‘I’m not really sure, but I think Detective Bronski is, and he’s the senior officer in the investigation.’
A few minutes later, Charlie made his way back to the ward. Jackie only had time to pop in on Angie for a few minutes. On her way out of the hospital, she stopped to switch her cellphone on. There was one missed message from Jim’s sister, Debbie, saying they needed to talk about the house and offering to meet.
67
The afternoon had dragged and Connie Lombardi was relieved when it was time to go home, her lack of interest in her work starting to show. It would only be a matter of time before her boss asked to see her, and she’d struggle to get another job so close to home. Berating herself, she stopped at the grocery store to pick up some cold cuts and salad, too despondent to make a proper meal. Besides, the temperature at this time in July was soaring and she couldn’t be bothered cooking in the heat. Now if Jason were around she would have made the effort, even down to buying a bottle of his favourite wine. Damn you Jason, where are you?
Paying at the cash register, she picked up the Boston evening paper and the local Springfield one. Might just read the newspapers while I’m eating, she thought. A half hour later, opening her front door, she went straight into the kitchen dropping the groceries on the kitchen counter. Opening the refrigerator, she poured a glass of soda, topping the glass up with ice from the door. She switched on the portable air conditioning unit. Two minutes later, her plate was loaded with the prepared salad and the cold ham.
The front page of the Boston paper had the usual mix of national and local city news. Not interested in the politics of Washington DC, she flipped the paper open to the second page. The news headline caught her eye.
MAN SOUGHT IN HIT AND RUN DEATH
Always fascinated by accidents and crime, she read on:
By Penny Harrington
In a news conference this morning, Detective Thomas Malin announced that what the police originally thought was a tragic accident between two cars on route 1 has turned into a murder inquiry. The accident, which happened around 7:30 last Wednesday morning, killed 39 year old bookshop manager Carol Wojinski.
‘That’s the woman that couple were talking about at the next table over lunch today,’ Connie said out loud. It was a habit of hers to talk out loud when she was on her own in the house, a habit she’d since childhood. But she’d always been careful not to do it in front of Jason, in case he thought that there was something wrong with her.
Turning her attention back to the page she read on:
Mrs Wojinski’s death has devastated her many customers and flowers started arriving in front of the bookshop, as soon as the news reached the residents of Springfield. Fellow storekeepers expressed their sadness and many mentioned how dangerous Route 1 is and said that complaints about the safety of the road have gone unheeded. But no one was more devastated than her husband of 5 years, Gus Wojinski, a public accountant, also 39.
Connie was distracted for a moment by an advertisement, which had caught her eye, on the opposite page, for the Filenes’ Basement sale. But then chastising herself for the easy distraction, she turned back to the story, deciding to at least skim read it.
Police are now looking for a man who had rented the other car involved, a brown Jeep. They have established that he rented the car two weeks ago from Value for U Rentals and supplied a Massachusetts driving licence in the name of Jason Craven. Police are unable to confirm if that is his true identity and are seeking the help of anyone who may know the man, described as 6 foot 1 inch with brown hair and eyes.
Connie’s eyes widened and she dropped her fork on the table, when she read the last paragraph. ‘Oh, my God … it can’t be. Jason, it can’t be you.’ She felt the contents of her stomach rising up as she rushed off to the toilet.
Several minutes later, she poured a glass of water, but the queasiness was still there. Knowing she had to be sure, Connie read the article again, line by line. ‘There must be another Jason Craven, surely. Besides he had a Connecticut driving licence, at least I think he did. God, I don’t know anymore.’ The article confirmed that no second body had been found, despite an extensive search and that police were now theorising that the crash of the second car had been staged and that Carol Wojinski’s VW Beetle had been run off the road.
Sitting at the table, her head in her hands, she started to cry. Several times over the past couple of weeks she’d tried Jason’s cellphone. At first, there was only the beep to leave a message. How many of those had she left? Earlier she’d tried again, but the tone was one she hadn’t encountered before. Was this number disconnected, her only connection to him severed? But what if the police were mistaken? There had to be an explanation. The Jason she knew wasn’t a murderer. But did she really know him?
Two hours later, the food having been consigned to the waste disposal, she was dozing on the couch, exhausted from her tears. The doorbell sounded, waking her suddenly. Disorientated by fear and exhaustion, she couldn’t work out what was happening or even what time of day it was. The air conditioning had left the room chilled and she shuddered. The doorbell went again, this time more persistent. Before daring to answer it, she opened the living room curtains slightly and saw two men at the top of the stairs. One had his finger on the doorbell, about to ring it again. The other had seen the slight twitch of the curtain, and pointed just as she let it go. There was no choice but to answer the door.
‘Connie Lombardi?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m Detective Malin and this is Detective Steiner, we would like to ask you some questions.’
