‘When did you get to be an expert on London pubs?’
‘When I lived here for a couple of years. I had a friend with a flat somewhere around here. Wonder what happened to her.’
Bill saw the tube station in question ahead. ‘Her? Another one let you get away, you clever dog.’
‘She was the one who got away.’
Bill looked sideways at him. Perhaps Dan O’Reilly of the granite heart looked a bit sad. But anyone who knew how much he regretted his divorce, and the constant struggle to get more time with his son, Calum, knew that O’Reilly’s brittle shell was just that, a shell that could be cracked.
‘I used to go to Lords for cricket with a couple of the other young constables. We’d go to this pub afterwards. Go down here. It’s on the corner of St John’s Wood Terrace. There you go. Painted green with green awnings. Great to sit outside but not on days like this.’
They parked and went inside for a full-bodied pint apiece and servings of roast beef and potatoes with vegetables. ‘Knives are optional for this beef,’ Dan said.
Hungry and tired, they treated themselves to another half each with the reminder that they didn’t have to hurry back to the car.
A call came in on Dan’s mobile followed by a series of short answers on Dan’s end. ‘Go ahead,’ he said, almost at the end. ‘Get the results to me as quickly as you can.’
Bill gave him a questioning look.
‘Joan Sperry,’ Dan said. ‘Says she knows a sketch artist who could give us a picture of the new Beverly Irving. The artist works very fast, as the witness speaks. Joan says she has a clear picture of her in her mind now. Apparently, that’s unusual for her. She sounded excited. We won’t hold our breath.’
Dan drove this time and for streets he hadn’t seen in years he made the route seem very familiar.
‘Are we going to let this Beverly issue hang for a day or two?’ Bill asked. ‘Clearing up three murders—’
‘Yes. That’s what we’re going to do. So far we’ve got to follow up Bob Hill, Grant Hill, and whoever placed the call trying to finger Esme Hill as Lance Pullinger’s lady – the three of them with more than casual connections to Lance and probably Darla. The thorn in my side is Winifred Sibley. Nothing about her fits in with the other two – not really.’
‘What about Gladys Lymer and Frank?’
‘Yes,’ Dan said. ‘They belong on the pile, too. And much as I don’t like saying so, Lily does as well.’
‘But not Alex?’
Bill enjoyed irritating the people he liked best – something Dan didn’t understand. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Put her on the list, too.’
Bill mumbled to himself and shut up. The drive became very silent.
They were passing Bourton-on-the-Water when the sound of Dan’s mobile ringing startled Bill. Dan answered, waited, and said, ‘You wouldn’t call me if you weren’t worried, Tony. Look at it like this. At Knighton, they’ll know Alex is visiting because Esme invited her over. So, they’ll also know there’s no mystery about her being there. Relax. Spay an extra dog or cat. Or do a crossword puzzle. She’s been there about half an hour, right? Right, so let it be. You have no reason to make a fuss because Alex is at Knighton. But thank you for letting me know. We’ll be back in Folly shortly. I’ll check in with you when we get there.’
THIRTY-EIGHT
Following the directions of the maid who let her into the house, Alex walked out into a winter-sad kitchen garden at the back of the house.
‘Go right. Then walk on the path through an opening in the big wall,’ the maid had said. Alex got to the path and looked back. This was her father’s house, his family’s house for a long time. How strange she felt standing there.
She didn’t belong and that was fine with her, but how could she not get goosebumps from connecting with a past she might have shared?
Through an opening in the wall, she went, and across mushy brown grass until the path became solid again. Eventually she was among familiar trees and the feeling this time was guilt. She smiled at herself. The previous visit had yielded interesting information but she had been sneaky – sneaky in a righteous cause. Or so she still hoped.
The big building with a domed skylight must be the pool house where she would find Esme. Fascinated as she was with Knighton, when she got to the entrance, Alex wished she hadn’t come. In Esme’s place, she wouldn’t have chosen to take a swim when she expected a guest, someone she hardly knew.
Should she bag this and go home? Tony had tried to persuade her not to come.
