by Simon Brett
‘You don’t have to tell me the kind of things they’re saying.’ KK sighed wearily. ‘I’m already getting great blasts of it on social media.’
Not for the first time, Carole wondered whether she was missing a trick by not indulging in Facebook or Twitter. Not to use socially, of course – the idea appalled her. But for investigative purposes, that might be justified.
‘I think,’ she said boldly, ‘the reason they’re badmouthing you now is because your name came up a lot in discussion around the time of Leonard Mallett’s death.’
‘Because Heather was having a singing lesson with me when it happened?’
‘Exactly.’
He grimaced. ‘You’d think people would have better things to do with their time, wouldn’t you? Except in Fethering, of course, they don’t. You can only spend so long cleaning your car and counting your pension money, can’t you?’
Carole couldn’t decide whether this shift of pronoun from ‘they’ to ‘you’ was deliberately aimed at her or not, but she didn’t react. She just asked, ‘You said on the phone that the police have interviewed you …?’
‘Oh yes, endlessly. The pigs always have a go at anyone who leads an alternative lifestyle.’ Carole looked around the defiantly middle-class sitting room but made no comment. ‘And soon as I say I’m a guitarist, they immediately start accusing me of all kinds of stuff … peddling drugs, you name it. And this time, because I’d also been questioned when Heather’s old man turned his toes up … well, they had a right go at me.’
‘It wasn’t the same policemen, was it?’ Carole was unwilling to have her theory, about only fictional detectives working together all of the time, blown out of the water.
KK reassured her instantly by saying, ‘No. Never seen any of this lot before. Mind you, pigs are hard to tell apart, even at the best of times. And this wasn’t the best of times, let me tell you.’
‘So, did the police say anything to you about the two cases being connected?’
‘They’re never going to do that, are they? Always going to give you the absolute minimum of information. But the fact that they talked to me again … well, there’s no other reason for them doing that, is there?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Look, I had nothing to do with Alice’s wedding, did I? I wasn’t in Fethering the day Heather died, was I?’
‘Where were you?’
‘I was doing a gig with Rubber Truncheon over in a pub in Kent, wasn’t I?’
Carole thought about his words. Kent and Sussex weren’t that far apart. Presumably a music gig in a pub wouldn’t go on much beyond closing time. Heather was seen alive by the last guests at the wedding, so was presumably killed some time in the early hours. KK’s alibi didn’t completely rule him out as her potential murderer. But all she said was, ‘I’m sure you know that there’s been much speculation in Fethering about your relationship with Heather.’
‘Tell me about it,’ he groaned. ‘Bloody nosy curtain-twitchers, every last one of them.’
‘Well, given that she was known to be in an unhappy marriage …’
‘Yes, yes, all right. But look, it is possible for a man to spend time with a woman without immediately groping her. All I was doing was giving her singing lessons. Coming on to someone you’re teaching is a sure way of losing the gig. Heather wasn’t my type, anyway. Too quiet, self-effacing for my taste. And deeply neurotic. I always go for the rock chicks. Girls who just wanna have fun. They’re what lights this particular daddy’s fire. They’re what gets my mojo working.’
Carole had great difficulty in not wincing openly when he said this. But she pressed on. ‘The fact remains that someone in Fethering witnessed you coming on to her.’
‘Never!’ He sounded genuinely shocked by the idea. But then that was exactly how he would have sounded if he was lying. ‘When was this?’
‘Monday before last.’ Carole was sure of her facts. ‘After the choir rehearsal. After we’d had drinks in the bar. You went back with Heather to the Function Room. And then she shouted at you to “keep your hands to yourself”.’
‘Oh, Jesus,’ he said, sinking his balding head into his hands. The ponytail dangled hopelessly over his collar.
‘Are you saying Heather didn’t say that?’
‘No, no, she said it. And let me tell you, it was the first time I’d ever touched her. Never once in all the times we’d met for the singing lessons had I even shaken her hand. Then that evening, I wanted to wish her luck for the wedding, and so I tried to give her a hug, just friendly, you know. But the minute I touched her, she bawled me out, just like your local snitch reported. I’ve no idea why. Heather was one confused woman.’