Connie could feel the blush rising up from her neck, the way it always did when she was extremely embarrassed. Ushering them into the kitchen, they sat around the wooden table, the paper still opened at the story that had shocked her. There was no time to shut the paper, and she realised that both men had spotted the opened page.
‘I see you were reading the paper. Did that article mean anything to you?’ Detective Malin pointed to the Harrington by line.
‘I was just reading while I was eating. I wasn’t really taking much notice. I just happened to leave the paper open.’
‘Miss Lombardi, we are aware that you have been reporting a Jason Craven as missing to the Boston Police and that you also approached a newspaper reporter to help you find your boyfriend when the police didn’t feel there was anything they could do.’
Connie blushed again, but didn’t answer.
‘Miss Lombardi, we believe that Jason Craven is an eyewitness to a fatal car accident and we need to interview him as a matter of urgency. Do you know Jason Craven?’
‘My boyfriend’s name is Jason Craven, but I am sure there must be several people with that name.’
‘Does he meet this description?’ Detective Malin read out the details from the driving licence.
Connie nearly smiled. She had loved his height, his strength, the brown eyes, his sandy hair that she had run her fingers through. God Jason, please don’t let this be you. When Detective Malin finished, she nodded and then felt tears running down her face.
‘We realise this is difficult for you, but we need to know all we can about Jason Craven.’
Connie nodded and answered the questions as best she could, although throughout she felt a sense of detachment. The man they were asking her about was not the man who was her lover. Then again, the more questions they asked her, the more she realised how little she really knew Jason Craven.
‘No, I never met any friends of his.’
‘What about family members?’
‘I’m close to my mom. Well, she’s close to me might be a better way of putting it. He never seemed to mind that we spoke on the telephone a lot but he never mentioned his own mother. I asked him once but he wasn’t specific. Somehow, I got the feeling that she was dead, although he never a
ctually said that. I guess I just assumed it. He never mentioned brothers or sisters.’
‘What about work colleagues?’
‘He had his own business, at least that’s what he told me – imports or exports, I forget which. That’s why he was away a lot of the time. Sometimes I didn’t speak to him for a couple of days and his cellphone would be off, which is why I didn’t worry at first when I hadn’t heard from him, but then …’
‘How long was it before you reported him missing?’
‘About a week or so. Three days was the longest time before, so when it got to be longer than that, I got really worried, especially as he hadn’t said he’d be away. He always told me, always prepared me ...’ The tears welled up again and she excused herself while she got a glass of water. At the sink she realised she’d never offered the two detectives a drink. ‘Would either of you like a drink – a soda, ice tea?’
Malin shifted in his seat. ‘Thank you, but we only have another couple of questions.’
As Connie sat back down, Malin asked, ‘Do you have any photographs of Mr Craven?’
She could hardly lie, as she’d already mentioned one to the reporter. ‘I only have one on my cellphone. I took it when he wasn’t watching as he always said that he hated having his picture taken.’ She passed the phone to Detective Steiner, who looked and then passed it to Malin.
‘We need a copy of this and we need his cellphone number.’
Ten minutes later, they were on their way with both a print out of the photograph and an electronic copy sent to their email. Feeling a tremendous sense of betrayal, she shut the door behind them. The tears flowed freely as she reprimanded herself for going to the police in the first place and then the reporter. What had she set in motion? Where was it all going to end? Was Jason dead? Did he deliberately run that woman off the road?
The thought was shocking, as was the fact that he still had keys to her house. She resolved to get the locks changed in the morning. One thing she knew for sure, tonight she couldn’t face the prospect of telling her mother what was going on.
68
Annie took advantage of a lull in activity in the squad room to take out one of Angela Goodman’s diaries. She was plotting a timeline of what she was reading. This section of the diaries covered Angie’s engagement and then her marriage to her first husband, Dennis Cullen. There was about an hour to go before she was due to meet Charlie downstairs for a quick meal and then more reading of the diaries.
‘What’ya got there?’ Ellison asked as he passed Annie’s desk. He’d only just arrived back after being out all day.
‘And hello to you too,’ retorted Annie.
‘Sorry, too abrupt for you? Hi Detective, is that better?’
Annie smiled. ‘Definitely an improvement.’
The two laughed, as Ellison took his seat behind the desk.
‘So what has you so engrossed and taking notes?’
‘Angela Goodman’s diaries. There are volumes of them. She was nothing if not meticulous. These are the five years from when she first left home after she married Dennis Cullen.’
‘He was the first husband, right?’
‘Aye, the one who turned up at the hospital.’
‘So, are they helping to rule him out?’
‘Well, the marriage wasn’t the bed of roses he’d led us to believe. He wasn’t averse to a little slapping when she annoyed him. It got more frequent towards the end, when she was telling him the marriage was going nowhere.’
‘Hmm. We could do with more people keeping diaries.’
Annie returned to her reading.
‘Hey, are you doing anything after work?’ said Ellison.
