‘Can I have a word with you, honey?’ Tim asked. He motioned for Laura to follow him into the kitchen.
‘What?’ Laura demanded. ‘She’s got nowhere else to go.’
‘What if, y’know, she’s the one who killed Mark? I know I didn’t do it. You know you didn’t. That doesn’t leave many people, does it?’ Tim said.
‘Don’t be silly,’ Laura said. ‘I’ve known her since I was a toddler. Faye wouldn’t hurt a fly. I’ll bet it was Jake. He’s the one who was going to benefit from the life insurance, wasn’t he? And he was in financial trouble.’
Tim looked aghast. ‘Didn’t Jake’s dad die a while back? And he got a fat insurance pay-out then, too.’
‘Mr Fowler, are you suggesting that Jake did both of them in? You’re quite the detective, you know. If you let little Faye stay for a day or two, I might let you arrest me.’ Laura winked.
‘A day or two, but no more,’ Tim said.
He didn’t believe it even as he said it. He watched Laura as she bounded from the kitchen. He’d do anything for that woman.
Chapter 53: Grey Justice
Saturday 2nd July, 09:30
Mayberry found her easily. The woman’s name was Virginia Williams, and she was a resident of the London Borough of Hammersmith and Fulham. The old lady was property-rich, cash-poor, and terminally ill.
Jake had been calling her for months. Mayberry suspected it had been business at first. She was in his client files and had seemed to be working on giving away as much of her wealth as she could while she was still living.
It was probably a good thing that there weren’t any text messages. Mayberry wouldn’t have wanted to read them.
The phone calls progressed from a few minutes long during business hours to many hours late in the evening and at night. Sometime during the last few months of his life, Jake had begun a relationship with a woman forty years his senior.
Jake’s motivation was obvious: in that part of town, a four-bedroom detached house was worth just shy of two million pounds. That was enough to pay off his debts and set him up for life – if he didn’t gamble it all away.
He certainly wasn’t dating her for her looks. She was sixty-six and looked more like eighty-six. She had a hunched back, sagging skin, and a smoker’s rasp.
Mayberry knew he ought to go talk to her, but he really didn’t want to do it alone. Morton wasn’t answering his phone, and Rafferty was still on leave to care for her brother, which only left Ayala.
***
Saturday morning breakfast was usually a celebratory affair. Tim worked long hours and compensated for it by trying to extract as much life as he could out of his weekends while the markets were shut.
With Faye in the picture, it wasn’t the idyllic eggs Benedict that Tim had hoped for. She sat at their dining table looking sullen.
‘You okay, Faye?’ Laura asked for the tenth time.
Faye gave a small shrug, as if she were indifferent to the world.
Tim exchanged glances with Laura. It was to be expected. Faye had lost everything – her boyfriend, her home, and with them, her life. It couldn’t be easy to be suddenly so adrift.
‘So,’ Tim said. ‘Any idea what you’ll do now?’
Tim thought it was a fair question. She couldn’t sleep on his sofa forever, and he certainly wasn’t going to turn his home office back into a second bedroom.
Laura clearly disagreed. ‘Tim!’ she scolded. ‘Be a bit more sensitive, please. She’s in shock, that’s all.’
Tim cocked his head to the side, then went out to the balcony to admire the view across the Thames. As he sipped his coffee, he heard the French doors open behind him, and Laura’s arms soon snaked up around his chest from behind.
‘I know it’s hard, babe, but she won’t be here forever. I want our Saturday mornings back, too,’ Laura said.
‘She’s not right, Laura. And she’s not telling us everything.’
‘What makes you say that?’ Laura asked.
Tim passed her a copy of Saturday’s edition of The Impartial. ‘Turn to page thirty-seven.’
When she did so, Laura found a half-page spread about the sinking of The Guilty Pleasure and the Arcadian. ‘So? It’s no surprise this rag would run a story about something so trivial.’
‘Look at the date.’
Laura did. It was last Saturday’s edition.
Where had Faye been for a week?
