No Secrets (MARNIE WALKER Book 6)

by Leo McNeir

  He smiled at the gentle joke. “Quite.”

  “Is that still your intention?”

  “Of course.” The change of tack was sudden and took Marnie completely by surprise. “What was all that about … other lovers?”

  “I’ve no idea.”

  He reached across the table and took her wrist. “Do you really mean that, Marnie? You honestly have no idea? Are you telling me the truth?”

  Marnie tried to remove her hand but Charles was holding it firmly. “I honestly had no idea. Look, Charles, we didn’t have that kind of relationship. We didn’t go in for, whatever you call it … girl talk. We were preoccupied with business matters. There was a lot of work to do and not much time.”

  “Not much time? You were seeing each other every week.”

  “What?”

  “I checked her diary. She always seemed to be going off to see you. You must’ve had time to talk about … Wait a minute. How often did you meet, Marnie?”

  “Can you please let go of my wrist, Charles. It’s uncomfortable.”

  “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

  “We met just once, at Templars’ Wharf.”

  They both made the connection at once.

  “She was seeing him, wasn’t she?” said Charles.

  “I don’t know. She wasn’t seeing me.”

  “Do you have your diary here, Marnie?”

  “Not the office one, no.” She remembered putting in several meetings – just to reserve the dates – only to have Barbara cancel them shortly beforehand. Barbara was using her as cover. No wonder she spent hours studying the plans. It made up for the time she was supposed to be in meetings, advancing the projects on the house and the boat. “Charles, it was the run-up to Christmas. There was a lot going on. It’s the most sociable time of the year.”

  “Sociable,” Charles repeated. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “You mustn’t torture yourself. You may be doing Barbara a grave injustice.”

  “No, Marnie. Whoever murdered her did her a grave injustice. Can you swear to me that –”

  “I’m really tired of telling you, Charles. I was not Barbara’s confidante in that way. I’m not going to say it again. But I would turn the question round. Did you ever have a hint of anything like that in the past, a suspicion, a doubt in your mind, a question mark?”

  He began shaking his head and was about to reply when he checked himself. “I wonder …”

  “Look, Charles, it’s been a difficult day for you. There’s no need to drive me all the way home. I can get Anne to come and fetch me. She’s at her parents’ place not far away. We can go back to Knightly together. It’s no problem.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  They eventually reached a compromise and Charles rang for a taxi, fixing a price on the phone. Standing together on the towpath, waiting after locking up the boat, neither of them felt like talking. Both had used up their reserves of emotional energy.

  Charles walked a few paces along the path. “I don’t suppose I shall ever see the boat again,” he said quietly.

  “I can deal with all that.”

  “Will you be able to fetch her soon, Marnie? You said you were having a busy time.”

  “I’ll clear a few days and complete the journey. Don’t worry. I can understand that you want the whole business cleared up. You don’t want it dragging on.” Closure, she thought.

  “Thank you.” He walked on and turned to retrace his steps, looking at the name painted on the side. “Perfidia …” he muttered.

  “Why did you call her that?” Marnie asked, making conversation.

  Charles shrugged. “We never discussed it. I was too busy with my work to go into the details, left all that to Barbara. My involvement was writing the cheque. Then one day Barbara went to fetch her from the boatyard. and there was Perfidia. I never did ask about the name. Now I’ll never know.”

  “It’s the title of a tune.” Marnie wanted to lighten the conversation. “A guitar piece, used to be very popular.” A haunting melody, Marnie thought to herself.

  “Yes. I believe you’re right. In fact I seem to recall one of our friends suggesting the boat might’ve been named after it. Barbara liked the tune … something like that.”

  When the taxi arrived, Charles kissed Marnie on the cheeks, thanked her for coming and headed towards the Jaguar in the car park without looking back. She watched him through the window, bending to open the car door.

  Perfidia. She heard the melody in her brain, the voluptuous sound of electric guitars. As the taxi pulled away, she saw the name. Whoever had chosen Perfidia for the boat, and for whatever reason, it had turned out to be appropriate.

  16

  In bed that night Marnie told Ralph about the prison visit. He was annoyed that Charles had dragged Marnie into his plan. Next morning, acting on Ralph’s advice, Marnie rang Roger Broadbent. She waited for Anne to leave for college and felt deceitful, watching the red Mini climb the field track away from Glebe Farm, but did not want to distract her during her exams.

  Marnie told Roger briefly about the visit to the prison. He was less than enthusiastic.

  “You did what?”

  “Oh God, Roger, you’re starting to sound like my sister.”

  “Well, I’m glad there’s one member of your family with some brains, Marnie.”

  “You’re supposed to be my solicitor – that’s as in on my side – I wanted you at least to sound understanding.”

  “So tell me what you thought it would achieve to visit Neil Gerard.”

  Marnie could not think of anything to say. She sat wondering how she had got herself into that situation. “I … I … I dunno. I just got talked into it, wanted to do something to help Charles.”

  “Did he seem better after the interview?”

  She slumped in the chair. “No, more like suicidal.”

  “I rest my case, m’lud.”

  “Oh, don’t be a smartarse, Roger.”

