NEVER CAME HOME an addictive crime thriller with a twist you won't see coming (Detective Inspector Siv Drummond Book 2)

by Gretta Mulrooney

  They went up the path to the front door. ‘Take deep breaths, it’s like an incense-filled church in here,’ Siv said.

  Joe Dimas seemed unperturbed by their visit and, although still unyielding, in better spirits than the last time Siv had seen him. Perhaps, despite his adoration of her, having Lily around all day, every day, had proved onerous and he was relieved that she’d flounced home. He led them into the sitting-room-cum-chapel. Ali gazed around in astonishment at the splendid icons and votive candles. Today’s incense smelled of balsam fir, woody and pungent.

  ‘Sit down,’ Dimas said. He was dressed in his customary elegant black. ‘I suppose this is about Pearce and Adam. I went to the hospital and spoke to Pearce. I hope I persuaded him not to press charges. I was bracing in my language, I can tell you. It’s the least he could do for us, given the way he’s behaved. We’ve had quite enough drama in the family, and Adam is too weak a character to cope with court appearances.’

  They sat crammed in the small, claustrophobic space.

  ‘The charges are actually being dropped, but that’s not why we’re here,’ Siv said. ‘For starters, we’ve come about a man called Tim Stafford. I asked Lily about him last time I was here, and I showed you both a photo. You said you didn’t recognise him. Are you sure about that?’

  ‘Stafford . . . No, I’m afraid I don’t.’

  He stumbled on the name. It wasn’t much of a lie. His heart wasn’t in it. She forced sympathy into her voice. ‘You must be terribly tired,’ she said. ‘So much has been happening in your family, and you’re not a young man. I believe you do know Tim Stafford. He’s told us that you attacked him on the beach in St Leonard’s. He calls you “Papu”. I suppose you gave him that name because the first time you met him, you took care of him, as a grandad would. Unlike the second time, when you tried to kill him.’

  He rallied and made an effort. ‘Tcha! I don’t understand. Who is this man?’

  Siv shook her head. ‘You picked him up in your car on Halloween and attacked him on the beach. He didn’t die and he’s identified you. We’ll be crawling all over your car for forensics, Mr Dimas, and believe me, we’ll find traces of Tim Stafford. You might as well tell us the truth.’

  Ali pressed the point. ‘The truth about Stafford and what you did to Lyn. Stafford told you about seeing Lyn with a man at Steiner’s. You’ve been carrying a terrible burden.’

  Dimas tensed. ‘I have an alibi for the night Lyn went missing.’

  Ali waved a finger. ‘Pater Basil has had memory problems for years. He’s been very reliant on you. Your alibi is a tad wobbly.’

  ‘Pater Basil will back me to the hilt.’

  Siv shook her head. ‘Hardly, in his current state of health. All of this must be eating into you. Your conscience must be keeping you awake at night. When I saw you again after Lily came to stay with you, you seemed frailer because of all the turmoil in your family. But now I’d say that you only learned the identity of the man who’d been with Lyn at Steiner’s when Lily told you. That must have been an awful shock on top of all the others you’ve been absorbing.’

  Dimas’s head sank down to his chest. Siv pictured a scales, with a full confession hanging in the balance. They sat in silence, listening to the incense burner hissing.

  Siv said, ‘It’s over, Mr Dimas. We will charge you with the assault on Tim Stafford. I believe that you have confession in your religion. Tell us about Lyn.’

  Dimas looked up with longing at the Madonna and Child and crossed himself, right to left. ‘The Greek Orthodox term for confession is metanoia — repentance.’ He knelt in front of the Madonna, his head bowed. ‘To cure your soul, you need four things. The first is to forgive your enemies. The second is to confess thoroughly. The third is to blame yourself. The fourth is to resolve to sin no more. God, who is most compassionate, will forgive you.’

  ‘That’s handy,’ Ali said. ‘Maybe it’s Tim and Lyn you should be asking for forgiveness.’

  Dimas stood, holding onto his chair for support. ‘Not here,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to speak of this here.’ He gestured at the icons. ‘I don’t want them to witness.’

  ‘That’s fine. We’ll go to the station,’ Siv told him.

