‘If what you’re going to tell me has anything to do with my brother’s death, then I can’t keep quiet,’ I said. ‘If it hasn’t, then I promise you I won’t tell another living soul.’
‘It’s nothing to do with John at all,’ Lydia assured me. ‘Do you remember, when we first met in that sweet little country pub, that I told you my parents had died in a plane crash?’
‘Of course I remember.’
‘I wasn’t telling the whole truth. Mother did die in the crash, but Father wasn’t even on the plane. Not that that made much difference in the long run – he couldn’t handle Mother being gone, and within a year of her accident he’d managed to drink himself to death.’
‘That’s why no one from your past was invited to the wedding,’ I said, with sudden realisation. ‘You didn’t want any of them shooting their mouths off about your father.’
‘That’s right,’ Lydia agreed, looking down at the floor. ‘Most people are so mean and narrow-minded that they’ll look for any way to bring you down. If they’d found out my father was an alcoholic, it would have given them just the weapon they needed.’
Her tactic appeared to be working after all – though not in the way she’d intended. I did feel sorry for her – sorry that she was so pathetic that she put such a high value on her social life.
She seemed to sense the change in my mood – and to decide to take advantage of it while it lasted.
‘There’s something else I want to tell you,’ she said, ‘something even John didn’t know.’
‘Go on,’ I said.
‘I … I was having an affair with Paul Taylor.’
I was almost certain that John had known. Why else would he would he have waited until one o’clock, that night we had gone for a drink in Lower Peover, before returning home?
‘Did you ever intend to go with John to his Greek island?’ I asked.
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t believe you. I can’t see you giving up your garden parties and your committees for that kind of life.’
‘You’re very harsh,’ she said.
‘Then convince me I’m wrong.’
‘You are wrong. Of course I would have missed my parties, but it was what John wanted, and after what I’d done to him – even though he didn’t know I’d done it – what John wanted was the most important thing in the world to me. And it wouldn’t have been too bad – there’s an English community of sorts out there, and I’d soon have got them organised.’
‘How did Paul Taylor feel about you leaving him? Or hadn’t you got around to telling him the news?’
‘I’d told him. That’s what my trip to the spa hotel near Bath was really all about.’
‘Do you want to spell that out for me?’ I asked.
‘If I’d broken off the affair here – in the village – there was a chance the whole thing would have blown up in our faces, and John would have been humiliated. What Paul and I needed was a few days together, so he could get used to the idea.’
‘Is that what he thought was going to happen?’
‘Of course not! He thought we were just slipping away for a dirty weekend during which he might finally be able to persuade me to leave John.’
‘Did you tell him it was all over?’
‘Yes.’
‘And how did he take it?’
‘Very badly. He said he couldn’t imagine a life without me. I tell you honestly, I was afraid he’d go and do something silly.’
‘Like kill your husband?’
‘Good God, no! But I was worried that he might kill himself.’
‘You are aware that there’s a nationwide police hunt for him, aren’t you?’ I asked.
‘Yes, I heard it on the radio – but they’re only looking for him because they want him to help them with their inquiries.’
‘That’s code for saying he’s their number one suspect.’
Lydia looked as shocked as if I’d just slapped her in the face. ‘But they can’t possibly think that!’ she protested.
‘Were you with him on the night before the murder?’
Lydia shook her head ‘No. I was where I was supposed to be – at the health farm.’
‘So isn’t it possible that he decided that if he couldn’t have you, John couldn’t either? Isn’t there a chance that he drove to Bristol that night, snuck into our hotel and damaged the braking system of the BMW that he could easily have found out John would be driving?’
‘No!’ Lydia said, bunching her hands into tight little balls. ‘No, no, no! You don't know him like I do, Rob. He’s a gentle person. He’d never be capable of such violence.’
‘That’s the beauty of a murder like this one,’ I pointed out. ‘The killer never gets to see with his own eyes the violence he’s caused.’
‘Paul’s a sensitive soul,’ Lydia said stubbornly. ‘He wouldn’t have had to see the crash to imagine what it was like – and he never have been able to rob three people of their lives.’
‘So if he didn’t do it, why has he disappeared?’
Lydia shrugged. ‘Who knows how his mind was working? Maybe he couldn’t face the fuss, on top of everything else that had happened to him. Maybe he thought he was protecting me.’
‘Why would he think that?’
‘Oh, you know how people always add up two and two and make five – especially the police. Perhaps he thought that if it became public knowledge that we’d been lovers, Chief Inspector Flint would automatically suspect us.’
‘Well, when they find him – and they will find him, you know – the truth will come out,’ I said. ‘And it’ll look all the worse for having tried to hide it.’
‘You’re right,’ Lydia said with a sigh. ‘Isn’t it all such a bloody, bloody mess?’
She was saying just what I might have expected her to say in this situation, but somehow it didn’t quite ring true to me.
The simple fact was that she seemed more relaxed than she had a few minutes earlier – and I had no idea why that should be.
