by Mary Grand
‘So what are you saying Imogen did?’
She drove over to Kathleen’s, went around the back of the house—’
‘But there are those huge gates, aren’t there, by the side?’
Beth waved her hand. ‘Oh, she’d have got over that somehow. Maybe Kathleen let her in. Yes. It’s possible they walked down the garden together. Then Imogen let the hens out, Kathleen chased them, and Imogen pushed her over the cliff.’
Beth bit her lip: was that all really possible?
Sami shook his head. ‘No, I can’t see it. I can go as far as Imogen intimidating Kathleen, but not murder. No.’ He looked at her quizzically. ‘I thought you’d dropped all this investigating lark.’
She shrugged and smiled, but he frowned. ‘Don’t go getting dragged back into this. Please, leave it to the police.’
Beth watched him go back into the house. To be fair, she had no actual proof to present to Sami; so maybe he was right to be sceptical.
Of course, there was Kathleen’s phone and headphones to be found. They were still missing, and then there was the burner phone someone was using. Maybe she could find a way to look for them at Imogen’s. Also, she still didn’t know for certain who Kathleen had the affair with. It was important that she knew. If only there was a way of talking to people on her course, maybe they would know.
22
Beth looked at the family calendar on the wall. ‘Look, I was thinking. Next week is the school holiday. How about we get away for a few days?’
Sami was astonished. ‘Go away?’
‘Yes. I could do with a break and you’re desperate for a holiday.’
‘I don’t know. What about the kids?’
‘They’re old enough to be left for a few days. We could go up to London: see a show.’
‘But Ollie?’
‘He could stay here. When we’re not around the kids are surprisingly good with him.’
Sami frowned. ‘I’d better check with Alex, though, first.’
Beth groaned.
‘No, seriously. I’m not making excuses. Where will we stay?’
‘We could find a cheap hotel, or an Airbnb?’
‘We could.’ Beth could see Sami warming to the idea. ‘I suppose if it was cheap and Alex is happy, we could go for a few days. I will still have to do my lectures. Would you mind that?’
‘No,’ she grinned. ‘I’d find something to occupy myself with.’
‘Good.’
The following day Beth received a text from William. Imogen had been let out earlier than he’d expected, so he was asking if she could pop round to sit with her for a short time in the afternoon. Beth agreed; she had an idea how she could use the visit.
When she arrived, Imogen was sitting downstairs, pale but dressed.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Not so bad. A bit battered. It’s so wonderful to be home. Hospitals are so noisy, aren’t they?’
Beth was easing herself into a leather sofa when William came in.
‘I’ll make some coffee. I’m working in the kitchen. OK?’
‘Thanks,’ said Imogen, smiling. When he left, she said, ‘He’s been so kind, taking good care of me.’
‘Of course.’
They chatted a bit about school. William brought in the drinks. ‘Now don’t go giving her the itch to go back; she needs a few weeks off.’
Imogen smiled. William raised his eyebrows before he left the room, showing that they both knew that was never going to happen.
Beth glanced at the Steinway piano in the corner. On top were scattered several brand new copies of classical pieces. Without thinking she lifted the lid and started to play a scale. However, she cringed at the sound. ‘This needs tuning.’
‘I would have no idea,’ said Imogen. ‘My parents bought that for us a few years back. You know me: I can’t play a note, but William loves music.’
‘I’m surprised he can live with a piano like this. It would drive me mad. I’ve never heard him play—’
‘He doesn’t like to play in front of people; it’s such a waste.’
Beth sat down again. Everything seemed cosy, normal, and the idea of either of these people being involved in a death seemed madness. Had she got things all wrong? She looked over at the books. She had never noticed what a wide range of novels Imogen had before.
‘Are they yours or William’s?’
‘Oh, both. All the Booker prize winners on the shelf are William’s, but he never seems to have time to actually read them now. For his birthday last year my parents bought him a first edition of Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four. He keeps it on his desk in his study. Apart from enjoying showing off his posh book he keeps it there to remind him of the key to the house safe. Clever, eh: 1984. It means me and Elsa can use it as well.’
