The Deadly Truth

by Valerie Keogh

  ‘Oh, you noticed his eyes, did you? Nice-looking, is he?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ Melanie said, more sharply than she’d intended, immediately regretting being rude. She pressed a hand over her forehead. ‘I’m sorry, Caitlin. He’s new. I want to make sure we can trust him. I suppose I’ll be second-guessing myself for a while thanks to Hugo.’

  ‘That’s completely understandable,’ Caitlin said. ‘I don’t know a Liam Quinn, but I’ll ask around if it will make things easier for you.’

  ‘You’re a good friend.’

  ‘So you keep saying, and as your friend, I’m suggesting you should go see a counsellor. That bastard did a number on you.’

  Melanie remembered what the last counsellor she’d visited had said and repeated it to her friend. ‘They don’t offer a magic get-out-of-jail-free card, you know, Caitlin. Anyway, honestly, I’m fine. It’s not the first time I’ve been let down by a guy, after all.’

  ‘Okay.’ The word was dragged out, full of doubt. ‘If you need me, Mel, you know I’m here for you.’

  ‘Thank you, I know, and I really do appreciate it.’

  They chatted a while longer about nothing in particular before they began their goodbyes.

  ‘You promise to ring if you need me,’ Caitlin said.

  ‘I promise, I promise, now goodbye, and thank you again.’

  Melanie hung up. It was early but she was so tired bed seemed the best place to be. She snuggled under the duvet, her hand creeping under the pillow to hold the knife that still lay there, her talisman, its solid handle giving her comfort.

  She wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep when she heard the doorbell, and opened her eyes, startled. Had she imagined it? Then it came again, longer this time, a double ring, someone very impatient or very determined to wake her. The message from nobody flashed in her head, an internal neon light. Time to pay. Was this it?

  No, that didn’t make sense. He was hardly going to ring the doorbell. But somebody was. She swung her feet to the floor, grabbed her robe from the back of the door and pulled it on. Brushing tangled hair back with trembling hands, she stepped out into the hallway. The front door was solid, no indication of who stood on the other side. She moved closer and yelped with fright when the doorbell sounded again, stumbling the last couple of steps to lean against the door and press her ear to it.

  They must have been listening and heard her yelp. ‘Ms Scott? Are you there? It’s the police, Ms Scott, DI Elliot.’

  Recognising his voice, on a whoosh of relief, she fumbled with the safety chain, undid the lock and opened the door. ‘Sorry,’ she said, standing back to let him and a short, stocky woman into the hall. ‘I was asleep, you startled me.’

  Elliot tilted his head towards the woman at his side. ‘This is DS Burke.’

  Melanie smiled at her. It wasn’t returned and her own faded in response. Only then did she begin to wonder why the police were calling on her at… ‘What time is it?’

  ‘A little after three,’ Elliot said. ‘Would you mind if we sat down?’

  Three in the morning? Melanie looked at him in confusion before waving them both through to the kitchen. She felt as though she’d wandered into one of those crime series that she watched too often. It seemed to be her turn to speak. ‘Would you like some tea? Or coffee?’

  ‘No, thanks,’ Elliot answered for them both.

  Deciding she needed something, resisting the temptation to shock them by going next door and bringing back the whisky, Melanie filled the kettle and clicked the switch. She could feel their eyes on her, she’d no idea what was going on but she knew the police calling at this crazy hour could only be something bad.

  Sitting with a strong mug of coffee, she looked at Sam Elliot. He’d been friendly, kind even, when he’d called on Friday. Today, his expression was guarded. ‘Should I be calling my solicitor?’ Another line from a television series, it seemed appropriate.

  ‘Why, do you think you need one?’ DS Burke said. The detective had bad teeth, her eyes were sharp and mean and she was looking at Melanie as if she knew she was guilty of something.

  ‘I don’t, it seemed to be the thing to say.’ She ran a hand through her hair. This wasn’t television and it was three in the morning. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Where were you this evening?’ DI Elliot asked. He wasn’t looking as sympathetically at Melanie as the last time they’d met, but he was wearing that terrible tie again. It showed he had a heart.

