The Camera Lies: a gripping psychological thriller

by AB Morgan

  ‘I’m a bit battle scarred.’

  ‘Maybe so, but by the time they’ve finished, you’ll have the sort of rugged features that women find irresistible. Personally, I love a scar.’ She moved closer to Konrad, placing the coffee on the table.

  ‘I’d better move those photos,’ he said. ‘I’m ludicrously clumsy when it comes to coordinating at short range.’

  DCI Anwell updated his junior officer on the results from the review of the pictures.

  ‘DI Bevan will be furious. Due back from leave on Monday isn’t he, sir?’ she commented with a cheeky smile. DCI Anwell gave an approving smile in return.

  ‘He’ll have to hit the ground running, then, won’t he, DI Jenkins? Now then back to matters in hand,’ he said turning to Konrad. ‘Have you heard from Freddie since I last saw you? We would like to speak to him again, but he seems to have changed his phone number, and is no longer at your wife’s address. He has to know vital information that will tie Chloe to Naomi.’

  Konrad felt saddened to hear that his son had gone to such lengths to avoid being found. It felt like a personal betrayal and now there was every chance that he had sided with the enemy.

  ‘Sorry. I think I’ve been excommunicated. Eliza doesn’t even know. Barney, my mate who’s keeping an eye on Freddie for me, said that Delia lent Freddie and Chloe the car on Wednesday and they haven’t been heard from since. Or you could try Delia directly, she won’t speak to me I’m afraid.’ DCI Anwell seemed to appreciate how awkward Konrad felt about his son and changed tack.

  ‘We’ll find him soon. I’m sure. Meanwhile, this letter is very interesting indeed. Can I keep it?’ He paused, folding the letter neatly and tucking inside his suit jacket. ‘We appreciate this is a frustrating time for you, but please be assured that we are being very thorough with this investigation, Mr Neale, because these matters are serious and your case will have to go to court, so we need all the evidence we can. What we have so far from the crime scene, including the film, indicates an assault carried out by Lorna Yates, and it could be argued as extreme domestic violence.

  ‘However, with the information about Tessa Carlton stacking up, we’re now racing to ensure we have enough proof to support the prosecution’s case. The forensic evidence reinforces your report of memory loss, and the same for Miss Yates, so my team has to pull together information and, if possible, make another arrest.’

  ‘Can’t the charges against Lorna be dropped? If the evidence is that we were drugged, can’t they be dropped?’ Konrad was desperate to secure Lorna’s release.

  ‘Not at this stage. I’m afraid not.’ DCI Anwell’s mobile phone rang quietly. He answered and looked across with an apologetic expression. ‘Sorry, I have to take this. It could be important news on Naomi Woods.’ He stood and walked over to the window, nodding and giving grave affirming noises to the caller. ‘Uh ha, mmm, yes, I see. Can you double check the details on that with Dorset immediately and call me back?’ Anwell turned to Konrad. ‘It seems Freddie may be in Dorset. Do you own a white Range Rover Evoque, Registration KON 1?’

  ‘Yes. I’m due to sign it over to Delia as part of the divorce, but technically I still own it. Has the silly bugger crashed it?’

  ‘I’ve asked for more details, but I wanted to check with you first. You knew he borrowed it?’

  ‘Not personally, but as I said, Delia lent it to Freddie and Chloe. Are they okay do you know?’

  ‘I’ll let you know as soon as I can satisfy myself that the facts are correct. Bear with me.’ With that DCI Anwell left the room. He could be seen talking quietly to the policeman on duty outside. Konrad also watched DS Jenkins speaking to a staff nurse at the nurses’ station in the corridor who picked up a phone and sent another staff member on an errand of some urgency.

  Now what? Another expensive repair bill to pay?

  DCI Anwell popped his head back in to Konrad’s room to apologise. ‘I’m sorry, this may take quite some time. I’ll come back when I have details.’

  Konrad had no choice other than to wait. He tried to get hold of Barney for an update, and ended up leaving a message instead. He toyed with the idea of contacting Delia. She would know where Freddie was and what he was up to, but she would probably slam the phone down and he couldn’t afford to rile her any more than she already was.