Chapter 54: Confrontation
Saturday 2nd July, 13:00
Ayala and Mayberry found the house and stopped to stare in wonder. It was in Melrose Gardens, a part of the Melrose Conservation Area, just a hop and a skip from Goldhawk Road Underground Station.
It was Victorian in style, with high ceilings and enormous bay windows covering two-thirds of the front of the house. It probably wasn’t very energy-efficient, but for a buyer with two million pounds or more to spend, that was unlikely to be a concern.
Virginia Williams answered the door in slippers and a dressing gown. Obviously, she hadn’t been expecting company. ‘Not today, thank you!’ She jabbed a finger at a sign hanging beside the door. It read: “No Hawkers, No Canvassers, No Junk Mail, No Charity Bags, No Exceptions.”
‘Ma’am! We’re with the Metropolitan Police.’
‘Why didn’t you say so?’ Virginia said. ‘Come on in, and mind the step there. Come on, the sitting room’s this way. Kick off your shoes as you go, please, if you’ll be so kind.’
They divested themselves of their shoes. Ayala took a moment to look pitifully at Mayberry’s high-street work boots next to his own Italian leather loafers. Some people just didn’t have any semblance of style.
‘What can I do for you gentlemen today?’ Virginia asked with a toothy smile.
‘Are you familiar with a Mr Jake Sanders?’ Ayala asked.
‘Familiar with him? I’m engaged to him!’ Virginia flashed her ring finger, where the cheapest, gaudiest ring was on display. It looked almost as if Jake must have won it at a fun fair.
‘Engaged?’ Ayala echoed disbelievingly. ‘Since when?’
‘Last month. He’s such a sweet man. He looks after me ever so well.’
Ayala winced. She was referring to him in the present tense. She didn’t know he was dead. ‘Miss Williams, I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but I’m afraid that Jake took his own life a week ago.’
‘No, no, it can’t be,’ she said firmly. ‘You’ve got the wrong man. My Jake wouldn’t do that.’
‘I’m afraid he did, Mrs Williams. When was it you last saw him?’
‘The Saturday before last, I think. But he can’t be...’ Her eyes were beginning to water as she realised the truth of what she was being told.
Ayala delved into his top pocket. He got a lot of flak for carrying a pocket square, and had gotten even more from Morton when the boss had learned it was monogrammed, but it was perfect for occasions like this. Ayala passed it over and then rummaged in his inside pocket for his spare.
‘Thank you,’ Virginia sobbed. ‘What happened?’
‘His brother was murdered.’
‘No! He never told me. Are you sure you haven’t got the wrong man?’ Virginia had a glint in her eye again, a tiny ray of hope – one which Ayala would surely have to crush.
‘I have a photograph of the two of you together aboard The Mobile Office.’ Ayala showed her a crop of the picture Mayberry had found.
‘Oh God, it’s him!’ Her tears began to flow, and her sobbing soon became a wail.
‘Miss Williams, I’m sure this is difficult for you. Is there anyone we can call for you?’
She waved him off while still holding his pocket square. ‘No, there’s no one. I’m all alone in this world now.’
‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ Ayala said, and he meant it. ‘But I have to ask you a few questions. Do you remember the day this was taken?’
‘June twelfth,’ she said sharply. ‘We spent a magical evening together.’
‘E
vening? Until when?’ Ayala asked.
She smiled coquettishly. ‘Until the next morning.’
Mayberry looked like he wanted to puke. Ayala suppressed his own gag reflex. ‘Are you sure, Miss Williams?’
‘Quite sure. That was the night he proposed to me.’
Jake Sanders was not their killer.
***
Morton had Laura and Tim brought in to Scotland Yard that Saturday afternoon for two reasons. Firstly, he felt obliged to warn them. He knew Hollis had driven Faye to their home because he had followed closely behind to see where Faye was going. They deserved to know what they were letting themselves in for.
Secondly, he needed to know if either of them could have done it. If, as Morton suspected, Laura was only hiding a cigarette addiction, then their alibis for each other covered all but the forty-odd minutes Laura had been aboard The Guilty Pleasure with Mark.
