by Roberta Kray
‘What about bail?’
‘We’ll ask, but I’m not hopeful. He’ll be viewed as a flight risk. It was a big robbery, Mrs Chase. The goods taken were worth about two million. And with the manslaughter charge as well…’
Eden put her elbows on the desk and covered her face with her hands. She thought of Tom languishing in a police cell and the despair he must be feeling. It was all wrong, a travesty of justice. How could it happen? She felt angry, horrified. She felt sick to her stomach.
Seeing her distress, Castor stretched out his hand and patted her on the arm. ‘Try not to worry too much. I know it all seems a bit overwhelming at the moment but —’
‘But what?’ Eden snapped, recoiling from his touch. She didn’t need empty words or bland reassurances. ‘My husband has been locked up for something he hasn’t done. He’s innocent. I know he is.’ Tom Chase was guilty of nothing more than being a decent, loving, hard-working man – and no matter what it took, she was going to prove it.
3
Eden moved around the Islington flat in a daze. Usually this was her sanctuary, the place she could relax, but all that had changed. The police had been here too, searching every cupboard, every nook and cranny, pulling out drawers and rooting through their belongings. Now everything felt dirty and contaminated. If she could have put the whole flat through the washing machine she would have but had to be content with the clothes she knew they had touched.
In the bedroom they had gone through her jewellery, examined it piece by piece and compared every item to a list they had. They’d found nothing of interest and the disappointment had shown on their faces. In the end the only thing they’d taken away with them was a pile of bank statements.
While Eden cleaned and tidied, putting things back where they belonged, she tried to push down the panic that was rising inside her. She wanted to believe that this would all be over in a few days, that the police would realise their mistake and release him. But that wasn’t going to happen now, was it? It was too late. He was being charged in the morning. The wheels of so-called justice had already started to turn.
She thought about the bracelet that had been found in the safe. Why hadn’t Tom ever told her about it? Shown it to her? She gave a quick shake of her head. God, he had probably just forgotten it was there. The safe was always full of stuff, old cameras and photos, lenses and film. And he’d had the bracelet for years. It had probably got shoved to the back and buried under all the other things.
Eden went to the window of the living room, folded her arms across her chest and gazed down on the street. It was evening now and a thin drizzle had started to fall. She could see the drops of rain sparkling in the orange glow of the street lamps. This morning the sun had been shining, the day bright and clear and full of promise. And now? Now a cold shroud of darkness had wrapped itself around her world. Despite the warmth of the flat, she shivered with fear and apprehension.
Eden yanked the curtains across, hiding her view of the outside. She couldn’t bear the sight of other people passing by, people who had nothing more to worry about than what they’d be eating for their dinners or watching on TV. She started to pace back and forth, still struggling to come to terms with it all. It felt unreal, like something that was happening to somebody else.
She wondered how Tom was coping, locked up in a cell with only his thoughts for company. What was going through his head? He was a strong person, not the type to buckle under pressure, but even he must be feeling the strain. Tomorrow he’d be up in court and then… Manslaughter. The very word made her catch her breath. She had to find out who was accusing him. And she had to find Jack Minter.
The phone rang, making her jump. She darted across the room and snatched it up, hoping it was Tom although she knew it wasn’t likely. ‘Hello?’
A cool voice travelled down the line. ‘It’s Annabelle. Any news on Tom?’
‘No,’ Eden said. ‘The police are still talking to him.’ She didn’t want to admit that he’d already been charged. She couldn’t say the words out loud and anyway the truth would come out soon enough.
‘So what’s going on? What’s it all about?’
‘It’s just a mix-up,’ Eden said. ‘It’ll all be sorted. It’s just… er… it’s taking a bit longer than we expected.’
There was a short pause before Annabelle spoke again. ‘So will he be in work tomorrow?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe. Has he got any appointments?’
‘He’s got a shoot in the afternoon. Carolyn Bridges. He can’t miss that, Eden. He has to be there.’
Eden frowned. Carolyn Bridges was a young actress, the next ‘big thing’ and Tom had been hired to do a spread for Chic magazine. It was a big job, lucrative, the kind of assignment that would help establish his reputation as a fashionable London photographer. ‘You’ll have to postpone it. There’s nothing else we can do. Ring them up first thing in the morning.’
‘I can’t do that. They’ll go mad. It’s all organised; it’s been booked for weeks.’
Eden slid the toe of her shoe across the smooth surface of the floorboards. ‘You’ll have to.’
‘And tell them what?’
‘I don’t know. Anything. Say he’s sick. Say he’s got the flu.’
‘So do I reschedule or what?’
Eden hesitated. As things stood there was slim chance of Tom being available in the near future, but what if something miraculous happened? Perhaps another Tom Chase would turn up. Perhaps the gold bracelet wouldn’t be quite as rare as the police thought it was. Tom could walk out of jail in a day or two and she didn’t want to have to tell him that she’d thrown away a great opportunity. ‘Er…’
‘Eden?’