****
I was walking up the High Street when I saw the car coming towards me. It was a black Golf GTI which I’d seen many times before. I recognised the driver, too, because even from a distance the shock of red hair was unmistakable. My perverse nature stopped me from waving or showing any other outward sign of recognition, but the driver had seen me and slowed down to a halt.
‘I think we’d better go and have a drink somewhere,’ she said to me, through her open window.
****
We sat facing each other across one of the rough wooden tables outside the George and Dragon – more like adversaries than friends.
‘What are you doing here in the village?’ I demanded angrily.
‘I came to see you,’ Marie said.
‘Why now?’ I asked, my anger cranking up by the second. ‘You never bothered to me visit me in hospital, so why now?’
Marie lit a cigarette. ‘I rang the hospital just after you were admitted,’ she said. ‘They told me your injuries weren’t serious.’
‘And you never thought to ask to be put through to me?’
‘I’ve … I’ve had troubles of my own,’ Marie stammered, uncharacteristically. ‘I couldn’t face talking to you just then.’
‘What kind of troubles?’ I asked harshly – unforgiving. ‘An income tax demand? The clutch going on your Golf? I imagine it must have been at least as serious as that for you to neglect me.’
Marie’s eyes were reddening. ‘There’s been a death in my family, too,’ she said.
‘Who?’
‘My father.’
I felt rivers of shame course through my whole body.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t know. Was it … was it a …?’
‘A quick death?’ she supplied. ‘Yes, he didn’t suffer for long.’
‘At least you’ve that to be thankful for,’ I said inanely.
‘I was never really very close to him,’ Marie said musingly. ‘But in a way that
makes it even worse. Now he’s gone I keep feeling so … so guilty. Do you know what I mean?’
Oh God, did I ever! I felt guilty that I never seemed to be able to protect anyone I loved. That I had survived while my brother and father had died. That, in the middle of her own grieving process, Marie had had the courage to come and try to share mine – only to be treated as if she were nothing more than pond scum.
‘Forgive me,’ I pleaded.
‘It’s already forgotten,’ she told me, and I didn’t think I had ever loved her more than I did at that moment.
‘Where are you planning to spend the night?’ I asked.
‘I booked a room in a hotel in Knutsford,’ Marie said.
‘But that’s miles away! Why don’t you cancel it?’
Marie checked her watch.
‘It’s far too late now. I’ll have to pay, whether I use the room or not.’
‘So lose the money – or let me pay it,’ I said. ‘Whichever you prefer.’
‘And where would I sleep if it wasn’t at the hotel?’
‘At my father’s house.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Marie said seriously.
‘There are five bedrooms,’ I pointed out. ‘I’ll be using one. That leaves four spare.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s not a good idea.’
‘What’s the matter?’ I asked, trying to hide my annoyance as best I could. ‘Why isn’t it a good idea? Do you think I’ll burst into your room at three o’clock in the morning and try to have my wicked way with you? Can’t you trust me? Even for one night?’
‘Oh, I can trust you,’ Marie said. ‘I’ve known you long enough to be sure of that.’
‘Well, then?’
A strange, crooked smile came to her face. ‘What I’m not sure of is just how much I trust myself,’ she said. She stood up. ‘And now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to the toilet.’
I watched her walk disappear inside the pub, and noted that I was not the only man admiring the view.
Women were an enigma to me, I decided. I didn’t understand Marie – and I certainly didn’t understand Lydia!
I tried to puzzle out exactly what had gone on during my talk with my sister-in-law. What had she been worried about at the beginning of the conversation? And what had caused her to suddenly relax?
As I saw things now, it was almost as if she’d been more eager to learn what I didn’t know, rather than find out what I did. And in her need to do that, she’d been willing to both confess to her affair and place Paul and herself close to the murders.
So just what was the secret she was trying to hide? And what could possibly make it more important than the secrets which, after a show of reluctance, she’d had absolutely no qualms about revealing?
‘You look very deep in thought,’ said a voice, and looking up I saw that Marie had returned to the table. ‘What’s on your mind? Is it your brother?’
‘No, it isn’t,’ I replied. ‘As I matter of fact, I was thinking about my sister-in-law, Lydia.’
‘Ah yes,’ Marie said. ‘The lady of the manor.’
A sudden thought struck me. ‘I’ve told you quite a lot about her, haven’t I?’ I asked.
‘You’ve told me quite a lot about all your family.’
Yes, I had, hadn’t I? I’d fallen completely into the trap which Jill had warned me about so many years earlier, and if Marie had listened to what I was saying and as keenly as she seemed to be, she probably knew almost as much about the Conroys as I did.
Yet what did I really know about Lydia? I could talk about her snobbery and social climbing, but her life before she came to the village was a complete mystery to me. And how could I make up my mind about whether or not she’d had anything to do with my brother’s death when I had no knowledge of what it was that had moulded her into the person she’d become?
‘I may have some more work for you,’ I told Marie.
‘Investigative work?’ Marie answered cautiously.
‘That’s right.’
‘And what would it involve?’
The caution was still there.
‘I want you to check into my sister-in-law’s background.’
Marie took a packet of cigarettes out of her handbag, and lit one.
‘I can’t do it,’ she said.
