by Anita Waller
They had a simple quiche and salad for lunch, and afterwards both felt reluctant to say goodbye.
‘Can I see you again, Kat?’
‘I’d like that.’
‘Sunday? Maybe we can go for a drive to Monsaldale or somewhere equally nice, and have some lunch. Does Martha drink pints?’
Kat laughed. ‘Not yet. Give her six months before she moves on to that. You want me to bring Martha?’
‘Kat,’ he said, and took both of her hands in his, ‘we both come with baggage. You’ve not met my mother yet. Of course I want to meet Martha. Do I need to buy a car seat?’
She smiled. ‘No, she comes complete with one. It’s part of the pushchair, so the seat holds her securely in the car, and the wheels go in the boot. Are you sure about this?’
‘Kat Rowe, I’ve never been more sure.’ He reached forward and kissed her cheek. ‘Thank you for today. I can’t tell you how much I’ve looked forward to it.’
‘I kind of got the message,’ she laughed. ‘Three more sleeps, two more sleeps… It told me you’d definitely turn up. And I’d like you to meet Martha, because we’re an item, Martha and I.’
‘You have church Sunday morning?’
‘Always,’ she said. ‘I’m finished by around twelve, so I can meet you by the church gate if you like. Martha goes to church with me, but Mum and Dad have her when I’m taking the service. You’ll have to meet them because they’ll be with me.’
‘Then I’ll have a shower and a shave,’ he said with a laugh. ‘Kat, I won’t let you down. I’m fairly quiet when I’m not giddy with taking a remarkable woman out. I know what you’ve been through for the last eighteen months or so, and I have to admire you, you’re a strong person.’
She smiled, suddenly shy. ‘I have to go now, I’ve an appointment at two thirty, but I’ll see you Sunday.’
He watched her walk away, and she turned and waved from the bottom of the hill before disappearing towards her office. He punched the air. ‘Bloody fantastic,’ he said, ‘bloody fantastic.
She walked into Connection unable to stop the smile that was suddenly a permanent part of her face.
Doris glanced up as the shop bell pinged. ‘Hi, Kat. Good meeting?’ Then she looked again. ‘Why are you smiling?’
‘It was a good meeting.’
‘Usually you stomp around like an angry rhino when you’ve been to a church meeting because there’s always somebody who puts forward some stupid idea. I’m not daft, Katerina Rowe. Did he turn out to be a dishy bishop then?’
Kat could feel laughter bubbling up inside her, and she mentally cursed Carl for making her feel like this. ‘I know several bishops, Nan, and none of them are remotely dishy.’
‘Something’s cheered you up. You went from here really miserable, and now you’ve got rosy cheeks and a smile. I’m going to see Mouse about this. She might know what’s going on.’
Kat shook her head, walked towards her own office and said, ‘Has anybody made the coffee?’
Tessa Marsden arrived just before they were ready to lock up and go home, so Kat rang her mum and said they would be late.
‘Is everything okay?’ Mouse asked.
‘No, far from it,’ Tessa answered. ‘We’ve now cleaned out the cell where Alice spent her last night, and we’ve found things that have led us to believe that it was suicide, and not an escalation of her cancer problems.’
‘What?’
‘She removed her bra. On the inside she’d sewed a little pocket, hardly noticeable really. We also found a small piece of clingfilm that had tablet powder on it. We think this was planned for when we eventually worked out who had killed Judy. We’ve tested the size of the tablets we took to the station to see how many would fit in this little pocket, and we reckon there must have been about ten. She also had the two that our officer took to her before she went to sleep, and we’ve now looked at CCTV of the interview room and it looks as though she didn’t take the tablets in the afternoon, but pocketed them. She knew exactly what she was doing. She must have been in considerable pain by the time she took that lot.’
‘Oh no!’ Kat held her hand to her mouth. Why had Alice’s time on earth descended to the darkest of levels, when she should have been living out her final years in comfort? Kat couldn’t bear it. ‘Are you able to prove it?’
‘As soon as we have toxicology results from the post-mortem. The results from that are showing that she would have had maybe another six weeks before her organs gave up on her, so we’re pretty sure that the toxicology will show she overdosed on her morphine.’
‘Has anyone told Keeley?’
Marsden nodded. ‘She doesn’t know we suspect suicide, but she is aware that Alice is dead. She was very upset, but Emma Jones from number five came and sat with her. She was in good hands. I think her tears were more for Henry because he now has no relatives at all on his father’s side.’
‘I can’t take much more today,’ Mouse said. ‘Can we go and collect Martha and go home, and pretend to be normal, please?’
Marsden gave her a hug. ‘That’s a good idea, Beth. And have an early night. If you’re asleep, you’re not thinking.’
38
The coldness and the brightness of the morning meant that Alan and Sue Rowe had to dress warmly. Sue helped Alan into the wheelchair, pulled his scarf a little tighter around his neck and covered him with a tartan fleece to keep his legs warm.
They had told no one of their plans for today other than the funeral home who had collected Leon from the airport and Jeff, their vicar, who was taking the somewhat shortened service; the church where Leon was to be laid to rest was only five hundred yards away and they had decided to walk. Or, in Alan’s case, be pushed.
