‘Sorry,’ Molly said automatically even as she thought there you go again with that bloody useless word. ‘I fell asleep.’
Amelia picked up the magazine and threw it onto the coffee table before going over to her. ‘You didn’t fall asleep,’ she said, ‘you passed out. There’s a difference.’
‘The medication the hospital gave me obviously didn’t agree with me.’ Molly dredged up a smile. ‘I feel better after that sleep.’
‘Well, you look awful. Come and sit down. I’ll make you a cup of tea.’
Molly sat and listened as the kettle was filled and switched on. She seemed to be drinking a lot of tea and coffee these days.
Minutes later, a mug was put on the table in front of her.
‘I really need to go,’ Amelia said, checking her watch. ‘I’m way overdue at a meeting.’
‘Go, please, I’ll be fine.’ The suspicion of Amelia still lurked; Molly didn’t want whatever was in the mug, and certainly wasn’t going to drink it, but picking it up allowed her to switch her focus to it and hide her mistrust.
‘Jack will be back soon, won’t he? So, you will be okay.’
Looking up, Molly gripped the mug more tightly. ‘Yes, of course.’
Amelia didn’t look convinced. ‘Maybe I should wait until he’s here?’
‘No please, go. I’m sure he’ll be home soon. I’m going to finish my tea, then lie back and probably sleep again.’
‘If you’re sure.’ Amelia picked up her coat and slipped it on.
Molly listened as Amelia’s footsteps crossed the hall, the front door opened then closed. Finally, silence. Standing, Molly took the tea and threw it down the sink. What if she’d been right, that Amelia, for whatever reason, was trying to kill her? It was preposterous, ridiculous, but the truth was someone had tried. They’d failed. Wasn’t it logical they’d try again?
Molly turned the tap on to wash all traces away. Rinsing out her mug, she spooned coffee in and filled it from the kettle.
‘Damn,’ she said, turning to stare into the sink. She should have kept it and given it to the inspector to have analysed. It would have confirmed her suspicion or set her mind at rest. Either would have been good. He’d probably have thought she was barking mad, but she wouldn’t have cared. But it was too late.
She was considering whether she should ring the inspector and keep him up to date when the sound of the front door opening startled her, eyes wide and staring as she listened to the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the kitchen door. Panicking, she looked around, her hand reaching for the biggest knife attached to the magnetic strip on the wall. As she grabbed it, her hand slipped and the knife clattered onto the counter.
‘Hi.’
Jack’s voice. Of course, it was Jack. Letting her breath out in a whoosh, she turned and almost ran to him, feeling his arms close around her. Ignoring the twinge from her broken rib, she snuggled deeper into him as if to burrow for safety.
‘You’re okay,’ he whispered into her hair. Resting his chin on her head, he continued to hold her.
In the safe circle of his arms, the trembling eased and the fear faded a little. After a few minutes, she pulled back and looked at him. ‘Can you ever forgive me?’ She kept her eyes fixed on his; she could tell so much from the light that glinted in them, sometimes baby-blue soft, sometimes almost steely-grey. When they turned soft, when he bent his head and planted a gentle kiss on her lips, she felt a release of the tension that was wound so tight it hurt more than her broken rib.
‘What choice do I have?’
She’d have preferred a straightforward yes, but she wasn’t in a situation where she could be picky. ‘Thank you,’ she said, resting her head on his shoulder.
‘Are you feeling okay?’ he asked, pushing her away gently. He took off his coat and draped it over the back of a chair. ‘You look so pale.’
‘I was feeling awful. Amelia had to–’
‘Amelia?’ he interrupted. ‘What the hell was she doing here?’
Molly moved to the sofa and sat, her movements slow and laboured. Her side was painful, she needed to take more painkillers. ‘She called around when she heard about the accident. We had tea and talked. Afterwards, I was feeling so weak, she had to help me up the stairs.’
There was no point in telling him that Amelia had made the tea and that she was afraid she might have put something in it. He’d think she was crazy.
‘You look pale and tired,’ Jack said. ‘How about we go out somewhere for something to eat? A nice meal would be good for you.’