‘Yes, sorry, I’m just thinking about it.’
Annabelle breathed out one of her long contemptuous sighs. ‘Well, can you make a decision, please? I need to know what I’m doing. This isn’t going to look good. They’ll probably go somewhere else.’
‘I’m aware of that.’ Lifting her gaze, Eden stared at the framed pictures on the wall, two evocative black and white photographs of the streets of Budapest taken at dusk. Gradually, the full impact of the day’s events was starting to hit her. When word got around that Tom was in prison – and what he was in prison for – his career would be in ruins. ‘I’ll let you know, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow.’
‘But —’
Eden didn’t wait to hear her protestations. She said a hasty goodbye and hung up. All she could do was play for time and hope the situation changed. For a while she stood there, her eyes locked on the photographs. If Tom had never gone to Hungary he’d never have had the bracelet. If Tom had… But what ifs were a waste of time. They didn’t change a goddamn thing. It was all so unfair, so wrong. He had worked day and night to get where he was and now… Jesus, everything was falling apart.
She raised a hand to her mouth and bit down on her knuckles. Tomorrow was Friday and then there was the weekend. Tomorrow was the day when Tom would be in court. Would anyone get to hear about it? There would probably be journalists hanging around, hoping for some tasty gossip, but Tom was hardly famous. With luck, nothing would be reported in the papers.
But people would get to hear about it eventually. And of all those people, it was her father’s reaction she dreaded most. She could imagine the smugness, the I-told-you-so tone to his voice. He had disapproved of Tom on principle; his daughter always made bad choices, ergo Tom Chase must be a waste of space. It wouldn’t even cross his mind that her husband might be innocent.
‘No, you’ll presume the worst like you always do,’ she muttered.
The two men had only met once and that had been a strained awkward affair that she preferred to forget about. Edinburgh. Over a year ago, just before they’d married. Even the memory of it made her wince. Tom had brushed off her father’s disapproval with his usual dry wit, but Eden was not so quick to forgive. A small effort was all she’d asked for and he couldn’t even manage that. She’d been glad
when he hadn’t come to the wedding – pleading ill health but making a miraculous recovery a few days later – because his sour face would have ruined it for her.
Eden sat down, stood up again and resumed her pacing. She was unable to be still. Adrenalin was streaming through her body, urging her to act, to do something – but what? A vein throbbed in her temple. The flat felt empty without Tom and she tried not to think about how long it might be before he was back here again. She walked from one side of the living room to the other. No, the silence was too much for her. She had to talk to someone. She’d go mad if she had to spend the evening on her own. Unable to bear it, she picked up the phone and dialled.
‘Hi, it’s me. Can you come over? Something awful has happened.’
4
It was an hour before Caitlin Styles arrived at the flat, bringing with her a Chinese takeaway, a bottle of wine and an air of brisk efficiency. She placed the carrier bag on the floor and hugged Eden. Her old duffel coat smelled of damp. Her white-blonde hair, cropped short, was wet and sleek from the rain.
‘Poor you! How are you, love?’
‘I’m okay,’ Eden said, although it wasn’t strictly true. ‘Thanks for coming. I didn’t… It’s all so weird, so awful. I don’t know what to do.’
‘It’s the shock,’ Caitlin said, stepping back and patting Eden on the arm. ‘It’ll take a while for it to sink in.’ She bent, picked up the bag and headed for the kitchen. ‘Come on, let’s sort out this food before it goes cold. And while we’re doing that, you can tell me all about it.’
Eden watched as Caitlin busied herself, searching out bowls and cutlery and glasses. It was a relief to have her there, a comfort, a friendly face after all the hours of hell. The two of them went way back, their friendship having begun just after Eden first arrived in London. They’d met at a women’s group and instantly hit it off.
Eden explained about Tom’s arrest, a faltering account as she stopped and started, still trying to get it straight in her own head. ‘There’s been a mistake,’ she said for what felt like the fiftieth time that day. ‘He could never have done anything like that.’
‘Of course he couldn’t.’
They went through to the living room and sat down. Caitlin perched on the edge of the sofa forking noodles into her mouth. ‘I can’t imagine Tom as an armed robber.’
‘He isn’t an armed robber.’ Eden moved the food around her bowl, knowing that she ought to eat but not having the stomach for it. ‘That’s the point. It’s a travesty, the whole damn thing. And how could anyone just leave a man to die like that? It’s inhuman. They’d have to be a monster.’
‘Or someone without a conscience.’
Eden took a gulp of wine to steady her nerves. ‘And the police think it’s him,’ she said. ‘They think it was Tom.’
‘Only because they’re thick. They’ve got a name and a stolen bracelet, so as far as they’re concerned it’s job done. Someone’s put him in the frame. You’re going to have to prove that the witness is deliberately lying… or that they’ve got it wrong.’