  32

  Konrad decided to tune out for a while, so he plugged his headphones into his iPod and chose a compilation album of old blues tracks. He thought about Naomi Woods and tried in vain to imagine her with brown eyes and long auburn hair.

  How long can you wear contact lenses for, I wonder? How securely are wigs fixed on?

  He was thinking through the practicalities of Chloe Jordan having lively kinky sex with Freddie without her disguise slipping when Sheila and Leah interrupted his internal meanderings by arriving to carry out regular baseline physical health checks and to tidy his room. Konrad was glad of their company and took advantage of an amiable chat to engage them in a fact-finding mission.

  ‘Ladies, I have a couple of important questions to ask you as part of some research. I’m rubbish at understanding things like make-up and fashion, and I was wondering why some women chose to change their eye colour using contact lenses? Do many people do that?’

  Sheila looked at Leah before conceding to her younger colleague. ‘You’ll have to answer that one. I’m far too old to know whether that’s what young people do. I tried it once for Halloween but the lenses played havoc, and having spent an age getting them in my eyes, I panicked and took even longer to take them out again. The result was the same; red eyes.’

  Leah laughed. ‘Lots of people do use coloured contacts lenses. You can get loads of different colours and some people give themselves cat eyes or black lenses and weird stuff like that. You can get zombie lenses for Halloween now. All white with a pinprick dot of black as a pupil. My mum has green ones that she wears every day, I can’t even remember what her real eye colour is.’

  ‘How long can you keep them in for?’ Konrad asked.

  ‘You can get extended wear lenses. They last for a few weeks before you have to change them.’

  ‘That’s excellent. Thanks. Really helpful. Now, as that was an easy question for two members of staff at an eye hospital, I would like to test your knowledge about all things girlie by asking you to tell me what you know about wigs.’

  ‘Are you planning to disguise yourself and escape from our evil clutches, Mr Neale? Can’t you put a hat on instead?’ Sheila asked as she wrapped the cuff of a blood pressure monitor around Konrad’s upper arm.

  ‘Sheila, this is serious research. If you were wearing a wig, or needed to wear one after chemotherapy for example, can you buy ones that attach firmly enough not to slip in a high wind, or if you jumped up and down on a trampoline?’

  Sheila shot a puzzled glance in Leah’s direction. ‘His blood pressure is fine, so it can’t be that sending him doolally.’

  ‘I’m not bonkers. I just need to find out. It’s important research. But if you don’t know, then just say so. I can always find a nurse with more brains who’s willing to help me,’ he teased. This seemed to kick start an interesting exchange of anecdotes between the two ladies who each had stories to relate involving relatives and wigs.

  ‘Who knew? Wig caps, adjustable wigs, wig tape and wig clips. Wigs made of real hair too,’ Konrad said when they had exhausted their catalogue of wig tales.

  So, it’s perfectly possible. Draw your eyebrows on a bit thicker, add more war paint, different clothes and Naomi becomes Chloe.

  Now then, let’s see if I can educate myself about what vanilla sex is.

  Sheila stopped what she was doing and stared, aghast. Leah found the question hilarious. ‘I can’t believe that neither of you have heard that expression before. Where have you been? Anyway, why are you asking questions about contact lenses, wigs and sex? Trying to solve your own mystery, Mr Neale, would be my guess. Ask away, I haven’t had this much fun while emptying a cat
heter bag for ages.’

  Konrad was past caring what they thought. He was desperate for information and cut off from the usual technology that would allow him to search for answers in private.

  Having found to his disappointment that vanilla meant conventional, he was crestfallen. ‘Is that it? So, it’s the opposite to kinky.’

  ‘There’s sliding scale between the two extremes of each, Mr Neale, if you think about it. If you’re a real prude and the missionary position with your nightie pulled up is all you’re in receipt of, then that’s about as vanilla as it gets, but if you’re more adventurous, more fun, it could still be considered conventional sex. Where the line crosses into kinky would depend on the individual, I suppose.’

  Sheila stepped in to change the subject but failed. ‘That answers that question. Anything else?’

  ‘Yes. How would I know what my line is if I’d never experienced kinky?’