‘Sounds a good idea. It’s so hard nowadays, so many numbers to remember. I still don’t know my mobile number, and then there’s online passwords, credit card pins. It goes on.’
‘Exactly.’
They finished their coffee and Imogen sat up and said, ‘Do you fancy a walk around the garden? It’s a splendid morning. Leave your stuff here.’
Beth rather expected Imogen to tell her to walk out in single file without talking.
For the first time since she’d had her concerns about Patrick and Elsa, Beth felt it was the right time to bring up the subject with Imogen. It had been on her mind. She didn’t want to betray Elsa but, on the other hand, if it had been Layla she’d have wanted to know. Elsa looked so much older than her years. It would be easy to miss how vulnerable she was.
‘How do you think Elsa has coped with all this?’
‘She’s pretty strong, but it shook her. It’s quite unnerving; she keeps doing housework and things.’
‘She was ever so worried about you; I think she’s been under a lot of stress recently.’
Imogen looked Beth straight in the eyes, intense. ‘Why, what’s the matter with her?’
‘Look, I don’t know anything for definite, and please don’t go running to her with this, but I was worried about her. It was something she said when we went for coffee in the hospital.’
‘OK. Just tell me.’
‘I don’t know an easy way to put this, but I got the impression she had some feelings for Patrick.’
‘Ah, Patrick,’ Imogen didn’t look surprised. ‘I know about that. When we went on that skiing weekend, I sensed a bit of hero worship. Patrick was good at skiing and what with that and the photography, he could do no wrong in her eyes. When we returned William told me he was worried about Elsa’s ‘crush’ as he called it. I did have a word with Patrick, told him to be careful. You know what he’s like. I think he was enjoying a bit of attention from a pretty young girl, but I told him straight that I expected him to act his age.’
‘And he did?’
‘I’m sure he did. It didn’t stop Elsa badgering him a bit, and he was helpful with her coursework. I did mention it a few times. William worried about it more than me. But I’m sure Patrick was sensible.’ Imogen put her head to one side. ‘Elsa was still talking about it this week? I thought it had all gone away: shows you never can tell how deep these things go with young people. Thank you for telling me. I shan’t mention it, but I’ll keep an eye.’
When they returned to the house Beth went to the bathroom. She could hear Imogen talking on her phone and knew this was her best chance. She crept into Imogen’s bedroom as quietly as she could in a creaky old house, and went over to Imogen’s bedside cabinet. She slid the drawers open. Unlike her own, they were very neat: no ancient, nearly finished, bottle of perfume, no cheap broken jewellery. There was a single bottle of pills, some letters, a notebook. Beth flicked through the notebook. All that was written in it were some lists of numbers ticked off on one page and a list of random words, including ‘shower’, ‘cooker’, ‘keys’. Beth shrugged and looked though the other drawers: nothing. She checked the wardrobe, and was just opening the second drawer of th
e chest of drawers when someone said, ‘Are you OK?’
Beth turned and saw William. She felt herself blushing.
‘I was, um, looking for something.’
‘Can I help?’ he asked, smiling.
Her mind was rushing for something sensible to say. ‘Imogen asked me to get her a cardigan. She was feeling cold.’ It was weak and wouldn’t stand up to scrutiny, but William appeared to accept it and picked a black woollen cardigan from the wardrobe.
‘Thanks so much for coming round,’ he said. ‘I’ve been bringing as much paperwork as I can home.’
Imogen was at the bottom of the stairs.
‘I showed Beth where your cardigan was.’
Understandably, Imogen looked confused.
‘You asked Beth to get you one because you were cold—’
Beth expected a complete repudiation of this, but instead Imogen said, ‘Oh, yes. Thank you,’ suggesting a vulnerability and lack of self-confidence, new to Imogen but understandable with her illness.