  ‘I was out with a friend for a drink.’ It was only a little white lie to call Quinn a friend, saying she’d been out with a private investigator might lead to questions she didn’t want to answer.

  ‘What time did you get home?’

  She frowned, trying to remember. ‘I’m not exactly sure, around nine.’

  ‘And you’ve been here since?’

  ‘Yes.’ She watched them exchange glances but they gave nothing away.

  ‘Did you bring your friend back with you?’ There was a sneer on the word ‘friend’ and a suggestion in the small eyes. DS Burke was one of those people who made everything sound sordid.

  Melanie didn’t answer, looking back to Elliot instead. ‘I’d like to know what this is about, please?’

  Suddenly, DS Burke gave a satisfied smirk. She lifted her hand and pointed towards the kitchen. ‘There’s a knife missing,’ she said, indicating the row of knives with the glaring gap in the middle. ‘Can you tell us where it is?’

  Of course, Melanie could, she knew exactly where it was, but what did it say about her that she slept with a knife beside her pillow? Seeing the hard look in Burke’s eyes, Melanie knew she wasn’t going to let it go. ‘It’s in the bedroom, I can go and get it if you really want to see it?’

  ‘Maybe you could show us?’

  Reluctantly, she led the way. It was a cosy, pretty room with rosebud-sprigged wallpaper, white linen on the bed and the slightly muggy smell of night-time bedrooms anywhere. All looked perfectly normal except for the knife. Its dull black handle and long, gleaming blade was dark and lethal and totally out of place beside her pillow.

  ‘Well, how about that,’ DS Burke said, a gleam in her eye as she fished disposable gloves from her pocket and reached to pick it up. She peered along its length, unable to prevent disappointment crossing her features. ‘It looks clean,’ she admitted, looking at Elliot.

  Melanie was going to assure her it was clean, that it had never been used but stopped herself in time. Was this what it was all about? Was she under suspicion for having stabbed someone? Time to pay. Was she going to be framed for a murder she hadn’t committed?

  ‘Why do you keep it here?’ Elliot asked.

  ‘I was feeling a bit nervous,’ she said, trying to keep her voice firm, and because she’d really had enough, she added, ‘It’s not against the law, is it?’ Leaving that floating in the air, she headed back to the kitchen and sat in the same chair. She heard Burke give an unattractive snort, then the low murmur of voices before both officers rejoined her. Burke laid the knife carefully on the kitchen counter before taking her seat.

  DI Elliot’s eyes were grave as he looked at her. ‘Getting back to the question DS Burke asked a while ago, did your friend come home with you?’

  Melanie shook her head, pressing her lips together to stop them trembling.

  ‘Okay,’ Elliot said slowly. ‘Did you, by any chance, speak to anyone after you got home?’

  Relief almost made her smile. ‘Actually, I did. I rang my friend, Caitlin.’ She looked at DS Burke who was writing in a dog-eared notebook. ‘That’s Detective Inspector Caitlin Ballantyne, by the way.’ She took a great deal of pleasure in seeing the writing stop abruptly.

  ‘What time was that at?’ Elliot said, his expression less grim.

  ‘Around ten. It’ll be on my mobile, I can get it and show you.’

  ‘That would be helpful,’ he said with a slight smile.

  She didn’t move. ‘I think I’ve been very co-operative and
I will get my phone to show you but not until you tell me what’s going on.’

  Elliot leaned closer, his elbows resting on his knees. ‘We’ve identified Hugo Field,’ he said softly. ‘His real name is Oscar Franklin. He has been arrested a number of times for fraud but he’s a slippery customer and has always managed to avoid prison.’

  Melanie released her breath in a long sigh. ‘This time he won’t, will he?’

  Elliot shook his head. ‘I’m afraid he won’t be going to prison this time either, he’s been murdered. His body was found in Richmond Park at midnight. He’d been stabbed.’

  21

  In a daze, Melanie found her phone and handed it to DI Elliot who made a note of the time of her call. ‘We were given an unofficial time of death,’ he told her, handing it back, ‘approximately eleven pm. Just after you were speaking to your friend. It looks like you have a good alibi.’