  “You pay me to be a smartarse, Marnie. That’s what solicitors are for.”

  “I’m paying you?”

  “Not this time. Don’t panic. I don’t take money from the criminally insane.”

  “So what’s your advice?”

  “Advice? About what? I’ve already told you, you can’t get a retrial or an appeal on the grounds that you don’t agree with a verdict. The only way anyone can get Gerard freed – if he is innocent – is by producing new evidence.”

  “But it’s the evidence that got him convicted in the first place.”

  “Believe it or not, Marnie, that’s not actually a failing. It’s how the system works.”

  “He says the evidence convicted the wrong person. There must be some other way.”

  “There is.”

  Suspicion. “Honestly? Not a wind-up?”

  “No. The other way is, you find who really did it. But don’t go thinking the British judicial system always gets it wrong, Marnie. The police are thorough and the courts are fair. The cases that hit the news – like the Birmingham Six or the Guildford Four – are very exceptional. Don’t go imagining Gerard as the Little Venice One.”

  “I’m not a detective, Roger. I can’t go out and find a criminal. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

  “Marnie, let me ask you something. You’re starting to sound as if you believe Gerard is innocent. Is that what you think?”

  Lost for words again. Eventually. “I don’t know. Charles said he’d got a top barrister to look into the trial and read the evidence.”

  “Verdict?”

  “Safe conviction. You can rest your case again, m’lud.”

  “Frankly, Marnie, if I were you –‘

  “Hang on!” Marnie cocked her head on one side. “Roger, I can hear a car outside. It might be Anne. Maybe she forgot something. I’d better go. Talk to you later. Oh, and thanks for your advice. See you!”

  Putting the phone down, Marnie leapt to her feet and made for the door. She looked
out into the courtyard. No Anne, no-one at all. Curious. Marnie had acute hearing and was certain she had heard a car. There were no clients due to visit that day, no deliveries for the renovation of the house. Hurriedly she darted outside and at once heard an engine revving. She rushed to the corner of the office barn and looked up the field track, just in time to see the dust from a vehicle at the top of the field.

  While she watched, one of the builders came round the side of the house.

  “Colin, did you see a car here just now?”

  He shook his head.

  “Did you hear it?”

  “Sorry, Marnie. I was sawing wood out the back.”

  For some seconds she stood asking herself who might pay a call on Glebe Farm … and decide not to stay.

  Anne rang later in the afternoon. Her last exam was finished and she pronounced it as no big surprises. She would be back at around five and would bring the evening paper plus any stores they needed. Marnie gave her a list of items and promised to have the kettle on by the time she returned.

  On the days when Anne was at college the post run fell to Marnie. There were three letters to send off and she pulled open the top drawer to find the stamps folder. Reaching in, she stopped, hand poised in mid-air. There, to one side in the drawer, lay a forgotten business card. An official coat of arms, London Borough of Riverside, Department of Human Resources, Senior HR Officer … Sarah Cowan BA MIPM. At the bottom, after the contact details, was scrawled private, followed by a number.

  Afterwards, Marnie had no recollection of dialling.

  “Human resources, Jackie Mullen.”

  “I’d like to speak to Sarah Cowan, please.”

  “Who’s calling?”

  “Marnie Walker.”

  “I’m sorry, Sarah’s already left for the day. She finishes at four. She’ll be back in the office by eight tomorrow. She’s our early bird.”

  Marnie glanced at the wall clock. Four forty-five.

  “Perhaps I can try her at home.”

  “I’m not allowed to give out her home number, I’m afraid.”

  “That’s fine, I’ve got it.”

  Sarah was probably pushing a trolley round a supermarket, like Anne. Marnie hit the buttons. The phone was answered at once as if Sarah had been waiting for a call.

  “This is Marnie Walker. We met when you came to Knightly –”

  “I remember who you are.” The tone was cool. “You went to see my brother … in prison.”

  “Yes.”

  “That was quite a brave thing to do.”

  “I don’t know about brave.”

  “You went with Charles Taverner. Why did you go?”

  “Charles had some idea that if he confronted your brother, he might be able to persuade him to drop his appeal campaign.”

  “I meant, why did you go? Neil could see what Taverner wanted, although he thinks – thought – Taverner might’ve believed he was innocent.”

  “Why does he – or did he – think that?”

  “He’d heard a lot about him, from Barbara obviously, and had the idea that Charles was a fair-minded man with a lot of qualities.”

  “Didn’t stop her playing away from home.”

  “Perhaps there were some things he couldn’t provide. Marnie, why are you ringing me? I assume it’s not to discuss my brother’s morals.”

  “You wanted me to get in touch.”

  “That was about the campaign. Is that what you want to do? Could you persuade Charles Taverner to help?”

  Marnie looked up at the clock. It was approaching five.

  “I haven’t got a lot of time to speak just now. When we visited your brother, he hinted that Barbara had had other lovers.”

  “So?”

  “The inference was that one of them might have … you know.”

  “I’m not sure what I know, Marnie. But of one thing I’m positive.”

  “Yes, yes, okay. We’ll take that as read.”

  “It’s no small thing. My brother is definitely innocent. Don’t be in any doubt about it.”