Sue locked the door behind her, and they set off down the bungalow’s ramp. It was on a slight incline, but nothing that Sue couldn’t handle. It was far harder for Alan to handle the fact that he needed to be pushed down it. He waved a hand towards her, telling her he needed her to come close to hear his words. She bent her head.
‘Love you,’ he whispered.
‘Love you too, my darling,’ she said back, and wiped the sudden tear from her eye.
Their neighbour, Colin, came out of his front door as they reached the bottom of the ramp, and called across to see if Sue needed any help getting Alan into the car.
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ she responded. ‘We’re going out for a little walk, it’s such a lovely day.’
A lovely day to be burying your only son.
They turned right at the bottom of the ramp and headed towards the distant church. She walked this route two or three times a week, sometimes with Alan, sometimes on her own; she often felt God was the only person listening to her.
Alan said nothing further for the entire journey. It grieved her deeply that he understood everything still and yet found it so hard to communicate. It was almost a silent life for both of them.
At first, following the stroke, she had kept up a constant stream of chatter, but now there was nothing. There was only so much conversation you could have without getting a reply.
Her mind flew back to the evening when Kat had rung and told them the news about Leon. Deep in her heart, she had known it was coming. His crimes had been so bad there was never any chance of a good outcome, and reading between the lines of Kat’s tearful conversation with them, Leon had chosen his own way of dying.
That night she had had to speak with Alan. His communication with her was mainly by nods. He simply agreed with everything she said. And then her man cried.
She had told Jeff the full story, and he had reassured her that it was of no interest to the staff who would be dealing with lowering Leon into the ground who the deceased was. He would simply be Leon Rowe. And then they had prayed together.
Alan and Sue would be the only mourners, and the entire service would be a graveside one. She wished she could have seen Leon’s beautiful face for one last time, but she doubted there was much left of it. She was thankfu
l for her memories, her photographs; he had been so handsome.
She felt her footsteps dragging as they neared the church and a quick glance at her watch showed they were almost half an hour early.
‘We’ll have some time in church,’ she said to Alan, and he nodded.
She wheeled him down to the front and placed the wheelchair at the side of the end front seat. She sat by his side and they held hands. She bowed her head in prayer.
Alan couldn’t pray. His mind told him he should be thanking God for giving Leon to them in the first place, but all he wanted to do was berate Him for taking Leon from this world, for allowing Leon to take the path he had taken.
Alan whimpered slightly. He was reliving how he had learned of Leon’s criminal life; the lowlife who had turned up at his door and told him exactly what his son was involved with: the drugs, the money laundering, everything.
It had been Alan who had suggested they move to Canada. He had half-hoped Leon would say he wanted to emigrate with them, but he didn’t, and they had turned their back on England and all the pain that he knew was there, for a life in Canada. With so many miles between them, he hoped it would be a case of out of sight, out of mind, concerning his knowledge of his son’s life of crime.
And they thought he had swung his life around with his marriage to Katerina Silvers. Alan could feel his tears returning.
Sue heard footsteps behind them and turned.
‘Leon’s here, Sue, Alan.’
‘Oh.’ Sue felt flustered for a second. ‘Right, thank you, Jeff.’
‘Would you like me to wheel Alan out?’
‘No, thank you. I’ll see to him. We’re in this together,’ she said.
She turned the wheelchair around and followed the vicar out of the church.
Her moan of ‘N-o-o-o’ was audible to everyone, following her first sight of the coffin inside the hearse, as the driver waited to drive the fifty yards or so down the path to where the grave had been dug.
Jeff signalled to the driver to move, and the hearse travelled slowly enough for Alan and Sue to be following closely for the final part of Leon’s journey. Four men were waiting at the graveside for the lowering of the coffin and once that was done, they melted away into the background.
Sue heard nothing of the service. She had moved close to the edge of the grave, and her eyes remained fixed on the coffin, mentally communicating with its occupant.
The service was quick, and they moved away.
‘Would you like to go back into church, Sue?’ Jeff asked.
‘No, thank you, Jeff.’ She gave half a smile. ‘I’m going to get Alan home out of this cold and do some lunch. Thank you for this. At least we are near to him now.’
Jeff smiled. He loved this gentle couple, hated to see what they were going through. ‘If you want anything, Sue, anything at all, you ring me.’
‘Thank you, Jeff, I will,’ she said, and wheeled Alan on the return journey.
As they neared their front gate, Sue could see that Colin was standing by their gate.
‘Please, Sue, Alan, come in will you?’
‘I was just going to get Alan settled out of the cold…’
‘I know. Diane and I have done a warm lunch for you, to say how sorry we are.’
‘But…’
‘Sue, we have relatives in England. Remember Jack and Amanda? We all had a meal together one night when they came to visit? You spoke of Leon and Kat. They told us of Leon’s death. I kind of guessed you were having a private service or something for him this morning, so we wanted to show we care. Please, come in out of the cold.’
It was only when they got inside and were eating the delicious soup Diane had made, that Sue opened up and told them it had actually been the burial of their son, not simply a memorial service for him.
