. But …’ She chewed her bottom lip. ‘Oh, I don’t know any more. I don’t know what to think. In one way, he’s got away with it, hasn’t he? Left me and Mum and our family to deal with the fallout.’

  Alex tried to think clearly. Derek Daley was well down the path to suicide before his daughter turned up at Lowdham – the boat had been booked weeks before – so it wasn’t the threat of being exposed that pushed him over the edge. Unless there was someone else who was threatening or even blackmailing him. And what could she say to Laurie? That there were dark days ahead but that she would come through it? Sounded so glib, but it was her experience.

  ‘Laurie, did the police tell you about the Internet forum?’

  She nodded.

  ‘So you see,’ said Alex, ‘it looked as though he and Roger Fleet had been planning it for a while.’

  ‘I suppose so. Then why—?’

  ‘What I’m saying is that it wasn’t the accusation that was the last straw; it wasn’t you. He was going to do it anyway. The question is why. One other thing – did you know that he and Roger Fleet knew each other? In the past, I mean?’

  ‘No. What do you mean?’

  ‘They were at Cambridge together.’

  Laurie looked bewildered. ‘I had no idea. Now I really don’t know what to think.’ Her shoulders slumped with exhaustion. ‘Anyway, I’d better get back to Mum before she does something stupid. And how I’m going to explain it to the kids, I don’t know. I mean, they’re so young. I can’t tell them about that … that … filth.’

  Alex put her hand over Laurie’s. ‘Maybe not. But their grandfather loved them, and they’ll remember that.’

  Laurie stared at her for a moment. ‘But I’ll always wonder, won’t I?’ And with that, she turned and ran back to the house.

  Alex leaned back on the bench feeling wrung out. She could feel nothing but sympathy for Laurie caught in a maelstrom that would die down in the public forum, but never in her life. And the reporters would be back. Soon Laurie was going to wonder if her own children had been safe from her father. She knew only too well how the actions of others could profoundly affect those closest to you. It was easy enough to see in her own family. How Sasha’s actions had affected Gus.

  Talking of Gus, where the hell was he?

  She took out her phone see if there was anything from him. Nothing. She hesitated for a moment, then found the number she wanted and pressed the call button.

  ‘Steve?’ she said. ‘It’s Alex. Didn’t you get my message?’

  There was hesitation before he spoke. ‘Sorry. I’ve been meaning to ring, it’s just that …’ His voice trailed off. Alex waited for him to speak again. ‘Anyway, it’s good to hear from you. How are things? I trust Gus arrived safely; he was supposed to text me when he got to your place, but I guess he had better things to do.’

  Her stomach contracted. ‘That’s why I’m ringing, Steve. I�
��ve heard nothing from him. I don’t even know when he was supposed to be arriving.’

  She realized at that moment that she was worried, very worried. Her Gus would let her know what he was doing. She knew she was a bit clingy, but he understood that, understood how the whole thing with Sasha and the twins had affected her. It wasn’t that she wanted to know what he was doing every hour of every day – God knows that hadn’t been possible during his time in Ibiza – but she did like him to keep in touch, and he knew that.

  ‘Look, Alex, he’s twenty. Cut him a bit of slack. He’ll turn up. Probably nursing an almighty hangover.’ Steve laughed, and Alex tried not to feel irritated. But she was also cross with herself for worrying. Honestly, when she was younger she’d imagined Gus would be away and off her hands at eighteen and she wouldn’t have to give him too much thought. But it didn’t work like that, not like that at all. Worrying about her son and worrying about her parents. The sandwich generation, that’s what she was.

  ‘Is there anyone I can ring, just to check? Any friends you know of?’ Alex tried not to sound like an overprotective mother. Even more, she hated having to admit that Steve might know more about his friends than she did.

  There was silence for a few moments. ‘I know he was fooling about on various Internet forums, like they do, and there was a girl he seemed pretty friendly with.’

  ‘How do you know? Did he tell you?’

