by M A Comley
“Only what Robin’s job was.”
“He was a local actor at the theatre. He also did voice-over work at one of the studios nearby. Do you want me to write down the addresses for you? Are you thinking it could be someone who worked at either of those places who might have killed him?”
“It’s better to be armed with the facts. We’ll need to have a word with his colleagues. Did he work yesterday?”
“Yes, he was at the voice-over studio until around ten last night. That’s a regular job. He’s been doing the same routine for months now, if that helps.”
“It does. When he didn’t come home last night, weren’t you worried about him?”
“Of course I was. I rang a few of his colleagues, the ones I had the numbers for. They all told me they hadn’t seen him. Sometimes he went to the studio alone, told me he could get more work done that way. Actually, now and then he chose to work through the night if things were flowing well for him.”
“Without notifying you?”
“No, that was unusual, which is why I kept ringing him. It wasn’t until I saw you standing on my doorstep that the penny dropped, why I hadn’t been able to contact him.”
Katy and Charlie stood.
Nicky did the same, walked out of the room and showed them to the door. “Please promise me you won’t give up searching for this person. You hear of so many cases remaining unsolved these days. I would hate for Robin to become one of those statistics.”
“You have my word that we’re going to do our very best. Here’s a card. If you hear of anything we should know about, give me a call.”
“I will. Thank you.”
Katy smiled and made her way back to the car. “What do you think about that revelation?” She slotted the key into the ignition. “Put the wife’s postcode into the satnav before giving me your answer.”
Charlie flipped open her notebook and punched in the code. “Twenty-three minutes. Enough time for us to have a conversation before we get there.”
“I like your thinking. Go on, you first.”
“Why would he come out after all those years?”
“Good question. One that has always flummoxed me. Maybe the right person hadn’t come along. Do you think the wife could be the killer?”
Charlie snorted. “Her and dozens of others by the sounds of it. The honest answer is, I don’t suppose we’ll have an inkling until we sit down and speak to her. I wonder what her reaction is going to be when we show up at her door.”
“It could be a situation of her going down the fight or flight route, so be prepared—that is assuming she has something to hide. I have my doubts. This whole investigation is driving me batty. One minute I think it’s the daughter, the next I don’t think she could possibly be behind the murders, and now we’ve got another potential candidate. Would a woman wronged the way she’s been, be tempted to kill her ex, just for the sake of it?”
“Pride comes into it, I suppose. I don’t really know enough about the subject to feel that I can offer a suitable answer. Who knows what goes through a woman’s mind when the person she has loved for over twenty years tells her they’re leaving her for someone of the opposite gender? Would you know how to react if AJ said the same?”
“Blimey, I really wouldn’t want to put myself in that position. How would you feel if Brandon came home and announced something similar?”
“That’s just it, I don’t think either of us could speculate unless we were thrust into that dilemma. I can’t imagine any woman reacting calmly, can you?”
“But then, I’m not going to mention names, but I can think of a few high-profile celebrities who have shocked the nation in the past few years by doing just that and their wives have stuck by them. Is it a case of the women settling into a new life with their men? I believe the celebrities I’m thinking about, didn’t actually go off with someone of the same sex, they’ve simply come out and admitted they’re gay. Who knows what the future holds for either party? Has the man ‘come out’ in the hope that the woman would go on to find true love with another man? It’s all so confusing to know what to think.”
Charlie glanced out of the window at the passing shops. “It’s definitely not a situation I would relish finding myself in, I can categorically say that.”
“I totally get that. I could see some women spiralling out of control. Where that could possibly lead is anybody’s guess. Maybe we should stop speculating until we meet the woman in person and see how she appears to be coping. I wonder if she’s found a job yet. She’d need to get one, she can’t support herself on thin air. Which could be another tick for her exacting her revenge.”
Charlie turned her attention to the road ahead again. “Possibly. Like you say, to speculate without ever laying eyes on the woman could be foolish and jeopardise the investigation.”
“Yep, what say we stop off for a coffee before we head over there? I can think of a lovely coffee shop en route, only a few miles away.”
Charlie chuckled. “If I know you, the coffee will need to be accompanied by a cake or pastry.”
“Maybe. Are you up for it?”
“Can I remind you that you stuffed a bacon roll down your neck barely an hour ago?”
Katy faced her and grinned. “I did, didn’t I? Naughty me. I need at least two cups of coffee to get me going in the morning, and so far, I’ve only had the one. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.”
“You’re impossible. Go on then, if we must.”
After reviving themselves with a much-needed cup of coffee and resisting the tempting array of cakes on offer, they continued on their journey over to Laila Hewitt’s house, presuming she hadn’t ditched her married name by now after being cast aside the way she had.
The semi-detached red-brick house had a welcoming front garden which was a riot of colour. Bedding plants filled every possible gap in between the more permanent shrubs on either side of the path. Charlie beat Katy to ring the bell this time.
