She glanced at her watch, wondering if it was too early for a glass of wine. Deciding that it wasn’t, she crossed to the kitchen and poured herself a large glass of Pinot Grigio. After half-emptying it with her first slug, she re-filled the glass and went back into the lounge to turn her laptop on. While she was waiting for the computer to boot up, she heard the front gate opening.
“For God’s sake, Gareth” Annette muttered, looking around the small lounge, “what have you forgotten?” She was just looking in the kitchen to see if there was anything in there when the doorbell rang. It was followed by three sharp raps on the door. It wasn’t Gareth.
“Hello,” Annette said as she opened the door.
“Mrs McGuire?” the woman on her doorstep said. “You remember me? DC Kate Hunter?”
“Of course I remember you,” Annette replied. “Come on in.”
A few moments later, they were sitting in the lounge. Kate had declined both a cup of tea and a glass of wine, the latter with a wry smile. It didn’t take the policewoman long to get down to business, though.
“Sorry to arrive unannounced, Mrs McGuire.”
“Annette. It’s Annette.”
“Sorry, Annette. I’ve just got a few follow on questions related to your husband’s death, if that’s okay?”
“There’s no news then, I take it?” Annette asked.
“No, we would have called.”
“Right. I was about to start on the paperwork.” She nodded at her laptop. “But I thought a glass of wine first wouldn’t be a bad idea. What questions have you got, then?”
Annette watched as Kate settled herself back into her armchair. She crossed her legs and produced a small notebook from her jacket pocket before looking at Annette with a curious expression.
“It’s just some background stuff, really,” the policewoman said. “All quite routine.” Annette didn’t think she was telling the truth for a second. There was a hardness behind Kate’s eyes that was making Annette nervous. “So, where did you and Philip meet?”
They chatted for a few moments, and despite her reticence, Annette relaxed. She told Kate about meeting Philip in Australia. Even though Annette had only just arrived in the resort, it hadn’t taken long before the two of them were an item.
“Was it him chasing you, or you chasing him?” Kate asked.
“Bit of both, I guess,” Annette replied, “although he was probably keener on me than I was on him in the beginning. I wasn’t looking for a relationship. I just wanted to have some fun.” Kate arched a single eyebrow at the comment.
“Fun?”
“Yeah, you know. Fun. Nothing serious.” Annette smiled, hoping that Kate wouldn’t think she was a slapper for saying that. To her relief, Kate returned the smile.
“I think I know the sort of fun you mean,” she said. “Nothing wrong with that, is there?” She paused before continuing. “But it did get serious?”
“It took a while, but yes, it did. Philip was quite, er, persuasive.”
“Did he ever take you diving?”
“Oh, er, yes,” Annette said, thrown by the sudden change in direction. “Once. I hated it.”
“Just once?”
“Yes.”
“In Australia?”
“Yes. Not long after we started seeing each other. Why do you ask?”
“I’m just building up a picture of him and his life, that’s all.” Kate’s face was deadpan as she said this, and Annette’s nervousness started to come back. “Was it common for him to dive alone?”
“He preferred it,” Annette replied. “Said that he could concentrate on the diving and not have to worry about a buddy. He even did a course on solo diving in Australia.” Annette waited as Kate scribbled something down on her notebook.
“Where else did he go diving?”
“All over the place.”
“Overseas?”
“Yeah, sure. Australia, obviously. Cyprus, Egypt, Bali. He went all over the place.” As Annette said the word Bali, she saw Kate’s eyes flicker for a split-second. It wasn’t much, but it was definitely there.
“Did you go with him?”
“Most of the time, yes. He would go off diving for the day and I would sit on the beach or by the pool.”
“And how would you describe your relationship in the months leading up to his death, Annette?” Another shift in direction that threw Annette for a moment.
“Um, how do you mean?”
“Was everything okay? Between you and Philip?”
Annette stared at the policewoman, her mouth suddenly dry. Did Kate think I had something to do with it? Annette thought as she reached for her wine glass.
“How d’you mean?” she asked after she took a healthy sip from the glass.
“How were the two of you getting on?”
“Well, it’s like every marriage. Ups and downs, you know?” Mostly downs, Annette thought, but didn’t say anything.
“Sure, I know exactly what you mean.”
“Are you married?” Annette asked, looking at Kate’s bare ring finger.
“No, I’m not.”
“Well, you can’t know what I mean then, can you?”
They sat in silence for a moment before Kate continued, this time trying a different tack.
“Okay, can you tell me what his state of mind was like in the weeks before his death?”
“What, you think he killed himself?” Annette said, her voice higher than she intended it to be.
“No, but we’ve not ruled anything out just yet,” Kate replied. Her face softened. “Listen, Annette, I’m sorry to have to ask you these questions, but it’s all quite routine in an unexpected death. It’s so that we can rule out things.”
“Well, he didn’t top himself, if that is what you’re thinking.” Annette paused for a few seconds. She wasn’t sure where Kate was going with the questions, but didn’t like the general direction she seemed to be taking.
“Any money problems?” the policewoman asked.
“What?”