‘Why not?’
‘Because I have all the work I can handle at the moment.'
‘So why didn’t you say that in the first place, instead of sitting there and letting me waste my breath?’ I asked.
‘You’re right, that’s what I should have done,’ Marie agreed.
‘Or is it a case of you wanting to find out what specific job I was offering you before you knew whether you were going to turn it down,’ I probed.
Marie hesitated. ‘We’re talking as friends here, aren’t we, Rob?’ she said finally.
‘Of course.’
‘And as friends I would expect you to hear what I’m about to tell you in confidence.’
‘Again, of course.’
‘And not to use the information in any way which might damage me or my business relationships?’
‘Why are you speaking all this legalese?’ I asked. ‘Everything you’ve asked goes without saying. You should know that by now.'
Marie took a long drag of her cigarette.
‘All right. The other reason I can’t work for you at this particular time is that it would mean I’d be investigating one of my own clients.’
‘Lydia!’ I exclaimed. ‘You’re working for Lydia!’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Since when?’
‘That’s not really relevant, is it?’
‘And what has she hired you to do?’
Marie shook her head, and her glorious curls wafted gently from side to side. ‘You know I can’t tell you that,’ she said.
‘It’s something to do with Paul Taylor, isn’t it?’
‘No comment.’
‘There’s an ongoing police investigation, for God’s sake!’ I exploded.
‘Then I’ll have to tread very carefully, won’t I?’
‘You could go to gaol. You realise that, don’t you?’ I reached in my jacket pocket for my cheque book. ‘Look, if you want money, you know you only have to ask me.’
Her eyes flashed with real Irish anger.
‘If I need money, I’ll work for it,’ she said. Then a smile crept onto her face. ‘Don’t worry, Rob. It’ll all work out for the best.’ She checked her watch. ‘It’s getting late. Time I was going. Thanks for the drinks.’
She stood up and walked towards her car.
‘When will I see you again?’ I called after her.
She turned and gave me one last smile. ‘I’ll be in touch.’
I watched her drive away in a state which was something close to shock. Why, I asked myself, had she agreed to work for Lydia? And even more to the point, what had been Lydia’s purpose in hiring her?
****
As I walked up the path to my late brother’s home I remembered the night I had peered in through a chink in the curtains and seen my sister-in-law locked in the arms of Paul Taylor, and I felt my anger rising again.
I hammered on the door with my fist, and heard the sound of high heels clicking on the polished wood hall floor. Then the door swung open and Lydia was standing there. She had changed out of her widow’s weeds and was now wearing tan trousers and a yellow blouse which was perhaps a little tight across her firm bosom.
She didn’t seem very pleased to see me standing there.
‘It’s really not a very good time to call, Rob,’ she said, making no sign of inviting me in. ‘I would have thought you’d appreciate that without having to be told.’
‘Did you hire Marie O’Hara?’ I demanded.
‘Whether or not I hired Miss O’Hara is really none of your business,’ Lydia said, speaking slowly and carefully.
‘It is if it’s anything to do with my brother,’ I answered hotly.
Lydia threw back her head and laughed so hard that I almost reached out and slapped her.
‘What’s so bloody funny?’ I shouted.
Lydia calmed down a little. ‘You are,’ she told me. ‘It’s funny that though you’re pretending to represent John’s interests that isn’t why you’re here at all.’
‘Isn’t it? Then why am I here?’
‘You’re here because of Marie O’Hara. You’re doing your big protective man bit, aren’t you? And the reason you’re doing it is because you’re in love with her.’
I could have denied it, but I was quite sure that my face had already given me away.
‘Yes, I am in love with her,’ I admitted.
‘And do you think that she’s in love with you?’ my sister-in-law asked nastily. ‘Or is her interest in you nothing more than camouflage for her interest in the family as a whole?’
I had not been expecting her to say that – or anything like it – and the whole idea hit me like a bolt of lightning.
‘Her interest in the family?’ I repeated, to give me time to recover.
‘Yes, that’s what I said. I’ve only talked to her on a couple of occasions, but it was perfectly obvious to me, right from the start. You’ve been seeing her for some time. You must have noticed.’
‘I noticed it,’ I said reluctantly, because now I thought about it, it was not so much a case of me wanting to talk about the family but of Marie encouraging me to. ‘But if she has shown any interest in the Conroys, that may be because we’re so different from her own family.’
Lydia laughed again. ‘That sounds so weak and feeble that you don’t even believe it yourself,’ she said.
She was right, of course. It was feeble, and I wondered how I could have gone so long without questioning why Marie seemed to take such an interest in us. But the answer was obvious – I didn’t question her because I was frightened of what she might say.
‘Do you want to know why I think she’s so interested?’ Lydia asked.
‘No,’ something inside me screamed. ‘No, I don’t want to hear it at all!’ And yet there was a part of me which said it was time – finally – to face the truth.
‘By all means tell me your theory, Lydia, if that’s what you really want to do,’ I said.
‘Are you sure you’re strong enough? After all, you were in the nut-house for two whole years the last time you lost a woman.’
The Vital Chain Page 20