• Will slept with Catrina and, if Catrina, then probably others.
• Will has Julia’s ring.
But why? How? Did he steal it? Why would he have done that? When could he have done it?
I think back to the night Julia died. The coroner’s report said the actual death occurred between 10 P.M. and midnight, and that Julia must have drunk the Nembutal about thirty minutes before dying of respiratory failure. We were at the Harburys until shortly before ten. Will came home with me, then set straight off to the airport. I don’t exactly know when he got there, but his flight was just before midnight. Would he have had time to stop off at Julia’s flat and slip a fatal dose of Nembutal into her whiskey?
It’s ridiculous. Unthinkable. Insane. I think these words, yet the ring, hard and bright in my hand, tells me that anything is possible.
I make it back to the kitchen and sink into a chair at the table. What if Will and Julia were having an affair? Or what if Julia found out Will was having one with someone else?
Maybe he found out that she knew about it.
Maybe she confronted him directly.
Maybe she threatened to tell me about his infidelity.
Could Will have killed her to keep her quiet?
Could he have killed Kara too?
No.
There’s no way Will is capable of either murder. He is totally nonviolent. He has never come near hitting me or even smacking our children. He traps spiders under a glass and tips them outside the window rather than harm them, for goodness’ sake.
And yet the ring is here. Who else could have hidden it in Will’s toolbox? Who could have taken it from Julia’s flat? Apart from myself, only Joanie and Robbie had access. And no one apart from Will and I ever come into the garage.
My phone rings. It’s Damian. I say hello in a kind of trance, but he doesn’t seem to notice, asking eagerly what Will has said about meeting Shannon Walker.
I pull myself together. Before I talk to Damian about anything, I have to find out more about him. My mistrust levels are spiking anyway, and I need to know what lies behind his complete lack of a presence online.
“I’ve been meaning to ask…,” I say. “I Googled your name and I couldn’t find any reference to you, not on social media and not as a graphic designer, either. If you have a job, it should be there.”
On the other end of the line, Damian is silent. After several long seconds, he finally speaks. “There’s a reason for that, Livy.”
“Go on.”
“I will explain,” Damian says slowly, “but it’s complicated.… I’d rather tell you face-to-face. Because you’re right, it is odd. But there’s a good reason. Honestly.”
I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but if you want me to trust you, then you need to tell me now.”
“Okay.” Another silence. “I use a different name at work,” he says. “I’m Damian Chambers there, it’s called Gramercy Designs. You can check it out.”
“Okay…” I’m unsure how to respond. Why didn’t he mention all this before? “Did Julia know?”
“Yes,” he says. “She knew everything about me. Honestly, Livy, I will explain properly. The whole thing. There are good reasons, I promise.”
He sounds so sincere that my anger fades. “Maybe Shannon had a good reason for leaving Honey Hearts too,” I say more gently.
“Maybe, but I doubt it.” Damian tells me about a friend of his who he thinks will be able to trace Shannon’s unlisted phone number and address.
As he speaks, my thoughts turn back to Will. There is no good reason for his lies.
“I’m going to ask Gaz to take a look at that scrap of hard drive we found on Julia’s computer as well,” Damian goes on.
“Right,” I say, my mind still on Will. “Good.”
“Livy?” Damian says, his voice full of anxiety. “You sound really weird. Look, I promise I’ll explain all the name-changing stuff when I see you. It’s nothing sinister, nothing to do with finding Julia’s killer.”
“It’s not you.” Humiliation rises inside me again, a bitter taste in my throat. “It’s nothing.”
“Come on,” he says gently. “I can hear there’s something wrong. What have you found out? Did you talk to Will?”
I hesitate. “It’s hard.…” I trail off, unable to speak my shame out loud.
“Okay, wait there.” Damian says firmly, “I’m coming over.”
I try, feebly, to protest but Damian won’t listen. He hangs up and I sit, staring at the kitchen table. I can’t seem to form a coherent thought; a jumble of confused images and ideas zoom around my head; Catrina with Will. Julia with Will. Shannon with Will.
