White Lies

by Rachel Green

  Meinwen mouthed a sorry to the two policemen who were waiting patiently for her to finish. “I don’t have time for guessing games, Dafydd. Just tell me.”

  “Richard Godwin. He’s not dead at all. You can tell your policeman friends they’ve got the wrong body.”

  “Dear dog.”

  “I was right to call you, wasn’t I?”

  “Of course. Yes. Thanks. You did exactly the right thing.” She widened her eyes at the inspector and mouthed, “He’s alive.”

  “While I’ve got you, do you want curry and chips for dinner?”

  “No, not curry again, nor chips neither. I’ll make a casserole.” She closed the connection and handed the phone back to Peters.

  “Well?” White stared at her. “What was so urgent?”

  “That was Dafydd. He’s had a visit from Catherine Godwin.” Meinwen took several breaths before she continued. “Richard Godwin was with her. He’s not dead at all.”

  “Not dead?” White frowned. “Then who the devil have we got in the morgue?”

  Chapter 33

  Two uniformed officers were already waiting for them at The Larches. PC Mike Brandsford and another officer Meinwen didn’t know. She nodded to Mike as she followed White and Peters inside, glad she had some official backup this time, though she was looking forward to Richard’s explanation of where he’d been for the past two days.

  Happier than she’d been yesterday, Jennifer smiled as she showed them in to the same sitting room Meinwen had occupied with Dafydd. Her smile faltered as she caught sight of Jimmy, but she recovered before anyone but Meinwen had noticed. Once everyone was seated she headed off toward the kitchen.

  She returned with a tray of cups and followed it with a pot of tea and a cafetière. White stared at it suspiciously, but quite what he expected it to do was beyond Meinwen. Such a look of disgust hinted at a past experience. She leaned forward, ignoring the warning pain from her rib. “Can I pour you a coffee, Detective-inspector?”

  “No thank you, Ms. Jones. I think I’ve had sufficient for the time being. Perhaps Sergeant Peters might like one, though.”

  “Please.” Peters turned from the examination of a series of Noir photographs. “I’m parched. Extra milk and no sugar.”

  “Jimmy? Would you mind?” She gestured to the tray with a pained expression. “My ribs are playing up.”

  “Sure. No problem.” He picked up the cafetière in one hand and the milk jug in the other and poured both at once. “Anyone else?”

  When nobody piped up he passed the cup to the sergeant who took it with a cheerful “Ta.” He used the cup to gesture at a photograph of a woman in a corset and bolero jacket. “That’s one of Sir Robert’s, isn’t it?”

  “No, Sergeant, it’s one of mine.” Richard Godwin stood in the doorway, his wife behind him. He ushered her into the room. She was, Meinwen was only half relieved to see, dressed more conservatively than she’d been last time they spoke.

  She rose with some difficulty, holding her side. “Catherine. Good to see you again. I’m so sorry I upset you last time we met. I honestly believed...”

  “No, the apologies are mine to make. I couldn’t believe what you were saying but of course, when I read in the paper that what you said was true I felt doubly awful. Not only was my husband apparently dead but I’d accused you of making it up for some reason of your own. I almost didn’t answer my phone I was so upset but I’m glad I did.” She smiled at Richard and squeezed his arm. “But I see you’re hurt. What happened?”

  “I was mugged on the way home from your hotel.” Meinwen sank back into the chair “Don’t worry about me though I’ll–” She was interrupted by a pointed cough for the inspector. “We’ll talk later.”

  White stood and held out his hand. “Mr. Godwin. This is the second time you’ve given us the runaround.”

  Richard shook his hand. “Purely accidentally this time, Detective-inspector. I don’t know who you’ve got in your morgue but it clearly isn’t me. I was in Paris, would you believe? I got back this morning, discovered I was thought dead and well, here I am.” He helped himself to a coffee.

  “May I ask what you were doing in Paris?

  Richard looked at the doorway and lowered his voice. “Looking at an apartment, actually, though I’d be grateful if you keep it under your hat for the time being. I’d rather my aunt wasn’t made aware of that.”

