Two Lovers, Six Deaths

by GRETTA MULROONEY

  Georgie Merrell had brought in coffee and fruit juice. The living room was comfortably furnished, with stacked bookshelves, magazines, sports trophies on the mantelpiece and a game of Monopoly on a low table by the bay window. The paraphernalia of family life. The chairs were covered with woven and quilted throws in bright colours and animal themes and there were striped rugs on the waxed floorboards. There were many framed photographs, and Dominic Merrell was in most of them. Georgie was maintaining the fiction that he had never left them. She was wearing a long, navy blue skirt and matching long-sleeved shirt with bell sleeves. She sat upright, her hair held back in a clip, her hands tucked into her sleeve ends and he was reminded again of a holy woman. Perhaps her integrity had proved too much for Merrell. It must have been hard to live up to.

  The coffee was weak but fresh. When Georgie had finished dispensing the drinks, Swift nodded to the boys.

  ‘I know your mum has explained why I’ve come round. I want to ask you a few things about your dad. If you feel upset at all, just say so, okay?’

  Adam nodded, glancing at his mother. Harry carried on playing with his elastic, one leg hoisted across the knee of the other. He jiggled his foot, which seemed huge, in a blue and brown trainer with red laces. Best to start gently.

  ‘What kinds of things did you do with your dad when he took you out?’

  Adam spoke in a reedy voice. ‘It depended on the weather really. If it wasn’t that nice we went for a burger or bowling or to the cinema. Sometimes we played football. Just hung out at the park maybe.’

  He glanced at Harry, then at his mother again. She smiled at him encouragingly. He stroked the puppy gently.

  ‘Did you go to the flat where your dad lived with Lisa?’

  ‘Yeah, sometimes.’ Adam again. ‘Sometimes we had tea there and watched TV or just mucked about. Well, not always Harry.’

  Harry was spinning the elastic band on one finger. Nerves? Or an unwillingness to talk about his father.

  ‘Did you stay over with him?’

  Georgie spoke. ‘There was only one bedroom there so it wasn’t suitable. The boys always came home at night.’

  ‘Right. Was Lisa there when you went back with your dad?’

  Adam nodded. ‘Not always, but some of the time. She liked to go out shopping. She laughed a lot but she couldn’t cook. She tried macaroni cheese once and burnt it, set the smoke alarm off. The place used to be in a state. Dad did cleaning but he said it was hopeless cos Lisa and her mates just messed it up again.’ The puppy pushed his nose into Adam’s chest. ‘Do you like our new puppy? He’s called Sid. His colour’s fox red.’

  Swift didn’t care for dogs. ‘He’s very handsome. When did you get him?’

  ‘Three weeks ago. Dad liked dogs but he couldn’t have one cos they weren’t allowed where he lived.’

  Harry made a grunting noise and wound the elastic around his wrist.

  Swift spoke more sharply. ‘Harry, did you get on with Lisa?’

  The boy shifted on the sofa. ‘Yeah. She was okay I s’pose.’

  Swift had an urge to reach out and still the jiggling foot. ‘I know it can’t have been easy for you. You can feel divided loyalties in that kind of situation.’

  Harry cast him a baleful glance. ‘You a shrink as well as a detective, then?’

  ‘Harry!’ his mother said. ‘There’s no need to be rude.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ Swift said mildly. At least he had a response and some fleeting eye contact. ‘I think in a way you do have to be a bit of a shrink when you’re a detective. You have to try and read people, especially if you think they might be lying to you.’ He was taking a gamble, hoping Georgie wouldn’t be offended. ‘That way you’ve been playing with the elastic band for example, Harry. It could be read as distress or as a way of distracting you from the subject of your dad.’

  Harry sniffed but his foot stopped moving. The puppy put a paw on his arm and he pushed it away roughly.

  ‘Did your dad seem sad at all recently?’

  There was a long pause.

  ‘You know a bit down, upset,’ Swift added.

  ‘Don’t think so,’ Adam said. ‘He must have been sad, though. He didn’t say.’ He put his face into the puppy’s neck.

  Georgie leaned forward and patted his knee.

  ‘Harry, did you notice anything unusual about your dad?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Right. Had you heard him and Lisa arguing at all?’

  Harry shrugged.

