by Jo Allen
‘Yes, we see the worst of some pretty bad people. But everybody sees the worst of people in their private lives, too.’
‘Off on the all-men-are-bastards rant already?’ Lisa’s heavy eyebrows arched. She’d known Ashleigh since they were at school and they understood one another. ‘It’s a bit early for that.’
It was never too early to remember how much of a bastard Scott had turned out to be. When Ashleigh looked back, her life played out like a film in full Technicolor, a sequence of laughter and happiness and privilege. And then she’d married Scott, who she now saw had held her back in a way she hadn’t understood, and from then on the film was grey and sepia like a Nordic police drama. Raised to be a success, a confident high achiever, she couldn’t rid herself of the shadow of her one failure, her marriage. No wonder she seized every opportunity to revel in colour and texture and scent. ‘Maybe it’s karma.’
‘Maybe you need someone better.’ Lisa got up as the doorbell rang and returned a moment later with the Chinese meal. ‘You’d better be careful of that kimono. You wouldn’t want to get grease on it.’
‘Yes, Mum.’
Laughing, Lisa began to open the foil boxes, setting them out on the tabletop one by one. ‘Anyway, you’ve left him behind.’
When Ashleigh didn’t answer, she stopped what she was doing. ‘Ash? You have left him behind, remember?’
Yes, she had. When he’d finally pushed her too far she’d vowed never to talk about him to anyone, to cut him out of her life and never think of him again. She’d never expected to achieve the second but the first should have been within her grasp. She’d have kept to it, if it hadn’t been for that shared confidence with Dawn, the trading of one secret – or part of it – for another. She twisted her lips in distaste, feeling as if she’d prostituted her soul in the service of the police. Dawn would surely have talked to her anyway. ‘Yes.’
‘And so now you need another man.’
Lisa never seemed to need a man, never had done. From school onwards, she’d declared herself not remotely interested in sex, but it didn’t stop her divining that same need in others. ‘I don’t need one. But yeah. It might be nice to have one.’ Because it had been a while since the last affair, and a woman got lonely at night.
‘Is there much choice at work?’
‘Oh, masses. If you like a man in uniform you’d be spoiled for choice.’
‘And I saw your boss on the telly. He’s passable.’
‘If you like that sort of thing.’ There was more to attraction than looks, of course. Character came into it. But it was quite clear to Ashleigh that Jude, nursing his personal demons, was a man for work and work alone. She laughed. ‘He must be hot as hell, if even you’ve noticed him.’
‘You’re not tempted to make a pass at him, then? Because you have a track record for that kind of thing. Just asking. Because if you are tempted, think twice.’
Ashleigh shut her eyes, resisting temptation. It would be too easy to make a pass at Jude. ‘I learned a lesson last time.’ And the lesson was that you don’t get into an affair to get back at your cheating husband, because you’ll be the one to get caught out and he’ll be the one to get all the sympathy. ‘I’m not going to make that mistake again.’ Not even in the face of the greatest temptation.
19
‘Are you going to tell me what this is about?’ Ashleigh unclipped her seat belt as Jude’s Mercedes drew up in front of the Sumners’ second home under the fierce gaze of the security guard.
‘Smart place, this.’ He picked up the key card and got out. ‘If this is their summer pad, I wonder what the main home is like.’
‘Don’t you know?’
‘I know the address, and I know it’s in a very nice street in Formby. I haven’t found an idle moment to go on Google Earth and check out the property porn. I’ll get round to it when I’m bored.’ He grinned. At this stage in an investigation, moments of boredom were rare.
Ashleigh looked at the Sumners’ second home again. The first time she’d come she’d been focussing too strongly on her meeting with Dawn to pay too much attention to it, but the Cumbrian longhouse, with its small windows and low slate roof, did look like the sort of place that very few people could afford. ‘It’s lovely inside, too. All nooks and crannies.’
‘Nice if you have the wherewithal to pay for it. There must be a lot of money in dodgy dating websites. Let’s go.’ He retrieved a folder from the back seat and locked the car.
‘You still haven’t told me why we’re here.’