  He stood and listened while Siv charged him. He picked up a book, the cover embossed with a double-headed eagle, and slipped it into his pocket. He then took a long rope of wooden prayer beads from beside his chair, twisting them through his fingers as they led him to the car.

  He didn’t speak on the way to the station. He declined a solicitor, refused a drink and sat in the interview room, perched on the edge of his chair. His white hair was brushed back high and thick, like a crest.

  When Siv went to start the interview, he held a hand up, staring with his hostile grey eyes. He kissed his prayer beads and said, ‘Theé synchóresé me.’

  Siv asked, ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘“God forgive me.” You can switch your machine on now and just let me talk. You can ask me about anything I’ve missed at the end.’

  He clutched his prayer beads, speaking slowly and clearly. He sounded as if he’d expected this day to come and had rehearsed. ‘I was driving past Orford End one evening in June 2013. It was the feast of St Jude, and I was on my way home from a church service. I saw a young man running up the road. He was distressed, ragged. I stopped the car and asked if he was all right. He said that he was homeless and that he’d been hoping to sleep the night in Steiner’s, but a man living in there had attacked him with a broken bottle. He told me his name, Tim Stafford. He had a cut on his hand, where he’d defended himself. I had a first-aid pack in the car so I gave him a disinfectant wipe and a plaster.

  I drove him into the town centre, where he wanted to wait for the mobile soup kitchen. He was a talkative young man. Perhaps he enjoyed company when he could get it. While I was driving, he chatted away. He told me that he’d never go back to Steiner’s again, because he’d had bad luck in there. He described a couple he’d seen in there the previous year, half-naked, on a mattress, drinking wine. “They were getting down and dirty,” was how he put it. He said that the woman was called Lyn Dimas, and she’d once treated him for a verruca. I asked him if he was sure and he was quite certain. He said he’d been surprised that someone like her would be slumming it. I was so appalled, I could hardly keep the car on the road. Tim didn’t recognise the man who’d been with her, and he said he crept back out without them seeing him.’ Dimas pressed his beads to his lips and continued. ‘As if that wasn’t enough, Tim went on to tell me that he’d heard bad things about Lyn Dimas from a woman called Posy, who lived in Seaford. This Posy was a kind woman. She’d given him some hot meals in her house and they’d talked a lot. He said she was very depressed. She’d told him how Lyn had worked with her mother in a podiatry clinic, and had made a fuss about her mum making a mistake. It had cost Posy’s mother her job and she’d killed herself as a result. Then Tim heard that Posy had committed suicide. It affected him badly, because not many people had shown him kindness. He got quite dramatic about it, and said that Lyn had blood on her hands.

  ‘I gave him some money and left him in town. Then I drove to the harbour and just sat there for a long time. I was shaking with shock. After a while, I went back to Orford End and parked outside Steiner’s. I sat, staring at that awful place. My son had abandoned his family, and now I’d been told that my daughter-in-law, who I held in such high esteem, had been having a tawdry affair in that squalid building. She’d already become unpleasantly shrewish towards Lily, and was generally behaving in a loud, unfeminine way that I found distasteful. As if that wasn’t enough, she’d made terrible trouble for those two women, Posy and her mother. Tim was right — she’d caused their deaths as surely as if she’d killed them herself. My son’s betrayal had been bad enough, but to find that Lyn had been disporting herself in that way, behaving adulterously and shaming motherhood . . .

  ‘Finally, I went home. I did nothing for a week. I was ill, as
if I had a flu. I tried to pray but the words wouldn’t form. Nothing was sacred anymore — not marriage or family. There was no loyalty, no trust. If we don’t have those, we have nothing, we’re worse than the beasts of the earth. I’d supported Lyn to the hilt when Theo left her, given her comfort, and this was my reward, to find that she was a whore! I rang and asked to see her. When she came to my house, I challenged her. She blustered and said that Stafford was lying, that it was untrue, but I could tell from the shock on her face that it was all a front. In the end, she admitted it. She wouldn’t tell me who the man was. As you said, I didn’t find that out until Lily told me. Lyn said that the affair was over, and she begged me not to say anything for the sake of the children. She turned on the tears. She was pathetic, trying to justify what she’d done, saying that Theo had been distant and that she was entitled to love and affection. As if that’s what she’d been getting with her fancy man! I told her that she was entitled to nothing in this life. We have duties and responsibilities and we ride out difficulties with steadfastness. I agreed not to tell the children — they were innocents and guilty only of having unfit parents. When I asked her about the family in Seaford, she tried to say that all she’d done was to ensure professional standards were met. Two women dead, and there was no humility, no remorse! I told Lyn I didn’t want to see her again. I threw her out.’ He stopped and cleared his throat.