‘Sue,’ Diane said. ‘We know how much you loved him, even if you couldn’t get to England to see him. Between us we’ll make sure his grave always has flowers on it. Now, some cheese and biscuits?’
Alan felt strange. Things were going in and out of focus with him, and his tiredness was starting to overwhelm him. His head drooped onto his chest, and he felt Sue touch his arm.
‘Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you back in bed for an hour.’ She turned to their hosts. ‘Thank you so much for this today. It means a lot. But we have to go. I think my man is falling asleep in his chair.’
Alan lifted his head and smiled.
Colin insisted on wheeling the wheelchair for Sue, and took Alan straight to the bedroom. Sue walked back to the front door with Colin and thanked him once again.
‘Sue, it’s no problem. What’s happened to you and Alan could happen to anybody. We aren’t our children’s keepers, you know. They make their own way in this world, and we have to accept that. But even so, I know how much you loved Leon, and I am truly sorry for your loss. You need anything, anything at all, you come get us.’
Five minutes later, Sue was helping Alan into bed, and almost immediately his eyes closed.
‘See you in an hour or so,’ she said, and kissed the top of his head. He murmured a response, and she left, closing the door quietly behind her.
Sue was crocheting a new throw for the sofa, ready for the cold winter months, and she took it out of her basket and began to work. She allowed her thoughts to roam, remembering Leon as a child, a teenager who was already showing signs of the man he would become, and then the husband he ultimately became. She had thought Kat had rescued him, and she was certain that the birth of his daughter would have been his saving grace if only he had lived long enough to see her.
Martha. A smile came to Sue’s face and she placed her work and her crochet hook on her lap, and let her head fall back. How she longed to see her grandchild, to hold something that was such an essential part of Leon. Her eyes closed, and she drifted to sleep.
When she woke, she woke slowly, stared around her feeling a little puzzled, and then, as the crochet work fell to the floor, she remembered what she had been doing. ‘Sue Rowe, it’s not like you to sleep during the day,’ she muttered to herself, and then realised it was after four. If she left Alan much longer he’d not sleep that night.
She headed down the corridor to the bedroom and opened the door. She could still only see the top of his head she had kissed earlier. ‘Hey, sleepyhead, time to wake up,’ she said, and kissed him again. He didn’t move.
‘Alan?’ She shook him slightly. ‘Alan!’ This time it was louder. And she knew.
She stood for a moment looking at the man who had been her rock all her life, then sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled his arm out from under the covers. She held his hand for a moment, then walked to the hallstand.
She picked up the receiver. ‘Jeff, it’s Sue. I need you.’
Epilogue
Six weeks later
Keeley sat by Tom’s grave, nursing the urn containing Alice’s ashes. She hadn’t expected to feel quite so bereft, so heartbroken. Her mind was going over and over the actions, consequences, whatever, of the last few weeks, and she felt stunned to actually be in the position she now found herself – free, unfettered.
When she and Alice had first discussed getting rid of Judy, it had almost been said as a joke. Somehow Judy had worked out that Henry was Tom’s son; it hadn’t taken rocket science, he was Tom’s double.
Storming around to Keeley’s, Judy had told her she had to leave the house, and Keeley’s first instinct had been to go and talk to Alice. Judy had been scary and insistent that she had proof that Henry was Tom’s bastard; Keeley’s denial had carried no weight at all. Alice had been wonderful, calming her down and saying not to worry, they would take time to think about everything.
They had to sort something out – somewhere hidden in that house was the will Tom had got his aunt to type for him, leaving virtually everything to Keeley and Henry, hidden by Tom who died before he could tell anybody where it was.
Keeley’s faced creased into a smile when she thought about DI Mars
den checking her phone and seeing the one word “will” in her text messages. Keeley had known the meaning but been unable to do anything about it, and so had played dumb; Marsden had realised it was a final attempt at saying where it was on Tom’s part.
Keeley stroked the headstone. If she could, she would visit her love every day, tell him her news, but she still had to be careful. She wanted nobody knowing her business. After all, she was a killer.
Alice had explained that the house would be turned upside down following a murder, and the police would find the will for them. But it had to be done before Judy herself found it; she would destroy it.
A brief smile flashed across Keeley’s face as she remembered the day following Judy’s verbal attack. Alice had run across the fields from Bradwell to Hope, and waved at Judy standing in her kitchen. She ran up Keeley’s garden path, making it very clear whose side she was on.
Keeley hugged the urn tighter, seeking to let Alice know how much she had loved her. Alice had given her hope that she wouldn’t lose everything that made her happy. She needed to be next door to where Tom had lived, she needed to be close to his grave.
And Alice had talked to her for most of that day. She had explained about the cancer, about the time limits she was having to build into what remained of her life. ‘We can kill her,’ she had said. ‘It’s the only way you will stop her ruining your life and making you as miserable as she made Tom.’
The plan had been perfected over the next week. Alice had admitted that although she was keeping up her fitness levels, she didn’t think she was strong enough to do the deed. But she was strong enough to take the blame.
Keeley shivered. It had all seemed so plausible when they had been discussing it, but Alice actually dying because of it had been hard to bear.