‘No. I’m sorry, I should have done. I managed to get an e-fit done of the man who paid Martin and Boyes to drive to Burnbanks and back. I’d like to see if the Sumners recognise the picture, and if they do, I’d like to see how they react.’
‘Do you think you know who it is?’
‘I’m almost certain, and I bet you are, too. But neither of our two witnesses were very clear and I need to be absolutely certain before I get this person hauled in for questioning. If you don’t mind, I’d like you to show them the picture. I think I’d rather observe from the background.’
It would be Randolph Flett, the main suspect, the violent ex-husband. They paused for a moment in the sunlight. The security guard – the same one, with his sleeves rolled up and the last shout of a cigarette dangling at his lips – was still lounging on the wall in an effort to look casual, and this time he gave Ashleigh a smile as she went past. ‘Up to see Mr Sumner, are you?’ He dropped the cigarette butt on the path and ground out the spark.
‘Yes. And I’ve brought DCI Satterthwaite with me.’
‘Go on up. They’re expecting you.’
Jude pushed open the gate. ‘There’s not much subtle about Sumner’s idea of security,’ he said in her ear.
‘It isn’t meant to be subtle. It’s meant to be in your face. He wants the world to know he’s watching them. I expect he’s got some more subtle guys on duty as well.’
‘I like to think I’d have spotted them if he has.’
Beneath a newly installed CCTV camera, a bee buzzed in the last of the summer’s roses around the door. All the money in the world hadn’t prevented them suffering from black spot. Ashleigh raised her hand to the door, but the CCTV must have been doing its job, because the door opened before she could touch the bell, and Max Sumner’s figure appeared on the doorstep. ‘Satterthwaite. Sergeant O’Halloran. Nice to see the police working weekends for a change.’
‘We never sleep,’ Jude said. He was braver than she, daring even the slightest joke with Max, a man whose temper so obviously burned below the surface, always ready to be stoked from an endless fund of grievance. All of them regularly worked weekends, but Jude had dressed down, in jeans and a casual shirt open at the neck as if he’d planned on going somewhere afterwards, and Ashleigh had used Saturday as an excuse to rebel and had chosen a vivid green top to go with the black trousers that marked her out with their smartness, despite what should have been their anonymity. ‘It’s good of you to find the time to see us. I know you’ll be wanting time to yourselves.’
‘I hope you’re coming here to tell us that you’ve found Greg’s murderer.’
‘I don’t know that. But we’re here to ask you to look at an image of someone and see if you recognise that person.’
‘Come through to the kitchen. Dawn!’ he called through to the living room, the irritation in his voice making it sound as if they were a perennial nuisance, like charity collectors or travelling salesmen. ‘The police are here again.’
‘I’ll make coffee.’ Dawn appeared behind them as they trailed through to the kitchen. ‘It won’t take a moment. The coffee machine’s already buzzing. Sit down, sit down.’
Ashleigh smiled at her. Dawn was trying too hard again, making coffee as if everything were normal and their visit just social. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Of course. Never better.’ Dawn’s smile was fixed but she seemed less tired now, her bright eyes and clear skin testifying to a good nig
ht’s sleep. Whether that was down to some sort of peace of mind or a chemical cosh from a doctor wasn’t clear, but her face was livelier than before.
‘Here.’ Jude thrust the folder into Ashleigh’s hands as Dawn turned to the fridge for milk. ‘It’s over to you now.’
‘Okay. What do I tell them?’
‘Pretty much everything. Fill them in on the background as you know it. If you need anything else, I’ll fill in.’
‘Goodness, Ashleigh. That’s such a pretty colour on you. And you have your hair down… that makes you look so young.’ Moving into the light, Dawn showed the fragility of her brave display, her eyes shining with tears still to be shed. ‘Here’s a coffee. This is one I like, a Colombian one. Max is a bit of a coffee connoisseur. Aren’t you, darling?’
‘I like to think I recognise quality. Now stop fussing about the coffee and come and sit down.’ He smiled at her – a smile, Ashleigh noted, that they were meant to see, because he looked quickly at both her and Jude as if to check that they’d registered it. ‘Okay, Sergeant. Let’s hear what you have to say.’