Carole digested this information, then again changed tack. ‘Did the police check your alibi in the pub in Kent, in full detail?’
‘Yes, of course they bloody did!’ Suddenly he shouted off into the flat’s interior. ‘Miff! Miff, come here a minute!’
There was a sound of coughing, which grew closer. The door to the rest of the flat opened to reveal the spidery figure of a middle-aged man in grey hoodie, jogging bottoms and bare feet. He looked as if he’d just been woken up. Carole remembered that when Jude had first introduced her to KK, they’d discussed a mutual friend called Miff. She wondered if this scruffy individual was another of Jude’s lovers. Carole wouldn’t put it past her.
‘Yeah, whassup, KK?’ the man asked blearily.
‘This lady’s called Carole. This is Miff, drummer with Rubber Truncheon, also guy I was working in Holland with a few months back. Miff is currently without a girlfriend, which means he’s been crashing out on my floor for, like, four, five months now, is it?’
‘Yeah, right. I am looking for somewhere, KK.’
‘Never mind that now, Miff. Will you tell this kind but nosy lady what you told the police when they asked you the same questions? Where were you every time Heather came here for singing lessons?’
‘Well, I was here, wasn’t I? I never get up till the afternoon. I’m a drummer, aren’t I?’
‘And where were you on Saturday night, after we got back from the gig in Kent?’
‘I was here too, with you, wasn’t I? Downing a few bevvies, smoking a bit of weed … well, I didn’t tell the pigs that last bit, did I?’
KK grinned at Carole without humour. ‘There. Are you bloody satisfied? About my alibis? For both bloody murders?’
‘Yes, yes, of course,’ Carole replied primly.
But her suspicion of KK hadn’t completely evaporated. She still thought it odd that he had so readily agreed to meet her. As if he wanted to sound her out, to find out how much she knew.
And his assurance that he’d only touched Heather once … she certainly wasn’t going to believe that.
SEVENTEEN
‘I believe it,’ said Jude.
‘Why? KK’s got a reputation as a “ladies’ man”. I don’t believe that waste-of-space drummer was around every time he gave Heather a singing lesson. What you heard from the Crown & Anchor Function Room was the sound of her breaking off a long-term affair.’
‘I think you’re wrong, Carole.’
‘I see. You’re the expert here on man/woman relationships, are you?’
Jude had heard her neighbour behaving like this many times before. Carole was as sensitive as if she’d had a layer of skin removed. And, of course, the fact was that Jude probably did know more about man/woman relationships. But she wasn’t about to say that and launch Carole on a diatribe about her friend’s chequered past.
So she said, calmly, ‘Not about man/woman relationships in general, no. But I have probably had more experience of dealing with this kind of situation than you have.’
‘This would be through your healing work, I take it?’ Carole was incapable of pronouncing the word without a sneer.
‘Yes,’ came the patient reply. ‘A lot of my clients have come to me because of relationship difficulties.’
‘And have you managed to cure t
hem?’ Another word that always wore a layer of scepticism.
‘I have been able to help some of them. Others I have referred to therapists who specialize in the relevant area.’
‘So, what are you saying about Heather Mallett?’
‘I am saying that, having suffered during a deeply unhappy marriage, she may have been making progress in rebuilding the social side of her life, but she still had difficulties in more … intimate situations. There’s not only the incident with KK. In the church hall after the wedding, Bob Hinkley put his hand on her arm, and Heather recoiled like she’d been scalded. She just could not bear to be touched by a man. Something must have happened in the past that traumatized her.’
‘You mean something must have happened during her marriage that traumatized her?’
Jude realized she had inadvertently got into a danger area. ‘Maybe,’ she replied, as if the answer wasn’t important.
‘Are you saying that Leonard Mallett abused his wife?’