‘But what if I can’t?’ Eden put the bowl down on the coffee table and pushed it away. ‘It’s one man’s word against another’s. And I don’t even know what Tom was doing sixteen years ago.’
‘Surely he can remember.’
Eden gave a shrug. She’d got the impression from Castor that her husband had been vague about it. ‘His brief wants me to get in touch with family and friends, anyone who knew Tom back then. But I don’t know where to start. So far as I’m aware he hasn’t got any family, at least none he keeps in touch with. Tom’s mum died when he was young and he didn’t get on with his dad.’
‘What about old friends?’
Eden shook her head. ‘Not that I can think of, not really. I mean, not any that go back that far.’ The truth was that Tom rarely spoke about the past. While she had been more than happy to talk at length on the trials and tribulations of her early years, he’d been relatively taciturn on the subject. Why had she never pushed it, tried to draw him out? Perhaps it was because she hadn’t wanted to come across as one of those women who demand to know everything about their spouses, who dig and probe until every last detail has been brought to light. ‘I don’t think they were happy times for him. He always said that there was no point dwelling on what couldn’t be changed.’
‘He must have told you something. Mind, it was the sixties; half the people who were there don’t remember what they did.’
‘I know he travelled a lot: Paris, Berlin, Budapest.’
‘So maybe he wasn’t even in the country when this robbery took place. Has he still got his old passport?’
Eden shook her head again. ‘I can’t remember seeing it.’
‘You’ll have to try and dig out everything you can – letters, cards, old bills, photographs, anything that might give you a clue. Search here and at the studio. What about his birth certificate? You might be able to track his family through that.’
But Eden couldn’t recall having seen that official slip of paper either. She would have to go through all the drawers, do a thorough sweep of the flat and see what she could find.
Picking up her glass, she took another gulp of wine. ‘How long do you think it will be before I’m able to see him? See him properly, I mean, on a visit?’
‘I’m not sure. A few days, a week perhaps. You can ring the prison once he’s got there. You won’t need a VO.’
Eden looked blankly at her. ‘A VO?’
‘A visiting order. But you won’t need one of those the first time you go. It depends on the jail, but you’ll probably get a visit a week until… unless he’s convicted. Which he won’t be, of course.’
The word convicted hit Eden like a blow to the stomach, bringing everything home to her. Her head swam with terrible thoughts: jail, a tiny cell with bars on the window, a man’s life in tatters. What if Tom’s innocence couldn’t be proved? Her face twisted with fear.
Caitlin looked at her. ‘You’ve got to stay positive, Eden. You’re no good to him if you fall apart.’
Eden took a couple of deep breaths, trying to stop herself from spinning down into that deep abyss of panic. For hours she had been holding on to the slim hope that the truth would come out, the charges would be dropped and Tom would be a free man again. ‘It doesn’t feel real. None of it. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and it was all some dreadful dream.’
‘It is a dreadful dream, a bloody nightmare, but you have to try and hold it together. Once you can see him, face to face, you can start to get to the bottom of this mess. Be careful when you speak to the cops – they’re bound to interview you at some point – and think twice before you tell them anything.’
‘Tell them what? I don’t know a damn thing about any of this.’
‘That won’t stop them, hon. They’ll try and trick you into saying something incriminating, like Tom being secretive about his family or evasive about his past. And they’ll ask all kinds of personal questions about money and your relationship, what you do together, where you go, who you meet. But all they’ll be doing is looking for ways to blacken his character. So don’t let them put words into your mouth. Stop and think before you speak.’
‘Okay,’ Eden murmured. It didn’t surprise her that Caitlin knew so much about the police. She had trained as a solicitor and was now working with various women’s groups trying to convince the cops that it wasn’t okay for men to batter their wives and girlfriends. She’d had plenty of experience of the criminal system.
‘From now on, they’re the enemy. You have to remember that.’
For Eden, who’d been raised in the kind of middle-class home where the police were seen as a body of people who could be relied on to help, this new notion was alarming. She’d heard stories, of course, tales of bent coppers and planted evidence, but had always viewed them with scepticism – or as an example of a few bad apples. Her heart sank as it occurred to her that she was walking into a world where the law
was no longer on her side and where she could no longer expect to be protected by it.
‘You’ll be all right,’ Caitlin said. ‘You’re not on your own.’
Eden pushed back her shoulders and forced a smile. If she could try and look as though she was holding it together, then maybe it would actually happen. ‘I know. And thanks.’
‘It could all be over in a few weeks. If some new evidence comes to light and —’
The phone rang and Eden jumped at the sound. A number of possibilities ran through her head – the police, her father, Annabelle – none of which made her feel inclined to answer. The last thing she needed was even more questions.
‘Do you want me to get it?’ Caitlin asked.
Eden shook her head and rose to her feet. What if it was Tom? What if he’d been released? The thought sent her hurrying across the room before the machine could kick in. ‘Hello?’