Married Lies (Reissue)

by Chris Collett

  ‘Are you okay?’ Millie asked, squeezing her arm.

  ‘Must be something I ate.’ Lucy took the glass gratefully.

  Back in the kitchen Millie steered Lucy to a breakfast-bar stool. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll phone and cancel and explain what has happened.’ She picked up the letter. ‘Come on, you need to try and calm down a bit. Let’s sit and go through these systematically.’

  Moments later Millie held up a card, the kind the postman leaves when there’s no one home. ‘Are you expecting a parcel?’ she asked.

  Lucy shook her head.

  ‘It’s been left at number sixteen.’

  ‘That’s Martin’s house across the road.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll go and get it.’ Millie got up and retrieved her car keys. ‘If it’s more of the same I can put it straight in my car, okay?’

  Lucy nodded miserably. ‘I’ve been getting lots of junk on the computer too. You should probably see that. I’ll go and switch it on.’

  ‘Good idea.’

  Outside the rain had stopped and the sun was shining again. Millie crossed the road to number sixteen, though it took her a couple of minutes to be sure she had the right house, the numbers were so obscure. No car on the drive, but perhaps it was in the garage. She rang the doorbell, which she could hardly hear above the constant droning of what sounded like a distant lawnmower. Minutes later she was still waiting. She rang again, walked across to the window and peered in. No sign of life inside. She looked at the time on the card — it had been filled in a couple of hours ago. Whoever had taken in the parcel must have subsequently gone out. Coming back down the drive she noticed for the first time the silver Honda parked a little way down the street, half on the pavement. She was sure it was the car that had been there yesterday. It looked empty and walking a bit nearer confirmed it. She looked around, but it could have belonged to someone visiting any of the adjacent houses. She noted down the number anyway.

  Millie returned to Lucy’s house and found her upstairs staring at the computer screen. Her inbox was stuffed with junk emails, mostly with a similar parental theme, along with the acknowledgements for registering with several internet dating sites.

  ‘I keep getting these replies from some new mothers’ forum.’ She pointed at the screen. ‘But I haven’t joined those sites. Why on earth would I?’

  ‘Whoever’s doing this is trying to unnerve you, Lucy. That’s the intention. Try not to let it get to you.’ But even as she said it Millie knew what a tall order that was.

  ‘I feel so foolish.’ Lucy dragged her fingers through her hair. ‘I’m meant to be an intelligent and confident woman, yet I feel like a wreck — and all because of a bit of stupid post.’

  As if to underline the point, the phone rang and Lucy jumped out of her skin. ‘It’s him! It’s happening again! How does he know I’m here?’

  ‘He might not,’ said Millie calmly. ‘And I’m here now anyway. Let me.’ She picked up the ringing phone. ‘Hello?’

  A woman’s voice responded, uncertainly: ‘Hi, is that Lucy?’

  ‘No,’ said Millie. ‘She’s here though. Can I ask who’s calling?’

  ‘Sure, it’s Tess Maguire. I was actually hoping to catch Will before he leaves. Is he there?’ With the hint of an Irish accent, this woman sounded bright and relaxed. Millie was sure this wasn’t their nuisance caller. ‘Just a moment,’ she said. Covering the mouthpiece, she turned to Lucy. ‘It’s someone called Tess, for Will?’

  Lucy had recovered enough to roll her eyes in response. ‘Tell her I’ll ask him to call her back when he gets in, and to try his mobile. At least it means he hasn’t gone running to her.’

  ‘Did you think he might have done?’

  But Lucy simply shrugged.

  Millie did as instructed then ended the call. ‘Who is Tess?’ she asked Lucy.

  ‘She sings with the band,’ Lucy said, making it sound as if that was a bad thing. ‘She calls him quite a lot.’

  ‘Are they close?’ Millie asked.

  Again the defences came up. ‘Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, but Will and Tess go back a long time, they’re old friends, and that’s all there is to it.’

  ‘I’m not implying anything, Lucy,’ Millie said, calmly. ‘I just want to find out what’s going on.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I’m sorry.’