  ‘Have some water, Mr Dimas.’ Ali poured him a beaker.

  He took a sip, eyes still lowered, and whispered in Greek again as he fingered his beads. ‘It all preyed on my mind. I couldn’t see a way forward. My son was a useless husband and father, but Lyn was worse because she’d betrayed her sacred role in her family. She’d behave like that again and bring even more shame. She was trying to stand in the way of Lily’s marriage, and what would Adam’s life be like with a mother who’d turned out to be the worst kind of slut? She was a toxin, a contaminant in my family, and I decided that she had to die. This was the only solution. If she was out of the way, I’d be able to bring Adam here to live, raise him as a proper man, give him the guidance he needed. I never anticipated that Theo would step up and claim him, form a family with his paramour — that came as a real shock. And Lily’s path in life would be eased without her mother constantly berating her.

  ‘I rang Lyn and told her I needed to see her about something important. I said that it wouldn’t take long. She didn’t want to meet me, but I guessed that she would, because she was so frightened that I’d reveal her dirty secret. We agreed on the evening of Lily’s prom. I did have the meeting with Pater Basil, but it was the twenty-seventh, the night before. He was confused and I was sure I’d be able to persuade him that we’d met on the twenty-eighth.

  ‘I went into Steiner’s late that afternoon and checked that no one was there. I picked Lyn up at the end of her street. She’d made herself up and put scent on. Thinking that she could still persuade me with her feminine wiles that she was worth a second chance! Tcha! She expected that we were going to talk in the car, but I said that there was something in Steiner’s that she needed to see and deal with, something that could give her away. I’m not sure that she believed me, and she said that Adam was on his own, but she didn’t resist when I said that we wouldn’t be long. When she stepped out of the car, I kissed her on the forehead and told her I was making my peace with her. I put my driving gloves on and made sure that she went through the door in front of me. I had cord from my garage in my pocket, and I strangled her with it. I was going to leave her on the mattress. That would have been fitting, in keeping with her filthy activities, but of course that meant she would be found reasonably quickly. It occurred to me that if I tied her behind the fridge, it might be years before anyone discovered her and the more time that passed, the more likely it was that the police wouldn’t be able to establish who had killed her. People might even say that she’d run away, or killed herself. I found the rope and left her tied there.’

  He kissed his prayer beads, sat back and glared at them. He was defiant, calm.

  ‘And what about Adam?’ Siv said. ‘Weren’t you concerned that he’d been left alone?’

  Dimas pursed his lips. ‘I knew that he’d phone someone or go next door. It would do him good to be self-reliant. I can see the way you’re judging me. I did what had to be done.’

  It was irrelevant but Siv couldn’t resist probing. ‘How did you react when you found out that Pearce was the man Lyn had been meeting at Steiner’s?’

  ‘That was a terrible kick in the teeth. I’m surprised that my heart hasn’t given way.’

  ‘You weren’t tempted to punish him as the other guilty party?’

  ‘Tcha! He’s pathetic, behaving in that way. But young men are weak vessels, easily tempted, and Pearce wasn’t married at the time. He couldn’t predict that he was going to meet Lily. Lyn was still the one at fault. I’ve explained that to Lily. Although she’s distressed, I hope that she’ll forgive her husband and take him back.’

  ‘I see.’ Siv rarely ran out of words in interviews but she couldn’t summon up anything else to say to this man. She made a gesture to Ali.

  ‘Tell us about Tim Stafford,’ he said.

