The Perfect Life

by Valerie Keogh

  ‘No, neither. I’d gone to meet Stuart because I’m worried about my husband. Jack is a very private man when it comes to his work, he wouldn’t confide in me if he were having problems, so I thought I’d ask Stuart.’

  Fanshawe looked at her with sudden interest. ‘What kind of problems?’

  Molly huffed in exasperation. ‘I don’t know, do I? I never got to meet Stuart thanks to whatever idiot tried to push me under that damn car.’

  ‘So only two people knew where you were going to be?’ Fanshawe said. ‘Amelia Lovell and Stuart Mercer.’

  Molly looked at him in horror. ‘Stuart would have absolutely no reason to harm me.’

  ‘That you know of,’ Fanshawe said, unperturbed. ‘Your suspicions of Amelia Lovell are based on a simple slip-up, brown eyes instead of turquoise. And that she happened to call upon you on the morning you were knocked down.’ He held a hand up when he saw she was going to argue. ‘I’ve been a detective for a long time, I’ve heard more preposterous ideas. I’m not ruling anything out yet.’

  ‘You’ll speak to her?’

  ‘To her, and to Stuart Mercer.’ Fanshawe stood. ‘You’re being discharged today. We don’t have the manpower to post an officer outside your home, but I will ask for a car to pass down your street as often as possible.’ He gave a quick smile. ‘Which won’t be often, I’m sorry to say. Go home, keep your house alarm on, don’t go out alone, don’t let anyone in. I assume your husband is collecting you?’ When she nodded, Fanshawe handed her his card. ‘This is my direct number. If you see or hear anything suspicious, ring me immediately.’

  She looked at the card. Somebody wanted to kill her. It was a chilling thought. It was even more chilling to remember that somebody had murdered Lucien Pleasant.

  ‘Will they try again?’

  Fanshawe kept his eyes fixed on hers. ‘We are working hard to pin down some connection between you and Pleasant. If it’s there, we’ll find it.’

  ‘If it’s there?’ She put his card down on the bed table. ‘If it’s not, if it is some weird coincidence, then despite what that woman… that copper said… maybe my accident was simply that, an accident.’

  ‘Maybe,’ he said and with a final nod, he and Carstairs left.

  ‘Maybe, my ass,’ Molly muttered as the door clicked shut after them. A connection between her and Pleasant. Once again, she faced the only truth she could see, it had to be something to do with Amelia.

  22

  When the nurse returned to check she was comfortable, Molly asked about her phone. ‘Was it damaged in the accident?’

  Jane checked the monitor, updated her notes and moved to the small wardrobe in the corner of the room. ‘Everything you had was put in here. Would you like me to have a look?’

  ‘Please.’

  ‘Here you go,’ the nurse said, returning with a handbag. ‘It’s not in the coat pocket so maybe it’s in here?’

  ‘Thanks.’ Molly took the bag, opened it and looked inside. Everything was as she’d left it, just as if someone hadn’t tried to kill her. There was the usual glut of rubbish; old receipts, three lipsticks, a few old bills, and, finally in the bottom, her phone.

  ‘There you go,’ the nurse said with a smile. ‘If you’re okay, I’ll leave you in peace. Professor Ludlow will be around in an hour or so. As soon as he gives the go-ahead, we can disconnect the monitor and the intravenous line.’

  Molly checked her phone. There were several messages from Freya and Remi; she read them quickly and sent off a message to both with a lame excuse about letting the phone go flat and misplacing the charger to explain her unusual absence. They wouldn’t question it.

  There were a couple of missed calls from Stuart shortly after one o’clock on Friday and a text message sent at one thirty. Assume something has come up, surprised not to be able to get hold of you. Hope all is okay, will try to ring again later.

  She sent a brief answer. Sorry. Something unexpected happened. Will explain in a day or two.

  Throwing the phone on the bed, she stared across the room. Not one text from Amelia, not one call to ask why she hadn’t turned up in O’Dea’s. The police were going to speak to her. Maybe she’d confess that she was responsible, it would all be over, and Molly could go back to her mundane existence. After the last few days, she’d never knock mundane and conventional again.

