‘I stabbed her. She was going to take Sandy away.’
Inspector McAlpine blew all the air out of his lungs in one noisy breath. ‘You’re sure? That’s what happened?’
Bev nodded.
‘For the sake of the recording, Bev, I need you to say it. You’re admitting that you stabbed the officer because she was about to take Sandy away?’
The room fell silent. All eyes were on Bev. Everyone watching next door on the video screen held their breath.
Despite her mammoth size, Bev gave the impression of a defenceless child. Just before she dropped her head into her folded arms, she whispered, ‘Yes. I stabbed that policewoman because she was about to take my Sandy away.’
28
Vincent – 2014
Seducing Catherine had to be a well-planned manoeuvre. It was the natural next step. But he must bide his time. The plan was to offer a shoulder to cry on, and gradually make himself indispensable to her. Leave it too long to make his move, and one of those bloody old idiots from the Real Ale Society might take her fancy. However, try too soon, and she might scurry off like a scared rabbit.
The decision regarding when to make the shift from friend to suitor was not helped by the irritating daughter. She was almost always in the way. Every conversation he had with Catherine was interrupted by Lottie and her sarcastic asides. Maybe she was just jealous. She’d wanted him that day in the meadow; that had been obvious. Vincent congratulated himself on being smart enough to turn her down. As much as it would’ve been one hell of a shag, it would have undoubtedly cost him his friendship with Catherine, and right now that friendship seemed set to bring him the riches he’d craved all his life.
He also had to be careful not to become a transitional relationship for Catherine. Imagine having her in his grasp and losing it all! She wasn’t a bad looking woman, he’d shagged worse, but it was clear she wasn’t exactly going to be dynamite in the sack. From what she’d said previously, for her it was all about romance and deep meaningful emotions. For fuck’s sake. If he was going to sleep with her, there simply had to be a significant reward. This was it. Not since he’d left Italy, with a wedge of cash in his wallet and a head full of dreams, had he been this close.
29
Lottie – 2019
Lottie lay in bed, trying her hardest to get to sleep. She always found that no matter how exhausted she was, it was impossible to switch off her brain. Plus, at the edge of any dream there was always the potential for nightmares.
Showing Hannah the photo of her mum’s marriage to Vincent had simply reignited all the anger and hurt. Memories were resurfacing. What had she bought with the ten thousand pounds her dad had left her? She couldn’t even remember. It had simply slipped through her fingers, like all the other money she had back then. What could she do with it now? Just the thought of having that money in her bank account made her cry. She could get out of this crappy flat for a start. She would be able to have Dixie back from Jennifer’s place if she didn’t live here. She could get a decent haircut and get some low-lights put in, by a proper stylist. She could buy herself wine and good food, and have chocolate whenever she wanted. She could pay Hannah to help her find Vincent.
Remembering her father’s funeral, Lottie felt a familiar ache in her heart. Practically the whole village had turned out for it. Jean had even shut the village shop for the afternoon. All the old fogies from the pub had come along to show their respects and raise a pint of real ale in Douglas’s memory. There was a group of young men there who had previously camped out in the meadow when they were little boys. They had all stood together in the chapel, stony faced. Everyone had been devastated. Her mum had seemed almost in a trance, and had survived the day on cups of tea and swigs of brandy.
And then there had been Vincent. In the week before the funeral he’d advised Catherine about the buffet, and on the day he hadn’t left her side. Somehow, he seemed to naturally fall into the role of host. Coming across as a family friend, both polite and helpful, he managed to remain just the right side of forward to avoid detection from the others. But Lottie had seen it; she’d watched him. He’d been far too slick for her liking. He might have appeared sombre, but not once had there been a trace of real grief on his handsome face. And why would there be? He’d had no genuine feelings whatsoever for Douglas Thorogood.
As always, the thought of Vincent made her feel sick. Rising from her bed in search of some anti-acids, she tried to clear her mind. It does me no good to go over and over this! But she couldn’t get him to leave her alone. So many unanswered questions remained. Why had he put so much effort into persuading her mum to cremate Douglas instead of burying him? How had her mum been so easily seduced into another marriage less than a year after her first husband’s death? And how the hell had she, Lottie, been tricked into taking her eye off the ball with such catastrophic results?
30
Hannah – 2019
Hannah made them both a coffee and produced a couple of cinnamon swirls from her bag. Some days she liked to buy a treat for Lottie. And, given what Lottie had just told her, she was relieved that today had been one of those days.
‘That’s about it. The last time I saw my dad he was missing half his head and floating in the stream I used to play in as a kid.’
‘Oh my God. When you said you’d lost everything, I thought you meant money, property, that sort of thing. I never once thought you meant someone had died. I’m so sorry.’
‘Thank you. It’s not something I’m comfortable telling most people. But I feel as if I know you well enough now to share it.’
‘When you told me that your mum had married that awful Vincent bloke, I thought she must’ve divorced your dad, but now I see.’
‘Oh no, she never would’ve done that.’