  “An apartment? I was under the impression you were in a good deal of debt.”

  “No more than anyone, inspector. I had to offload some of my shares recently to pay for Catherine’s alternative accommodation and it left me a bit short but I’m no more in debt than I was when I inherited the house three years ago. I had to mortgage the place just to keep up with the death duties and between you, me and the gatepost my beloved aunt is up to her old tricks again. I wouldn’t put it past her to have me murdered just to get her paws on the rest of the silver.” He laughed.

  “Murder is no laughing matter, Mr. Godwin.” White nodded at Peters who took a photograph from his pocket. “This young man was murdered not far from here. Could you tell me if you recognize him?”

  Richard looked at the photograph and his face paled. “Good Lord. It’s Kevin. What the devil was he doing in the cemetery?” He showed the photograph to Catherine. “I thought he was with you?”

  Catherine’s brow furrowed as she looked from the photograph to her husband to the inspector. “It is Kevin. Then who have I got in my cage?”

  “Cage?” White took the photograph back. “What cage? And Kevin who?”

  “Kevin Oakley, the missing student.” Meinwen spoke over him. “He’s been with you all along, hasn’t he? Why didn’t you inform the police he wasn’t missing?”

  “Is this true? You had him all the time? In a cage? I should arrest you for false imprisonment.” White looked at Peters. “Fetch the uniforms in.”

  “It’s not like that, Inspector.” Catherine moved to block the sergeant’s egress. “It was purely consensual. I met Kevin in the course of my business. He was very easy to get along with. All he really wanted was someone to talk to. He was being abused at home, you see, and went to college to get away from it, not because he particularly wanted to be an engineer. He liked the feeling of safety he got from being with me and ended up spending much of the time in my suite at the hotel. He’d do odd jobs for me in return for being my bouncer in case of difficult clients. He wasn’t a prisoner or anything. He came and went as he pleased.”

  “But he looked like your husband. I identified him myself from his driving license. Your driver's license. How was he in possession of that?”

  Meinwen looked at Richard’s face. He seemed genuinely surprised by the revelation and he checked his breast pocket automatically. If there had been subterfuge, it wasn’t by his design.

  Catherine spoke up. “Richard left his jacket behind when he came to see me the night before. I didn’t think about it again until Meinwen had been to see me and when I looked for it, it had gone.” She shrugged. “I just assumed he’d come back for it before his Paris trip. Kevin must have borrowed it and pretended to be him.”

  “Why on earth would he pretend to be me? In real life, I mean.” Richard turned to the inspector. “When Catherine met Kevin she was surprised at how similar we looked. We went further with it and cut and dyed his hair to match mine. It gave her a buzz to have two of me, I suppose. We all got along quite well so it was fairly natural I use him in some of my photo shoots. I mean, he looked just like me and you can’t let a face like that go to waste.” He winked. “Anyway, he must have borrowed my jacket.”

  “Did you not notice your wallet and phone were missing?”

  “Of course, but as I said, I was on my way to France so I didn’t need my wallet. I knew it was in safekeeping and I had my passport and plenty of Euros. I had my business mobile with me so it wasn’t worth the extra time to go back to retrieve the other one. I was only away two nights, anyway.”

  “And how
did you get to Paris?”

  “Train to London then the Eurostar.”

  “I see. Make a note to check that, Peters.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Meinwen watched the sergeant make a note in his pocketbook. It would be a formality. If she was any judge of character at all, Richard was telling the truth about this. He was keeping a secret, though. He kept glancing at Catherine. Meinwen shifted her concentration to the dominatrix.

  “Let me get this straight.” White flicked backward and forward through the notes he’d taken. “Kevin Oakley, who’s so afraid of his home life he’d rather live in a cage in Mrs. Godwin’s hotel suite, takes Mr. Godwin’s jacket and, we can assume, his identity. He then goes to the cemetery where he meets another man, has a smoke and a chinwag and gets brutally murdered, presumably by the same man who thought he was who he claimed to be. Have I got that about right?”