It’s too much to take in.
I rouse myself sufficiently to do a search on Damian Chambers, and sure enough, there he is … a senior designer at Gramercy Designs, just like he said. Time passes. I have no idea how long I’m sitting there. Then the bell rings and I somehow drag myself across the hall to open the door. Damian strides inside.
“What is it, Livy? What’s happened?” There is genuine concern on his face.
I turn away. I still don’t want to admit what Will has done out loud, to make it real.
Damian pulls me to him, wrapping his arms around me. His hand rubs my back. I submit to the hug, too numb even to feel startled by the intimacy.
Then he draws back and looks into my eyes. “Talk to me,” he says.
A sob swells in my throat. “It’s Will,” I say. I don’t mean to tell Damian everything, but once I’ve started, I can’t stop. It all pours out of me: how Will has renewed his affair with Catrina, how he has denied it, how I have found Julia’s ring—and how I don’t know what to do with the vortex of deep, dark fears and suspicions whirling around in my head.
Damian is shocked and confused by turns. He repeats his belief that Julia was not having a relationship with Will, but so what? It seems more and more likely to me that Julia must have found out Will was cheating on me with Catrina and hired Shannon from Honey Hearts to get proof.
Damian agrees. “It’s really the only explanation that makes sense,” he says thoughtfully. “It explains why Julia went to Honey Hearts and hired Shannon. I’m guessing that before Shannon had a chance to approach him, Will found out Julia was investigating him. He probably went round to her flat to confront her, then…” He hesitates.
“No,” I say firmly, sensing where his thoughts are going. “No way.”
“Come on, Livy,” Damian says with a sigh. “It makes sense, especially now that you’ve found that ring. I don’t expect Will actually intended to kill her in cold blood, just to frighten her, maybe, into keeping quiet.”
“What, and he just happened to have a lethal dose of Nembutal in his back pocket?”
“I don’t know.” Damian fixes me with his gaze. “But when you take everything into consideration … I mean, Will goes abroad on business sometimes, doesn’t he? He went to Geneva the night Julia died, you said.”
“Yes, but—”
“Well, maybe all this stuff has been going on for longer than we thought. Maybe Will got the Nembutal from one of his previous business trips. I looked it up after Julia died. It’s not that hard to get hold of online or in lots of places outside the UK.”
“No.” I have to stop this now. “You’re just desperate to believe Julia didn’t kill herself. You’re twisting everything to fit that because you feel guilty and—”
“I’m not twisting anything!” Damian’s voice rises. “You found Will’s name on the Honey Hearts file. You found Julia’s ring in his toolbox.”
We glare at each other. I’m reminded again of how little I know about him, of the facts he has kept from me.
“Why did you change your name?” I ask. “You said you’d tell me once we were face-to-face.”
Damian looks at me for a long moment, then gazes across at the bottle of wine, half-drunk and recorked, that stands on the kitchen counter.
“I couldn’t do that,” he says.<
br />
“Do what?”
“Leave the bottle half drunk.” He meets my gaze, then takes a deep, shaky breath. “I’m an alcoholic, an addict. It’s been five years and three months since my last drink, since I was using.”
I stare at him. Shame and pride burn equally in his eyes.
“So … so … Burton…,” he says. “I started using the name when I was first in recovery, after Richard Burton, you know, the actor?”
I nod.
“It was just a game. I still kept my real name for work and tax and all that stuff. My shrink says I did it to avoid intimacy. I don’t know. I used it in social situations, with people I didn’t know.”
“Including Julia?”
“Especially Julia. I was so damn nervous when I met her, though I told her the truth after the first couple of dates.…” He trails off. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you from the outset, but I knew if she’d said anything about me, it would be as Damian Burton, DB … Dirty Blond, remember? It was easiest not to have to explain the whole effing story on top of everything else I had to tell you.”
“Okay.” I study him carefully. His explanation makes sense, but how can I really be sure that he’s telling the truth? And if he’s lying about this, he could be lying about anything.
