Two Lovers, Six Deaths

by GRETTA MULROONEY

  TWO LOVERS

  SIX DEATHS

  A gripping crime thriller with a huge twist

  GRETTA MULROONEY

  First published 2016

  Joffe Books, London

  www.joffebooks.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The spelling used is British English except where fidelity to the author’s rendering of accent or dialect supersedes this.

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  http://www.joffebooks.com/contact/

  ©Gretta Mulrooney

  PLEASE NOTE THERE IS A GLOSSARY OF UK WORDS IN THE BACK FOR US READERS

  READ THE FIRST BOOK FEATURING TYRONE SWIFT

  THE LADY VANISHED

  http://www.amazon.com/LADY-VANISHED-gripping-detective-mystery-ebook/dp/B0170HJAMY/

  http://www.amazon.co.uk/LADY-VANISHED-gripping-detective-mystery-ebook/dp/B0170HJAMY/

  How can someone vanish without a trace?

  Carmen Langborne is a woman who no one seems to like very much, and now she's gone missing. But there is no body, no leads and no real suspects. And the police have stopped investigating her disappearance.

  Carmen's stepdaughter Florence hires private detective Tyrone Swift to find the missing woman. If the body is found, Florence will inherit half of a very valuable house. As Swift delves deeper into the family’s affairs, he discovers dark family secrets that threaten the reputations of powerful people. Will Swift get to the truth before those with much to hide stop him?

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  THE TYRONE SWIFT SERIES

  Glossary of English Slang for US readers

  CHARACTER LIST

  ALSO BY GRETTA MULROONEY

  Other books you might enjoy

  CHAPTER 1

  He had stabbed her as she lay sleeping. Days later, he had taken his own life, leaving a written confession. These were the facts in the newspaper lying in front of Tyrone Swift.

  Dominic Merrell, 39, was found hanged on Monday evening at his place of work, the Hays hotel in Southwark. He left a signed confession, stating that he carried out the bloody and brutal murder of his girlfriend, Lisa Eastwood, in their home three days earlier. Merrell hanged himself from a wardrobe door. Police have indicated that they are not looking for any other suspects. Merrell leaves a wife and two children.

  There were two photos on either side of the article. On the left was a stunning woman with long corkscrew curls and a wide, beautiful smile. One of those perfectly proportioned faces, exquisite in its harmony. On the right was a man with an open, dreamy expression, a pronounced cleft in his chin, dark-rimmed glasses and floppy brown hair. A pleasant, average face.

  Swift observed the gaunt woman sitting across from him. She had arrived at his basement office looking exhausted but composed and had maintained her self-possessed air until now. Her name was Georgie Merrell. She was the man’s wife and the bringer of the newspaper on his desk.

  ‘This tells a compact story,’ Swift said. ‘Your husband hanged himself, presumably through remorse and guilt. He confessed to murdering Ms Eastwood. From what I read, the police are accepting his confession.’

  ‘Exactly. But it isn’t true. Dominic didn’t do it, he couldn’t have done it.’ Her mouth began to tremble and she put her hand over it.

  ‘You know, things are sometimes just as they seem,’ he said softly.

  He rose and poured her a glass of water. She held it in both hands and sipped. She was extremely thin. She had a pale, freckled face, free of make-up and with finely shaped, bloodless lips. Her long brown hair was drawn back from her bony forehead into a narrow plait that fell to her waist. He thought she must be in her late thirties but she looked older, worn down by cares. She had a contained, attentive expression, which made him think of nuns in their wimples.

  ‘I’ve come to you,’ she said, ‘because I remembered reading that you found out who had attacked that boy in Epping Forest all those years ago. I was looking up private investigators and when I saw your name, it rang a bell. Then I looked at your website and saw your considerable experience. The police aren’t going to do anything.’

  ‘Why don’t you believe that your husband murdered this woman?’

  ‘Because he was a kind, decent, soft-hearted man. Somewhat gullible, maybe, but he had no violence in him. He couldn’t watch brutality in films or anything involving blood. I knew him, Mr Swift. We were together for many years and in that time we rarely argued, and he was always loving and gentle towards his children and me. He didn’t have it in him to attack anyone, especially not a woman.’

  Swift knew that everyone had the potential for violence but that luckily, most people never found cause to release it. He could see why the police were taking no further action. They had plenty of unsolved murders to keep them busy without questioning the confession of a man who had saved them the cost of a trial. He rested his head back in his deep office chair and crossed his long legs. Georgie Merrell’s freckles stood out against her pallid skin.

  ‘You speak very generously about your husband. Presumably, he left you for Ms Eastwood. Abandoned wives aren’t usually sympathetic to their exes.’