The door opened to reveal a woman in her late forties to early fifties resembling Cherie Blair, the former Prime Minister’s wife. Her petite frame was clad in a rich velvet green leisure suit.
Katy displayed her warrant card. “Laila Hewitt, I’m DI Katy Foster, and this is my partner, DC Charlie Simpkins. Do you have a free moment to speak with us?”
“Oh my. The police? What on earth could you want with me?” The rosy colour quickly left her cheeks.
“Would it be possible to come inside? It might be better.”
“Better? For whom? I have extremely nosey neighbours, Inspector, I’ll be the talk of the street if I let you in. No, say what you have to say here, where my neighbours can see you.”
Katy hadn’t been expecting her to respond in that way. She cleared her throat and asked, “Very well. May I ask if you’ve heard from your ex-husband recently?”
“No. Why should I hear from him? He’s made his bed…so to speak.”
Katy nodded. “We’re aware there might be some animosity between you.”
“Understatement of the decade. I hate the bastard for what he put me through. The humiliation. The shame only a man without love in his heart could bestow upon someone —their wife, should I say.”
“It must have been very difficult for you to deal with. Please, I have some news and I’d rather not tell you while standing on your doorstep.”
Finally relenting, she stepped aside and allowed them to enter. She pointed into the hallway. “First room on the right. Excuse the mess, I was just going through my photo albums and getting rid of anything pertaining to my former husband. It’s taken me months to pluck up the courage to get around to tackling the task.”
“Fair enough. We’re not here to judge you on your housekeeping standards,” Katy replied.
She swept past Laila and into the room. It was littered with thousands of pictures. No wonder the woman had taken the news about their split badly. She had cherished the man she was once married to for over twenty years. She and AJ
didn’t have many photos of them as a couple; they did have a few of them with Georgie, however. But nothing compared to this display.
Laila grabbed a pile of photos which had been torn up into pieces and shoved them into a black sack. “Take a seat, won’t you?”
Katy and Charlie did as instructed and sat on the dark-brown velour sofa, beyond the mess on the floor.
“Thanks. Is it all right if I call you Laila?”
“Why shouldn’t it be? It’s my name. I’m still waiting to receive the go-ahead from my solicitor to dump my married name, which is taking forever to sort out. Until then, I’m stuck with it. I detest it, though. Can’t wait to return to Watkins, my maiden name.”
“I can understand your reasoning behind that.”
“I’m not one for idle chitchat, Inspector. You mentioned you had some news for me, what is it?”
“It’s with regret I have to inform you that your ex-husband has died.”
Laila flopped into the easy chair behind her and stared at Katy as if a dozen venomous snakes had slithered out of her mouth. “What?” she whispered, finally recovering her voice.
“He was killed and found early this morning.”
Her head moved from side to side in slow motion. “But…but, why tell me? We haven’t had anything to do with each other for over six months.”
“We’ve just come from the home he shared with Nicky and we had a few unanswered questions. He suggested we trace you and run them past you.”
“He did? What sort of questions? Don’t tell me you think I had something to do with his death?”
“No, not at this point anyway. We believe Robin’s death is linked to two other murders in the area and wondered if you could shed any light on why they might have occurred.”
Her head shook harder and faster this time. “What are you getting at? Linked how? Who were the other victims?”
“Bruce Crawford and Dale Peters. I can tell by the look on your face that you recognise the names. Can you tell me where from?”
“I do. They all used to be friends. Did I hear you right? All three of them are dead?” Confusion settled into her features, and she placed a hand against her cheek.
“I’m afraid so, yes. Nicky didn’t appear to know much about their friendship and pointed us in your direction.” Katy noted the woman flinched every time she mentioned her ex’s lover’s name. She shouldn’t have been surprised.
“Why should he? He’s a relative newcomer in Robin’s life, whereas I spent over twenty years with the man.”
“Can you enlighten us regarding their friendship?”
“I can try. At one time they used to be very close. Always met round at Bruce’s house. How his wife put up with them turning up on her doorstep every week I’ll never know, God rest her soul.”
“Did you know the other spouses or girlfriends? Did you perhaps meet up as a group?”
“Only at weddings or funerals. As for socialising together, no, only the men did that. It didn’t bother me, I preferred to spend time on my own rather than every waking moment with him and his friends anyway. They weren’t really my type, if you know what I mean?”
“I see. Did their friendship dwindle after a while, is that what you’re telling us?”
“I suppose it did. I asked Robin on numerous occasions why they’d stopped socialising, and he snapped at me regularly when I pushed him. The final time he shouted at me, told me never to raise the subject again, which I didn’t.”
“How strange, and you have no inkling what it could have been about?”
“None. The more I pushed, the more he retreated until the day he bit my head off. I didn’t appreciate him speaking to me like that. All I was doing was trying to find out why he no longer wanted to speak to either of them.”
“They cut off all contact?”