  ‘I saw his name on that list you showed Lily and recognised his photo. Then I read that you were appealing for information about him. I hadn’t seen him since that night I met him running away from Orford End, but I worried that if you found him, he might remember talking to me about Steiner’s and Lyn, and then I could be in real trouble. I couldn’t let that happen. I had no personal animosity towards him. My church conducts services once a month for the homeless and I’ve met a few of the people who sleep around town. I talked to a man called Slugger. He often camps out in the doorway of the betting shop on Sheep Street. He told me that he’d seen Tim Stafford in Hastings recently, and that he was heading for St Leonard’s to check out a deserted school called Westhaven. I searched online and found it. I decided to drive around the area. I didn’t need to go to the school. I struck lucky that night when I saw Tim walking along the road. I gave him the money for a takeaway. Then I suggested a stroll along the beach while he ate it. I picked up a rock and hit him. I thought he was dead, but I’m not as strong as I used to be. I’m annoyed with myself now. My motto has always been, “If you’re going to do a job, do it properly”.’

  He drew himself upright, closed his eyes and moved his bony fingers across his beads as his lips moved soundlessly. It was as if he was alone in the room. Siv wondered how he now made sense of the outcome of his actions, but they had what they needed and she was sick of listening to his dry, factual account of his cruel judgements.

  * * *

  She sat with Ali outside in the little courtyard, under a watery sun.

  ‘The world according to Joe. Old-fashioned man with old-fashioned values,’ Ali said as he lit up.

  ‘The family patriarch, making the rules and exacting punishment for transgression. But not for the men, only for the women.’

  ‘That’s because you’re supposed to be above reproach. Pure and incorruptible.’

  ‘Thank you. Maybe I should have scrutinised Joe’s numerous prejudices more closely. It’s too easy to dismiss someone who comes out with such bigotry. Easy to forget that they can act on it.’

  ‘There was nothing pointing to him and we had an alibi on record. Luckily, most bigots only talk the talk . . . unless you come from my neck of the woods, where some have made a career out of acting on their intolerance.’ Ali blew smoke rings into the nipping breeze.

  ‘Did you come in for much crap, back in Derry? Stupid question, I suppose.’

  ‘Oh aye, given my skin colour and the fact that I have a Catholic mummy and a Proddy dad. But as Jane Eyre said, “I have no tale of woe”.’

  ‘You’re a Brontë fan?’

  ‘Aye, big time. Their daddy was born in County Down so we kind of own them.’ He smiled at her, his brown eyes kindly, giving Siv a little lift after the bleak interview. He sucked the last l
ungful from his fag. ‘You can go and tell Mortimer now that we’ve got a win.’

  ‘I can. I will. I just want to savour it for a bit longer. Then I’ll go and see Theo Dimas.’ That Finnish saying came back to her, ‘My family is my strength and my weakness.’ She’d be bringing heartache to the Dimases’ door once more.

  ‘I’ll go and sort out Joe, make sure we’ve relieved him of his prayer beads before he goes in a cell. They’re long enough to hang himself with.’ He got up, stretched, exposing an expanse of soft, brown belly, hitched up his trousers and ambled away.

  Siv checked her phone and saw that she’d had an email from Tommy Castles.

  Hi, the party got a bit interesting! We sort of got off on the wrong foot. Wondered if you’d like to have a drink some time. I’m in town fairly regularly. So, let’s hook up.

  Ed whispered, You should meet him. He’s just your type, totally honest and with no axe to grind! She laughed. It would be good to be a fly on the wall when Mortimer told his protégé that they’d found Lyn’s killer. She’d pay money to be that fly. For now, she needed to go upstairs with her news.

  THE END

  ALSO BY GRETTA MULROONEY

  DETECTIVE INSPECTOR SIV DRUMMOND SERIES

  Book 1: THESE LITTLE LIES

  Book 2: NEVER CAME HOME

  THE TYRONE SWIFT DETECTIVE SERIES

  Book 1: THE LADY VANISHED

  Book 2: BLOOD SECRETS

  Book 3: TWO LOVERS, SIX DEATHS

  Book 4: WATCHING YOU

  Book 5: LOW LAKE

  Book 6: YOUR LAST LIE

  Book 7: HER LOST SISTER

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