  She pressed her lips together and nodded. ‘You’re right. How can I explain? When Dominic left me, over two years ago, I was devastated and angry. I stayed that way for some time. But in the end, I still loved him. I love him now. He was the man who cried with me over our miscarriage, who was my rock when my mother died, and rubbed my temples for me when I had a migraine.’ She stopped, swallowed. ‘We married young, at eighteen. I thought we would be together always, into our old age. We have two sons. I don’t want them to grow up believing that their father was a murderer. What mother would want that for her children? They have already come home from school saying that other pupils are calling their father a killer. Someone drew a noose in one of their books. My eldest son has deleted his Facebook and Twitter accounts because of . . . of disgusting comments. He got into a fight with someone about it, came home with a cut lip but he wouldn’t discuss it. People can be so thoughtless, so cruel.’ She stood and walked to the window, looking up through the security bars at the small paved front garden. Her angular figure was that of a teenager, her legs like twigs in her close-fitting jeans.

  Swift stifled a yawn and rubbed his eyes. He had returned that morning from visiting an old friend in Lyon, an ex-colleague from the days when he had worked for Interpol. He had walked, rowed for hours on the wide rivers Rhone and Saône, drank Bière Blonde and eaten well. His return flight had been severely delayed and he had been confined with a crowd of other frustrated travellers in a small, hot departure room at Lyon airport with tantalising glimpses of aircraft taking off outside. He’d had little sleep and had arrived back just half an hour before Ms Merrell turned up for her appointment. He was still readjusting to work mode and was aware that he needed a shower.

  Ms Merrell drew her plait over her shoulder and held it for a moment, then turned and sat down again.

  ‘Dominic didn’t do this terrible thing,’ she said softly.

  ‘Then why did he confess and then
kill himself?’

  ‘I don’t know. I just don’t know and it is tormenting me. Something dreadful clearly happened to Dominic but I have no idea what. I am left with questions that go round and round in my head. My sons are distraught. They are angry with their father, all over again. He has abandoned them twice. Adam keeps telling me that his dad couldn’t have done it. What can I say to him? Words seem meaningless. It hurts when you can’t comfort your children, make things better. It seems the very least a parent should be able to do.’

  Swift glanced again at the newspaper she had given him. ‘This took place about eight weeks ago. When did you last see your husband?’

  ‘A fortnight before, early January. He usually took the boys, Harry and Adam, out twice a month. Well . . . that’s what used to happen but then Harry refused to see him sometimes and he just took Adam. But Harry did go with them on that last Saturday and they went for a pizza and saw a film.’

  ‘Why did Harry refuse to see him?’

  ‘He wouldn’t say. I would guess anger, disappointment, feelings of betrayal. I’m not sure Harry himself understood why.’

  ‘How did your husband seem on that Saturday?’

  ‘He was okay. A bit tired, I thought. I only saw him briefly. He didn’t come in. Lisa often kept late hours. I understand she was a social animal. Dominic was a shift engineer, employed by Hays hotels, so he had to work some nights.’

  ‘Did you know Lisa well?’

  She gave a wry smile. ‘Not well at all, but I introduced her to Dominic. I made her an unwitting gift of my husband. I do pet portraits, you see, mainly from photos. I have a little studio at home. Lisa contacted me because she wanted a portrait of a guinea pig. She posted the photograph. I met her just once when she called by to pick up the finished picture. She was very friendly and warm so we chatted for a while. I remember thinking how beautiful she was. She had a kind of glow. She told me the portrait was a surprise for an elderly friend’s birthday. It seemed a considerate gesture, bothering to think of something so personal. Dominic came in as we were talking and the next thing I knew, a couple of months later he was leaving us.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ve heard before about men becoming involved with women their wives know. Why is that?’

  ‘Laziness and proximity coming together with opportunity?’ Swift suggested.

  She sighed. ‘It was a possibility that had never occurred to me. You see, Dominic was clearly head over heels in love with Lisa. Stricken, stunned, swept off his feet. She was very lovely. I could say that she enchanted him and I think there is some truth in that. I think she made a habit of enchanting men. I hoped at first that it was an infatuation, that he would come to his senses and come back to us. But after a while I had to accept that he was committed to staying with her.’

  Georgie Merrell interested Swift. She was distressed but appeared to bear little rancour or hostility towards the dead woman. He could detect the effort it had cost her to hold things together.

  ‘Lisa had had other husbands or partners?’

  ‘One husband, I believe. Other partners and one child, a daughter. I don’t know where the child is, she didn’t live with her and Dominic. I didn’t want to know. I only know that much because Dominic told our sons a few details and they carried them home to me. That is one of the problems when children are involved in a split. They collect information for you, whether you want it or not.’

  Swift pointed to the rings on her third finger. ‘You and Dominic remained married?’

  She touched the rings. He could see that she was close to tears but she blinked them away.

  ‘I didn’t want a divorce and he didn’t press for one. As far as I know, Lisa wasn’t interested in marriage. I think she might still have been married herself. Dominic rang to tell me that she was dead, you know. He sounded so odd and distant. I offered to let him stay with us because the police had sealed her flat off, but he refused. He didn’t want to speak to the children. He put the phone down on me. That hurt.’

  ‘He must have been in a strange state of mind. Where was he staying?’

  ‘At the Hays hotel, where he died.’

  ‘So neither you nor your sons saw him after the murder?’