Later, when she arrived home, Beth realised that she’d been wildly optimistic in her search for the phone: no one would just shove such a thing in a drawer. In fact, why hold on to any of them? The logical thing to do would be to get shot of them. Of course, the other reason why she’d found nothing could be because Imogen was completely innocent.
That evening Ollie needed to have a bath after rolling in something disgusting. Beth was hot and possibly wetter than the dog when she heard the doorbell ring and mumbled voices downstairs. Fortunately, she’d finished the bath, had lifted Ollie out, and was drying him down. She stood up and pushed her hair back, as Ollie gave himself a good shake, obviously deciding he could do a better job than her. She found the fitted fleece for drying Ollie that she’d been hiding and slipped it on him. In disgust, Ollie raced out of the bathroom and down the stairs. As Beth descended after him she was surprised to see Sean in the hallway talking to Sami.
‘Hi, you’re still on the island. Lovely to see you. Excuse the mess. I’ve been bathing our dog.’
‘Sean has some bad news,’ interrupted Sami.
‘Patrick has been taken in for questioning about Kathleen’s death,’ explained Sean.
They moved into the living room, and Sean explained what had happened.
‘Someone called the police. An anonymous call. The caller said they had seen Pat’s car parked on the street by his Castleford house the morning Kathleen died. Apparently, the mechanic had run it up to his house on the Sunday evening. Pat came home from the house party to find it there—’
‘We didn’t see it,’ interrupted Beth.
‘We dropped Patrick off just before his house,’ said Sami. Turning back to Sean, he said, ‘Sorry, carry on.’
‘Pat parked it out on the street so that when the new people came with their removal van, they would have plenty of room. When the police came to tell him about Kathleen, they assumed he had a car but said it would be better for him not to drive. He told them that his car was at the garage. Obviously he wasn’t thinking straight.’
‘He was in shock,’ said Sami.
‘Exactly. The police never asked him again and he’d forgotten about it. The phone caller said he lied to the police so that they would assume he had no way of getting to Freshwater earlier that morning. The phone caller also said that Patrick was lying when he said that he thought the pregnancy was a miracle, that he’d known she was having an affair and had a clear motive for murder.’
‘Oh no,’ said Sami.
Sean let out a heavy sigh. ‘I know it looks so bad. With anyone other than Pat I’d have found that level of naivety unbelievable.’
‘So, Patrick is at the police station?’
‘Yes, I’ve got a solicitor going to him. I can’t do it unfortunately. Poor Pat. I wish I could be in there with him.’
‘You’re sure he’s telling the truth?’ asked Beth.
Sami glared at her. ‘Beth—’
‘It’s all right,’ said Sean. ‘I know how it looks but, yes, I believe him.’
‘I wonder who phoned the police?’ said Beth.
‘No idea, but it’s someone who has it in for Patrick. How did they know about the car? Patrick didn’t know until he went home that evening.’
‘Could it be a neighbour who saw it?’ asked Sami.
‘They never had what you’d call proper neighbours. There’s a Priory now used as healing retreat on the one side and a Catholic retreat place on the other, but you know that, don’t you? All very quiet, and they never spoke much, apart from one of the nuns who was very friendly and used to bring round veg from their allotment. She was hardly the kind of person to be making this kind of call.’
‘They can’t trace it?’
‘It was made from a pay as you go.’
Beth looked over at Sami. ‘Like my phone calls. I wonder if it was the same phone?’
‘I wish he hadn’t made that mistake about the car; it looks bad,’ said Sean, his face creased in annoyance. ‘It’s absurd. We all know how much Pat loved Kathleen and she loved him. I know she did. She had a fling, but it didn’t mean anything.’ He heaved himself out of the chair. ‘I’d better go back.’
‘Is Conor OK?’
‘He’s gone around to a friend. Won’t talk, poor lad. It’s all too much for him.’
When Sean had left, Sami looked at Beth. ‘You can’t believe this of Patrick, can you?’
Beth said, ‘I honestly don’t know. I’d been imagining all kinds of things with Imogen, but now we hear all this about Patrick. I suppose I’d heard a few things that had worried me, but I’d kind of pushed them away.’