She put her hand over his. ‘The police said I should stay indoors to be safe.’
He pulled away and shook his head. ‘How long are we going to have to live like this? It’s crazy. Why would anyone want to murder you? I’d say you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. The police are making a huge leap in connecting your accident to the death of that man.’
She shut her eyes for a moment, trying to get her head clear. ‘They said they don’t believe in coincidences,’ she said eventually, but Jack had gone to the fridge.
‘Hang on,’ he said, as he peered inside it. Shutting it, he took out his mobile. ‘The fridge has milk, beer, and not a lot else. I’ll order a takeaway. What would you like?’
‘Indian, the usual dishes,’ she said automatically, wondering why he bothered to ask. In all the years, they’d never ordered anything else. He rang it through as she sat staring at him, a slight frown between her eyes, her concerns about her own predicament fading a little as she took in his pallor.
He took the seat beside her again. ‘Now, what were you saying?’
What had she been saying? She shook her head in frustration. ‘I can’t remember.’
He leaned forward and planted a kiss on her cheek. ‘Try to stop worrying. Have you heard from the kids today?’
‘Just messages.’ She smiled. ‘They’re really busy. I’m going to try to Skype them tomorrow, it would be nice to see them. They seem to have settled down, both mentioned friends they were meeting.’
‘Good,’ he said, echoing her smile. ‘I’m going to get out of my suit. The meal will be here in ten. If the doorbell rings, leave it, and I’ll come down, okay?’
She reached a hand out, felt it clasped in his. ‘I won’t move.’
He raised her hand to his lips and gave it a kiss. ‘Good, I’m going to spoil you until you’re better.’
She was still smiling as she heard his step on the stairs. They’d be fine. Whatever was going on would be sorted and they’d get back on track. As for her suspicions, either the meds they’d given her in the hospital or the bang to her head were making her imagine things and jump to ridiculous conclusions.
The police would do their job and things would return to normal. Then she remembered something. Before she’d passed out, she clearly remembered asking Amelia why she’d mentioned Pleasant’s amazing brown eyes. She’d never answered.
Maybe Molly was overthinking it all. Or maybe she was right, maybe Amelia and Lucien Pleasant weren’t strangers at all. Taking out the inspector’s card, she took her phone and put his number in under a speed dial key. With one stroke she could contact him.
She wished it made her feel safer.
24
Molly didn’t say anything to Jack. There was no point in worrying him about her suspicions, especially since, she admitted with a shrug, they were so changeable. In the morning, she’d ring the inspector. Maybe by this stage he’d have more information to put her mind at ease.
They sat at the table to have their meal. Molly pushed food around her plate, trying to hide the fact that she’d no appetite. Looking across the table, she realised Jack had eaten even less. She opened her mouth to plead with him to tell her what was wrong but closed it again. Her brain was still too fuzzy, she couldn’t deal with any more. ‘I’m really not very hungry,’ she said, pushing her plate away. ‘I think I’ll head to bed.’
Jack pushed his barely-touched plate away. ‘I’m g
oing to watch TV for a while. I’ll sleep in the spare room so’s not to disturb you when I come up.’
She stood and leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. ‘Goodnight,’ she said, unable to stop the grimace as she straightened.
‘You should take one of the painkillers the hospital prescribed. Where are they? I’ll go and get one for you.’
She shook her head. ‘I put them in the bathroom cabinet. I’m not keen on taking them, Jack, they made me feel quite disconnected. The pain isn’t that bad, really, I’ll take a couple of paracetamols.’
He didn’t look convinced. ‘Promise me you’ll take the stronger ones during the night if you need them.’
‘I promise,’ she said with a smile and headed off. He didn’t need to know that she never wanted to take a tablet again, not even paracetamol. The pain would ease when she was lying down. It didn’t, in fact, it was worse, but she decided she preferred the pain to the grogginess she remembered from earlier. She knew she was being silly, but her life was in such turmoil, she needed to keep as clear a head as possible.