  Now the silence felt uncomfortable. ‘Not exactly,’ said Steve, in what sounded like a careful voice. ‘I went into his room when he was out—’

  ‘You did what?’ Alex felt the anger bubbling up inside.

  ‘Look, I know he’s been painting a picture of sunshine and laughter out here, but it’s been hard for all of us, you know?’ There was the trace of a whine in Steve’s voice.

  ‘No, I don’t know. Tell me.’ The bubbling anger threatened to expand, and her jaw ached with tension.

  ‘I think he was feeling a bit lonely, missing home, so he went online a lot. We were getting a bit worried because at first he loved playing with the kids but then he began to withdraw into himself. But he seemed happier after he’d met this girl online.’ He sighed. ‘Look, he told us about her, right? Her name was Martha. They clicked apparently. That’s all I know.’

  ‘My son was unhappy and you didn’t think to tell me?’ Alex could not believe Steve hadn’t told her about Gus straight away. No question.

  ‘Our son,’ he said, pointedly. ‘And I had hoped to be able to deal with it. When he said he wanted to go home to you I was relieved.’

  I bet you were, she thought. Relieved of the responsibility more like.

  ‘So, do you have any contact details for this girl?’

  ‘No.’

  There was something in his voice. ‘But? What aren’t you telling me?’

  ‘I think she was going to meet him at Stansted and drive up to you. That’s what it seemed to say.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  There was silence. Then: ‘I took a look at the forum – there was no password protect on it and it was easy to go through his history. I saw the latest messages.’

  Alex wasn’t sure how she felt about that. If Gus had been fifteen then she would have been perfectly happy for his father to snoop through his Internet history. But he wasn’t a teenager any more. On the other hand, he was still her son. And he still hadn’t got in touch with her. ‘Bloody hell, Steve, couldn’t you have told me this earlier?’

  She could almost feel him shrug. ‘He’s a lad, Alex. Don’t get all aerated about it.’

  ‘Okay. I won’t.’ She didn’t bother to say goodbye.

  Now what? Should she report him missing? The trouble was, he wasn’t a child, he wasn’t a vulnerable adult. He was a normal young man. All the police would say is leave it, he’ll come home. Like Steve, and Lin for that matter, they would probably think he had gone on the lash somewhere and would come home when he was good and ready. But this was Gus. She knew he wouldn’t leave her in limbo wondering where he was. Would he?

  And what if he had been lonely and unable to find his place in the world? What then? She knew only too well that suicide was the biggest cause of death of men under forty-five – she didn’t want Gus to be a statistic. And although she had buried the thought deep, there was that worry he might have inherited some of her sister’s mental instability.

  God, that was one way of putting it.

  He would be in touch. She knew it. She had to trust him.

  A shadow fell over her. ‘Well, wherever we go, you seem to be there first.’

  Alex looked up. ‘Detective Inspector Berry, how lovely to see you. And you, Detective Sergeant Logan.’ She smiled sweetly at them. DI Berry’s smile stretched his mouth across his face. More of a grimace, Alex thought. Idly, she wondered if he was married. She glanced down. Yes. A wedding ring. Takes all sorts.

  ‘May I?’ He pointed at the bench.

  ‘Of course.’

  DS Logan remained standing, poised as if she were on watch. DI Berry put his hands on his knees and cleared his throat. ‘Can I ask what you are doing here?’

  Alex endeavoured to appear surprised. ‘Having a look around. Enjoying the sunshine. You?’

  Berry grimaced again. A tractor and trailer trundled by. A black cat wandered over and started curling around Alex’s legs. She reached down to stroke it.

  ‘We saw you talking to Laurie Cooke.’

  ‘Yes.’ Alex continued stroking the cat.

  ‘We would rather you left any sleuthing to us.’

  Alex wanted to smile at the word ‘sleuthing’. ‘Laurie came out to talk to me. She’s devastated about her father. It’s all so fresh and raw.’ She stopped stroking the cat and looked at Berry. ‘Do you think he was a paedophile?’