  “It does sound a bit far-fetched if you say it like that.”

  “How would you say it, Mr. Godwin? I understand your life is heavily insured.”

  “I suppose it is but what’s that got to do with anything? You’re not implying I set the whole thing up to get an insurance payout, are you?”

  Meinwen saw a flash of surprise cross Catherine’s face. The inspector was close to the truth but was he questioning the right person?

  “I’m not implying anything, Mr. Godwin. I’m merely trying to get at the truth.” White chuckled. “You have to admit it would fit the scenario rather nicely, don’t you think? You find this disaffected young man who looks just like you. You coach him to act like you, take photographs of him as if he was you, then give him your jacket so he has your identity and send him off to the meet a killer. Everyone thinks you’re dead and your wife, who everyone thought you were estranged from, pockets upward of four million pounds.”

  Catherine gasped. “Four million?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Godwin. I spoke to the family solicitor myself last night and she confirmed both the will and the insurance details.”

  Richard interjected. “But then why would I come forward?”

  “Perhaps because someone was close to discovering your play?” White raised an eyebrow.

  “But I took a train to Paris. Surely you can check that? I used my own name and passport, which I wouldn’t have done if I was planning what you suggest.”

  Meinwen relaxed. Richard was innocent of everything except being gullible and open to manipulation, not only by Catherine but by whoever this anonymous buyer turned out to be. For her part his wife had known he was insured but not the sum involved. Meinwen was convinced she, too, was innocent in the affair though if Richard had an accident now she would suspect a size six, patent leather stiletto boottee.

  “Indeed, and I give you the benefit of the doubt about all this, Mr. Godwin, but please don’t go on any further unscheduled visits for a while, will you?” White stood up to leave and got as far as the door before turning back. “One more thing. Why was Mr. Oakley in the cemetery at all? What prompted him to go there and who did he intend to meet?”

  Richard shrugged. “I really don’t know, Inspector. I have been in negotiations with someone who wants to buy the rights to my father’s work. Could it have been him, do you think?”

  “Possibly. Who is it you’ve been negotiating with?”

  Richard laughed. “That’s it. I don’t actually know. He’s kept himself anonymous ever since he got in touch at the beginning.”

  “But surely there must be a return address? A number for you to contact him on?”

  “That’s just it. There isn’t. He uses a solicitor in London. I can give you the letters if you’ll wait a minute or two.”

  “I’d be happy to. Anything that brings us a step closer to solving the mystery.”

  “Right. Just a moment.” Richard left the room. Meinwen heard the study door open and a minute later Richard returned and handed the inspector a bundle of envelopes. “That’s all of them. I don’t think it’s anything to do with the murder, though. After all, the purchaser wouldn’t want to murder me, would he?”

  “No, sir, probably not.” White used the bundle of papers to tap him on the lapel. “But somebody does.”

  Peters paused as he followed White. “When you came in, you said the photograph was yours. I take it you meant you were the photographer?”

  “That’s right. I inherited the house and everything of my stepfather’s except his name. It seemed serendipitous. I learned the profession and I’m following in his footsteps. I’m nowhere near as well known as he was but I’m still young and there’s plenty of time yet.”

  “Unless someone kills you for the insurance.” Peters grinned. “Cheerio, sir.”

  “Goodbye, Inspector.” Meinwen offered him a tight smile in return to he nod. Richard followed them into the hall to see them out and she released a long breath. She looked at Catherine. “You don’t seem too upset about Kevin’s death.”

  “I was fond of the boy.” She pursed her lips and shook her hair free of its barrettes. “Honestly, though, it’s a relief it wasn’t Richard.”

  “Ah. That makes sense.”

  Meinwen placed one hand on Jimmy’s knee. “I think I’ll have that drink now.”

  “Sure.” Jimmy half stood to pour her a cup. He passed it to her just as Richard closed the sitting room door and came back to the chair White had vacated.

  “You’re Jimmy Fenstone, aren’t you? John’s brother?”

