What was just as pressing as contacting my son, was the need to prove my innocence. Unless I withdrew more cash from an ATM, I had under twenty pounds left. There was no way I could continue to survive on my own. I wracked my brains to think where I could turn for help. By now the police would probably have spoken to everyone on my contact list, so it wasn’t safe for me to approach anyone I knew. Nina might be prepared to help me, but even if I managed to get in touch with her in secret, the police knew she was my friend. There was no guarantee she wasn’t being watched.
In the meantime, I was at risk of being recognised at the Travelodge now that my face had appeared on the news. I had to move on.
After checking out, I bought myself the cheapest pair of sunglasses I could find. They weren’t too dark to see through, and they masked my appearance better than plain glasses. Next, I needed to find a bed in a hostel while I figured out what to do. Passing a church, I wondered vaguely about seeking sanctuary, but that wasn’t a proposition nowadays. In any case, I couldn’t hide out indefinitely. Somehow, I had to get help.
On my way back to King’s Cross station, I passed a large phone store. I wanted to buy another mobile, so I could call Dan and while I was making the purchase, I had an idea. Researching in an Internet café, I made a note of a few likely numbers and called them.
‘Do you have an office in London?’
‘No, but I work all across the city and can arrange to meet you at a convenient location.’
‘So, you could meet me in London?’
‘Yes. I suggest we have a conversation on the phone for ten to fifteen minutes and you give me any information you feel comfortable telling me, and after that I’ll be able to tell you whether this is something I can help you with.’
I took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be easy. Any hint of the trouble I was in was bound to scare him off, and quite possibly prompt him to contact the police.
‘I want to investigate my husband,’ I began.
‘Go on.’ When I hesitated, he asked, ‘Do you suspect him of cheating on you? This kind of situation can be very upsetting but we’re here to help you get to the truth if that’s what you want.’
‘No, it’s not that, not exactly. I mean, he was having an affair. I know that.’
‘But you’re after proof?’
‘No, no. I don’t need proof. I know all about it. I’ve already met the other woman and she hasn’t denied it.’
There was a short pause. ‘What is it you need help with?’
‘My husband’s dead-’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘And I need to know what happened to him.’
‘You want to know where he’s been buried?’
‘No, he’s not been buried yet. He only died on Tuesday. But I need to find out how he died. The cause of death.’
‘I see.’ He paused. ‘I take it there’s no question of a police investigation into the circumstances of his death?’
‘It’s not quite that straightforward.’
‘Perhaps it’s best to leave it to the police?’
‘I’m prepared to pay, whatever it takes, to get to the truth. You can name your price.’
My words sounded ludicrous. This wasn’t a film, and he wasn’t going to risk any trouble with the police.
‘If you can’t help me, maybe you can recommend someone who can?’ I said. ‘I’m desperate. Please, I really need help.’
‘I’m sorry, lady. This isn’t something we can deal with.’
After a few more calls, I began to lose hope. As soon as I mentioned that I wanted to investigate a death, and acknowledged that the police were involved, the private investigators I contacted were unable to help me. But I persevered, mainly because I could think of nothing else to do and, finally, someone said he was prepared to help me.
‘I’ll tell you what I can do for you,’ he said. ‘But this never comes back to me. It’s more than my reputation’s worth to be associated with anything irregular. Have you got a pen? Remember, you didn’t get this number from me.’
I jotted down the number and he rang off before I could thank him. I gazed at the scrap of paper in my hand, presumably the number for a dodgy private investigator. But in my present circumstances, on the run from the police, that was the best I could hope for.
Before calling the number, I phoned Dan, aware that this was possibly the last time we would speak for a while. Stella answered the phone. When she prevaricated over passing the phone to Dan, I knew I was already too late to keep my status hidden. She asked me where I was and knew I couldn’t afford to stay on the line begging to speak to my son. The police had all kinds of equipment that could trace calls. I just had to hope that he would be all right at his grandparents’ house. For the time being, that was the only home he had.
12
Clearly used to such assignations, the private investigator didn't hesitate to set up a meeting in a dingy café near Ladbroke Grove station. The windows were grimy and the table felt sticky, but the place was empty apart from a dowdy old man in a raincoat and a slovenly girl behind the counter. It was a depressing setting, and appropriate for what I had to do. Taking a seat at a corner table, as instructed, I waited.
It was only a couple of minutes before a man with a craggy face and mud-brown eyes sat down opposite me and leaned over the table. I stared at his crooked nose and unshaven chin, avoiding looking into his eyes, and wondered how I had come to this. In less than a week I had become a suspected murderer, and a fugitive from the law, as well as a thief.
‘You’re Julie.’ Although we had never met, it didn't sound like a question.
‘What’s your name?’
‘You can call me Ackerman.’
It was obviously a false name, but I didn’t care. It was probably best not to know too much about him.
‘Shall we get a coffee?’ he suggested.
‘Okay.’
He didn't move and I realised he was waiting for me to go up to the counter. As I pushed back my chair, he told me he drank his coffee strong and black with two sugars. I went over to the counter and ordered his black coffee, and a skinny latte for myself.