‘I’m just saying that he was obviously a difficult man to live with. I don’t know any more details than that,’ she lied.
‘I see,’ said Carole, still with a touch of doubt. ‘And what about Alice? She clearly had a difficult relationship with her father. Is there any suggestion that he abused her?’
Jude hadn’t been expecting Carole to get so close to the truth, and realized how inextricably she was now caught up in the web of lies. To say for a certainty that Alice had not been abused would inevitably lead to enquiries as to where she had got that information from. And Carole’s Rottweiler tendency would not allow her to leave the investigation there. Soon she’d be back to questioning Alice’s role in her father’s death.
So, all Jude said was, ‘We just don’t know. It’s difficult to guess what goes on inside a marriage – particularly when both husband and wife are dead.’
‘Well, I think you should talk to Alice about it. She might know something about the inside of the marriage, which could have relevance to her stepmother’s murder.’
Jude was very glad Carole had said ‘you’ rather than ‘we’. She had been planning to contact Alice again, anyway, but, for many reasons, it was an interview she would rather conduct on her own.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’ll talk to her.’
‘Sorrento’ looked less welcoming than it had on Jude’s last visit. Partly, the weather was dull, and she had walked there through a cold rain, a reminder that summer had not arrived yet. Then, of course, Heather’s absence, not to mention the circumstances of her departure, cast a pall over the house. Also, the place was in a state of chaos, little of which could now be blamed on the inevitable police searches. Alice appeared to have made no effort to keep the house tidy. Clothes were scattered over the furniture, and surfaces were covered with abandoned coffee cups and half-finished meals.
As she entered the sitting room, Jude made no comment on the mess. The view of the sea was grey and despairing, matching the mood of Alice Mallett.
‘No police tape around,’ Jude observed. ‘Have they concluded their investigations?
‘God knows,’ said Alice listlessly. ‘They never tell me anything. Just that I should be prepared for further questioning.’
‘Presumably, they’ve asked you about your father?’ The girl nodded. ‘Have they found out about the abuse?’
‘I don’t think so. I was questioned in exhaustive detail by two women detectives – very sensitive, clearly trained in dealing with mental health sufferers. They asked directly about abuse. I said nothing like that went on. They appeared to believe me, but who knows … what will happen in the “further questioning”?’
‘I think you could be all right. You and Heather were the only two who knew about it, weren’t you? It never got outside the family.’
‘No, Dad saw to that,’ said Alice grimly. ‘But, of course, now you know.’
‘I promised Heather I’d keep quiet about it. I promised you I’d keep quiet about it. And I’m not someone who goes back on their promises.’
‘Thank you,’ said the girl, wearily grateful.
Jude considered mentioning Carole’s dangerously close interest in the situation but couldn’t see how the knowledge could be of any help to Alice.
At that moment the landline rang. Alice did not even look at the phone and made no attempt to answer it. She just listened to her stepmother’s answering recording and the message that followed it.
‘Hi, this is Blake Woodruff. I’ve only just come back from a tour to Australia and heard the dreadful news about Heather. Heather Mallett, that is. I don’t even know if I’m leaving this message on the right phone. It’s the last number I had for her. Anyway, if Alice or some other family member picks this up, please get back to me.’ He gave his mobile number. ‘I’d love to know about funeral arrangements or any other details. And let me just say, I’m absolutely devastated by the news.’
‘I’ll ring him back,’ said Alice, making no move to do anything. ‘I’ve had so many calls like that.’
‘Calls from people as famous as Blake Woodruff?’
‘No, I think he was the only famous person Mum knew. I just meant that people keep leaving messages like that, and every time the answering machine clicks on, I hear her voice again, and it’s like she’s in the room. And that just, kind of …’ Her eyes were glazed with tears ‘… turns the knife in the wound.’
‘Mm. Just now you said your stepmother knew Blake Woodruff.’
‘Yes, she did.’
‘But I thought it was you who knew him. You met him through some charity fundraiser.’
