Beautiful Liar

by Louise Mullins

  'Where's Lily?'

  'With my dad. I've come to collect some things. I'm putting the house on the market.'

  'In here,' she says, heading straight into the living room.

  I follow her inside, not sure what the rush is.

  'What the hell happened in here?' She notes the mess I've made.

  I can't speak.

  'Have you lost your mind? You've got to get a grip. You've trashed the place.'

  'I couldn't look at his things anymore.' My words coming fast and staccato.

  'What do you know about Jessica? Erica?'

  'Joel was in a relationship with her. They lived together.'

  'What do you know about her death?' she says, sounding over-exerted.

  Did she run here?

  'She committed suicide with sleeping pills and alcohol.'

  'Do you know Chris Hollins?'

  The sound of his name sends goose bumps down my bare arms. 'How do you know him?'

  'It doesn't matter. Why is he following you?'

  I take a breath before I answer her. 'When DC Judd interviewed me after Joel . . . she said Chris was a retired detective. Joel had been a suspect in Jessica's death. That's all I know.'

  'He told me he spoke to you.'

  'When?'

  'At the funeral.'

  Of course. 'Rose, there's nothing in it. I assure you. He's become fixated on Jessica's death.'

  'Really?'

  'Really.'

  She shakes her head. 'You've always been a terrible liar.'

  Her words wound me. I think I've become pretty good at it. 'What's going on?'

  Rose wastes no time in pulling out an iPad from her pocket, swiping the screen with her finger, and shoving it under my nose.

  I stare down at the misted photograph on the screen. Jessica's dull eyes stare vacantly back at me. Her smile is faded.

  'Where did you get this?'

  'That's not important.'

  I place my hand on Rose's wrist, and force her to look into my eyes.

  'Chris Hollins said he didn't have the proof, but insinuated Joel had something to do with an ex-girlfriend’s death. I took a look online. They went to one of those fancy conferences together once. A meal and drinks. The pictures are easily found. Anyway, it turns out she had a pen name, and from there, I—'

  'Pen name? What are you talking about?'

  'Jessica's death was reported two months after this was uploaded onto the website.'

  I shake my head, not sure what I'm supposed to say.

  'Scroll down the page,' she says.

  I do as she suggests, but I don't expect to see what my eyes are showing me.

  Jessica is bound to a bed by her wrists. The silk scarves which hold her in place are taut against her skin, cutting off the blood supply to her hands. Her fingers have turned purple, her lips are soft pink.

  'Jessica Ellis was a porn star?'

  'Worse. This was her last photo shoot.'

  'Rose, my head is all over the place. Can you just tell me what the hell you are insinuating?'

  'Nobody saw Jessica for two months, before she was reported to have died by Joel.'

  'Are you saying you think Jessica died after this photograph was taken?'

  Rose shakes her head again. A habit that's growing annoying. 'Look at her eyes, Erica.'

  With Rose's words floating through my mind, as I look back down at the photograph displayed on the screen in my hand, my heart stops dead.

  'She isn't alive?'

  'She can't have committed suicide, because she was already dead.'

  'But, the police investigated her death, and they ruled it as a suicide by intoxication.'

  'Did Joel ever tell you when he was questioned by the police, he told them he returned from a two-month holiday in Dubai to find his girlfriend had died?'

  'No.'

  'Erica, he killed her before he left the country. While he was drinking and sunbathing, she was lying dead in their bed.'

  'But, the police—'

  'Insufficient evidence. Chris has been spending every spare minute since he retired trying to find a reason to get Joel arrested. Now he's dead, he has no choice but to drop it.'

  'But, that's not my fault.'

  'Those images the police found on his laptop were clipped from snuff movies.'

  'No.'

  'He could have killed you.'

  'No.'

  A loud buzzing has begun to fill my ears. I'm shaking my head at Rose's words, unable to accept them, though I know they must be true. My husband wasn't only a violent controlling and vindictive liar, but a killer.

  I crumple to the floor in shame, as the agony of what Rose is telling me ignites the panic threatening to overwhelm me since Joel's death. Flashbacks I've barely been able to shove aside are now grabbing at my mind from all angles.

  'Did you delete those files from his laptop? Did you know?'

  I can barely breathe. All I manage to let out is a loud sob.

  'Those images were of dead women, weren't they?'

  I can't look her in the eyes, as I grab hold of the doorframe, and haul myself up.

  'Erica?'