“Were you having any money problems?”
“What’s that got to do with a sodding diving accident?”
“Like I said, I’m just trying to build up a picture, that’s all.” Annette looked at the policewoman, who glanced up at her from her notebook.
“I think maybe you should go,” Annette said. “I’d rather someone was with me when you’re asking questions like those.” Kate looked at her with cool eyes, pressing her lips together for a second. She looked as if she was about to say something, but instead she just stood up.
“Okay, Mrs McGuire,” she said as she walked across the lounge. “Maybe that would be best, if it would make you more comfortable.”
Annette showed Kate to the door, closing it behind her. Then she returned to the lounge and collected her glass of wine before going to the window to make sure the woman actually left. There was something about the policewoman that Annette didn’t like at all. Those questions didn’t seem like ones that the police would ask in a routine missing persons enquiry. So, Annette reasoned, if they were asking them then it wasn’t a routine missing persons enquiry. There had to be something that they weren’t telling her.
She was just about to refill her glass of wine when there was a soft ping from her laptop. Annette opened the lid, having forgotten that she’d turned it on just before the policewoman had arrived. On the screen was the icon for her G-mail account. There was a small circle with a number in it.
Great, Annette thought as she topped up her glass. I’ve got mail.
34
Laura sighed as she pushed the trolley around Sainsbury’s. It was a typical Saturday afternoon in the supermarket. Busy, and every other shopper seemed to her to be both elderly and indecisive.
Her trolley was half full, and she had almost everything she needed to cook what she wanted to serve up for Gareth that evening. The crucial thing she needed was a decent cut of meat.
“Alright, my love?” the man behind the butc
her’s counter said as she approached. “What can I do for you?” Laura looked at the man, wondering if he was a proper butcher or just served the meat to customers. He was pale and gaunt, had the look of a man who had just been released from prison, and a badge to let her know that he was called Frank.
“Have you got any pork belly?” she asked him.
“Certainly have,” he replied, smiling. “How many are you cooking for?”
“Two, please. Not too much fat though, if that’s okay?” Any doubt that Frank was a real butcher soon vanished as Laura watched him prepare the meat. A few seconds later, she had a well-wrapped piece of pork in her trolley. It wasn’t as cheap as it would have been if she’d bought an already prepared one, but Laura didn’t mind.
Next, she grabbed some potatoes, green beans, and all the ingredients for a pepper sauce. Home-made, of course, none of that packet nonsense. As Laura thought about the sauce, she spun her trolley round to grab a packet of pre-made sauce as a contingency plan. If her sauce went wrong, it wasn’t as if she could serve Gareth instant gravy with the apple infused mashed potato she was planning. A quick trip to the wine aisle and Laura was done.
As she drove back to her flat, Laura flicked her radio to the local station that was playing the commentary of the football match Gareth was attending. It took a few moments for the commentator to remind listeners of the score which was one nil to Brighton. According to the still upbeat commentator, their new striker was an absolute bargain for the club from the south coast. Tutting, Laura changed channels to find some music to listen to. If Norwich did lose, she hoped that Gareth wouldn’t be too disappointed. In fact, she thought with a smirk, it might be better if they did lose. She could maybe suggest something to take his mind off the football?
It didn’t take Laura long to get home, and she spent the next hour or so preparing their meal. When he came round, all she wanted to have to do was get the meat out of the oven and serve it rather than getting hot and flustered in the kitchen. Laura had just finished mashing the potatoes when her phone buzzed with an incoming text message.
We still on for dinner? It was Gareth. She picked up her phone and tapped out a reply.
Sure. How was the football?
It only took him a few seconds to reply.
Lost 1-0. I’ll be round in a couple of hours. Need to nip home for a shower.
Laura grinned to herself as she put the lid back on the potatoes and looked at the clock on the wall. It was just after five, which meant he would be round about seven. She needed to have a shower herself, but wanted to leave it until the last moment. Laura was just considering whether to go for a quick run when her phone started buzzing again, this time with a call. She glanced at the name on the screen before answering it.
“Hi, Annette,” Laura said. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Annette replied. “I’ve just got a couple of queries about that paperwork.”
“Sure.” Laura walked over to her laptop and opened the screen. “Which bit?”
For the next few moments, Laura walked Annette through how to take out an advert in the local paper, what it needed to say, and where it needed to be posted. It was strange, she thought, that in this day and age when everything was digital that an advertisement in a print newspaper was still a legal requirement. But it was what it was.
As they spoke, Laura noticed that a couple of times Annette tripped up over her words, even slurring slightly at one point. She sounded as if she had been drinking.
“Is everything okay?” Laura said eventually, when Annette had needed the same point explained to her three times. “You sound a bit, I don’t know, down?” It was better than asking the woman outright if she was pissed.
“I’m good, I think,” Annette replied. “The Old Bill were round earlier, though.” Laura’s ears pricked up at this.
“Were they?” she asked. “Why?”
“Routine questions, they said. But they didn’t sound very routine to me.”
“How d’you mean?” Laura pressed. “What were they asking you?”