  ‘Not that I want to be a suspect,’ she said, frowning, ‘but how can you be so sure. Maybe, I took my phone with me.’

  He shook his head. ‘Mobile coverage in Richmond Park is notoriously unreliable and patchy. I will, of course, be having a word with Inspector Ballantyne but I’d imagine she’ll confirm that your call was uninterrupted, won’t she?’

  ‘Of course, she will. Actually, my phone was going flat and I asked her to ring me on my home number so that’s even more certain.’ Melanie was horrified at the thought that anyone would think she was capable of such violence. Without a doubt, she had wanted to make Hugo pay for deceiving her and had imagined causing him pain and suffering but she was only capable of the thought, not the deed. ‘I can’t believe I was even considered a suspect.’

  ‘We deal with facts, not emotions, Ms Scott. He deceived you, caused you trouble in your job. It gives you a motive for killing him.’

  ‘He is… was… a big man, I’m not sure I’d have gone after him with a knife.’

  ‘It’s perfect weather for it,’ DS Burke said, looking at the knife. ‘Hide that under your coat, get close enough, whip it out and stick it in. A woman could easily have done it.’

  Melanie looked at her aghast. Surely it wasn’t that easy to kill someone? Then she dropped her head, shutting her eyes on the memory that had never gone away, never faded with the years, that young Robert Redford lookalike, Matthew Thomas. She above all people should know that it was unbelievably easy to kill if you used the appropriate weapon. A sharp blade or lethal, ruinous rumours. Both equally dangerous and fatal. There was a heavy weight of guilt in her chest. Her throat thickened and she prayed the detectives would leave before she fell apart. She could feel their eyes on her and didn’t want to look up to see Elliot’s sympathy or Burke’s derision.

  ‘That’s all for the moment,’ Elliot said. ‘You have my card, if there’s anything that comes to you, please ring me.’

  She lifted her head, and met his eyes with a slight smile, then watched as Burke, with exaggerated care, put the knife into an oversized evidence bag. It seemed an unnecessary thing to do; hadn’t Melanie an alibi? She couldn’t summon up the energy to argue.

  ‘It’ll be returned as soon as it’s been processed,’ Burke said and followed up with the trite, ‘It’s always best to err on the side of caution.’

  Elliot looked as if he wanted to say something. Instead, he shrugged and turned to Melanie with a final, ‘We’ll be in touch if we have any further questions.’ With DS Burke trailing after him, the knife in her hand, he headed out to where his car was parked on the far side of the street.

  Melanie didn’t wait for him to pull away, she shut the door, locked it, and put the safety chain in place. Switching out the lights, she climbed back into bed feeling as if her world had twisted out of shape. The handsome, debonair man leaning against the bar in Blacks appeared before her eyes in full colour. She could almost hear his voice and felt a pang of sadness that her regret was for the memory, not the man. Who’d have thought that such a good package could contain something so nasty. She wasn’t glad he was dead, but she wasn’t sorry either.

  She managed to fall into a restless sleep, waking before her alarm went off at seven. Caitlin, she knew, would already be up. Reaching for her phone, she pressed the speed dial key for her and waited.

  ‘Mel, you okay?’ The voice was a little breathless.

  ‘You’ve been working out?’

  ‘This body doesn’t stay this fabulous without hard work, let me tell you, but I doubt very much if you’re ringing me at cockcrow to discuss my fitness regime.’

  ‘No, I had a visit from the police earlier. At three, to be exact.’ Caitlin’s deafening screeched what! in reply, forced her to hold the phone away from her ear. ‘Relax, it’s okay,’ she said and with as little emotion as she could, told her exactly what had happened.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Caitlin said. ‘Well, that bastard is no loss to the world.’ She gave a quick laugh. ‘So, I’m your alibi?’

  ‘Yes, as long as the official time of death doesn’t change. And,’ she added, remembering the knife that DS Burke had insisted on taking, ‘as long as they don’t find any blood on the knife.’

  There was a pregnant pause. ‘They’re not going to, are they?’

  ‘No, I scrubbed it really hard,’ Melanie said with heavy sarcasm. ‘What a thing to ask?’