We carry on talking, our conversation going round and round in circles. It feels surreal.
“The only thing that doesn’t fit with Julia suspecting Will of an affair, is that she told me she’d found out who Kara’s killer was,” Damian says eventually. “Either the two things are totally unconnected or—” He stops, but I can hear the thought he is holding back from voicing: Or Julia believed Will killed Kara and was planning on getting Shannon from Honey Hearts to somehow make him confess.
I shudder. Damian gets up and fills the kettle.
“I’m so sorry about all this, Livy.” His face softens into a sad smile.
I sip the tea he makes. It’s weak but not too milky, just how I like it—as we sit in silence, both lost in our own thoughts. After a while, I come around to the only possible next step. I clear my throat. “I’m going to speak to Will again when he gets in.” I check the time. It’s just past 2:30 P.M. I can’t believe how much of the day has already passed.
“Then I’m going to stay,” Damian says firmly. “You don’t know how he’s going to react when you confront him about the ring.”
I gulp, remembering what had sent me into the garage in the first place. “The trouble is it’s all mixed up with him seeing Catrina again, and I can’t tell Will that Martha told me about that. It will get her into trouble with her own husband.”
“He’ll probably confess—to the affair, at least,” Damian says, sitting back in his chair. “Most people don’t like the burden of guilt, they want to ease their conscience. I did, the one time I cheated. My girlfriend at college. She heard from a friend I had a one-night stand. It was actually a relief to come clean.”
I purse my lips. I can’t believe Will is going to confess or feel remotely relieved. He will most likely deny everything, and other than Julia’s ring and his name on the Honey Hearts form, I have no tangible proof of either an affair or any secret contact with Julia.
“What happened with your girlfriend?”
“She dumped me,” Damian says with a sigh.
We talk a little more. I tell Damian he doesn’t need to stay, but again he insists. I’m grateful for his desire to make sure I’m okay, but the more time passes, the harder it becomes to talk to him.
I’m in such a miserable daze that I’m genuinely staggered when Zack rushes out of school later, clutching a large pile of colorful paintings and explaining, with a big grin, that they’ve been allowed to bring all their pictures home today, as the school lets out for summer tomorrow. Which means Hannah’s term finishes the day after.
My heart sinks. I love my children too much to wish them a front-row seat as Will and I fall apart. Hannah gets home, her usual surly self, and goes straight up to her room, barely acknowledging me. She does, at least, smile nicely at Damian, whom I introduce as a friend of Julia’s.
An hour or so later, I leave Damian downstairs and go upstairs to the bathroom. Feeling raw, I almost break down at the sight of our bedroom—at the bed where Zack was conceived, at Will’s jeans splayed on the carpet, and at the photos of our wedding on the window ledge. My phone rings. Robbie again. I ignore the call. This time Robbie leaves a voice mail—a plaintive request “for a chat” when I have a moment. There’s no way I’m up to that. Fresh tears leak out of my eyes as I sink down onto the bed. I have never felt so alone in my life.
A moment later, I hear raised voices coming from downstairs.
“Sorry, but who are you?” It’s Will. He sounds tired and irritated—and wary. “Where’s Livy?”
Damian says something from the living room. I can’t hear what. Then there are footsteps on the stairs. Next thing, Will is at the bedroom door, frowning.
“What’s going on?” he demands.
Damian has followed him up the stairs, Zack at his side. The two men stare at each other. Actually, “glare” would be a better word. Damian’s expression is openly hostile.
“Will, this is Damian, Julia’s friend,” I say quickly. “Damian, this is my husband, Will.” I cast Damian a look of appeal. “Would you wait downstairs, with Zack, please?”
Damian throws me a look that quite clearly tells me to shout if I need him, then retreats, taking a grumbling Zack back downstairs.
Will shakes his head. “What’s going on? Why is that man here? I want a shower and—”
“I know about Catrina.” The words blurt out of me, unplanned. “Is she why you want a shower?”