  ‘What’s bothering you, Lucy?’

  Lucy sighed heavily. ‘The other night, when I called Will, there was a woman nearby. As I ended the call I heard her say, “kiss me, baby.” It was like she said it when she thought he’d switched off his phone.’

  ‘And she was talking to Will?’

  ‘I can’t be certain, of course, but it was very close by.’

  ‘Was it Tess?’

  ‘I don’t think so, but I couldn’t be sure.’

  ‘Where do you think Will went last night?’ Millie asked.

  ‘I don’t know. To Leigh’s probably. I guess he’ll go straight to the gig from there.’

  Millie glanced down at the computer. ‘We could really do with taking this in to the station, so that our technicians can do a thorough search of the hard drive. That way we may be able to trace back to where some of these emails have come from.’

  If such a thing were possible, Lucy looked even more stricken. ‘I don’t think Will would like that. He uses it a lot when he’s at home, dealing with correspondence for the band, setting up gigs and all that . . .’

  And the rest, thought Millie. ‘Whose computer is it?’

  ‘Well, it was mine before Will moved in, obviously, but . . .’

  ‘Well then, with respect, it’s your decision, Lucy. Can I take it now? The quicker we do it, the quicker I can get it back to you. Will may never even need to know.’ Millie was more than aware that she was taking advantage of Lucy’s vulnerability, bulldozing her like this, but there were a number of reasons why she wanted their technicians to examine Will Jarrett’s online habits. ‘It won’t take long, I promise.’

  What else could Lucy do but cave in? She shut down the computer and between them they disconnected it so that Millie could take it away.

  As Millie turned to leave the room a brief flash of something caught her eye, but when she stared more carefully out of the window, she couldn’t determine what it was that she’d seen.

  Having stowed the computer safely in her boot, along with all the junk mail, Millie waited while Lucy locked up the house, and watched her drive away and back to work. She was just starting up her own car, when, in her rear-view mirror she noticed some activity around the silver Honda. A woman was standing behind the open boot, heaving in a wet and dry vacuum cleaner and what looked like a couple of baskets of multi-coloured dusters. She wore a blue tabard, and Millie realised that this must be the estate’s ‘little treasure.’ Millie wondered if she regularly serviced houses in the area. If she did, she was just the kind of person who might have noticed something out of the ordinary occurring. Weighing up the pros and cons of disclosure, Millie decided that there was more to be gained from it than lost. She got back out of her car, warrant card at the ready, and retraced her steps along the road. She suddenly wondered what Suli would think about the idea of them having a cleaner. Their parents would disapprove, of course, but Suli himself would probably be okay with it and it would make life a whole lot easier.

  As Millie got close to the car a gust of wind snatched a couple of dusters out of the woman’s basket and blew them down the pavement towards her. She caught them and passed them back.

  ‘Thanks,’ the woman smiled. ‘It’s really blowing one today, isn’t it?’ Though not especially tall, she was stocky and still slightly breathless from the exertion of loading the vacuum. Her hair was tied back behind a headscarf and it was difficult to ascertain her age, though Millie would have put her at about fifty, if she’d had to guess.

  ‘No problem,’ Millie said. ‘You do cleaning round here?’

  ‘Yes, and I know what you’re going to ask.�
� The woman gave an apologetic smile. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t have any vacancies at the moment. I clean for people elsewhere as well as on this estate.’

  ‘Sounds like you’re in demand,’ Millie said.

  ‘Housework is one of those things that people never have enough time for these days. If I had a pound for everyone who’s asked me to clean for them . . .’ she shook her head. ‘Everyone thinks I can just squeeze in one more house, but I really can’t — not to do a proper job of it.’

  ‘Who do you clean for in this street?’ Millie asked.

  ‘Mr and Mrs Harrison at number thirty-one, Mr Coyle at number eight, and I have a few other clients here, on Woodcroft Road, and Larch Crescent.’ She gestured with her head further into the estate. ‘As far as I know they have no plans to change their arrangements in the near future.’

  ‘So you must spend some time around here.’