  She shuffled in the bed. There was no pain really, but everything ached. Including her head. Amelia might have been mixed up with Lucien Pleasant, she might even be having an affair with Jack, but did Molly really think she was capable of trying to kill her? And anyway, why would she want to? ‘Arrgh,’ she groaned, resting her head back. Perhaps it would be best if she left the detective work to the detectives.

  She managed, despite everything, to fall asleep.

  She was woken by the sound of the door opening, followed by footsteps and the nurse’s voice asking if she was okay.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she said automatically. She shook off a momentary disorientation, her eyes flitting over the faces of the group of people who surrounded her bed. Junior doctors, she guessed, as an older man stepped forward to introduce himself.

  Professor Ludlow was a small chubby man with a round, smiling countenance that made him look like a children’s party entertainer rather than an eminent consultant. He spoke with her for a few minutes, his voice barely above a whisper. ‘We are happy that you’ve made a complete recovery from your concussion,’ he said. ‘You may go home whenever you wish.’ With a final polite smile, he and his entourage swept out of the room, leaving a nurse behind to remove the intravenous line, leads and monitor. Molly instantly missed its reassuring beep.

  With the nurse’s assistance, she walked to the bathroom and to the wardrobe. What was left of the clothes she’d been wearing hung there. ‘I don’t think I want to wear these,’ she said with a shudder.

  She sat in a chair with her hospital gown wrapped around her and listened as the nurse gave her a list of instructions before handing her a prescription for pain relief.

  ‘You can get it filled downstairs,’ she said. ‘If you need more, you’ll have to go to your GP.’

  Molly blamed the medication she’d been given for making her feel woozy and disconnected. She’d get the prescription filled but hoped she wouldn’t need to take them. There was paracetamol at home, that should be sufficient. As soon as the nurse left, she rang Jack. ‘Come and get me and bring me something to wear, please. Something stretchy and comfortable.’

  It was over two hours later before she stepped into the hallway of their house, Jack with his arm around her waist, refusing to move from her side until she was sitting on the sofa. He hovered around, insisting on lifting her feet onto the couch, taking off her shoes, tucking a blanket around her, plumping a pillow to put behind her head.

  All she wanted, was to be left alone.

  ‘I’d love a cuppa,’ she said, hoping that if she gave him something to do, he’d leave her be.

  In what seemed like seconds, he was putting a mug of tea on the table beside her. ‘Here you go, and I’ll put your tablets here within reach. Make sure you take one when you need to.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It’s going to take a while to get over the shock.’ He perched on the arm of the chair.

  ‘That someone tried to kill me?’ She pulled up a smile that wavered and died. ‘Maybe a little while.’

  ‘You told the police about Amelia?’

  ‘Yes, but I’m not sure they were convinced.’

  He reached down to pat her leg. ‘They’ll find whoever is responsible.’ He looked at her ruefully. ‘Do you think you’ll be okay on your own for a few hours? I know it’s Sunday but I’ve an appointment to meet an investor. It was the only day he could meet.’

  She’d been surprised when he’d turned up at the hospital in a suit rather than casual clothes. Now she understood why. Despite being relieved he was going, she was hurt that he wouldn’t have cancelled his meeting. ‘I�
�ll be fine, I’ll probably fall asleep in a while. Go. I’ll see you later.’

  As soon as she heard the door closing, she put the tea down and stood. She still felt a little woozy, but she’d do. Ignoring the pain medication she’d got from the hospital pharmacy, she went to the kitchen and found a packet of paracetamol. While she was on her feet, she got her handbag, took out her phone and plugged it in to charge. The inspector’s card was tucked beneath it. She slipped it into her pocket.

  Back on the sofa, she swallowed two pills with a sip of tea and leaned back. Her ribs hurt. They would do for a few weeks, according to that pleasant nurse who’d discharged her. But at least she could feel. If that car had hit her full on, she’d be lying in a morgue.

  Pushing the cushion into a more comfortable position, she rested her head against it and closed her eyes. Some of the medication they’d given her in the hospital was probably still in her system because she felt incredibly tired. Her eyes drifted closed, and she felt herself falling into a deep sleep when the doorbell chimed, startling her awake. Immediately, her heart began thumping and a nervous tremor ran down her legs.