‘Yes, I did. But I wouldn’t have got the gig if Mum hadn’t pulled some strings. She contacted Blake and asked him if space could be made for me. She was doing her bit to help my stumbling career in the theatre.’
‘Oh. So how long had they known each other?’
‘Met in Manchester, at uni, I think. Sang in some choir together. I kind of got the impression that at one time they might have been quite close. But it was difficult to get her to talk about that kind of thing, about anything that happened before she met Dad, really.’
‘Hm. Blake Woodruff’s message sounded like he still meant something to her.’
‘Maybe.’
‘You don’t know how long ago they last met?’
Alice shook her head. ‘Not since she married Dad, I’m sure of that. He didn’t let her see anyone – and certainly not another man.’
‘No. One odd thing …’
‘What?’
‘When Blake Woodruff’s name came up at a church choir rehearsal, Heather told Jonny Virgo that you were the one who knew him, not her. Why do you think she’d say that?’
Alice grimaced wryly. ‘I’d imagine she wanted people to think that I’d got the gig with Blake off my own bat. She didn’t want to look like she’d been calling in favours for me. She was always very protective when the subject of my career came up. She tried to cover up the fact that I hadn’t really got much of a career.’ This wasn’t spoken with self-pity, it was just a bald statement of fact.
‘Ah.’ There were still some unanswered questions there, but Jude let the subject rest and moved on. ‘Dare I ask if you’ve heard anything from Roddy?’
‘Nothing.’ The tears that she had managed to hold at the edge of her eyelids spilled over now.
‘I was thinking … about the row you had on your wedding night … If you don’t want to talk about it, of course I don’t mind,’ Jude lied.
‘I might as well talk about it. You already know so much about my life, why should you be spared the full misery of it?’
Jude let the silence ride. If she was going to get any further confidences, she had to let the girl take her time.
Then Alice spoke. ‘It’s just another thing that was totally screwed up by my father. You’ve no idea how much he damaged me. All my relationships with men have been disastrous. I thought, with Roddy, I could finally get things right, but Dad managed to ruin that too.’
‘How?’
‘Look, I’m not a virgin, obviously, after my bloody father had fiddled with me for years, but … here’s something you don’t hear very often in this day and age … Roddy and I hadn’t made love before we got married.’
Jude was surprised, but all she said was, ‘Fair enough. Your choice.’
‘My choice, initially. Then his choice. The fact is, we did go to bed together a few times. We tried, but on every occasion I … I remembered Dad touching me, and I just froze. I couldn’t. Roddy and I loved each other, but I … couldn’t.
‘He was amazing about it. Must be hard for a man, any man, but particularly in this day and age. Of course, he’d never admit he wasn’t having sex with me, but, particularly in a masculine world like the army, with all his mates boasting of their conquests and … Anyway, like I say, he was amazingly good with me, didn’t put any pressure on. He kept saying it would be different when we were actually married. Once we’d got rings on our fingers, everything would turn out all right.’ Alice lapsed into silence.
‘But it didn’t?’ Jude prompted gently.
‘No. Perhaps our expectations had been too high. The day of the wedding had been wonderful. We both genuinely thought we could put the past behind us, that the future was ours. And the hotel was lovely. The room was beautiful, champagne laid on. If ever there was a romantic setting, ripe for love … But the memory of my father was still there. At first, the kissing, the gentle kissing was … But when Roddy touched me, intimately … just like every other time … I recoiled. I couldn’t stand it!
‘And of course, it had an effect on him. Having your wife turn away from you on your wedding night … it doesn’t do a lot for a man’s potency. He couldn’t, kind of … And suddenly, we’re shouting at each other, and …’ Alice crumpled in despair.
‘And did Roddy know why you behaved like that? Had you told him about your father, about what he did to you?’
‘No. I kept getting near the subject, I kept being about to tell him, but then I got scared I’d frighten him off. I thought he’d be disgusted with me when he knew what I had done with my father, for my father. I was afraid. Then, only a few hours later, I hear that Mum’s been murdered.’