“What?” Will stares at me. His expression darkens. “For God’s sake, Liv, what are you going on about now?”
I stand up and cross the room to the window. It’s muggy and overcast outside, making the early evening far darker than it would normally be.
“We need to talk.”
“No fucking kidding,” Will snaps. He slumps onto the bed. “Will you please explain what is happening?”
I walk over to him. Julia’s ring is hot against my clammy palm. I unclench my fist and hold it out to him.
“I found this in the garage,” I say.
Will stares at me as if I’ve gone mad. “What is it?”
“It’s Julia’s,” I say, watching him intently. “I mentioned it before. Julia’s mother thinks I stole it.”
“What was it doing in our garage?” Will looks genuinely bemused. For a second I falter; then I remember the Honey Hearts form with the name Will Jackson—and Martha’s agonized face as she told me about Will and Catrina.
I take a deep breath. “That’s what I was hoping you would tell me.”
“Me?” He sits up straighter in his chair, his eyes registering first confusion, then horror. “You think I took it?”
I sit down next to him and place the ring on the bed between us. “I don’t know what to think,” I say. “Firstly, I find out Julia hired a woman from a honey trap agency to try to seduce you.”
“That again?” Will shakes his head in disbelief.
“Secondly,” I press on, “I discover Julia’s missing ring in our garage, which you are the only person ever to use.”
Will folds his arms, indignant, defensive.
“And thirdly.” My voice cracks. “Thirdly I found out for sure that you and Catrina were … were together on that trip to Geneva.”
Will’s eyes widen. “Found out? How? What the hell are you saying? How could you ‘find out’ something that didn’t happen?”
“I can’t tell you, it doesn’t matter.” My heart thumps painfully against my ribs. “Are you denying it, then?”
“I refuse to dignify that question with an answer,” Will’s snaps. “None of this makes sense, Livy. Not. One. Bit. It’s like you’re forcing the dots to join up but they don’t make a picture.” He pauses. “You’re being paranoid. It’s just like
when you got all overprotective about Hannah when she was little—you’ve got obsessed and it’s making you completely irrational.”
What? Is he kidding? I back away from him. “Don’t deny Catrina. You did that before and—”
“I didn’t fucking sleep with her!” Will’s voice rises to a yell.
I stare at him, my whole body shaking. “I don’t believe you.”
A beat passes as we look at each other.
“Right.” Will snatches Julia’s ring off the bed. “Are you sure you didn’t take this, like Joanie said?” he asks nastily.
“Of course n—”
“If this ring is Julia’s, then it belongs to her mother now.” Will strides to the door. “I’ll get it couriered round to Robbie from work tomorrow.”
“Will, please—”
He holds up his hand, palm out, to stop me speaking. “I can’t cope with this, Livy. Work is stressful. I don’t need this bullshit when I come home. I understand you are upset about Julia, but this is too much. Accusing me of sleeping with Catrina, and—” He holds up Julia’s ring. “—accusing me of stealing this. You’ll be accusing me of Julia’s murder next.”
I keep my gaze on his eyes, which fill with horror as he clocks my expression.
“Oh, Jesus,” he says in disgust. “I don’t fucking believe it.” He takes a step outside the room. “I’m going to check into a hotel,” he says. “Give you a chance to think about what the hell you’re doing.” He jerks his thumb toward the stairs. “And why that asshole is here.”
“Good. That’s good.” My words shoot out of me, full of hate and anger: “Maybe you’ll take a bit of time to think too, about everything you’ve blown apart for a cheap shag.”
Will storms downstairs. I hurry after him and catch a glimpse of Hannah, openmouthed in her bedroom door. Zack is nowhere to be seen, but Damian is in the hall, his hands clenched into fists.
“That man is not staying here, Liv,” Will orders.
Damian draws himself up. It flashes through my head that, as far as he is concerned, all the evidence points to Will as Julia’s killer.
“I’ll be fine,” I say quickly to Damian. “You can leave when Will goes.”
You Can Trust Me Page 17