Lying there, she listened to the distant murmur of the television, the sounds from the street outside, trying to concentrate on them rather than going over and over the events of the last few days. The fear had eased but she knew it was lurking, ready to strike. A smile curved her lips when she heard Jack’s step on the stairs. He was trying to be quiet, but he never remembered the fourth step that squeaked despite several carpenters’ attempts to fix it.
A hush settled over the house. From outside, there was still the muffled sound of the odd car passing that the triple glazing couldn’t quite mute, a comfortable city sound that usually helped her drift off to sleep. But tonight it wouldn’t come. Her brain might be mush, but it was restless mush. Had Amelia tried to poison her? She’d certainly felt worse after the tea, groggier, more disconnected. And there was Amelia’s surely overdramatic reaction when she’d opened the door. Maybe, she hadn’t expected her to appear.
Molly stared at the ceiling. Would Amelia really have risked killing her in her own home? Surely not. But a thought struck her as she closed her eyes. Amelia hadn’t been expected. If she’d succeeded, nobody would know she’d been there and Molly’s death would have been seen as a delayed reaction to the accident.
It was strange how perfect clarity seemed to come in the middle of the night as if, with all the external distractions gone, everything could slot into place. It was Amelia. Molly was sure of it.
An hour later, clarity had become fuzzy. After all, if they found her dead, they’d do a post-mortem and whatever weird drug she’d given her would show up, wouldn’t it? Maybe there were drugs that didn’t. She’d no idea. Anyway, what possible reason would her friend have for killing her? Exhausted, Molly fell asleep, unsure of anything.
She was surprised when she woke to find it was almost nine. There wasn’t a sound in the house. Jack had probably gone to work. No doubt he’d looked in on her and saw she was asleep. He wouldn’t have wanted to disturb her to say goodbye. Turning, moving very slowly, she slid out of the bed. She kept her right arm close to her damaged rib, relieved it was less painful. Pulling on a robe, she put her mobile in the pocket and crossed the landing to the spare bedroom. The door was open, the bed empty.
Downstairs, she found a note propped against the coffee jar. I looked in on you and you were out for the count. Hope you have a good day. I’ll ring later. Rest!
Smiling, she crumpled it, threw it into the bin and reached for her phone. Two minutes later, after an embarrassing phone call to Dawson Marketing to explain that she had been in an accident and wouldn’t be in for a few more days, she hung up and checked for messages. There were three: one each from Remi and Freya, and one from Amelia.
Her children sent the usual messages of reassurance. They were having a great time. Some part of her world was ticking by the way it was supposed to.
Over a breakfast of toast and coffee she read the one from Amelia. There was nothing worrying in the short message, hope you’re feeling a little better, I’m here if you need me. Molly put the phone on the table beside her and sat a moment with her brow furrowed before reaching for it and pressing the speed dial key for DI Fanshawe.
‘Fanshawe.’ His voice was deep, calm. Reassuring.
Molly felt herself relax. ‘Detective Inspector Fanshawe, it’s Molly Chatwell.’
‘Good morning, Mrs Chatwell. I hope you’re recovering. What can I do for you?’
She took a deep breath and let it out noisily. ‘Amelia Lovell came around yesterday,’ she said, keeping her voice steady with difficulty. ‘I think she may have tried to kill me again.’
Molly expected a quick response, horrified words, sympathy. Instead, there was a long silence. ‘Inspector, did you hear what I said?’
Did she imagine it or was the tone of his voice less friendly? ‘Yes, I heard you.’ There was another brief silence before he spoke again. ‘It’s probably better if I come and see you.’ There was the sound of muffled voices, the clunk as a drawer was shut, a rattle she couldn’t identify, and a deep indrawn breath she certainly could. ‘I’ll call this afternoon, about four.’
He hung up before she could argue. She glared at her mobile and dropped it on the sofa. Four… a whole day to get through. She’d have a shower and get dressed, cling to the normality of routine. Her phone beeped as she reached the door. She turned with a grunt, wanting to ignore it, incapable of doing so. Then she was sorry she hadn’t. It was a text from Stuart Mercer.
We have to meet. ASAP.