  She wasn’t expecting anyone. Whoever it was would soon go away when they saw no sign of life. But it rang again, for longer, stopping, then chiming again. Swearing softly, she struggled to her feet, wincing as her ribs complained. For a second, her head spun, and she thought she was going to faint. With a loud gulp and a deep breath, she crossed the room in her bare feet.

  At the front door, she put her hand to the doorknob, then stopped. Someone had tried to kill her, maybe she shouldn’t open it. She gave a quick look back to the living room, wishing she had her phone, wondering if she should ring the police. She was still trying to decide what to do when the sound of someone hammering the door knocker made her yelp with fright.

  It was loud enough to alert the person on the other side of the door to her presence. ‘Molly? Mol, are you there? It’s me, Mol, Amelia. I’ve only just heard about your accident.’

  Despite her suspicions, despite everything, all Molly could remember was the friend she’d known for so many years. Were her suspicions as preposterous as the inspector thought? Anyway, Amelia was hardly going to try to kill her in her own home. On that positive thought, she opened the door.

  Amelia’s concern seemed so genuine Molly felt tears well. ‘Oh, Amelia,’ she said, stepping back to let her inside, ‘it’s been awful.’ Back in the living room, she made an attempt at hospitality. ‘Would you like tea or coffee?’

  ‘Sit down, for goodness sake, before you fall down,’ Amelia said, throwing her coat across the back of a chair. ‘Where’s Jack?’

  Almost embarrassed at his absence, Molly shrugged. ‘He’s had to go to a meeting – just for a couple of hours. He didn’t want to go,’ she lied, ‘but I insisted.’

  Amelia raised an eyebrow. ‘Odd,’ she said, and waved towards the kitchen. ‘I’ll make some tea.’

  ‘I’m feeling a little groggy, actually. I think it’s the after-effects of the medication I had in the hospital.’ Happy to leave Amelia to it, Molly sat and watched, weighing her up. Her fingers slid into her trouser pocket and felt for the inspector’s card, flicking the edge of it rhythmically. Like a worry stone, it gave her a certain amount of relief.

  Amelia bustled about the kitchen finding everything she needed and a few minutes later, carried a laden tray over to the coffee table. ‘Tea, biscuits, cake that’s a couple of days past its best before date but looks okay.’ She smiled and took the seat beside her.

  Molly didn’t want anything, but she accepted the tea and biscuit that was handed to her, shaking her head at the cake. Taking a sip of the tea, she leaned forward and put it on the table. ‘The police came to see you?’

  Amelia nodded. ‘A rather pleasant inspector, name of Fanshawe, and a rather creepy little man, whose name I can’t recall.’

  ‘Carstairs, I bet. He is creepy, isn’t he? I thought it was because he didn’t like me. He didn’t approve of my seduction attempt.’

  ‘Sanctimonious hypocrite.’ Amelia reached for a slice of cake, looking at it suspiciously for a moment before taking a bite. ‘It’s okay,’ she said, holding it up, ‘you should have a piece.’ When Molly shook her head, she reached out her free hand and rested it on her arm. ‘Darling, what an ordeal you’ve had.’

  ‘What did the police say?’ Molly was curious as to what her friend knew.

  ‘That you’d been in an accident. A hit-and-run, they said.’ She shook her head. ‘Shocking. I did wonder why you hadn’t turned up in O’Dea’s, but I assumed you’d forgotten. You have been a bit absent-minded recently. Anyway, I met some friends, so I was okay.’ Putting the empty plate down, she picked up her tea. ‘The police wanted to ask me if I knew anything about this man you’d met, and if I’d told anybody you’d be running that morning.’ She put her tea down, untouched, and looked sombre. ‘They wanted to know if I knew of anyone who wanted to cause you harm. It’s so odd, you know, you hear that question asked in crime dramas all the time. There was something so unreal about it.’ She shook her head. ‘Of course, there was nothing to say. You’re probably the most inoffensive person I know. I told them you were almost strait-laced and that it was totally out of character for you to come on to any guy never mind some stranger you’d bumped into while out on a run.’

  There was silence for a moment. Molly felt her friend’s eyes on her, inquisitive, puzzled. She picked up her tea and drank it, waiting for her to speak.

  ‘They don’t really believe you were involved with his death, do they?’