“Yes.” She sniffled and reached for a tissue from the packet sitting alongside the photos. “Oh God, I can’t believe he’s gone. What was I thinking? I had every intention of destroying all these today. What if I’d done that and you showed up half an hour later to tell me the news? I would have been devastated. Deep down he was a good man, I know that now. My reaction, the pure hatred I’ve felt for him since…you know, since he revealed he was going off with another fella, while it was probably expected, I realise now how unacceptable it was. I regret the way I’ve treated him the past six months or so. I can never take back the harsh words…I can’t believe he’s no longer with us. Who did this, do you know?”
“No. We believe it’s probably linked to something that happened back when they were a group. By what you’ve just told us, it definitely backs up our assumption. Please, can you try to remember, see if anything comes to mind?”
She sat there quietly for several minutes, contemplating Katy’s plea, and then disappointedly shook her head. “I’m sorry, nothing.”
“You mentioned the wife’s death. Do you know what the cause was?”
“No, apparently Bruce said that she’d died of complications in her sleep.”
“Can you remember what year that was?”
“Gosh, now you’re testing me. Around ninety-five, possibly ninety-six. What am I saying? It might even have been a year or two either side. I can’t honestly remember.”
“Didn’t you go to the funeral?”
“No. Neither of us were asked to attend.”
“How bizarre. You don’t think that decision was the cause of their friendship ending, do you?”
Laila stared at the corner of the room for a second or two. “Possibly, if I was positive about the year of her death, maybe I could answer that for you.”
“It’s fine. We’ll look it up when we get back, don’t worry.”
“They had two girls I seem to recall, maybe you could ask them.”
“I intend to, we’ve met both of them.”
“How are they coping with the loss of their father? Can I ask how he died? I always figured he was the type to live forever, if you get my meaning?”
“I think so. His daughter found him after a suspected burglary.”
“Oh my, that’s terrible. She must have been traumatised?”
“She wasn’t in good spirits, let’s say that. Did you ever have children, Laila?”
“No, which I see as a blessing in disguise, considering how our marriage ended.”
“During your marriage, did any situation arise that may have been a cause of concern for Robin?”
“I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”
“Did he possibly fall out with anyone who might have threatened him?”
“No, nothing like that. My husband was a lover not a fighter. Good grief, did I really say that out loud?”
Katy smiled and nodded. “It’s okay, I appreciate the position you’re in. You still loved him right up until the end, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” Tears emerged and trickled onto her cheeks. “You don’t spend most of your adult life with someone and stop loving them just because they suddenly announced they’re gay. It’s not that I’m bitter, far from it. If anything, I feel ashamed, guilty even that I was unable to read the signs when they were clearly evident throughout our marriage. I took his gentle nature at face value when all along he had an affinity to me. Does that make sense? It does in my head.”
“I think so. Please, try not to get upset. Life gets in the way for all of us at times. You’re definitely not the first woman this has ever happened to, and I doubt you’ll be the last either. I wouldn’t take it personally. Maybe set it aside as one of life’s more dubious lessons and attempt to get over it. You’re far too young to spend it on your own.”
“I know. I keep telling myself that, but the reality is, I know deep down I’ll never be able to trust another man, not intimately. He’s left me with very little self-worth. I gave him everything, opened myself up to him, and that’s how he repaid me. By using me as a cover for his warped sexuality. God, I swore I’d never get this worked up over him again, and now, he
’s gone, leaving me with so many unanswered questions which I hoped, over time, he might have had the courage to answer.”
Warped sexuality? “Have you sought counselling?”
“No. I’m fine. Who am I kidding? I’m a survivor. I’ll get through this. In fact, I was coping remarkably well until you showed up on my doorstep.”
Katy shook her head. “I’m sorry. Bad timing, but an essential visit nonetheless. Is there anything else about Robin’s relationship with the other men that you can think of?”
“No. Please, you’re going to have to leave this with me. The news of Robin’s death isn’t allowing me to think straight.”
“Okay. Would it be all right if I left you my card?”
“Of course, please do. I’ll do my very best to try and revisit the memories I’ve locked away and come up with some answers for you.”
“We appreciate your help under these trying circumstances, Laila. We’ll let you get on with your day.” Katy glanced down at the photos spread over the floor.
Laila sighed. “I suppose I’d better hang on to a few of these now. I’ll show you out. Sorry I couldn’t be much help.”
“Nonsense, just give us a call if your mind unleashes anything worthwhile.”
“I will. I promise.”
10
The man was the last to leave. He locked up the front doors to the supermarket and raced around the side of the building to the car park at the rear to collect his car. Suddenly, he found himself bathed in the glare of full-beam headlights, his chance to react lost when someone ran at him and knocked him to the ground.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Another whack to the head with the metal bar, and he almost lost consciousness, hovering on the brink. He froze and looked up at his assailant. His mouth hung open for a few seconds, and then he whispered, “It’s you? But…”
“How?” his attacker finished off for him.