  Berry’s face was impassive. ‘We are looking into it.’

  ‘But he was on the suicide forum way before he died. The paedophile accusation didn’t come until later.’

  ‘I am aware of that.’

  ‘Don’t you think it strange?’

  DI Berry stood. ‘Miss Devlin, please don’t interfere with police work, will you? It wouldn’t go down well. Not well at all.’

  ‘DI Berry, I’m not interfering, I only want to know why Derek Daley and Roger Fleet killed themselves. You do know they knew one another? Before meeting on the Internet?’

  She could see Berry working his jaw. ‘We are looking into every angle.’

  ‘Which means you didn’t.’ Alex stood. ‘They were at Cambridge together. In the 1970s.’ She sighed and sat down again. ‘I don’t want to be seen as trying to get one over on you. I want to write about suicide forums, but I keep coming up against the fact they knew each other before. And I am asking myself what was the point of going on the forum? Surely not a coincidence?’

  He gave a thin smile. ‘We’re looking into everything.’

  That was one man with a very large chip on his shoulder, thought Alex, as she watched him and Logan walk up the farmhouse drive. She wondered which journalist had hurt him and how. And so much for trying to help. She would have told them about the photograph Margaret Winwood had shown her if they’d given her half a chance. Still, they would probably get there soon enough.

  Willem Major. She wanted to find him. She tried Heath’s number again. Nothing. Where was he when she needed him?

  She sat, staring over the road and to the fields beyond, then she stirred herself and punched in some numbers on the phone from memory, imagining it ringing one of several phones in an airless house in Streatham, the light kept out by blankets over the windows.

  The phone was answered. ‘Alex?’

  ‘Honey, I need some help.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Honey’s voice was not betraying any emotion.

  Honey was a computer hacker who operated outside the law. Alex had helped her to avoid jail once, and Honey was forever grateful, helping Alex out when she needed information from under the radar.

  ‘Can you find someone for
me? He’s gone off the grid, so I can’t track him down by any conventional means, and I also don’t want to draw attention to the fact I want to find him—’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, no worries. Send me his name. Just one thing, though …’

  For the first time ever Alex heard a trace of hesitation in Honey’s voice.

  ‘Tell me?’

  ‘I’ve gotta lie low for a while. Disappear, y’know?’

  ‘Honey, what’s going on?’

  A brittle laugh. ‘You don’t want to know, you really don’t. But there’s no need to worry; if I keep out of sight, offline, do nothing for a while it’ll be okay. So—’

  ‘So, don’t ask for any more favours. I get it.’ How Honey would be able to keep offline was anybody’s guess.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Honey?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  She almost did it. Almost asked Honey if she could hack into the CCTV at Stansted Airport to see if Gus was on it anywhere. But it was a stupid idea. An overreaction. Besides, there would be hours to trawl through. She must have more faith in Gus. ‘Take care of yourself, won’t you?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  The line went dead.

  Alex pulled up the burn app on her phone to send a text message that immediately deleted itself from the receiver’s and the sender’s phone once it was read.

  ‘Find Willem Major. Businessman. Family killed in a fire. Please.’

  There. At least she was doing something.

  20

  Cambridge 1976

  Life was brighter, more adrenaline-fuelled with Willem back centre stage. He never apologized about the sex with Rachel, never explained; he acted as though the rift had never happened. I was happy with that; I didn’t want to re-open old wounds, especially as they had healed over. I did take a stand on one thing, however – Stu.

  ‘He’s coming with us,’ I said when a trip to the pub was decided upon.

  ‘Darling, he’s dreary, so provincial,’ said Willem, dismissively.

  ‘No, he’s not, he’s been a good friend to me. When you weren’t.’ I looked Willem straight in the eye, determined to stand my ground and claw back some of the self-respect I had lost over the Rachel affair.