  Adam looked up. ‘They never argued. They were always, you know, hugging and stuff.’

  Georgie closed her eyes. Swift felt as if he were wading through treacle. The puppy sighed and he thought me too.

  ‘This is hard, I know. Did your dad contact either of you in the days after Lisa died and before he died?’

  They both shook their heads.

  ‘I am trying to understand what happened with your dad and because I never knew him, anything you think is important might help me. Did you know Lisa sang with a band?’

  Adam nodded. Harry’s foot jittered frantically.

  ‘How about you, Harry? You look as if you knew. You could loosen up a bit, help me out here. Not talking is sort of selfish and it’s hard on your younger brother.’

  Harry flicked the elastic band across the room and stood up abruptly, knocking a cushion off the sofa. He stood with his hands in fists. Spittle flew through the air as he spoke but his soft brown eyes held deep pain.

  ‘It’s all done, all over and nothing can bring him back. He killed himself, end of. I don’t need you giving me advice or asking me fucking stupid questions, and I don’t want a fucking stinky puppy as a replacement for my father, either.’ He barged out of the room, banging the door behind him.

  ‘Adam, can you take Sid out in the garden for a bit?’ Georgie nodded to her son and he carried the dog away.

  She sank back in the chair. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘They’ve both been upset but Harry has been really moody and difficult. He’s been that way for a while, but now . . . he even snarls at Adam and that’s unfair.’ Drums started banging, the wall vibrated. ‘He spends all his time in the garage, playing his drums or at friends’ houses.’

  ‘It’s hard for him, and your husband’s death is fraught in so many ways.’

  ‘Yes. I’m glad you understand.’ She looked worn, her skin translucent in the fading afternoon light.

  ‘Have you any family who can help you?’

  ‘My mother is dead. I have a father and brother in Carlisle but that’s a long way away and I can’t expect them to be at my beck and call. I am trying to keep things as normal as possible, but of course nothing is. We’re the walking wounded, limping along. I get so utterly exhausted. I’d like to sleep for a year.’

  Swift nodded, thinking sleep was unlikely with Harry’s constant racket. A phone rang and she excused herself, saying it might be about work. Swift heard her go upstairs. He waited a moment, then walked through the trim house past the kitchen and stepped into the long, rectangular garden where Adam was throwing a rubber bone for Sid. The afternoon sun drew blades of light and shade across the grass. There was a boot scraper by the back door and flower borders framing the deep green lawn, bursting with orange and scarlet tulips and clumps of white snowdrop anemones. A cherry tree stood at the far end, heavy with pale pink flowers. Beside it was a shed painted sea blue. The house and the garden spoke of careful tending, of being cherished. The dog was running around dementedly on the damp grass. Adam was laughing, his cheeks flushed.

  ‘That looks like good fun,’ Swift said.

  Adam smiled. ‘He loves it. Mum says he’s like a toddler, it’s good to tire him out.’

  ‘And you get tired out too!’

  Swift saw the sense in Georgie’s dog therapy. He watched the game while Adam chatted on about Sid and the mischief he got up to. The boy and the dog were panting. He was glad that Georgie had her younger son to distract her and keep her sane. He felt a twinge of
guilt at pumping the guileless Adam for information but didn’t let it stop him.

  He said casually, ‘Harry seemed to get a bit upset when I mentioned Lisa singing with a band.’

  Adam stroked the puppy’s ears as it jumped up at him. ‘Yeah. He was fed up cos she said she could get him some drum gigs with them but she didn’t come through on it. He said she was a fake.’

  ‘Was this recently?’

  ‘Think so. No, Sid, don’t slobber on me, that’s yuk! I’m going to take him to obedience classes when he’s a bit older so that he’s trained properly.’

  ‘Sounds a good idea. I’m glad you had some good times with your dad and Lisa, some laughs, even if Harry didn’t always join you.’

  ‘Yeah. It was better when Harry didn’t come. It was easier. Harry’s moody. Sometimes he’d join in, other times he’d sit and refuse to talk. Mum says it’s his age. Dad said that too. Lisa said that she was a nightmare when she was a teenager.’

  ‘Well, growing up can be hard. I think it’s going to rain. I had better head off.’