She placed the folder squarely on the kitchen table in front of her. ‘We managed to trace a camper van that was seen driving through the village on Sunday morning. The camper van has been eliminated from our inquiries.’
‘Satterthwaite?’ Max raised a questioning eyebrow.
‘The times don’t fit.’ Jude stepped back, leaving this to her. ‘Carry on.’
‘DCI Satterthwaite and DI Dodd went to Manchester yesterday afternoon to interview the driver and passenger in the van. While we don’t believe they had any part in the murder, or indeed that they had any knowledge of it, we do believe that they were paid by someone in an attempt to confuse our investigation.’
Across the table, Dawn’s look shifted from optimism to disappointment. ‘Oh.’
‘Yes. But we have a reasonable description of that person and so we would like to ask if either of you recognise, or can put a name to, this e-fit image.’
Aware of Jude close behind her, confident that he was watching their faces more keenly than either of them would like, she opened the folder and removed the piece of paper inside.
‘Oh, my God!’ Dawn drew in the sharpest of breaths.
‘Well, well.’ Max laid a firm hand on his wife’s shoulder. ‘Look who it is. What a surprise. Just the one person I wouldn’t have said it was. The one person who I’d have sworn wouldn’t have the courage to do it.’
‘Max. Don’t.’
‘You recognise this man, then?’ Reminding herself of her job, Ashleigh concentrated on the matter in front of her, when the human being in her ached to reach out and touch Dawn’s hand. Somehow, she thought, it would give her much more comfort than she would ever get from the husband she loved.
‘Yes.’ Dawn shook Max’s hand off her shoulder and ran her fingers through her hair in misery. ‘That’s Randolph.’
‘Randolph Flett.’ Max reclaimed his wife, this time with an arm around her. ‘My former business partner.’
‘My first husband.’ Dawn’s voice was a whisper.
Ashleigh turned to Jude. He already had his phone clamped to his ear. ‘Yes. I want a notice put out for an arrest. Name of Randolph Flett.’
‘Can you do that?’ Dawn turned to her, wild-eyed. ‘Can you just put out a call like that? Surely you need a warrant to arrest someone?’
‘Everything is in hand, Dawn. Honestly.’
‘Of course they can just arrest someone.’ Max was scowling at the picture, black antipathy clouding his face. ‘If someone’s about to—’
‘We don’t know that! I don’t believe it’s Randolph. He’s so gentle, he wouldn’t hurt a fly.’
Randolph, the first husband, the man she claimed she’d left because he’d hit her? Was Dawn sane? Ashleigh intervened. ‘Dawn. Why do you think it wasn’t him?’
‘Randolph was a kind man! He was a gentle man, and he loved me!’
‘He was a man who dared raise a hand to you! He should be rotting in prison for that alone, but you were too kind to pursue it! And this is how he repays you!’
‘Mr Sumner. This isn’t helping.’ She’d get into trouble for it, but she didn’t care. Ashleigh got out of her seat and sat next to the sobbing woman, placing an arm around her quivering shoulders. ‘Dawn, it’s okay. Just tell us what you mean.’
‘It’s true.’ Dawn turned a ravaged face towards her. ‘He did hit me and I did leave him because of it. But I didn’t tell you the rest. It wasn’t his fault. He suffered from depression and I couldn’t cope with it.’
‘You left him for your own safety,’ Max interrupted. ‘Rightly.’
‘But leaving made him worse. I could have helped him. Oh, God, Ashleigh. I’ve been so wracked with guilt over this, ever since he had his breakdown. I could have stopped it. But by then I’d found Max and fallen in love with him, so I couldn’t go back to Randolph, even if I’d wanted to. I didn’t leave him for someone else. I could have forgiven myself for that. But I can’t forgive myself for leaving my husband because he wasn’t well and he needed my help.’
‘It seems as though someone else hasn’t forgiven you for it. By God, Satterthwaite, I hope you get to the bastard before I do!’