  I ignore her protests, and leave the house, dragging my heels through the gravel driveway toward the open gate.

  She's right. Some of those files did contain dead women. But, that isn't why I deleted them. I did it after I came across the CCTV footage of myself. Joel had been recording my movements from several cameras hidden in the light fixtures of almost every room in the house.

  For years.

  ERICA

  I'm not expecting any visitors. Nobody knows where I am, aside from the police. I open the door reluctantly to find DC Judd and another officer I've not seen before, in the doorway.

  'Mrs. Heath, may we come in?'

  I don't tell them I'm using my maiden name from now on. I'm Erica Foster.

  I follow them into the living room. My dad has taken Lily out for a drive. They won't be accosted by reporters, because nobody knows what she looks like. But, I'm once again imprisoned in a house, while the rest of the world continues on with their daily lives.

  'How can I help you?' I say, taking a seat in front of the two detectives.

  'Do you mind?' says DC Judd, perching on the opposite chair.

  'I'm DI Gaston,' says the male detective, seating himself beside his colleague.

  'I've just boiled the kettle. Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?'

  'No, thank you,' says DC Judd.

  There is a pause, before my world is tipped on its axis once more.

  'Mrs. Heath, Erica. We would like to ask you some questions.'

  I nod my head in reply.

  'Our intelligence operative has requested we speak to you regarding some footage that was found on your husband's laptop. The deleted files?'

  My heart jumps a few beats.

  'Were you aware your husband was filming you?'

  My pulse quickens. 'What, no?'

  'Erica, we understand how difficult this must be for you, but we need you to be honest. Were you aware your husband had an unhealthy appetite for illegal pornography, before you were questioned?' says DI Gaston.

  'No.' My skin grows warm.

  'It looks as though your husband took the cameras down the day before he died. We think he might have panicked over getting caught, and deleted both the CCTV footage, and the other files he had downloaded onto his laptop. We'd like to know if you were aware he'd been filming you for the past four years.'

  The heat is spreading up to my face. 'No. I had no idea,' I say, my breath catching in my throat.

  DC Judd leans forwards in her armchair. 'Chris Hollins is convinced you did.'

  'I had no idea. Why would he . . .'

  DI Gaston stands, and offers me a smile. 'We have an obligation to tell you, because we have decided to close the case.'

  My skin prickles.

  'Are you okay, Mrs. Heath?' says DC Judd.

  'What? No. I can't believe thi
s.'

  'If you want to talk, there are people we can get you in touch with,' says DI Gaston.

  I shake my head. That's the last thing I want to do.

  DC Judd holds my gaze a few moments more, before she says, 'you take good care of yourself, okay?'

  I wave her question off, and escort the two detectives to the door.

  My heartbeat begins to settle, as I close the door behind me, breathing a sigh of relief, and sink down onto the laminate floor, with my back pressed against the solid door, hoping to ground myself.

  'Don't panic. It's over. It's all over.'

  Even as I tell myself this, I can hardly believe my own words.

  Because it isn't really, is it? I don't think it ever will be.

  My husband killed his girlfriend, Jessica, in what appears to have been a porn video gone wrong. Or right, depending on how he saw it. He tried to rape my best friend, despite my protestations she had misinterpreted the entire situation. He beat me senseless, and raped me more times than I care to recall. And now, it seems, he might have been the cause of Patrick's death.

  I stare down at the familiar silver Mercedes in the photograph which has fallen to the floor. How it found its way inside my bag, I've no idea. He sold the car before the wedding. He told me he loved me, and promised to look after me until my last dying breath, and all the while he knew he'd killed Rose's brother. And he got away with it, because Joel died with his reputation intact.

  He must have plied Patrick with alcohol, as he used to do to me, to keep me lucid. He must have convinced Patrick it would be okay to drive home. That he wasn't too drunk to get behind the wheel of the car. Just as I fear he did with Jessica; pushed her to her limits so she couldn't go back.

  I remember the relief I caught in his eyes when the car was sold. I should have known. I should have done something. But, he was such a good liar. A beautiful liar.

  LILY

  Some bigger police people came today. They said they don't need us anymore. Mummy helped them, and now, they have 'bigger fish to fry'. I don't know what that means.

  They brought Daddy's flip-flop back. The one with the screen, where he used to type all the busy work he did in his office upstairs. Mummy smashed it, and we had a big fire in the garden afterwards. She smiled, and it wasn't pretend. She looked happy.