  ‘No. Not alive. I visited him at the funeral parlour. I put his wedding ring back on his finger, held his hand, sat with him, talked to him. I told him we loved him, always. We are comforting ourselves, aren’t we, when we talk to the dead?’ She swallowed and shook her head.

  ‘Can I get you a tea or coffee, something stronger?’

  ‘No, thank you. I’m fine with water.’

  ‘Do you know of any friends of your husband that I can contact, people who might know more about his life recently?’

  ‘Dominic had one close friend, Finbar Power. They had known each other since they were teenagers. He played squash with him and they went fishing sometimes. Finbar came to the funeral but other than that, I hadn’t seen him since the split. I always got on well with him but he stayed in Dominic’s camp. Divided loyalties, I suppose. One of my sons mentioned seeing him at Lisa’s flat once. I have a phone number for him.’

  ‘Anyone else? Your husband’s siblings or parents?’

  ‘Dominic’s parents are both dead. He was an only child.’

  ‘What about the home he shared with Lisa? Will I be able to see it?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Dominic’s things are no longer there. Lisa’s father, Mr Eastwood, kindly allowed me to have his belongings collected. Lisa owned the flat and I believe her father is clearing it out. I suppose it will be sold but I don’t know. I can give you his contact information. He lives in South Africa. I am sorry I can’t tell you much more about Dominic’s life in recent years. I am sure he had met other people through Lisa but when he left, I told him I didn’t want to know anything about his new relationship. I kept the life he had chosen over us at arm’s length. It helped me deal with the parting. He understood that and respected it. I know that he suffered because of the decision he had made. He was an emotional man, easily moved to tears and his family was important to him. It just shows how strong his feelings for Lisa must have been.’ She pressed her hands to her cheeks. ‘So, when we saw each other we talked briefly about the boys and financial arrangements, practical things like that.’

  ‘You say you discussed money. Was he okay financially?’

  ‘I don’t know. He was contributing to the mortgage payments on our house. I don’t make enough from my work to take it all on myself. He kept buying gifts for the boys. I wasn’t happy about it but I couldn’t stop him. He got expensive toys for Adam, a top of the range Vespa scooter for Harry. It was guilt, of course. I don’t know if he paid Lisa rent. Dominic also gave me an agreed amount for our sons and he had a steady job. He was a steady man until he met her. He was my north star.’

  There was a silence. She stroked her rings, appearing to be in a reverie. Swift made notes. He liked what he saw of this woman. She seemed convinced of her husband’s innocence and her motives struck him as genuine. Swift doubted that there was much mileage in an investigation and it would be tricky. He would have to get to know two dead people through the subjective views of their families and friends. Information would be partial and biased. Their home and possessions, which could divulge evidence, were already being dismantled. However, the situation was unusual and would offer a challenge. His recent success in finding the perpetrators of a vicious attack on a young man had brought positive publicity. Swift’s name had featured in the press with headlines of the ex-cop private eye finds forest killer after fifteen years variety. But the cases coming in since then had been workaday: tailing errant wives and husbands for suspicious spouses, an executive wanting dirt on a rival, an insurance scam.

  Georgie Merrell looked up at him. ‘God knows, I’ve cried an ocean of tears over Dominic and for a while I thought I hated him. But he loved that woman. He would never have harmed her. And he loved his sons. I don’t know why he claimed responsibility for the murder. Please, will you
at least ask some questions? If you come back to me and tell me I am wrong, I will shed more tears but at least I will have tried my best. My sons will know that I have and then maybe I can find a way to talk to them, help them.’

  ‘Yes, okay, I’ll take a look.’ Swift took out a contract for her to sign and requested the usual deposit. ‘How old are your sons?’ he asked.

  ‘Harry is eighteen, Adam is twelve.’

  ‘I’ll want to talk to them. I will be sensitive. I need to form a picture of how their father was around the time this happened.’

  ‘Yes, that would be okay. I would like to be with them, though. Harry has taken this particularly hard. He hardly speaks at home. I just can’t get through to him at all. It’s as if someone exploded a bomb in our house and we are living in the ruins, in a daze, trying to pick up the pieces. Yes, that’s how it feels. I’ve never had concussion but I think this is what it must be like.’

  ‘I am sorry. I appreciate that coming to see me has taken a huge effort.’

  ‘Thank you. You’re kind.’

  He hoped she would still think so if he ended up confirming her husband’s confession.

  ‘Do you have your husband’s phone? Did he have a laptop or iPad?’

  ‘Yes, I still have his phone although I’ve ended the contract so it’s not in use any more. He didn’t have any other devices. Adam knew the phone’s security code. I looked at it but there was nothing I could see to explain what happened. Just emails about work. Harry looked too and said Dominic had cleared the call and search history before he died. He did clear emails and messages regularly as a matter of course. He was like that — neat, meticulous.’

  Or perhaps concealing something.

  She put down the pen, smoothing the contract. ‘I always hoped that Dominic would come back to us one day. And he did, but in a coffin. Still, he was ours again at the end, with his family who love him around him, looking after him.’