  More photos lined the hallway and he stopped to look at them. They were mostly family shots of the four of them, taken when the boys were younger. Harry smiling, before the adolescent hormones and turmoil kicked in. There was a large one of the Merrells’ wedding with Georgie’s parents at her side, Dominic’s at his. Swift examined it. Something about it bothered him. He stood closer but the nudge of unease was no clearer. Georgie Merrell appeared on the landing, holding her phone and talking about portrait sizes. Swift waved goodbye and she nodded.

  As he left the house, he saw that the garage was open. Harry was leaning against the door, smoking and drumming his fingers against the wall. He looked away as Swift zipped his jacket up.

  ‘Your brother tells me that Lisa said she was going to get you drum gigs with Brainscan. You didn’t mention that earlier.’

  He blew an expert smoke ring, studying it as it spiralled up. ‘Why should I?’

  ‘It means you knew her rather better than you were letting on. Did she get you any gigs?

  ‘No.’

  ‘Weren’t you good enough?’

  Harry coloured. ‘It didn’t work out, that’s all.’

  ‘Still, you must have been disappointed. Did she let you down? I get the impression she took life pretty lightly.’

  ‘What do you know?’ Harry took a last drag and threw the cigarette butt on the ground. He ground it hard with his heel.

  ‘If I don’t ask, I don’t get.’ Swift moved around him, gesturing at the gleaming white scooter with red leather saddle in the garage. ‘Nice bike. Vespa 946. Not cheap. Is that the one your dad bought you?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You’re eighteen. Are you still at school?’

  ‘Yeah. Now piss off.’

  He stepped back and slammed the garage door shut. Swift waited for a few minutes, feeling the first raindrops fall, listening to the angry drums start up again. Thudthudthud. Harry Merrell’s emotions became remarkably raw whenever the enchanting, flirty Lisa was mentioned.

  * * *

  Ruth rang him while he was on the train to West Dulwich, heading to see Lisa’s father. It was months since he had heard her husky voice. He felt a joy that he had missed keenly but fought it down, knowing it could be treacherous.

  ‘Is this a good time?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s okay. I’m on my way to an appointment.’

  ‘I’m sorry it’s taken so long for this, for me to phone you. I’ve just been so confused . . .’

  ‘You’re here now.’

  ‘Can we meet? Either in Brighton or I could come to you.’

  ‘Brighton? Does that mean you’re back with Emlyn?’

  ‘I’d rather talk to you in person, Ty. Please.’

  The train slowed at a signal. He watched a man working on a roof, cementing a chimney pot.

  ‘I’d prefer London, then. Come to my place. I don’t want to talk in a restaurant, in public.’

  ‘No, of course. Can you email me with some dates you can do?’

  ‘I’ll send them later today. You’re well, and the baby?’

  ‘Fine, everything is fine.’

  Hardly, he thought, saying goodbye. It was drizzling, the rain streaking furrows through the grimy train windows. The carriage smelled of socks and vomit and tinny music was leaking through the earphones of a woman near him. The address he was heading to, near Dulwich Park, wasn’t far from where he and Ruth had lived when they were engaged. He had returned there one evening from working in Lyon to find her waiting with the news that she was leaving him. More than six years ago and he could still feel the tremors of the shock as if it had been yesterday. She had run off and married Emlyn and yet here they were now, inextricably bound together by a child. She was as familiar and dear to him as she had always been. He knew the scent of her skin, the food and music she liked, her habits and mannerisms, the way she danced her fingers through the air when she laughed. He knew everything there was to know about her and he knew nothing.

  CHAPTER 4

  The train idled into West Dulwich and gave an exhausted sigh of brakes. He pulled up the collar of his jacket and walked fast through the rain. The flat where Lisa and Merrell had lived was on the third floor of a three storey thirties built block, fronting the park. He was buzzed in through an intercom and ascended curving stairs with an oak banister. Donald Eastwood was standing in the open doorway of the flat, a bottle of beer in his hand.

  ‘Come on in, Mr Swift.’ He waved the bottle. ‘Clearing up is thirsty work. Want one of these?’

  Swift accepted, following him down a wide hallway with art deco mirrors and lights, into a bright living room. It was filled with cardboard boxes, sheets of newspaper, bubble wrap, rolls of sticky tape and brimming black rubbish bags. Lighter squares on the pale cream walls showed where pictures had been removed. The blinds were pulled up, revealing the beauty of the rectangular art deco windows with geometric design panels. The park opposite looked woebegone in the rain, the tall ranks of plane trees still bare after winter.