  “Let me ask you something. If you could turn the clock back to the time the police questioned you, knowing what you know now, would you change your testimony?”

  “No. It was their mistake not mine. But the consequences were the same. Neil got a life sentence. I can’t stand by and do nothing about it.”

  “Does your brother –”

  “His name is Neil. He’s a person.”

  “All right. Does Neil know who these other people were, her other lovers?”

  “I expect so, some of them, probably. Believe it or not, we don’t spend time talking about his sex life. That’s not what sisters are for. He’s very private about that sort of thing.”

  “The question is, would any of them want to kill her? And if so, why?”

  “Marnie, I never met Barbara Taverner, you did. But I got the impression she was the kind of woman who could arouse strong passions. Can you imagine that?”

  “I have to go.”

  “All right. But please, do what you can to help us.”

  Marnie sighed. “I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

  At the end of the working day Marnie rang Charles from the office barn while Ralph and Anne were preparing supper on Sally Ann. First she gave an outline of her talk with Roger Broadbent, which confirmed the advice Charles had received from his barrister colleague. It came as no surprise and brought no comfort. Charles thanked Marnie for her information.

  “I didn’t ring just to tell you about Roger. There’s something else. I hope you won’t be angry or upset.”

  “I’m sure there’s nothing you could do that would make me feel either of those, Marnie.”

  “Well, it’s just, I phoned Gerard’s sister. She gave me her card when we saw her that day.”

  “Oh?”

  “Do you want to revise your opinion of me?”

  “No. In fact I was wondering about contacting her myself.”

  “Really?”

  “Your turn to be surprised, I think, Marnie. What did she say when you asked your question?”

  “She just repeated that he was innocent. He told the truth at the trial. They both did. And she wanted your help to get an appeal.”

  “That wasn’t all, was it?”

  Marnie did not want to tell him she had asked about other lovers. “It was the main thing.”

  “No. I think I know what your main question was, Marnie, why you decided to ring her. It’s been on my mind too, ever since Gerard mentioned it.”

  “It just seems so unfair that you, of all people, Charles, should be dragged into a campaign to defend the man who … This is a kind of moral blackmail. I’ve almost found myself wondering if it could be a trick.”

  “I don’t think Gerard is that sort of person. Ironically, he’s a bit like me, Marnie. He has standards, even if he was having an affair with another man’s wife. And it may be fair to say that I have to take my share of the blame for not providing everything Barbara needed in her life.”

  “I wouldn’t think fairness came into it, Charles.”

  “Well, whatever it is, I’ve been thinking about the situation and I want to see Gerard again.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “I am, and I’m going to be totally unfair and unreasonable. I’m going to ask you if you’d come with me.”

  Marnie was taken aback. She had been trying to get Charles to follow another course and now he was wanting to drag her along with him.

  Faced with Marnie’s silence, Charles continued. “He seemed to find it easier to speak to the two of us.”

  “You really want me to go with you again, to see him in prison?”

  “Yes. Please. I know it’s a lot to ask but –”

  “Let me think it over, Charles.”

  After disconnecting, Marnie sat looking at the phone. Her mind was a jumble, her thoughts a mess. She hated being pulled along like this on all sides. She resented Sarah Cowan demanding help
from Charles and herself. Her brother had killed Charles’s wife, for God’s sake! The police said so, the court said so, an independent barrister said so, Marnie’s own solicitor said so. All the evidence pointed that way.

  Then why did Charles of all people seem willing to keep an open mind? What did he know? Why was Sarah Cowan so confident that Charles accepted her arguments? That was the strangest of all. … He’s a bit like me, Marnie. What was all that about? A sound across the office made Marnie sit up straight. She began tidying the papers on the desk, slipping them into her pending tray.

  “Again?”

  Marnie whirled round. Anne was standing in the doorway.

  A smile. “Hi. Supper ready?”

  “Again?” Anne repeated.

  “Sorry?”

  “You’re going to visit Neil Gerard in prison … again? You’ve been there with Mr Taverner before? When was this?”

  Marnie gave in. “Sunday.”

  Anne frowned. “I see.”

  “I didn’t –”

  Anne raised a hand. “I know, I know. You didn’t want to make me worry. I know the usual reasoning.”

  “I can’t even pretend I was going to tell you. Anyway, I expect you would’ve found out, however I tried to cover up. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to get involved, but –”

  “Don’t be sorry, Marnie. It’s interesting.”

  “It is?”

  “It’s interesting that Mr Taverner is visiting Neil Gerard in prison. Hardly what I would’ve expected. What’s going on?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  “Does Ralph know about this?”

  Marnie nodded. Anne crossed the room and took her by the arm.

  “Come on, then. We can talk about it over the meal. It’s a special supper to celebrate.”

  “Celebrate?”

  “My last exam. Ralph and I have made my favourite things, apart from raspberries not being in season.”

  Marnie reflected on the resilience of the young as they walked arm in arm on the path through the spinney to Sally Ann’s docking area in the evening sunlight.

  The first course was asparagus in vinaigrette with an account of Marnie’s visit to the prison. Both were helped along with a glass of dry white Orvieto and some crusty French bread.