A long groan escaped her. This was too much to take on now. She tapped out a short message, I’m afraid not, then deleted it and wrote, Meet you tomorrow in Casper’s. At eleven? She pressed send and stood waiting for a reply. It came within seconds. See you then.
She was probably crazy to go; she gave a quick laugh – certainly crazy to go to Casper’s but it was the first name that had popped into her head. Or maybe it was a touch of bravado. She wasn’t sure. Anyway, it would be good to forget about her mixed-up life for a while and focus on Jack’s problems. He had been so understanding, she owed him. Hopefully, Stuart would be able to tell her what was going on.
If by sorting out whatever was troubling Jack would help him completely forgive her, that was okay too.
25
After her shower, she pulled on jersey trousers, baggy from years of washing, and a soft, well-washed cotton jumper. Comfortable staying-at-home clothes. She stretched out on the sofa, finished the book she’d been reading, then switched on the TV and found a movie to watch, following it with another. When the doorbell rang, she checked the clock. Five minutes past four.
The doorbell had rung a second time as she struggled to her feet and made the journey to the front door.
‘You should check who it is before opening up,’ DI Fanshawe said, stepping into the hallway, his eyes sweeping over her. He pointed at the security chain. ‘You have one, why don’t you use it?’
Ignoring him, she led the way back to the living room and sat. ‘If you want tea or coffee,’ she said, ‘help yourself.’
‘We’re okay,’ the inspector said, taking a seat beside her while DS Carstairs sat opposite. ‘How’re you feeling, or is that a silly question?’
‘It’s a silly question,’ she said, then shook her head. ‘Sorry, you were being polite, and I was being rude. I feel pretty crap if you must know although the pain isn’t quite so bad.’ She could feel her eyes filling and rubbed them roughly. She would not cry.
‘Why don’t you tell me what it was you wanted to tell me,’ he said gently.
It was tempting to say, no, you go first, but her life had already descended into a farce, it didn’t need any more help from her. Slowly, she told him about Amelia’s visit, the tea she’d made for her, the weakness that had come over her shortly afterward and Amelia’s surprised reaction when she’d come downstairs.
‘You think she poisoned you?’
Molly rubbed her eyes agai
n. ‘I was so sure last night but today…’ She looked at him. ‘I’ve lived a very ordinary life, Inspector, it didn’t equip me for coping with all that’s been thrown at me.’
He smiled. ‘You’re doing okay. It’s not surprising your mind is in a whirl and you’re second guessing yourself the whole time. You’ve done the right thing, you’ve told us.’
She nodded, pleased that he appeared to be taking her seriously. She brushed away the small part of her that had hoped he’d say she was being ridiculous. ‘You think I’m right, that she tried to poison me?’
He rubbed the back of his neck.
‘You look as if you need coffee,’ she said, and made to stand.
‘Stay,’ Fanshawe said. ‘DS Carstairs is a dab hand at making coffee.’
He was, as it turned out, and also an expert in finding where the biscuits were. He didn’t, she noticed, bring the out-of-date cake.
Once they had coffee in hand, Fanshawe explained what was happening in the investigation. ‘We spoke to Ms Lovell yesterday. She appeared shocked on hearing about your accident.’ He held a hand up when he saw Molly was going to interrupt. ‘Yes, I’m aware she could have been putting on an act, but I’m a very good detective. We’ve found no link between her and our friend Pleasant.’ Fanshawe gave her a sympathetic look. ‘It might be because there isn’t one there, Mrs Chatwell.’
Molly looked at him for a moment without speaking. ‘Maybe,’ she said, trying to make sense of the ideas swirling around her head, ‘maybe they were partners, and when he didn’t succeed with his blackmail attempt on me, she killed him and then, full of remorse, she tried to kill me as a kind of revenge.’
Colour rushed over her cheeks when she heard Carstairs chuckle. She threw him an angry look before concentrating on the inspector. ‘It could have happened like that, couldn’t it?’
Ignoring the repeated chuckle from the other side of the room, Fanshawe said, ‘It is hard for you to remain objective; you’ve been through a lot the last few days. Remember, we’ll be looking into every aspect.’
The Perfect Life Page 15