  “That’s right.” Jimmy passed the tea to Meinwen before standing properly to be at the same eye level as Richard. “And you’re his lover.”

  “Very much so.” Richard stepped forward, his hand out. “In every sense of the word. I loved your brother very much. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Not as much as he is.” Jimmy took a step back and Richard dropped his hand.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Everyone made out John hanged himself but he didn’t, did he? Somebody did that for him.”

  Richard sank onto the edge of the chair. “I don’t understand. Are you saying John didn’t kill himself?”

  “I am. Are you saying you didn’t know?”

  “Of course not. I loved John. It was John that put me on to the apartment in Paris. It was going to be our hideaway. Somewhere where people didn’t know us.”

  Catherine’s mouth had dropped open. “I thought it was for you and me. ‘Our little Paris getaway,’ you said.”

  Jimmy glanced at Meinwen and sank back onto the sofa. She sipped at her drink and watched. The more excited people became, the more they revealed their true feelings.

  Richard patted Catherine’s leg. “It is, my love. We weren’t back together when John told me about it. That’s why I was making plans to sell the rights to my stepfather’s photographs. With the money from those I could have bought somewhere for John and I without touching the bank account. It wouldn’t have affected you at all, would it?”

  “Except that you’d have gone away with him and left me all alone.”

  “I’d still have the house here, darling. I’d just have been splitting my time between the two. Think of the photography possibilities of a studio in Paris. Anyway, I’m not sure why you’re upset. We weren’t together at the time.”

  “That’s not the point, is it? You were off buying yourself a love nest with John and when he died you just decided it would do for me instead. I’m your wife! I shouldn’t have to play second fiddle to the cock you liked inside you.”

  “Actually I was generally...Never mind. I thought you wanted to move to Paris?”

  “I did. I still do, only I think I’d rather go there on my own.” Catherine glared at him, her hands balled into fists and visible shaking. Meinwen caught Jimmy’s eye and raised her eyebrows. Jimmy looked away, stifling a smile.

  “You’re impossible.” Catherine stalked from the room slamming the door behind her.

  “Heh!” Richard let out a long breath and reached for the coffee pot. “She’ll come
around. What a temper, eh? The sex tonight will be amazing.”

  Meinwen leaned forward to place her cup and saucer on the tray. “Is she often like that?”

  Richard leaned back, sucking air between his teeth. “Not recently. She was great for the first year, year and a half after we got married then started getting snipey with the staff and Aunt Joan. Seemed to think she was mistress of the house. So when I met John at a club at the hotel I was amenable to his overtures. I mean, what man isn’t flattered by someone taking an interest in him? I invited him back to the house, things developed and we ended up in love. I don’t think either of us intended to, really. I mean, I was married and very happy here with any member of staff I fancied at my beck and call and John was loving the life of a single gay man. Have you seen his flat on Chervil? Amazing. And that suspension rig?” His voice faltered. “Er...you do know what he was into, right?”

  “I had a sharp learning curve.” Jimmy smiled for the first time that day. “Whatever John was into, he seemed pretty happy about it.”

  “He was. That was what attracted me to him in the first place. Nothing ever seemed to get him down. He always had an easy smile and something nice to say. I swear, he could drop a hammer on his bare foot and be pleased he hadn’t damaged the floor.”

  “Yeah.” Jimmy grinned. “That was John all right. Even when Faye died he was the one that kept us all remembering the good things about her, reminding us how lucky we were to have had her in our lives at all.”

  “He was truly a beautiful man.” Richard smiled. “You look like him a bit but not as much as I would have expected. Maybe it’s the tattoos.”

  “Maybe.” Jimmy’s smile faded.

  Meinwen raised a hand to silence Jimmy. “What was the argument about?”

  Richard frowned. “What argument?”

  “The one between you and John on the twelfth.” She could see he was still confused. “At the Luminaria?”

  “Oh, that.” Richard half laughed. “It was silly. He caught me visiting Catherine and thought I was one of her punters. He felt betrayed when he thought his dominant was seeing a woman to get his arse smacked. I’m sure it looked odd.”