  ‘I once read in a magazine that kinky sex is good for relationships; it said that bondage, hot wax and use of sex aids improves trust between couples and increases self-esteem. Who knew?’ Leah appeared unfazed by the content of the conversation, but Sheila was decidedly uncomfortable, shaking her head and muttering ‘Oh dear’ under her breath before managing to usher Leah towards the door.

  ‘No more questions please. I’m sure this is highly inappropriate to be talking about, research or not, Mr Neale.’

  ‘If you want more details I’ll lend you my copy of Fifty Shades,’ Leah offered.

  ‘There you are, I’m not such an old stuffed shirt after all, I have heard of that,’ he confirmed. ‘Let me check my iPod and see if I have the audiobook version. If not, I’ll take you up on your offer.’ Leah left the room chuckling despite stern words from Sheila.

  After being left alone again, with only his iPod for company, thoughts of Lorna crowded in and Konrad struggled to make sense of the chain of events that had taken place in the short space of a week. He experienced a sinking sensation as if he were being sucked under by suffocating quicksand and had no strength to keep his head above the surface. As gloomy shadows threatened to overwhelm him, he was glad of another interruption when Sheila came to break the spiral of negativity. Or so he assumed.

  ‘I have a couple of visitors for you, but they have some difficult news to bring you, so if you don’t mind I’ll stay too.’

  Konrad was bewildered, not knowing what to expect until he saw DCI Anwell and DS Jenkins. Their whole demeanour indicated that a dreadful announcement was about to be made.

  ‘What is it? Is it Freddie?’ A cold dread had swept through his body. His mouth dried.

  ‘I’m afraid so, Mr Neale. Dorset police found your car in a secluded spot after a call from a local dog owner out for a walk. They found Freddie’s body. He had been dead for an estimated two hours. A crime investigation has been initiated because the suspicion is that he was unlawfully killed.’

  ‘How?’ Konrad croaked.

  ‘It was made to look like auto-erotic asphyxia. Self-strangulation for sexual pleasure, but this is being treated with a great deal of scepticism.’

  ‘Fuck.’ Konrad wiped his nose with the back of his right hand. ‘Where’s Chloe? Where’s that bitch?’

  ‘All forces have been alerted to detain her for questioning, but there’s no sign of her. I’m so sorry, Mr Neale. I have no idea what to say.’

  ‘I think I killed him.’ Konrad slouched, head bowed.

  DCI Anwell looked across at Sheila. ‘Why would you say that, Mr Neale?’ she asked gently.

  Konrad ignored her, leant forward, and with his words aimed squarely at DCI Anwell said, ‘I called Josh Hawley earlier. I told him we were looking for Tessa Carlton, I asked him for help. He must have spoken to Naomi. He said she was due back from a business trip later today. I didn’t have a clue she was involved until I saw those pictures. What have I done?’ Konrad’s muddled thoughts were reflected in his despairing tones.

  ‘You haven’t killed Freddie.’ DCI Anwell looked down at Konrad, who was pressing his fingernails into the tops of his thighs. ‘This isn’t your fault. Look, I’ve been working alongside the team who investigated the murder of Helena Chawston-Hawley and we’ve made significant progress. We will catch whoever did this.’

  ‘You’d better catch the bitch before I do and fucking hurry up before she kills anyone else. Is Delia safe?’ Konrad felt a switch turn on inside his head as he disconnected from his emotions.

  ‘You don’t really think Tessa Carlton will go after the rest of your family, do you?’ DCI Anwell frowned. ‘Try not to worry too much, local police have been asked to speak to your wife to inform her of your son’s death, after which she may stay with a friend or perhaps your daughter will travel home to be with her mother. DS Jenkins will track Eliza down after we’ve spoken and we’ll take her to wherever she wants to go. I know this is not going to be easy but we have to make a public statement if we’re going to stand a chance of arresting Naomi Woods, or whatever she may choose to call herself.’

  ‘Keep my family and Lorna safe.’ Konrad said his words becoming increasingly bitter. ‘Get the evidence and let’s do a bastard press conference and tell that fucking Tessa bitch that the gloves are off.’