  ‘Yes, I’m here three days.’ She was wondering where the conversation was going now.

  Millie lifted her warrant card so that the woman could see. ‘I’m not actually looking for a cleaner,’ she admitted. ‘Or at least I wasn’t. We’re investigating some unwanted phone calls that the person at number nineteen is getting. It’s possible that she may have been followed in her car too. Have you noticed anyone suspicious hanging around at all?’ Millie asked. ‘Or any cars that you wouldn’t normally expect to see?’

  ‘Oh dear.’ The woman shook her head. ‘No. I can’t imagine that happening round here. It’s generally so quiet during the day. Most people are out at work. And I’d notice anyone different hanging about — they’d really stand out.’

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ said Millie, turning to leave. ‘Thanks, anyway.’

  At the last minute she swivelled back again.

  ‘Out of interest,’ she asked. ‘If you did have any vacancies, would you go out as far as Hall Green?’

  The woman laughed. ‘I would, but I’m not kidding. I’m completely full at the moment, couldn’t fit another client in,’ she sighed and gave a wry smile, ‘but if you want to give me your contact details just in case—’

  Millie took out a business card. ‘Thanks, and if you should happen to think of anything, give me a call on that number anyway, will you?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  * * *

  Estelle Waters lived in a private flat behind electronic gates, with a security guard who gave Mariner a thorough visual going over before he went in, directing him to one of the three twelve-storey blocks. No question here of the lifts not working, and he was elevated smoothly to the fifth floor. Waiting for a response to the doorbell, Mariner could hear the yapping of a small hound and, as Ms Waters opened the door, a bundle of fur came hurtling out at him, did a couple of circuits of his feet, then bolted back into the flat, where it vanished.

  ‘You’ve got a good guard dog there,’ Mariner remarked, showing his warrant card.

  ‘He wouldn’t last five minutes with a burglar,’ Estelle smiled. ‘All bark and no bite, quite literally. He’s had to have most of his teeth removed over the years. Please, come in, Inspector.’

  The apartment smelled heavily of furniture polish and some kind of heavy floral scent that Mariner couldn’t identify. Solid dark wood furniture and dull soft furnishings would have rendered it dark and gloomy, but for the sunlight coming in from wide windows overlooking leafy Edgbaston and, in the distance, the county cricket ground. Estelle Waters was at odds with her surroundings, dressed as she was in light grey slacks, pale yellow sweater and a pair of flat, trainer-type shoes, as if she was just about to go out and play golf. Her naturally greying hair was cut stylishly short, and her lined face had a light, healthy tan. She exuded a certain gentility, and when she offered him tea, Mariner just knew that it would be Earl Grey served on a tray, with a teapot and bone china cups. While they talked about Nina, she clutched a crushed tissue in her fist, releasing it every so often to dab at her eyes and nose.

  ‘I still can’t believe it,’ she said, when they had settled, Mariner in a hard, overstuffed armchair and she on the sofa opposite.

  ‘It was you who raised the alarm, I understand,’ Mariner said.

  ‘Yes, that’s right. Nina and I were supposed to have met for afternoon tea on the Monday, but she didn’t come. She would never have missed one of our get-togethers without letting me know why. Then when I rang her house there was no reply, so I knew that something must be wrong. I rang around a few people, but no one seemed to have seen or heard from her for a few days. I could have gone round perhaps, but I don’t drive, and whilst it’s not far, it’s a pain of a journey on public transport. I thought long and hard about contacting your service, Inspector. I’m well aware that your time is precious, but I felt I was justified.’ She turned her gaze to Mariner, her pale blue eyes sparkling. ‘I thought at worst that perhaps she had fallen or something, I had no idea it would turn out to be so awful.’

  ‘It’s a good thing you were so vigilant,’ Mariner said, gently. He sipped his tea before saying: ‘You and Nina were obviously close friends.’

  She nodded, wordlessly.

  ‘Were you aware of anything that was bothering her?’

  ‘I don’t know about bothering her,’ said Estelle. ‘She’d suffered a bit of ill health recently, and I think the dance school was getting her down.’