It struck Morton as unlikely that Laura could kill in such a short time frame, especially without waking Faye, who had allegedly been asleep in the other room. Mark Sanders was a big man, physically strong, and he would have resisted. The pathologist’s best guess – and it was barely more than a guess – had been asphyxiation. It would have taken speed and force to kill him while he was wide awake.
Morton had been apprised of their trip to visit Virginia Williams. With Jake officially ruled out on account of his newfound alibi, Morton had just three serious suspects left.
Tim and Laura were escorted in to Scotland Yard by Ayala. Morton had them shown to the largest interview suite, offered refreshments, and then he left them to stew for half an hour.
A waiting period wasn’t the nicest of interview techniques, and Morton wasn’t expecting miracles from it, but he could hear them bickering as they waited. It was obvious that Tim was not happy with their new houseguest.
Eventually, Morton graced them with his presence.
‘Good afternoon,’ Morton said. ‘Thank you for volunteering to come in today.’
‘We volunteered, did we?’ Tim said. ‘It didn’t feel like it when your boy came to pick us up at my flat unannounced.’
‘My apologies. You’re free to go if you don’t wish to be here.’ Morton watched Tim stand. ‘But I’d strongly suggest you give me five minutes, at least. I think we can clear at least one of you of murder today.’
‘One of us?’ Tim echoed.
‘At least,’ Morton repeated. ‘I’d like to go back over the timeline.’
‘We’ve already told you,’ Laura said. ‘Tim left first, and I wasn’t far behind him.’
‘Indeed. Approximately three-quarters of an hour. Why did you stay behind?’ Morton asked.
‘I was chatting with Mark.’
‘Do you do that a lot?’
‘Well, yeah, he’s my friend,’ Laura said tersely.
‘And nothing more than that?’ Morton prompted. He had hit a nerve.
Tim looked at Laura accusingly.
‘Nothing happened, okay?’ Laura said. ‘We were just chatting that night.’
Tim seemed to latch on to the phrase “that night” instantly. He continued to glare, but he said nothing.
‘So, you left later. When you got home, was Tim there?’ Morton said to Laura.
‘Of course.’
‘And you were together for the rest of the night?’
Tim looked at Laura suspiciously again and then interjected, ‘No. She wasn’t there all night. She left for a bit just after midnight. Where did you go, honey?’
Laura averted her eyes. Morton almost felt sorry for her. She hadn’t killed anyone, at least not during that absence.
‘I can answer that.’ Morton produced a photo of Laura smoking in the garden. It wasn’t on that night, but the timings fit, and Morton wanted to provoke the two of them. If one of them had a temper, the result would be interesting.
‘Where did you get this?’ Laura demanded of Morton. ‘Were you following me?’
‘Not me. You should ask Tim about that.’
The cat was truly among the pigeons now. They both started yelling simultaneously, and it looked like Morton might have to pull them apart. The tape was catching everything. Their argument was indecipherable hearing it live, but Morton would have Brodie play it back with their voices separated out in case they said anything interesting.
‘Enough!’ Morton yelled after a few minutes. ‘You can see a relationship counsellor on your own time. You,’ he said, jabbing a finger at Laura, ‘smoked and hid it. And that’s not even the worst of it. Does Tim know that you sent Mark inappropriate texts?’ He pushed a folder across the table to Tim. It contained copies of all the messages Mark had been sent. ‘And you,’ Morton said to Tim, ‘hired a private investigator to follow your girlfriend. Who does that? You two are idiots, and you’re perfect for each other because of it. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, Laura, did you see Tim leave the flat that night?’
‘No.’
‘And you were standing by the back door the whole time you were smoking?’
‘I was,’ Laura confirmed.
‘Then, Tim, you’re a free man. There’s no way out of the Medici except for the front and back doors. You didn’t go out the front, as we’ve got the security tapes, and you’d have passed Laura on the way out the back.’ Morton discounted the remote possibility that they had in fact worked together on the basis that they had not even bothered to properly alibi each other.
‘And what about me?’ Laura asked.