‘No skinny,’ the girl said.
Back at the table, I set two mugs down and Ackerman nodded at me. I took a sip of coffee and burned my tongue.
‘Now,’ my companion said, cupping his mug in one large hand. ‘Tell me what I can do for you.’ He smiled, showing a chipped front tooth.
Leaving out any mention of my current difficulties, I explained that my husband had died a few days earlier. The police, I said, were unwilling to investigate, but I was convinced my husband had been murdered.
‘You’re saying you woke up in the morning and found him dead in bed beside you?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you think he was murdered in his sleep?’
Yes.’
‘And the killer didn't disturb you?’
‘That’s correct. I was asleep. To be honest-’
‘Please.’
‘I’d had way too, much to drink and I was out cold.’
‘I see.’
‘So? Will you help me?’
‘Help you?’
‘Yes, to find out who was responsible for my husband’s death. You see, the police don't believe he was murdered and- well, I need to know the truth.’
Ackerman stared at me for a moment, then his eyes narrowed as though he was calculating something.
‘You think he was murdered, but the police don’t?’ he asked, speaking very slowly. He leaned forward suddenly. ‘You’re certain about that?’
I nodded.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I’ll help you. But it’ll cost you.’
‘Of course. Name your price.’
I wasn't sure if I was being reckless or wise, but I couldn’t manage the situation alone, and so far, Ackerman was the only person prepared to even consider helping me.
‘I don't care what it costs,’ I insisted. ‘I really need your he
lp.’ I stopped, afraid of sounding too desperate. ‘Of course, if this isn't your line of work I can take it elsewhere. With the funds I have at my disposal, I’ll easily find someone to investigate my husband's death. But I don't want the police to know I’ve asked you. This has to be kept just between us or the deal’s off.’
He leaned forward. ‘Five thousand pounds.’
He spoke so quietly, I wasn't sure I heard him correctly.
‘What?’
‘Five thousand.’
‘Yes. All right.’
‘As a deposit.’
‘So how much will it be altogether?’
He shrugged. ‘That rather depends on how much work I’m going to have to do. Let's start with the deposit, shall we?’
I agreed to his terms, five thousand pounds up front, the balance yet unspecified.
‘Should we agree a maximum fee?’ I asked, suddenly getting cold feet.
He frowned. ‘It's tricky to put a figure on it, given we neither of us have any idea how much of my time this is going to take. I know what my time is worth. I won’t rook you, but it’s up to you to decide whether you want to trust me or not. It works both ways. How do I know you’re good for the money? Anyway, it’s your call.’
He downed his coffee in a few swift gulps.
‘Yes,’ I said, knowing only that if Ackerman walked away, I was on my own. ‘Let’s do this.’
He nodded. ‘Now, about that deposit.’
I had agreed to pay him five thousand pounds, but all I had on me was a handful of change. When I told him I might have a cash flow problem, he frowned.
‘I mean, I have the money. A lot of money. My mortgage is paid off and I have twenty thousand pounds savings in my own name, plus my husband’s work pension and his savings. And I can sell his car. He has a new Mercedes. That must be worth something. It’s just that I might not be able to get hold of any of it right now.’
‘What about your own savings?’
I shook my head. ‘There might be a problem. It’s not something I can explain. It’s to do with my husband’s family.’
It was a stupid lie, but it was all I could think of on the spur of the moment.
‘You’re not being honest with me,’ he said, getting to his feet.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Out of here, unless you level with me. And before you tell me exactly what you’re involved in, you can pay me the deposit we just agreed. I have a contact who knows how to move money around without leaving any traces. Come on.’
Feeling increasingly like a criminal, I followed my new acquaintance out of the café. Ackerman had a rundown car parked nearby, an old kind of Ford.
‘Hop in.’
It wasn’t as though I had anywhere else to go, but as we drove off I had a feeling I might have landed myself in worse trouble than before, if not in actual danger. At least the police would have to charge me and subject me to a trial. I didn’t know anything about this man Ackerman, yet I had willingly jumped in his car, allowing him to drive me to an unknown destination. And he had questioned whether he could trust me. Not for the first time, I wished Paul was there to help me. All I could do was keep my wits about me and hope for the best.
We drew up in a rundown industrial estate. Ackerman led me through a warehouse of electrical equipment to a small office where a sharp-featured man was seated behind a very large desk. He looked up and nodded.
‘It’s... err...?’
‘My name’s Ackerman,’ my companion said promptly, holding out his hand.
They shook hands, and Ackerman introduced the man behind the desk as Martin. We sat down.
‘This lady needs to pay me five thousand pounds,’ Ackerman said.Martin nodded. ‘But you don’t want anyone to trace the transfer of funds? I can’t see any problem with that. So, let’s make it seven thousand, shall we? How about an expensive non-refundable holiday? Or a new carpet? What works for you?’ Seeing my expression, he paused. ‘You do have the funds available?’
‘Oh yes. I’ve got the money.’
Martin picked up a pen. ‘Let me have your bank details then, and we’ll sort this out before anyone even knows it’s happening.’