‘Are you looking for me?’ Grant reached over her shoulder and pushed open one of the doors to the pool house. ‘I’m touched. Welcome.’
Alex’s heart beat a staccato rhythm. She felt sick. ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘I’m meeting your mother. She was kind enough to invite me so we could get to know one another better.’
Trapped between his body and the open space between the doors, Alex went forward into the humid inside of the building. The only light was from sconces that threw muted yellowish fans upward against the walls, and a gray-white illumination through the sky dome. The pool gave off white mist that wafted above the water.
‘There’s mother. Sitting on the wall at the other end. She’s waving at one of us. That’s probably Audra swimming laps. That woman is a fitness fanatic. Excuse me, I’ll change.’ He walked away and disappeared into what Alex assumed was a changing room.
‘Come on over, darling.’ Esme’s voice echoed through the towering space. ‘Where are your swim things?’
‘I didn’t know you had swimming in mind,’ Alex called back. She tried never to admit that she couldn’t swim, or not effectively. ‘I’ll be happy watching and relaxing.’ A row of chaises stood close to the edge of the pool at Esme’s end.
Audra, in a white swim cap and goggles, continued to stroke the length of the pool, turn, and repeat the process.
Alex reached Esme. ‘Carry on. It’s warm in here and that can’t be bad, can it? I’ll sit and enjoy myself.’ She took off her coat, pulled a chaise even closer to the pool and sat down.
There had been no reply from Esme who watched her over a shoulder.
A dull drone, muffled but steady, settled in the center of Alex’s brain. The sound had to come from air conditioning, or pumps. This place must have all sorts of equipment in operation. Feeling claustrophobic in so big a space made no sense, but she did.
‘Do you swim every day?’ Alex asked, growing very uncomfortable.
‘Just two or three times a week when I’m not in London,’ Esme said. ‘You’re very pretty, you know. It’s too bad you’re not the right age for that naughty son of mine. He needs a good woman to settle him down.’
‘It’s too soon for that,’ Alex said, swallowing the disgust she felt. ‘Give him time to be young and enjoy himself.’
‘Grant is troublesome. He’s always been troublesome. Sometimes I think he’s jealous of my love for his father. You know how some sons are. They don’t like sharing their mothers.’
Alex didn’t know, didn’t want to know. ‘Swim, Esme. You’ll cool off too much sitting there like that.’
Esme climbed to stand at the very edge of the pool and took a long, clean dive into the water. She swam the crawl cleanly, making very little wake, made a professional looking turn and did the breast stroke back. Alex was in awe of the woman’s strength. Every inch of her was smooth muscle and her shoulders and arms propelled her through the water with enviable efficiency.
In front of Alex once more, she remained in the water, her forearms crossed on top of the end wall. ‘I’m sorry for not greeting you properly, Alex,’ she said. ‘I think I’m in a terrible mess and I don’t know what to do. I came out here to think. I wish Audra hadn’t come – her timing is awfully bad sometimes.’
Alex scooted all the way to the foot of the chaise and leaned forward. ‘Can I do anything to help you?’
‘I don’t think so but you’re very sweet to ask. Tell me, in the paper today, d
id they mean you in that nasty little article on the front page.’
How to answer that without causing more of a problem? ‘Someone made a point of telling me it was about me,’ she said. At least she wasn’t lying; the hushed lunchtime conversation at the Black Dog had been unmistakable. ‘But I don’t see how it could have been. Tony and I are very close. We have been for a long time and everyone knows it. They didn’t mention names.’
‘Isn’t that always the way it is?’ Esme said. ‘Audra felt she had to suggest it was referring to you and Bob, which is ridiculous.’
‘Oh! That’s horrible.’ And coming from Esme’s lips even the suggestion was appalling. ‘Why would she say that to you?’
‘Audra is the best friend I’ve ever had. I know she didn’t mean to hurt me. She just wants to make sure nothing unpleasant happens to me. In a way, it’s the same with Grant. He wants to help me. But why does the boy do such dangerous things? He burned up that vehicle, you know. I think he must have anyway. Please don’t mention anything I tell you in confidence. I just feel so strongly I can trust you. Grant’s been angry all the time lately and he thought that Jeep was mine and it had been used in ways that would get me into trouble. It wasn’t mine. I never saw it until it was burned out on Trap Hill.’
