Only I knew what he ordered and where from. Only I knew that, while Lakeside was supposedly a house free from alcohol, tobacco and substance abuse, Aram ordered the finest whisky and wine for his own consumption, and a variety of pills and potions that I had never heard of. He told me he needed medicine in case anyone in the community became ill. He would treat them with remedies from these ingredients.
I accepted every word he said.
43
‘Honestly, Tom, Eddie’s wife’s arms looked dreadful,’ Becky said as she walked with Tom from his office to the incident room. ‘She has that thin porcelain-white skin – you know, the type that’s almost translucent – so the bruises showed up more than they would on most. They looked to me like someone had grabbed her arms and squeezed really hard.’
‘And you think it was the husband?’
‘I don’t know. She seemed a bit apologetic for barging in on us, and I couldn’t decide whether she was being polite, or whether she was frightened of annoying Eddie. Or maybe she was embarrassed by the bruises. Eddie said nothing. I should have asked him what had happened, but there didn’t seem much point. He would have made some excuse – lied through his teeth. He was hardly likely to say “I gave her a good shaking”, was he?’
Tom had to agree. There was rarely any point in asking a question when the answer was most likely going to be a lie.
‘What did you make of him?’
Becky grunted. ‘I found myself liking him, which made me feel a bit stupid when I saw Kirsten. I had preconceived ideas when I arrived – prejudices, probably. And he seemed so different from what I’d expected, as did his house. Apart from the fact that I needed sunglasses when he smiled, he seemed quite normal, but if Genevieve was in touch with him, what do you think her game was?’
‘Not a clue.’ Tom thought for a moment. ‘Do you want to have another chat with Sara Osborne, see if she can cast any light on it? If not, Rob can ask Genevieve’s friends, and at some stage we need to speak to Niall again. Let’s rule Eddie Carlson in or out, if we can.’
‘And his wife?’ Becky added. ‘What if Kirsten got upset at the thought of Genevieve chasing her husband?’
‘I always want to say it seems extreme to kill someone for something so trivial. Upsetting, but surely not enough to take someone’s life? Unfortunately, as we both know, people have killed for much less.’
Tom was about to head over to talk to Keith Sims, when Becky stopped him with a question: ‘How’s it going at Martha Porter’s place?’
Tom scratched the back of his neck. ‘Pretty useless. The place is clean. We didn’t find any bloodstained clothes, so nothing that connects her to the murder scene. No laptop either. I presume that the other phone she apparently has – according to the childminder – gives her web access if she needs it, but the number isn’t registered, so it’s a burner. They’ve literally pulled the place apart to find it. What I don’t get, Becky, is why she’s been covering her tracks for so long. This isn’t a recent thing. If she murdered Genevieve, I can understand why she’d do it now, but why for so many years?’
Becky bit her top lip. ‘You don’t suppose she’s done this before, do you?’
‘It’s a thought. We can run the DNA we’re collecting from her flat and see if anything jumps out, and we could look for similar cases. But what do we base the search on? Do we believe she killed Genevieve out of jealousy? Should we assume a previous killing was for the same reason, or that she has a short fuse and could have killed anyone for any reason at all – which is not remotely helpful?’
Becky lifted her hands from her sides, palms up, in a gesture of hopelessness. ‘There aren’t many unsolved murders of women, so if this is a pattern it should be easy to spot. On the other hand, lots of women go missing – circumstances unexplained – and any of them could be dead.’
‘Marvellous! Let’s start with what we know. If Martha killed Genevieve, the most likely motive is jealousy, so let’s look at missing women in the right age range who have disappeared in the last five years. But restrict it to the Greater Manchester region. I doubt she would have strayed far with a small child.’
Becky frowned. ‘That’s a point, you know. The childminder says she seems devoted to her son. Would she have left him alone in her flat at night while she popped out to kill someone?’
‘More to the point,’ Tom added, ‘we’ve confirmed that she doesn’t have a car. So how the hell did she get to the Tyldesley Loopline? It’s about four miles each way, so it’s walkable, but she’d have had to leave the child alone for a couple of hours, plus the time she spent with Genevieve. Maybe she has a bike. Let’s get hold of Rob and check.’
‘Leave it with me,’ Becky said. She spun on her heel and headed for her desk.