  ‘Why do you think that was?’ Mariner asked.

  ‘It was hard work, and I got the impression it wasn’t doing quite as well as it had in the past. But then, getting her MBE — Nina was thrilled to bits about that. It had given her a real lift. All of us in fact.’ She smiled.

  ‘All of you?’

  ‘Three of us meet up regularly: Nina, me and Madge Llewellyn. It’s a bit of silliness really, we call ourselves the “golden girls” and we all go out together regularly — dinner and the theatre, that kind of thing. Madge will be devastated when she gets back home. I haven’t been able to reach her yet.’

  ‘She’s away?’

  ‘Yes, on holiday for a month. She and Donald are doing one of those tours of the United States. Madge was diagnosed with breast cancer last year, but just before Christmas she was given the all clear, so they’re celebrating.’

  ‘How did you all meet?’ asked Mariner.

  ‘Through our husbands; we got thrown together at the same business functions years ago and we just seemed to gel.’

  ‘So you’ve known one other a long time,’ Mariner observed.

  Estelle nodded in agreement. ‘Must be nearly forty years, through thick and thin; my divorce, Madge’s illness. We’ve all supported one another, come what may.’

  ‘Nina must have been glad of that, fifteen years ago, when her husband died.’

  ‘Of course, you must have known Ronnie.’

  It was, Mariner supposed, a reasonable assumption, from her point of view. ‘I knew of him,’ he said, ‘though we never met. That must have been a difficult time for Nina.’

  ‘It was terrible; those awful allegations being made at the same time too, and completely unfounded.’

  ‘You sound very sure of that,’ Mariner said.

  ‘I knew Ronnie,’ Estelle Waters said, simply and Mariner could only admire her blind loyalty.

  ‘You must also know Rachel.’

  Estelle smiled. ‘Yes, all our children grew up together really. We used to spend time together as families.’

  ‘Was Rachel close to her stepmother?’

  ‘Oh yes. Nina didn’t have it easy at first, but they grew very close. I think Rachel regards her as her true mother, after all her birth mother wasn’t much of a role model.’ She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. ‘Rachel was quite an indulged child, not surprisingly I suppose, being an “only.” We did witness some spectacular tantrums when she was little, if for any reason she couldn’t get her own way. And it was Ronnie who was the indulgent one, perhaps because of what had happened with her mum. Nina was always quite firm and felt that Rachel should stand on her own t
wo feet, whereas Ronnie would have given her anything.’

  ‘And you can’t think of anyone who would want to hurt Nina like this, for any reason?’ Mariner asked.

  ‘To be honest, Inspector, I’d be quite horrified to think that anyone I know could be capable of such a thing,’ Estelle said, her emotions getting the better of her once again.

  Mariner had one more sensitive area to explore. ‘Nina’s husband had been dead a long time and she was an attractive woman.’ He replaced his empty cup on the tray. ‘Are you aware of any male friends she might have had?’

  Estelle flushed. ‘Not that I knew of, though I suppose it’s possible. She had her admirers, of course. Actually, there was . . .’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It was probably nothing. I ran into her once, some time ago, in town and she was with a man then. She said he was her cousin, but there was something odd about the way she introduced him.’ She paused for a moment, thoughtful. ‘She didn’t tell me his name. I remember thinking at the time that it was peculiar. Normally when you introduce someone, you say “This is my cousin, Fred,” don’t you? But she just said: “This is my cousin. He’s staying for a few days.” She looked flustered, and I got the definite impression that she couldn’t wait to get away from me.’

  ‘And you’ve no idea of the identity of this man? Who he might have been?’ Mariner asked.

  ‘No.’ She was thoughtful.

  ‘Could you describe him?’

  ‘Middle-aged — about our age, I suppose.’ Mariner hoped by ‘our’ she meant herself and Nina. ‘He was quite tall and thickset, and his hair was dark, but going thin on top. He was well dressed, in a suit I think. In fact, I remember thinking that he looked as if he should be at work — a solicitor, perhaps.’

  ‘And how long ago would this have been?’ Mariner asked.