  My daddy is in the papers. Mummy says not to look at them, but I can't read very well, anyway. All I do is look at the pictures that don't look like Daddy. In the pictures, Daddy is smiling, but Daddy never smiled.

  My daddy used to shout a lot. Mummy doesn't know I used to hear it sometimes from my bedroom. There used to be the knocking, and then the grunting, and afterwards, Mummy used to cry. I heard her through the wall, but I never got out of bed to look, because my tummy used to hurt a lot. I used to put the cover over my head, and pretend I was in a cave, hiding from the monster in the dark.

  I don't like the dark. Mummy doesn't like the dark. We sleep with the light on now. I asked Mummy if the monster came anymore, and she said he couldn't because of the light.

  Mummy lets me sleep in her bed sometimes, and we curl up, while she strokes my hair and sniffs it. Daddy never let me have a light on, or sleep in his bed. I don't think Daddy liked talking to kids. He never used to talk to me. But, he loved talking to bigger people. And he loved shouting.

  Mummy doesn't like shouting. She doesn't like loud noises, and now, we live with Granddad.

  Aunt Rose and Uncle Ja Ja come to see us, sometimes. Aunt Rose has a baby in her tummy. She says it jumps about inside her, and makes her wee a lot. When Aunt Rose and Ja Ja come, they try to be quiet, so Mummy doesn't jump.

  I miss Daddy. I don't tell Mummy I miss him, because she looks sad, but I do. Now, he's gone to heaven, and we go to the park and shops. Sometimes, I get an ice cream or a cuddle, and sometimes, Mummy lets me watch the big TV. Daddy never let me do that.

  I like it here, with Granddad, Aunt Rose, and Ja Ja. Everyone laughs, and sometimes, it gives me a tummy ache, but not a bad one, like I used to get when Daddy shouted and Mummy cried, but a nice one.

  Chris Lollipop came today. He told Mummy he's going to live with his doorer in a big hot country called Canada, and he won't come here anymore. The case is closed, he said. But, it wasn't. I could see his black case zipped up. He wears a shirt and tie, like Daddy used to wear, but he smiles. Daddy never used to smile.

  Mummy says she would like to go to Canada one day, but can't. Or, maybe, it's too far. I'd like to go, but I'd miss Granddad. He's old. He gives me sweets. And I made him promise not to tell.

  He said big people sometimes do bad things, like when Daddy used to hurt Mummy. Or Aunt Rose, when she dropped the car on Daddy. Granddad said his lips were seals, and he promised not to tell anyone about my dream. But, it wasn't a dream.

  Aunt Rose told Mummy to burn the flip-flop, so that's why we had the fire. I heard them through the wall. The walls in my room are pink. I like pink. I like my room, too. There is no shouting here. It's quiet and calm. That's what Mummy says.

  Uncle Ja Ja is making a Barbie Q, so we can eat Barbie food. Granddad is playing golf on the grass. Aunt Rose is smiling to the music. Soon, Mummy will drink wine and dance.

  When it gets dark, Mummy will bring me to the sofa to sleep. She will leave the light on, and I will listen to the music through the window. I am warm and happy here. Mummy is, too.

  A NOTE FROM BLOODHOUND BOOKS

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  If you enjoyed this book, you will also:

  The Woman in the Woods by Louise Mullins.

  Amazon UK - Amazon US

  34 Days by Anita Waller

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  Fracture by Heleyne Hammersley

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  AUTHORS NOTE

  If you or somebody you know is experiencing domestic abuse, and you would like information, support or advice, you can call the National Domestic Violence Service, which is run in partnership between Women's Aid and Refuge. They have a freephone 24-hour helpline on: 0808 2000 247. You can also discover more about the kind of support they offer by visiting either of the following websites: www.womensaid.org.uk; www.refuge.org.uk.

  For advice and information on applying for an immediate court ordered injunction, you can contact the National Centre for Domestic Violence on: 0800 970 2070 or visit: www.ncdv.org.uk.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Firstly, I must thank my husband for putting up with my endless need to write, and for listening to me drone on about the characters who live inside my head. Secondly, I would like to thank my editor for her critical eye and exceptional narrative insight, polishing this novel up to perfection. I must also thank Betsy Reavley and Fred Freeman and the rest of the team at Bloodhound Books for believing in me. Your support has been invaluable, and is very much appreciated. Lastly, I offer a huge thank you to my readers on Amazon, Goodreads and everywhere else. It is only because of you I have made it this far.