Sami looked at her questioningly.
‘The first was the day Kathleen died. At the mortuary he said, “You’ll always be mine now” and, I don’t know, it’s the way he said it. It was a bit creepy. Then Gemma seemed pretty sure that Patrick knew Kathleen had had an affair. But the thing that had really worried me lately was hearing Elsa talking to Layla about Patrick the day after I heard Elsa arguing in the woods with him. They are certainly a lot closer than I knew. He’d been telling her about his marriage, and she was talking about all the things she’d done for him.’
‘Elsa and Patrick: no way. That’s not right. He’s, what, over forty, whatever he says, and she’s eighteen. He’s known her since she was a child.’
‘She’s not a child now. From the way she has spoken about him and her hatred for Kathleen, well, I’d say she’d had some pretty strong feelings for him. I like Patrick, but he’s pretty vain, likes to think of himself as cooler, younger than he is. He would be flattered.’
‘But he’d have more sense—’
‘I’m not so sure. I don’t want Patrick to have had a relationship with Elsa, or to have killed his wife; of course not. But if he did, then I’d rather know,’ said Beth.
‘Would you?’
‘Yes. Living with not knowing what happened to Kathleen has been awful. I need to know.’
Sami’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You’ve changed. I’ve been worried all along about you getting ill again but, in a way, you seem stronger now, less innocent, less vulnerable, but yes, stronger.’
23
The next day Beth was in work at the school. At lunchtime as she was shocked to see Imogen at reception.
‘Fancy a chat?’ asked Imogen.
Beth followed her into her office.
They sat opposite each other. Imogen looked very pale; her hands were never still, she played with her hair, tapped her knees, kept moving around on her chair. She had a glass of water that she kept taking sips from.
‘Are you well enough to be back?’ asked Beth.
‘I’m much better. I thought Friday would be a good day to come in. I can take things home for the weekend.’
‘But are you well enough? A few days ago, you were in hospital, and you need time to come off the pills.’
‘I don’t need to be off work to do that, and Beth, please don’t say anything to anyone he
re. As far as the staff are concerned, I had a bad reaction to some medication.’
Beth was surprised that Imogen assumed that this story had been so readily accepted.
‘So, um… what do you think about Patrick?’ Beth asked.
Imogen looked straight at her. ‘I’m astounded the police have taken him in. He’s obviously not guilty of anything. That morning, he’d just been told his wife had died, for crying out loud. As for the pregnancy, I think it’s to his credit he believed he was the father of Kathleen’s baby; people are so cynical nowadays. I know you and I can talk quite easily about Kathleen’s affair with this person on her course, but I think it’s laudable that Patrick never even considered such a thing. Oh no. He’s innocent.’
‘But you said yourself it was crazy Patrick thinking the baby was his—’
‘I’ve had time to think about it, and I can understand his position better now. That’s what you do with friends, isn’t it? Think the best of them. I think it’s important to be loyal to our friends.’
The look and the tone of her voice left Beth in no doubt where the conversation was going. ‘I believe in loyalty as well, but that doesn’t mean I have to accept lies.’
Imogen leant over the coffee table. ‘Did you make that call to the police?’
‘Good heavens, no. Why would I do that?’
‘You’ve been so insistent that one of us was getting at Kathleen, even hinted that one of us might have been linked to her death. Maybe you got frustrated with the police always assuming it was an accident?’ Imogen took a long drink from her glass; it was nearly empty now.
Beth felt her cheeks burning. ‘I didn’t make that call, but if it turns out Patrick has lied and had anything to do with Kathleen’s death, I would be pleased someone did.’
Imogen pursed her lips. ‘You’ve changed. You used to be all kind and mumsy, and now you come out with things like that. It’s like you are willing to think the worst of any of us. I’m lucky. I was here the whole time that morning or you’d be accusing me too.’ Imogen picked up her glass and held it close to her lips.