  Eastwood opened a beer and handed it to him. He was a thickset, suntanned man, leathery-skinned with a light brown thatch of hair that looked like a toupee. He had a pendulous beer gut and wattles on his neck. Once handsome, probably athletic, but gone to seed. His accent was South African, his voice a throaty rumble.

  ‘There’s an armchair for you. I’ll pull up this dining chair.’

  Swift sat on the black leather chair. The décor and integrated white wood cabinets were grubby and he could see that the fawn carpet was dirt-marked and worn. There was no sofa and he assumed that Eastwood must have got rid of it and its bloodstains. The beer was cold and refreshing and he was glad of it after the unexpected call from Ruth.

  ‘Thanks for seeing me. Please accept my condolences.’

  ‘Yah. Not the news a father wants or expects. My only child, you see.’

  ‘I didn’t know that.’

  ‘Yah. My little girl. I set her up in life, bought her this flat. She had to come to London. That was her dream, so I went along with her. Some dream now. A nightmare.’ He gestured around. ‘Never thought I’d have to do this, clear out her life. I’ve made a start in here, but there’s loads to do. Find myself stopping, looking at something of hers, and choking up. Y’know?’

  ‘It must be very hard. When did Lisa move to London?’

  ‘When she was twenty, ten years ago. She got work modelling. Some agency or other.’

  ‘I’d like to find out a bit more about your daughter from you. Dominic Merrell’s wife can’t believe he murdered her. There is no motive or reason why he claimed to have done it.’

  ‘Yah, well . . . I dunno. I never met the guy. Lisa said he was sweet, good to her. A true romantic, she reckoned. Took her to Capri for her thirtieth birthday last October, booked a luxury hotel.’

  Eastwood took a deep slug of beer, rocking slightly on his chair. Swift wondered how many he had already downed, a
nd wondered also if Finbar Power’s loan had been needed to pay for the fancy holiday.

  ‘Did Lisa say anything to you about arguing with Merrell or any problems they had?’

  ‘Nah. As far as I knew, everything was hunky dory.’

  ‘I understand Lisa had been married. Can you tell me about that?’

  ‘Yah, she married a guy called JoJo Hayworth. Still was married, they never got round to divorcing. He’s a model, that’s how they met. I came for the wedding, paid for it. He seemed an okay guy, a good looker. Bit full of himself but they seemed well matched. They had a kid but they only lasted two years. She had a big heart, did Lisa. She loved too easily, gave her heart too easily. I think she gave him money to get rid of him but she kept this flat in her name, thank goodness.’

  ‘Where are her husband and child now?’

  ‘JoJo’s around somewhere, don’t know where he lives. I can give you his number. The kid, Tamsin, lives with JoJo’s mother in Canterbury. I’m going to see her before I fly back.’

  ‘Was there a reason why Tamsin didn’t live with your daughter?’

  ‘Her work, is what she told me. She was still doing some modelling after Tamsin was born and she had late hours. JoJo’s mum offered to do the childcare and Canterbury is not that far from London. Lisa spent a lot of time with her own gran back in Cape Town after I divorced, so I guess she knew it would work okay.’

  That sounded flimsy. Swift imagined that Lisa had fed her doting father filtered information. ‘Did she have other boyfriends you knew about, before Dominic?’

  ‘Well, y’know, I’m over in Cape Town. We talked now and again by phone. She mentioned a couple of fellas she liked well enough. There was a Richard and a Perry. I think one of them lived here for a while.’

  ‘Had Lisa always lived here?’

  ‘Yah, I bought this for her for when she moved to London. Worth a small fortune now.’ His eyes watered. ‘The police believed Dominic killed her. I don’t understand it either. Took away my beautiful Lisa. Maybe he got angry because of the abortion, I don’t know.’

  ‘She’d had an abortion?’

  ‘Yah. That’s what the police told me. Post-mortem showed she’d had a recent abortion. She didn’t mention it to me so I don’t know what happened there. I guess they didn’t want any more children.’ He took a large monogrammed hanky from a pocket and passed it across his eyes. ‘Another beer?’