Alex noticed Grant in the doorway to the changing rooms, still dressed, watching them in the pool. He turned sharply toward the building exit and hurried out, not saying a word to anyone.
She returned her attention to Esme. ‘You’re trying to carry too much on your own.’ Alex thought about what Esme had said. ‘Bob is a man with a cool head. The two of you should work things out together before something really terrible happens.’
‘How sensible you are,’ Esme said. She shot an arm around Alex’s neck and hauled her into the water. ‘Silly girl,’ she said as Alex came up sputtering. ‘What sensible person sits beside a swimming pool with all their clothes and their shoes on? Now you’ve fallen in and who knows what kind of trouble you could get into?’
Trying to kick, her boots weighing her down, Alex grappled with Esme, pushing away as hard as she could and trying to turn toward the wall. She pulled in gulps of air – but Esme grabbed her hair and shoved her under again.
Water hammered at her eardrums. It was the only sound she heard while she held her breath and fought.
With hands under Alex’s arms, Esme pushed her to the surface again, behind her this time where there was less danger of the woman getting kicked or clutched, Alex thought, vaguely.
Alex coughed and gasped. She couldn’t reach her eyes and shook her head trying to clear her vision.
Esme put her mouth near Alex’s ear. ‘Listen to me, darling. Be very still and quiet and who knows, I may let you go. Think how sad you’ll make those lovely people who care about you if you drown in a silly accident. Are you listening?’
‘Yes,’ Alex whispered past a raw throat.
‘Good. This was a bad time for you to come fawning all over my husband. I need him now and I can’t afford to lose him to you. That article was the final straw. I knew I had to do something about you. You see, I was deeply in love with another man, Lance Pullinger. Then I found out he was cheating on me with a colorless little nobody. Darla something. I have a temper, I admit it. I went to talk to the woman, to ask her to stay away, but she laughed at me. Laughed, mind you. And I hit her. I didn’t mean to do it, but I killed her. And then I went to Lance who was mine, not hers, and he was too drunk to listen. I … he died and if anyone found out about my being there with him, they’d blame me. But I got away with both of those deaths. Until the police started poking around. And you thought you should interfere.’
A rush of heat engulfed Alex. She jerked her elbows back at Esme, and shouted, ‘You fool. You greedy fool. What you had wasn’t enough. A good husband and family wasn’t enough. You wanted everything, and more, and look what you did – for nothing.’
‘Shut up,’ Esme screamed.
Alex twisted, and twisted, desperate to reach the woman’s eyes, to scratch until she let go. Nothing worked. ‘Darla Crowley was Lance Pullinger’s sister,’ she cried, spitting out water, gagging. ‘He wasn’t having an affair with her. He was looking after her because she was going through bad times. But you were too blindly jealous to find out the truth, so you killed them both. For nothing, Esme. Do you hear me? You killed them for nothing!’
Esme’s breath came loud and fast. ‘Liar. You’re lying. I don’t believe you.’ But she made a choking sound and Alex knew the woman was crying, sobbing through her rage. ‘Did you think Bob cared a damn about you?’ Esme half-shrieked. ‘You little idiot. I’m the kind of woman he’s always wanted, not you. But it doesn’t matter what you think. I’m alone now and I need him. There’s no room for you and your meddling.’
‘Didn’t you hear what I just told you?’ Alex said, gasping for air.
Esme had no intention of letting her go. This outpouring came from a sick need to confess to someone she didn’t intend to keep alive once she’d finished talking. She had heard the futility of her own actions, she raged in her mind, but she couldn’t let go of what she’d planned, the way out of her crimes she intended to claim.
Alex didn’t allow herself to start trying to escape again. The more still she was, the more she breathed normally, the stronger she’d become and the more distracted Esme would be.