“How me and Philip had been getting on, whether we had money problems.” Annette sniffed, and Laura wondered if she was crying. “That sort of thing.”
“Well,” Laura said after thinking for a few seconds, “they’re probably just being thorough. It’s still not clear exactly what happened.”
“Can I ask you something, Laura?” Annette’s voice was quiet and Laura had to press the phone to her ear to hear her.
“Sure, ask away.”
“Do you think that they think I had something to do with it, if that makes sense?”
“It does make sense, yes,” Laura replied, “but I just think that they’re making sure that it was only an accident.” There was a silence on the other end of the line. “Annette?”
“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry.” In the background, Laura could hear the distinctive noise of wine being poured into a glass.
“Listen, if they want to speak to you again, just call me. I’ll come round and sit with you.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” Laura heard her voice brightening up. “I hear Gareth’s coming round tonight?”
“He is, yes.”
“He’s a good man, my big brother.”
“I know.” Laura paused, not quite sure what to say. “I just hope he’s hungry.”
“He will be,” Annette replied. “He always bloody is. Listen, I’ll let you go. Thanks, Laura.”
“No problem. Anytime.”
As Laura put her mobile down, she thought back over the conversation she had just had. If the police were asking Annette questions about Annette’s personal life, that could only mean they were interested in something. The question was, what?
Deciding that a quick run would be a good idea, Laura went into her bedroom to get changed. As she did so, she cast a critical eye over the room to make sure it was tidy and that she’d not left anything lying about.
Just in case.
35
Gareth shoved his hands in his pockets as he made his way up Harvey Lane, breathing heavily from the effort of walking up the hill. For a city that was supposed to be in one of the flattest counties in the country, Norwich still had a fair few hills. Maybe it was time to give up smoking, he thought as he fished in his pockets for his cigarettes.
By the time he got to the top of the hill, Gareth had a fine rivulet of sweat running down his back. The Heartsease was only a few hundred metres in front of him, so would have a quick pint with the lad and then head home. As long as he didn’t mention the football.
Gareth had been following Norwich City’s football team since he was a child and was well used to the club’s trials in the various leagues and competitions. The fact that he had just watched them being relegated down to a lower league didn’t faze him that much—if anything he was pleased as the chances were the football would be more entertaining next season—but it was still a disappointment. Around him, fellow fans were walking along having hushed conversations. At least the game had been entertaining, even if the result hadn’t gone their way.
“Usual, Gareth?” Big Joe said as Gareth walked into the pub a few moments later. “You look like you need one, mate.”
“Please, Joe,” Gareth replied, looking around for Dave. He saw him sitting in the corner of the pub, staring morosely into a glass of Coca-Cola. “Did he not get me one in?”
“Who, Dave?” Joe replied, pouring a pint of lager. “Nope.”
“Cheeky bastard,” Gareth said. “He was the one who wanted to bloody meet up. You heard about the football?”
“Yeah, had it on the radio. Shit, isn’t it?”
“It’s been coming for a while. That new Brighton striker won’t be there for long if he keeps on playing like he did today.”
“He did sound a bit tasty.”
“One of the big clubs will come in for him at some point,” Gareth said. “You mark my
words. He’ll be kissing a different badge on his chest at the end of next season.”
Gareth picked up his pint and walked over to where Dave was sitting. He nodded at a few people dressed in yellow and green shirts as he did so, but everyone’s mood seemed sombre.
“Alright, mate,” Gareth said as he sat down. “So, what part of first one here gets the beers in don’t you understand?” A smile flashed across Dave’s face, but it didn’t last. “Is this about the e-mail that I told you not to look at on Annette’s computer?”
“Er, no. I couldn’t get the e-mail itself. It would have been too obvious as the e-mail would have been read, not unread. I didn’t have time to forward it on, delete the forwarded e-mail, and set it back to unread.”
“I doubt she would have realised, Dave.”
“I did get the e-mail address, but it’s a Protonmail one.”
“Which means what?”
“Could be anyone’s. They’re a secure provider that even the CIA can’t get into.”
“Bollocks,” Gareth replied, sipping his pint. “Something’s not right with her.” Dave reached into his pocket for a piece of paper. He slid it across to Gareth. On the paper was a web address, a username, and a password.
“What’s this?” Gareth asked.
“That’s the login details for the spyware I managed to install. It’ll take a screenshot every few seconds and upload it here.” He prodded at the paper with a stubby index finger.
“Good lad, Dave,” Gareth said, grinning as he picked up the paper and tucked it away in his pocket. “So, what’s this about if it’s not about the e-mail?”
Gareth watched as Dave fidgeted on the chair for a second or two and he could tell that he was summoning up the courage to tell him something that he wasn’t going to like. One thing Dave wasn’t particularly good at was social interaction, and the tells he gave away were blindingly obvious, even to Gareth.
“Um, well, me and Charlotte went out last night into the city.” He started worrying at a piece of skin on a finger, and Gareth had to fight the urge to tell him to spit out whatever it was he wanted to say. “Just for a few drinks, like.”
Single Handed (Gareth Dawson Series Book 3) Page 13