‘That was none too subtle a change of topic. I was beginning to think you were interested in my work.’
‘Of course I am, Detective, but you’re also very beautiful.’
‘You know what they say about flattery, Dave. I’m sorry, but Captain Hegarty is picking me up after work to retrieve some more diaries. He’s staying at Mrs Goodman’s house now and they’re all there.’
‘I see.’ Ellison said, turning to his computer, ‘Not getting too close to the brother of the victim, are we?’
Annie shrugged.
‘I’ll take that as a ‘No’ then,’ he replied, as he started to type.
A half hour later, Charlie picked her up in his car. ‘Hi, how are you?’
‘I’m good, you?’
‘So, so. No change in Angie, but they haven’t asked me the final question yet. Jackie visited for a bit. Honestly, she’s been a rock through all of this.’
Annie inwardly cringed, but was determined not to show it. After all, she couldn’t really say that she and Charlie had anything going between them, although she secretly hoped there could be. ‘Did she say anything about Moorcroft?’
Charlie signalled as he turned down the main road, heading towards his sister’s place. ‘Not much really, she seems to still be in shock. She thinks Jim’s sister will want her things out of his house, so I may help her to put them in storage. Oh, and she asked if you were convinced he was the one who attacked Angie.’
‘She asked that?’
‘Yeah. I told her you seemed sceptical still, that you were reading the diaries.’ Charlie glanced at her briefly, while concentrating on the road.
‘Oh,’ Annie hesitated.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing, but it probably would have been better not to mention that, as it is part of the investigation.’
‘Come on, Annie, you can’t be thinking that there’s any problem mentioning the diaries to Jackie. I bet she already knew that Angie kept diaries. Besides, are you really convinced that my sister had some deep dark secret in her past that brought all this on?’
Annie didn’t reply.
‘I feel uncomfortable with it all, like we’re invading her privacy.’
‘Charlie, you need to let me do my job. Things don’t add up for me. That’s all I can say and her past could certainly be relevant. You told me yourself that the age gap makes it unlikely that you would know much from years ago. Already, Dennis Cullen hasn’t been that truthful with us.’
‘What?’ Charlie glanced over again, just as they were approaching the house.
Annie regretted what she’d said but now that it was out, she had to offer an explanation. ‘Nothing too serious, only the marriage wasn’t that great. Let’s just say that Cullen had a temper and took it out on her at times.’
Charlie turned into the driveway and switched off the engine. He just sat there for a few seconds, staring at the house. ‘I don’t know what to believe any more. It’s almost as if the Angie I am finding out about is a stranger. When I sit with her in the hospital, all I can think about is my childhood, and how important she was to me. I love her, but can’t help her.’
‘Charlie, that’s not true, you are doing everything you can. Please, let me handle my side of things. Just be there for her.’
69
A half hour later, as Charlie showered, Annie prepared a salad and coated two steaks with black pepper and olive oil, ready to barbecue on the patio. It was a beautiful summer evening and not for the first time, Annie wished she’d met Charlie under other circumstances. She was frustrated that she didn’t have more answers for him. The thought still lingered that if only she’d believed Angela Goodman that day in the station, none of this might have happened. But, of course, she wouldn’t have met Charlie either. ‘You can’t miss what you never had’ her father would have said.
Charlie, walking into the kitchen, broke her train of thought. His hair was damp, but he looked more relaxed in his cargo shorts and cream T-shirt, which contrasted with his tanned skin. What Annie wanted to do was to give him a hug, but instead she passed him a glass of
wine.
He handed over a few more diaries. ‘I found these when I had a double check in the trunk. They were in a separate compartment that I didn’t even realise it had. I also found this.’ He passed her what looked like a scrapbook, with newspaper clippings, now yellowed with age. ‘This was also in the same compartment. I haven’t looked through it yet.’
As Annie opened up the scrapbook, Charlie picked up the steaks, took them outside and placed them on the barbecue.
‘How do you like your steak?’ he shouted a minute later. Annie decided she needed some time to relax, to stop being a detective, so she left the scrapbook and took her glass of wine outside.
‘Medium rare, more rare than medium. Are we eating out here?’
‘Sure. Grab the salad. Dressings are in the refrigerator. Pick what you want. I’ll have any.’
Annie stepped back into the house and brought out everything they needed and set out the cutlery on the picnic table. A few minutes later, he passed her a plate with her steak on it.
‘So, have the autopsy results come in yet?’ Charlie queried, as he sat opposite her at the table.
‘Charlie, could we eat first? Autopsies aren’t exactly the topic of choice over dinner.’
He smiled. ‘Sorry.’
Over dinner, Annie told him more about Scotland and growing up in Huntly, about the police training and about her dad. She hadn’t talked so much about herself for years. Paul knew her background – she was never a stranger to him, since they virtually grew up together. Telling someone else was unusual for her. To her delight, Charlie seemed genuinely interested and asked lots of questions.
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