‘The thing is, there may be a problem.’ I hesitated. ‘You see, if I take any money out, my husband’s family are going to know.’
‘Your husband’s family? But there’s an account in your name?’
‘They could stop me getting at it,’ I said miserably, aware that my excuse didn’t really stack up, seeing as it was my bank account. ‘I tried to take out five hundred on Saturday from a hole in the wall, and it wouldn't let me.’
‘She has funds but they're currently unavailable,’ Ackerman said.
‘Liquid assets frozen?’ the other man replied, putting down his pen.
‘Looks that way,’ Ackerman said. ‘As good as.’
‘So, someone’s placed a restraint on your account,’ Martin said, giving me a shrewd look. ‘Let's think about this. Who else might have access to your account? Your husband’s dead. His family wouldn’t be able to see your transactions. So, who could it be?’ He stared at me with a slightly quizzical smile. ‘Who could possibly have access to that sort of private information?’
I caved in. ‘I think the police are looking for me,’ I muttered. ‘So, I might not be able to get hold of the money, because yes, they’ve probably frozen my account. They want to find me. I can’t say why.’
Martin didn’t even blink. ‘I’m not interested in why the police might want to question you. That’s why Ackerman brought you here to me. Have you got any other liquid assets?’
‘I’ve got fifteen thousand pounds in an ISA.’
Martin shook his head. ‘That would take too long, and they might put a stop to it before we get it out.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘What about that ring you’re wearing?’
I clasped my hands. ‘It was my mother’s engagement ring.’
He grunted. ‘Is it insured?’
‘Yes, but-’
‘How much for?’
‘Five thousand pounds, I think. But I can’t let you have it. It was my mother’s.’
He shrugged. We both knew I had run out of options. With my own engagement and wedding rings, together with a diamond pendant Paul had bought me for our anniversary, and my diamond stud earrings, the jewellery I was wearing should fetch several thousand pounds.
‘That’ll do for now,’ Martin said briskly as I placed my jewellery on the desk. ‘I’ll get those gems valued and sold. That’ll give us your first instalment, Ackerman, and the rest will be yours, lady, after I’ve taken my cut, of course.’ He smiled. ‘Good to do business with you. I’ll be in touch.’
‘Do I get a receipt?’ I asked.
Martin and Ackerman laughed as though I had cracked a joke. ‘I’ll have that money for you by tomorrow evening,’ Martin said.
Afraid that I had just been shafted by a pair of crooks, I followed Ackerman out of the room.
‘You mentioned a son?’ Ackerman said to me as we walked back across the warehouse.
‘Yes. He’s staying with his grandparents in Scotland for the time being.’
‘While you’re here avoiding doing anything that might let slip where you are.’
I was suddenly too choked to speak.
‘If you write to him I can post your letter with a postmark somewhere out of London. How about Tunbridge Wells? Don’t worry. I’ll make sure it gets to your boy.’
I could have flung my arms around his neck and hugged him.
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I’d really appreciate it.’
‘Had a son myself once. Do me a favour, lady,’ he went on quickly, before I could say anything. ‘Don’t start asking me questions. This is just a job. Let’s keep it that way.’
13
After Ackerman dropped me back in central London, I had to find somewhere to stay for the night. On the assumption that Martin came through with the money, I could afford a hotel room. But I had another i
dea. Katie and even Nina might have told the police Paul was having an affair, but I was sure I hadn’t mentioned Bella’s name to either of them. Since I had destroyed Paul’s phone, the police had no way of discovering her identity. So, I called her.
‘Bella, it’s me, Paul's wife.’
‘Paul's wife?’
‘Yes.’
‘Have you found out what happened to him?’
‘No, it’s not that. I need your help.’
‘You want my help?’
Listening to her, I realised that this was a mistake. She would never let me stay at her house. It was insane of me to have imagined she would.
‘It’s all right, forget I called.’ I hung up.
I was on my own again. Too tired to find anywhere else, I returned to the Travelodge in Grays Inn Road, but without money there was no point in going in. As I was prevaricating, my phone rang. It was Bella.
‘You called me. What do you want?’
‘I was just wondering if you were at home this evening.’
‘Yes. What do you want?’
I wondered if I had misjudged her when we had met. She had seemed sympathetic, but I could hardly blame her for sounding wary. In her position, I would have been extremely dubious about speaking to my dead lover’s wife. She might even be wondering if I had been telling her the truth. For all she knew, Paul might still be alive. I certainly had a motive for persuading her he was dead, just to get her out of his life. But once again I was desperate. It was getting late and if I didn’t find somewhere to stay soon, I might end up sleeping on the street.
Although the weather was warm, even for June, once the sun went down it grew cold. Worse than that, I was concerned about my safety alone on the streets at night in central London. Many homeless people kept dogs for protection, but I was alone. At least I was no longer wearing jewellery that could be stolen, but I was really scared. All my life I had been cared for, first by my parents, then by my husband. I wasn't used to coping with dangerous situations by myself.
The Adulterer's Wife: a breathtaking psychological thriller Page 7