Tom returned to his office to prepare for a forthcoming CPS conference about a recent case and to make a start on some annual performance reviews that were imminent. He loathed paperwork at the best of times; how was he supposed to concentrate on a staff retention plan when there was a killer out there? He also couldn’t help being distracted by the fact that Lucy and Kate would arrive back that night and were booked into a hotel at the airport. He couldn’t wait to see his daughter, and even though he’d chatted to her onscreen while she’d been away, he was excited about giving her a hug, eating dinner with her, just spending time with her. He’d loved it when she lived with them and had missed her desperately when she left for Australia, but he had to try to curb his desire to keep her close and think what was best for Lucy. If he suggested that she and Kate live near him, would that be to serve his interests rather than his daughter’s? At her age, school and friends were so important.
His musings were interrupted by Becky. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t know she was there until he looked up to see her standing in his open doorway, a triumphant look on her face.
‘They’ve found a bike!’
‘Where?’
‘It wasn’t in her flat, but there’s a cellar accessible from the outside. The chiropodist told her that if she wanted to store anything in there, she was welcome. Anyway, Rob asked his permission to have a look, and there it was.’
‘And did the landlord say it was Martha’s?’
‘Well, no. It’s actually his. But Martha had access to it, and so it hardly matters who it belongs to, does it?’
‘Let’s see what the evidence says. I guess there may be prints – although I honestly can’t see her being so stupid given everything else she’s done. What about soil on the tyres – can we match anything to the tracks at the Loopline?’
‘I don’t know, but it would have been easy for her to get there and back. She could have got onto the Roe Green Loopline at Monton, by the church. Then it’s a straight run. It’s not impossible that there were people out at that time of night, so shall I put out a request for information?’
‘Good idea. And ask the team to get me some photos to show where the bike was, please.’ Becky gave him a quizzical look. ‘Let’s not give any defence lawyer a perfectly plausible reason for Martha’s prints being on the bike.’
Becky pulled a face and turned to leave, and Tom rested his chin on his knuckles. Everything pointed to Martha’s guilt, from her secrecy to the fact that she had run away. He should be pleased that they had a viable suspect. Now all they had to do was find her. In spite of all that, he wasn’t prepared to close his mind to other options. There had to be more to it. Had she been acting alone? Was this the first time she had killed?
Her life was shrouded in secrecy, so what was she hiding?
44
MARTHA
I knew as soon as we left the supermarket that Mum and Aram weren’t heading to the post office. They turned the wrong way out of the car park, but I followed them anyway.
They didn’t stop anywhere else but headed straight back to Lakeside. As they turned off at the final junction I sailed past the end of the road. I was too close for comfort. I’d tried to keep my distance, but t
here weren’t many cars around on those back roads, so it had been difficult. I don’t think Mum would have noticed me, though, and she was the one with the rear-view mirror.
I don’t know what to do next. My entire plan rests on talking to Dad first. He might not be prepared to help, but I’m confident he won’t give me away to Aram.
I drive back towards town, wondering what my options are. There aren’t many. I head past the entrance to the supermarket and on towards the smaller shops. The red and yellow post office sign catches my eye. There’s one thing I can do, even if it’s only to confirm that Dad is still alive.
Fortunately, there’s a parking space right outside, and I pull into it. I don’t want to take Alfie into the shop with me. What if someone’s there from Lakeside – maybe someone I don’t know, but who knows about me? But I can’t leave him out here on his own, so I have to stop thinking and just act.
‘We’re going in here, Alfie. Come on.’
I get out and open the back door of the car, pulling his sun hat on before I lift him out of his seat.
The post office has been redecorated and has a new layout, but the lady behind the counter is the same one who was there all those years ago when, as a child, I was still allowed to come here. She’s not seen me since I was ten, so I feel relatively safe speaking to her. It’s a gamble, though.
‘Can I help you, duck?’ she says with a friendly smile.
I cling on to Alfie’s hand. There’s so much in this shop to fascinate him, and I’m scared he’ll wander off.
‘I’m not sure. I was wondering if Joel Kalu still comes in to collect the post for Lakeside?’
‘Ah, that he does. And it was so good to see him again after all this time. It were years, weren’t it, Bill?’ She turns to a man I hadn’t noticed, sitting behind the counter reading a newspaper. He grunts something, and she continues. ‘We thought he must have moved on, didn’t we, Bill? Do you know him, then?’