  ‘We’ll get whoever did this. But we have to do it by the book. I’m sorry to leave so soon, we have to go now, people to arrest and question – including Josh Hawley,’ DCI Anwell repeated himself, ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘You get her. Do you hear me? It’s her turn to cry.’

  33

  She checked the battery level before setting the camera on its tripod. The bland branded hotel room could have been anywhere in the country. They always looked the same; cheap and cheerless, clean and unfriendly. She sat poised for an earnest one-way conversation, with a self-satisfied smirk appearing gradually as she spoke.

  ‘Lots of people are looking for Tessa. I don’t know why they’re wasting their time. She hasn’t been seen or heard of since she left Willow Hall and abandoned the stupid Dr Sarah Tyrell to her own analyses. Silly cow. She was useless as a doctor. The do-good doctor, who was nothing more than an advert for Laura Ashley, made us sit in a circle and talk about our families for hours on end. I had nothing much to say, but Tessa Carlton talked endlessly about her bloody sister.

  ‘For hours we endured the endless envious bitching about Helena, not to mention the uncaring disinterested parents. By the way she described them, I’m pretty sure her immediate family members would have died a long time ago if Tessa hadn’t been locked up. She was capable of killing her family, I’m certain. But perhaps I should be grateful she didn’t, because my life wouldn’t have been so rich without Tessa. Thanks to her I knew practically every detail about Helena’s upbringing.

  ‘Let me explain, Konrad. You see, once Tessa and I had made good on our escape from Willow Hall, I had options for my life; a new one, a better one. Tessa always said she’d never have anything to do with her family ever again, which left an opportunity too tempting to ignore. So, slowly and deliberately, I worked my way into Tessa’s family, which at first meant studying her sister Helena from a discreet distance.

  ‘Helena had a life of wealth and respectability that I wanted to be a part of but you can’t just barge in. I needed a legitimate reason to be in her life, so I studied her: her likes, dislikes, habits, reactions, wishes and weaknesses. These were revealed through her actions, as well as idle gossip from the brainless hairdresser, beer-soaked car mechanic, shallow beautician, and weak-willed accountant. Additional useful facts were gleaned from articles in newspapers and business journals. I confess, Konrad, to silently stalking her, unseen, undetected. As far as I could work out, Helena had done well in most things except for relationships.

  ‘I know it sounds a bit mad, but once I got to know her I started to understand how much she’d irritated Tessa. She was so utterly tiresome in her pretend niceness that I became frustrated at how ordinary and horribly pleasant she appeared to be on the surface. Nice peopl
e irritate the hell out of me, and Helena turned out to be exactly the same saccharine individual that Tessa had spoken about when recalling her earliest childhood memories. Enough to make you vomit.

  ‘When they were toddlers, Helena smothered little Tessa with adoration, treating her like a favourite doll by brushing her hair and trying to dress her up in whatever she thought looked pretty. Tessa would be dragged around, ordered to sit in the Wendy House and play “pretend” games. A pet to keep her sister amused and occupied while their parents ignored them.

  ‘Some couples shouldn’t have children in the first place if they can’t be bothered with them. I only had Tessa’s word for it, but those children, Tessa and Helena, must have been accidents because the lack of affection displayed in that household was astounding even by my standards. Tessa and her siblings were treated more like belongings than part of a family, from what I could understand.

  ‘They had toys and a neat bedroom to share, but when visitors arrived the children were paraded in front of them and then sent back to their rooms to amuse themselves for hours. Mum and Dad would respond if ever they made too much noise. “Shut up or you’ll live to regret it!” would come the shout from downstairs where they would be watching an inane programme on the telly. Helena did as she was told.

  ‘Tessa didn’t want to. She had a natural rebellious streak that had always existed inside her, and she soon discovered that by being naughty she could gain her parents’ attention through that bad behaviour. It worked a treat. Let’s face it, Konrad, some attention is better than none at all.

  ‘One story Tessa told took place on Sunday afternoon, when she found her mum’s make-up bag, and indulged in wild creative art by drawing on the bedroom wall with lipstick and eyebrow pencil. Her mother’s screaming and rasping anger was apparently heard throughout the house when she found her. There was Helena, sitting on the floor covered in rouge and blue eye shadow, drawing on her sister’s face with black eyeliner.