‘Don’t worry.’ Jude stepped forward. ‘We’ll pull him in. I suspected it was him, but I needed your confirmation. I had the warrant drawn up and signed this morning. Sergeant, why don’t you take Mrs Sumner through to the living room? Then Mr Sumner and I can talk.’
*
It was cooler on that Saturday, though still dry and sunny. Following Max out of the kitchen and into the garden, Jude noted another security man, sitting in a deckchair and staring at the back gate that gave onto the lakeside path. If you were determined to get past this guy, or the one at the front, it wouldn’t be too hard – but the most important thing was that you’d know for certain they were there, and that someone was expecting you. It was too little, too late for young Greg. ‘Had you any idea that Randolph Flett might be plotting something against you?’
Striding ahead of him, Max snorted in contempt. ‘You need to meet Flett, Satterthwaite. When you’ve done that, you won’t waste my time with questions like that. Come here.’
Jude followed him down the side of the house. Through the windows of the double aspect living room, he could see Ashleigh sitting with her arm around Dawn, rocking the older woman as if she were a child. He’d bet she hadn’t joined up to the police force to become a counsellor, but she seemed to be making a good job of it. ‘I hope your wife is all right.’
‘Of course she isn’t all right.’ Sumner stopped where the edge of the garden sloped towards a tangled copse of trees and the remains of blue and white police tape fluttered on the bushes. Tammy and her team had gone through the place and cleared it as quickly as they could, on Jude’s instructions. He didn’t want the grieving family staring out at uniformed policemen on guard any longer than they had to. The two security guards must be bad enough. ‘That’s where I last saw my son, Chief Inspector. Right there. I came past on my way out and stopped to watch him climbing in the trees. He loved this place. I thought when I looked at him how happy he was, how lucky he was.’
There was a brightness in his eye. Even a man as hard as Max Sumner could grieve. A shiver passed over Jude. The brightness might have showed love for his son, but it betrayed a more sinister emotion. It would, after all, be better for Randolph Flett if the police got to him first. ‘I can’t tell you how sorry I am for your loss.’
‘You don’t have children, do you, Satterthwaite?’ Max stuck his hands in his pockets and stared at the trees.
‘I’m afraid I haven’t been blessed.’
‘I thought so. Because if you had, you wouldn’t speak to me as if I’d just lost a pet dog.’
Silence. ‘I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention. I can only ask you to understand in your turn that, if we want to catch the person – or people – who killed your son, I’m going to have to ask
you some sensitive and perhaps difficult questions.’
‘I understand that.’ Max turned away and Jude saw him raise his hand to his eye before he returned to the fray.
‘Your wife seemed distressed at the idea that Randolph Flett might be your son’s murderer. Why do you think that is?’
‘You heard her reasons. Dawn’s a good and caring woman, but Flett is a manic depressive, and he took his own insecurities out on his wife. Dawn tolerated him for as long as she could. But his bad times got worse and more frequent and he refused to seek help. She couldn’t cope any longer. She left him.’
‘And she knew you beforehand?’
‘I was a guest at their wedding. Her husband and I were business partners, until he forced me out of business. Yes.’
‘And you bore him no grudge.’
Sumner laughed, a loud bellow that even had Dawn looking up, startled, in the living room. ‘Of course I bore him a grudge. I’m not some do-gooder who thinks people have rights to what other people earned. He defeated me fair and square in business, and I resented it. But I’m no criminal. When I did the same thing to him, I made sure it was legal. And to make matters even better, I fell in love with his wife and she fell in love with me. I have a perfect wife, Chief Inspector. I have – I had – two perfect children. And I took over his business. How could I possibly harbour any grudge against my wonderful wife for having a kind heart? I beat him fair and square. And that’s his motive for murder.’
20
‘Do you feel better for a sleep?’
‘I do. Thank you for understanding.’ Dawn crossed the living room to where Max was standing in the window, staring out at the thin grey rain that had crept up on them, temporarily suppressing the heatwave. On the path at the end of the gate, a flurry of umbrellas passed, borne by tourists walking from Ambleside to Windermere. For a second she hovered there until, just before he made a move, she hugged him. ‘Oh, Max. I’m so sorry.’
‘Sorry for what?’