  ‘They might have done before someone tried to kill me, but I don’t think they do anymore.’ Molly smiled as her friend’s mouth sagged. ‘It wasn’t an accident, you see,’ she explained. ‘Someone deliberately tried to push me under a car. It was lucky that I wasn’t killed.’

  ‘Someone tried to kill you?’ Amelia looked at her in horror. ‘Seriously? But why?’ She got to her feet, paced the room and turned to look down on Molly. ‘This is crazy. Why on earth would anyone want to murder you?’

  Bizarrely, Molly almost felt insulted, as if in Amelia’s estimation she wasn’t important enough to be murdered. A wave of weakness rushed over her. She really couldn’t handle any more. ‘I’m sorry, I’m going to have to ask you to go, I need to lie down.’

  Amelia rushed in with apologies. ‘Of course, I shouldn’t have stayed at all. I only wanted to make sure you were okay.’

  Right at that moment, Molly wasn’t sure of anything except she felt weak, she needed to go to the loo and she wasn’t sure she’d manage on her own. ‘I need to go upstairs,’ she said, her words slurring slightly. ‘We don’t have a downstairs loo and I’m not sure I’m able to get up without help.’

  ‘Oh, Molly, you poor thing!’ Amelia took her arm and helped her to her feet.

  Molly swayed, feeling an arm snaking around her back to support her as they moved across the room into the hallway. She wasn’t sure she was going to make it. Jack had been right, she should have stayed in hospital.

  ‘Hang onto the banisters,’ Amelia said as they climbed the stairs. ‘Hold on tightly, or we’ll both fall.’

  When Molly staggered out of the en suite a few minutes later, Amelia was leaning against the door frame. ‘There’s no point in going down again,’ she said. ‘You look exhausted. Get some sleep, I’ll head off.’

  Molly took the few steps to her bed and sat heavily.

  ‘They were strong drugs the hospital gave you,’ Amelia commented.

  ‘They’ll be out of my system soon.’ Molly looked across the room at her friend. ‘Why did you say the man I met had amazing brown eyes?’

  Amelia frowned. ‘What?’

  ‘The other day… you mentioned them.’ Molly felt worse than she had earlier; weaker, fuzzier. Her eyes widened in alarm as Amelia kept swimming in and out of focus.

  Amelia. Had Jack been right, was she the key to everything? Molly had let her in and had drunk the tea she’d m
ade. It was getting harder to stay focused. Amelia seemed very far away, her voice fading. But her eyes were still sharp; Molly could see them peering at her, assessing.

  If Jack was right, Amelia wouldn’t want to fail at this second attempt on Molly’s life.

  23

  There was a heavy weight on Molly’s chest. Panicking, she tried to push it off but she was caught under it and couldn’t free herself. Gasping, she made one last effort, gave a firm push and felt the weight move. And then she was free – and immediately cold.

  Opening her eyes, she saw the duvet she’d pushed to the floor. She’d been dreaming. How long she’d been asleep, she’d no idea, but it was almost dark, the room lit only by the street lights outside. She remembered thinking that Amelia had poisoned her and shut her eyes, opening them quickly when she realised, she’d still been there when she’d… what? Fallen asleep or collapsed?

  Pushing up onto her elbows, Molly listened. There wasn’t a sound to be heard. She reached for the lamp and clicked it on to look at her watch. Almost six. It would have been easier to stay where she was, but with a grunt she swung her feet to the floor and stood, keeping her hand on the bedhead until she was sure she wasn’t feeling dizzy.

  Letting out a breath, she rolled her shoulders. She felt better. Whatever they’d given her in the hospital had obviously worked its way out of her system. The idea that Amelia had tried to poison her, had been involved with Pleasant, surely it was all a product of her overtired and overstressed mind. Molly switched on the landing light and headed down the stairs. The door to the living room was shut but she could see a rim of light around the edges. Maybe Jack was home. Molly took a deep breath before she twisted the knob and quietly pushed open the door.

  Amelia was sitting with her back to her. She had a magazine in her hands, legs crossed, one foot bouncing lazily.

  ‘Hi,’ Molly said.

  The magazine went flying and landed on the floor with a loud smack. ‘Bloody hell, you scared the wits out of me.’