Hannah checked over her shoulder, remembering that Mr Bale had snuck up on them when Lottie had been showing her the wedding photo. She didn’t want him to interrupt such an important conversation. Shaking her head in disbelief, she said, ‘I can’t begin to imagine finding my dad like that.’ An image of her dad popped into her head. As annoying as he was when he repeatedly told her to give up on her dreams of being a private investigator, and as awful as it had been to stand in front of him and see the disappointment on his face that day she’d been fired, she loved him, and the thought that anyone could take away half his skull was sickening.
‘I can still see it. As clear as if it happened yesterday. I can feel the water seeping into my jeans. My hair sticking to my face as the rain soaked it. I can see him right there in front of me.’ Lottie involuntarily reached out her hand.
Hannah shuddered. ‘You poor thing.’
‘He’d been in there a while. The whole time I was trying to embarrass my mum because I hated to see her so bloody happy, and whilst I was giving that creep shifty looks, my dad was lying in the stream.’
‘Really? What time did he die?’
‘They couldn’t be certain. The inquest determined he’d probably been in the water for about three hours.’
‘That’s awful. So … was it …?’
‘Was it murder?’
‘Well, yes, but more importantly, was it Mr Robinson?’
‘I wish I could tell you it was that slimy bastard. I wish I could say that he was charged with murder and that he’s rotting away in prison. But if he was, I wouldn’t need you to find him for me.’
‘True.’
‘The police found sufficient evidence to suggest that my dad slipped. It was ruled as accidental death.’
Hannah felt the old thrill. For heaven’s sake, why did she have to get thrown out of the police? This was right up her street. She loved it: ‘sufficient evidence’, ‘murder or accidental death’. It was all she’d ever wanted to do.
‘So, he just slipped?’
‘Apparently.’
‘What evidence was there?’
In spite of the subject matter, Lottie smiled. ‘Hark at you, PC Plod. Desperate to solve the case.
’
‘Sorry. It’s just … it’s a bit convenient, isn’t it?’
‘I honestly think he did slip. I saw the mark in the mud. They confirmed it as soon as there was enough light on the scene the morning after he died. I was just making coffee, and there was a knock at the door. One of the senior police officers told us they’d found some important evidence. Mum and I put on our boots and coats and traipsed outside with him. I remember it was still drizzling.’
‘And he showed you where your dad had slipped into the stream?’
‘Yes.’
‘How could they be sure it wasn’t someone from the night before who’d made the marks in the mud?’
Lottie shuddered.
‘What?’
‘There was a rock, right by the mark in the mud, and there was …’
‘Forensic evidence?’ Hannah volunteered, softly.
‘Yes.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘The rock was under a tree, so it was slightly sheltered from the rain. It was covered in a thick red goo, and later the forensic people were able to confirm that it was … you know … blood and brains. It was his.’
‘Shit!’
‘Yeah. They concluded that he’d lost his footing and smacked the back of his head on the rock. He was a big man, not just broad, but quite tall too. I get my height from him, not my mum. Anyway, as I was saying, he was big and it was just so wet, he probably went down hard. The coroner thought he would’ve died instantly after a blow like that. I hope he was right.’
‘I hate to bang on about this, but …’
‘It’s okay. What do you want to ask?’
‘When you found him, he was floating on his front. You said you saw the back of his head.’
‘Yes. They thought he probably got caught in some reeds, and the slight flow of the stream must’ve rolled him over.’
Again, Hannah wished she could be at the scene. It wasn’t impossible for a heavyset man to be turned over in shallow water, but it wasn’t easy either. If only she could see the actual place where it had happened and examine the evidence herself.
‘It wasn’t him, Han. As much as I wanted it to be Vincent who’d killed my dad, so I could get justice. It wasn’t him.’
‘But how did they know for certain that your dad slipped? Vincent could’ve pushed him.’
‘There were no other unidentifiable footprints in the mud on that side of the stream. Every footprint could be matched up to either the paramedics, the police or me.’
‘What was Vincent wearing on his feet when he came to find you?’
‘Mum lent him a spare pair of wellies. We always had some old ones kicking around in the boot room. He had smaller feet than me. Fucking leprechaun!’
‘You said he went out to his car earlier in the day. What did he have on his feet then?’
‘He went to the car in his shoes, of course, and he was able to produce a highly polished pair of Italian leather brogues that were as clean as a whistle. Honestly, Hannah, don’t torture yourself with what ifs. It wasn’t him.’
‘So, if it wasn’t Vincent who caused your dad’s death, why do you blame him for taking everything from you? Surely all your dad’s money went to your mum?’
‘You’re forgetting the wedding photograph.’
‘I’m not. I never forget a piece of evidence. So, he married your mum. What did he do next? Turn her against you? Is that why you have no home to go back to? I can’t believe that for a minute.’
‘It’s worse than that.’ Lottie gulped her coffee.
‘What is it?’
‘Somehow that arrogant git persuaded her to leave everything to him.’
‘The estate? The money?’
‘Yes. Everything!’
‘Oh, my God. And then what?’
‘And then she died too!’