‘Was Mark alive when you left?’
‘Yes, but I can’t prove it.’
‘But you were having a relationship with him,’ Morton said. If only she’d admit it, he could warn her to get tested.
‘No. It was just the texts,’ Laura said firmly.
‘Did anyone see you leave?’
‘I don’t think so. Maybe Jake did, but–’
‘But he’s dead,’ Morton finished for her. ‘Which is either very inconvenient for you, or the perfect way to fake an alibi.’
‘Are we done here?’ Tim demanded.
‘You were always free to go,’ Morton said again. ‘The door’s over there.’
This time, they left.
***
Faye felt much more like an intruder than a guest in Tim’s flat. She had been told in unequivocal terms not to stray into their bedroom or his home office, not to use the kitchen when they were out, and never to answer the phone.
It was a lonely place. The usual noises of London faded in the executive lift up to the penthouse. The décor was so minimalist, so white, so boring, that it felt more like a waiting room than a home. There were even magazines, unread, on the coffee table. Not that The Economist was Faye’s cup of tea.
She’d taken to browsing the streaming services on the television in their absence. The children’s films were her favourites. They reminded her of a better time.
The lift creaked into life, which meant that Laura and Tim would be up in less than a minute. The lift emptied out into a small foyer with the front door to the flat opposite the lift. Faye hit the off switch on the television remote and turned to wait for them.
They were whispering when they came through the front door. Faye couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. Laura and Tim fell silent as quickly as the television had when they saw Faye sitting on the sofa waiting for them. They smiled briefly, but it looked more like a grimace than genuine pleasure. Without a second glance, they took a hard left and made their way into their bedroom. The door clicked shut behind them, they locked it, and the whispering resumed in earnest.
Faye’s curiosity got the better of her. She got up, tiptoed over to the door, and pressed an ear against it to listen.
Chapter 55: Only We Know
Saturday 2nd July, 17:00
Tim locked the bedroom door behind them. Faye was still in the living room, still just sitting there on the sofa.
It had been a rough taxi ride over. Tim knew he hadn’t done it, and Laura now knew to
o. If Tim trusted Laura – and, despite their arguments, he did – then the only logical suspect left was the woman on their sofa.
‘What do we do?’ Laura whispered once they were in the privacy of their own bedroom.
‘We’ve got to get her to leave,’ Tim said. ‘Tonight. I can’t sleep knowing there’s a murderer in my living room!’
‘Aww, babe, you know it wasn’t me, then.’
‘Of course it wasn’t you. And I don’t care about the cigarettes or the dirty messages as long as you’re all mine now.’
Laura hesitated a moment too long, so it sounded hollow when she said, ‘Of course.’
‘Let’s talk about this later. How do we get her out of here?’
‘Ask?’ Laura suggested tentatively.
‘Or we could wait until she goes out, change the locks, and pretend she never existed.’ Tim smiled for the first time since the police had picked them up earlier in the day.
‘That could work.’
‘Alright, I’ll go tell her it’s time to move on. We only promised her that she could stay a couple of days, anyway, so it’s not like she shouldn’t have seen this coming.’
***
Faye had her ear pressed to the bedroom door, and she heard everything. They thought she was the killer. She began to shake as she heard her best friend plotting to betray her. Didn’t Laura know her better than that?
She hunched over and began to cry in silence. She wasn’t sure what she was crying for. It could have been for losing Mark, for losing Laura’s trust, for losing her home, or everything at once. The world had become overwhelming, unbearable, a place devoid of hope.
And then she straightened up. She arose a new woman, filled with purpose. She would never go back to prison. The world would know her strength, her resilience, her determination.
She darted into the kitchen, where there was a knife block on the countertop.
If Laura and Tim were out to get her, she’d have to get them first.
***
Tim made the mistake of being the first to leave the bedroom. He didn’t see Faye immediately. She wasn’t sitting on the sofa, nor was she in the open-plan kitchen on the other side of the lounge.
Missing Persons (A DCI Morton Crime Novel Book 5) Page 19