  ‘Why mention blood in the first place! Honestly, Mel, be careful what you say, police take things literally in these situations.

  ‘I didn’t think I was speaking to the police, I thought I was speaking to my friend, Caitlin.’ Melanie felt tears well. She couldn’t handle this. ‘I have to go,’ she said and disconnected. It rang again almost immediately. It was tempting to ignore it but knowing her friend would be feeling guilty, she answered.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Caitlin said instantly. ‘Listen, how about we meet after work. I’ll call to your office; we can go and get something to eat?’

  ‘I don’t know–’

  ‘You have to eat.’

  The same words Hugo had used. If she’d stuck to her guns then, maybe things would have turned out differently. Hindsight, the bane of her life.

  Agreeing to go for something to eat with Caitlin at five, she hung up and got ready for the day. It was going to be long and tiring.

  Luckily, she’d no appointments arranged and there were no meetings to attend. She avoided the staffroom where colleagues might question her pallor and the dark rings under her eyes that makeup didn’t hide. Instead, she stayed in her office with the door shut. Although the merger was on hold there were a few lingering issues with other clients that needed to be sorted, resulting in long phone conversations, followed up by extensive and expansive emails. There was enough work to keep her busy and her mind from lingering on Hugo’s murder, or dwelling on what nobody had meant by, Time to pay. Now and then, her eyes would lose focus and she would wonder if Cherry had gone through this and had decided that it was impossible to go on.

  Melanie had sworn she wasn’t going to go down that road, that she was stronger than Cherry. She almost smiled at her hubris. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  Late afternoon, she yawned and stretched. She was glad she’d let Caitlin persuade her to go out for dinner. When her phone rang, she looked at it, wondering if she should ignore it, then shook her head and picked it up. ‘Melanie Scott.’

  It was Rona. ‘There’s a man to see you. A Sam Elliot. He’s insisting you’ll want to see him.’

  ‘That’s fine, send him in. It was something I’d arranged and forgot to add to my diary,’ Melanie said, not really caring if the lie was swallowed or not.

  The knock on her door, a few seconds later, was so soft that if she hadn’t been listening out for it, she wouldn’t have heard it. ‘Come in,’ she called.

  DI Elliot came around the edge of the door hesitantly, his eyes raking the room, his expression relaxing when he realised she was alone. ‘I was hoping to get you on your own but wasn’t sure if you shared an office or what, and I was afraid to ask that rather stern-loo
king woman.’

  ‘Partners all have their own offices,’ she said, waving him to a chair. ‘Senior partners have very grand ones, but I guess you’re not here to learn about the layout of Masters’ offices.’

  He shook his head. ‘Not that it’s not very interesting,’ he said with an attempt at humour.

  She gave it a quick smile. He was wearing a different but equally ghastly tie. ‘Another gift from your daughter,’ she asked, waving a finger up and down.

  He looked down, then back at her with a grin. ‘No,’ he said, ‘this one is courtesy of my wife. She thinks she’s got good taste; I haven’t had the heart to tell her otherwise.’ He shuffled in his seat. ‘But I’m not here to talk about my sartorial splendour either.’

  ‘No, I guessed you weren’t.’ She felt strangely calm. Maybe it was because of what she’d been thinking of such a short time before, that there was always a way out should she choose to take it. Sometimes, having options, no matter how bad they were made things a little easier.

  ‘I’m investigating a murder, Ms Scott, and I don’t have time for treading carefully around people’s feelings. So, here’s what I’m thinking. It seemed to me that you were devastated by Hugo’s betrayal. Given the time frame, it looks as if you are in the clear but there’s always the possibility that someone took revenge on your behalf.’

  Melanie looked at him in wide-eyed disbelief. ‘Seriously? You think I asked someone to kill Hugo for me?’

  ‘You were distraught about the way he used you and about the repercussions for your career.’

  She had been upset about Hugo – distraught about Cherry and those terrifying emails. ‘I have other things going on in my life,’ she said tiredly. ‘Yes, I was upset, but no, I didn’t ask someone to kill Hugo to get revenge.’

  Elliot waited a beat. ‘Maybe you didn’t need to ask.’ He looked at her. ‘Who did you tell?’