31
Vincent – 2015
The little madam was refusing to attend the wedding. Even now, at almost the last possible moment, she seemed determined to make her protest and cause trouble. Catherine begged him for answers. ‘Why can’t she see you the way I do?’
‘My darling. She’s practically still a child. She misses her father. It’s understandable. She’ll come around before the big day. Once she sees how much we’re in love, she’ll forgive me for replacing Douglas.’
Catherine flinched.
Maybe he’d gone too far. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean replacing. Of course I don’t. You know what I mean though.’ He’d been working on this for a God-damn year – if that child managed to ruin it now!
‘Douglas would forgive me, wouldn’t he? He’d understand that life goes on?’
Vincent wanted to say, ‘How the hell should I know? I hardly knew the silly old fart.’ But instead he murmured, ‘Undoubtedly. Who would deny you this happiness?’ He placed gentle whispery kisses down the side of her neck. He heard her sigh and felt her knees give way. She was one of the easiest women he had ever had the pleasure of manipulating. ‘Like I say, Catherine, Lottie will come around. She has to.’
And he was right. A week before the wedding, Lottie told her mum that she would be her bridesmaid. Together they went to choose her a dress, and things between them returned to normal. That same day, Lottie asked to speak to Vincent alone.
He agreed. ‘Right, spit it out.’
‘Charming. I notice you don’t speak to my mother like that.’
‘Your mother is a lovely woman. She doesn’t have a bad bone in her body, and she deserves to be spoken to politely.’
‘Oh right. So, I’m not a lovely woman?’
‘You’re a mad fucking harpy.’
‘In what exact way am I mad?’
‘You’re just overly suspicious and clearly jealous of my relationship with Catherine.’ Vincent enjoyed controlling her. He knew the real reason she was so angry with him; it was because she knew what he was up to. But how much more fun there was to be had if he switched it around and made her think she was the one in the wrong. He’d seen a film years ago – something about gaslight. He’d loved it!
‘I’m what?’
‘You’re jealous. You rather fancied me for yourself. Now I’m about to be your stepdad and I’m off limits. Poor little Charlotte, she can’t have me anymore.’
‘Don’t be so ridiculous. I never wanted you, and you will not be my stepdad.’
‘I think you’ll find that technically I will.’
‘Well, I will most certainly never think of you that way.’
‘Please yourself. Anyway, get on with your little speech. I don’t want Catherine worrying about what’s being said in here.’
‘Care about her, do you?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘Do you love her?’ Lottie scowled.
‘Yes. That’s why I’m marrying her.’
‘You’re marrying for love?’
‘Yes.’
‘Bollocks!’
‘Why do you find it so hard to believe that I love her?’ Vincent was enjoying himself.
‘I’m just wondering what it is about this woman, who’s probably getting on for two decades older than you and is now, conveniently, independently wealthy, that makes you love her so much. Are you just blown away by her homely face and clumsy figure? Or is it all the challenging, intellectual debates you have?’
‘You have a cruel mouth. I’d rather you didn’t speak about Catherine that way. Now, if you’ve finished disrespecting your mother …’ He made a move towards the door.
‘Stop right there. You know full well that I did not ask to speak to you so I could rip my mother apart. I love her. I don’t need to prove that. I wanted this time alone with you so that I could warn you.’
‘Warn me?’
‘Yes. If you hurt her, if you break her heart, if you run around with other women behind her back, and … most importantly, if you attempt to take her money from her, I will …’
‘Yes. Do go on. What will you do?’
‘I’ll … I’
ll smash your head in.’
‘What an interesting image. I’m surprised you can bring yourself to say those words, given how your father died.’
Instantly upset, Lottie stammered, ‘It was just a … a … phrase. I wasn’t …’
‘Still, not a nice thing to say, so soon after poor old Douglas. Listen to me; I intend to marry your mother next week. I will live in this house. I will be your stepdad. It’s my understanding that Catherine and I will make all the decisions about the house together, and that includes anything financial. My knowledge and my expertise with money will stand us in good stead. You may remain in the house. But the house will be governed by myself and Catherine. If at any time you don’t like what my wife and I decide, you are free to leave.’
Lottie stepped back, utter contempt on her face. ‘You can tell a lot about a person by the number of times they say I or my during a conversation, Vincent. You are a self-absorbed narcissist who cares very little for anyone or anything other than yourself. I can only hope that my mum comes to see through you, sooner rather than later.’ She left the room, slamming the door behind her.
32
Lottie – 2019
‘What?’
Lottie repeated herself. ‘My mum died too.’
‘I didn’t know. You’ve lost them both!’
‘Yes.’
Hannah squeezed her friend tight. ‘You’re an orphan.’
‘Yes. If I thought losing my dad was the hardest thing I was going to have to live through, I was wrong. It was nothing compared to losing my mum. I mean … you know, a mum is a mum. You can’t imagine not having one.’
Hannah’s eyes filled with tears. ‘How soon?’
‘My mum’s death?’
Swindled (The Sandlin PI Series Book 1) Page 10