Where was Audra? Still swimming laps and oblivious of what was going on? Would she try to stop Esme if she realized?
‘Winifred was a mistake,’ Esme said, crying with every word. ‘It was Audra’s fault. Gladys heard Audra talk to me about it outside your damned pub, about how it might get out that I was involved with the murders. I had to make sure Gladys hadn’t told Winifred. Gladys was Audra’s problem. If the dog hadn’t made all that noise in the garden, I might not have killed the woman, but I was afraid someone would hear the dog and call the police.’
Why did you kill Winifred? She never harmed anyone. Esme changed her grip, held Alex by the back of the neck and pushed her under. The move was unexpected and Alex swallowed water. She tried to catch some breath but blackness billowed in at her. Both arms swung out in helpless arcs. Down, she went, farther, deeper, blacker.
Fingers threaded through hers. Fingers, or something wet and solid. Her mind wavered in and out, and then panic wiped everything.
Her face cleared the surface once more. Water gurgled up through her throat. She retched and spat.
Screams poked through the thick blanket over Alex’s brain. ‘Stop it, Esme!’ Audra, her goggles around her neck, fought with her ‘best friend’.
Alex made to pull up her knees. She wanted her feet free of the boots and to get away from this pool and these women. One boot came off, then the other while she kept slipping beneath the water with every struggling move she made.
The drag lessened. The surface roiled around her and Audra’s face, deep red, with the mouth stretched open, sank backward into the pool. Esme held onto the goggles, the straps twisted tightly around the other woman’s neck.
‘No,’ Alex yelled. Why had she allowed herself to remain a lousy swimmer, almost a non-swimmer. ‘Let her go. She’s dying.’
Esme didn’t answer. She snatched a handful of Alex’s curls and pulled her beside the still-flailing Audra. Esme held them both underwater.
Then Alex was free. She spun toward the other women and reached for Esme, but someone else was already there, hauling her off while she kept fighting to get away.
Grant had his mother in a paralyzing grip, his arms under hers from behind and his hands clasped backward, around her neck. All she could do was rage as he towed her to the edge of the pool.
Alex heard running feet but she didn’t see Audra. When she was a girl, Lily said – each time swimming lessons failed – if she ever had to swim, she would. Alex swam now and caught an arm as it rose from the water. She pulled as hard as she could until she saw Audra’s chin and mouth on the surface.
‘Got you,�
� a voice yelled. ‘Relax, Alex. Hold the other one, Dan. Tony, help him. Ambulance is on its way.’
Alex went limp. Her eyes wanted to close but she forced them open. The pool house seethed with movement. LeJuan Harding’s very muscular body turned to sidestroke with her toward the poolside. He raised her up until another man could lift her to safety.
‘Get out of there, LeJuan,’ she said, puffing at each word. ‘It’s not safe.’
‘Somebody hold a towel up and I will,’ LeJuan said. ‘Got a bit carried away with the strip down. This man isn’t swimming in his shoes – or anything else but his skin.’
THIRTY-NINE
‘Why would you want to sit in the corridor?’ Tony asked Alex. ‘It’s quieter in here.’
‘It feels as if the only news we’ll get is bad news.’
‘Sweetheart.’ He sat beside her on a small couch in one of the Gloucester Hospital waiting rooms. ‘What exactly is the news you want? Esme Hill is a murderer and she’s alive and going to be well. She’s under police surveillance while she recovers. But she’s the strongest woman any of us have seen – she’ll do fine.’
‘She’ll be in prison where she should be,’ Alex said. ‘Don’t imagine for a moment that I’m upset about her getting punished.’
‘What then?’
Alex laced her fingers between her knees. Dan and Bill and the rest of the squad were going about the business of winding down a case that had left no benefits in its wake. Lily had made it clear she had no intention of talking to Bob Hill about the past they shared, which meant Alex was left with a decision she didn’t know if she’d ever make; would she go to her father with the truth or let that truth die?
‘I don’t know really, Tony. Perhaps I’d like to think some small good thing had come out of all this. I don’t think it has, do you?’
Whisper the Dead Page 26