I have no idea how much the local people understand about Lakeside and what happens there, but I take a chance.
‘Yes. I stayed at the house for a while about seven years ago, and I remember him coming to collect the mail. I was in the area, so I thought I’d catch up with him, but it’s not important.’
The woman signals me to step to one side while she takes the money for some chocolate buttons from a little girl. The child’s mother mouths ‘Thanks’ to me as she ushers her daughter out.
‘Sorry about that, duck. But as we’re just chatting…’
‘It’s not a problem. You were saying, about Joel Kalu?’
Alfie is tugging on my hand, but for now I have to ignore him.
‘Oh yes. Joel. Such a lovely man, but I think he must have been proper poorly. We didn’t see him for years, did we, Bill?’
Bill looks over the top of his spectacles and nods, finally goaded into speaking. ‘That’s right. Quite a shock when he turned up.’
‘When was this?’ I twist my head from side to side, from one to the other, while casting a glance through the window, wary that someone might turn up.
‘It’s hard to say,’ the woman says. ‘I guess it must have been five years or more since he stopped coming, isn’t that right, Bill? Another chap came, but he wasn’t friendly. Showed his identification – we can’t hand the mail over to just anyone, you know – and went. We asked him about Joel, but he said he knew nothing about him. Very odd, we thought. Anyway, it must be about six months ago that Joel turned up. We were that surprised to see him!’
‘Did he say where he’d been?’ I ask, not sure if I’m pushing my luck with the questions. But it strikes me that the woman wants to talk, and Bill isn’t offering much in the way of conversation.
‘Said he’d been poorly. Didn’t say what with. But he looks different, you know. That black hair of his is white now, and he’s so thin! Such a nice man.’ She straightens some magazines and it’s time for me to stop asking questions.
‘Glad to hear he’s okay at least,’ I say.
Alfie is still pulling at my hand and I bend down.
‘Can I have a drink, please, Mummy?’ he asks.
I ruffle his hair, pick up a bottle of water and a few treats.
‘Didn’t he used to come in on a Wednesday, or have I imagined that?’ I ask as I hand over my purchases.
‘Goodness,’ she says, taking the money from me and giving me a sly look. ‘You’ve got a good memory. Yes, it used to be Wednesday after he’d done what he called “the big shop”. But he doesn’t do that now, so he comes on a Thursday. Usually first thing – about nine-ish. Shall I tell him you were asking for him?’
‘No, not to worry. I don’t know how long I’m going to be around. I thought I might bump into him, that’s all. Thanks for your help.’
I can feel the woman watching us as we leave. I asked too many questions. Even if I don’t come back tomorrow, she’ll tell him. And he’ll know it’s me.
Five years or more since he stopped coming. My guess is it’s closer to six – and I’m certain I know what happened.
They punished him for what he did. I have no idea what form that punishment would have taken, but whatever they had done to him, it must have been enough to turn his hair white. I know only too well how it feels to incur Aram’s displeasure.
45
LAKESIDE
‘You’ve disappointed me, India. Tonight you’ll face the group and acknowledge your behaviour and the harm you could so thoughtlessly have done to our community.’
I went over and over Aram’s words as I lay on my bed, waiting for the moment when I would have to stand in front of my friends, the people I thought of as my family, and let them know how I had let them down.
Tears soaked into my pillow, and my stomach ached from hours of crying. But the time was getting closer, and at any moment there would be a knock on the door. Someone would be sent to get me, to take me down to the room where everyone would be seated, waiting for me to give my testimony; to be tried and found guilty.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, the last vestiges of self-respect coming to my rescue. I wouldn’t let them see me like this. I ran to the bathroom and washed my face, splashing it over and over with cold water. Finally, I forced my head into the bowl and opened my eyes, trying to take the redness from them. Then I washed from head to toe, to remove the grimy sweat that had settled on my body as I had lain curled up on the bed, the dust and grass still on my clothes.
I went back to my bedroom, pulled some clean jeans and a T-shirt from the cupboard, brushed my unruly hair and sat bolt upright, waiting. I would take my punishment and face the disgust of the community.
There was one woman living with us – Alice – who I knew disliked me. I had done nothing to hurt or upset her, but although she hid her loathing well from everyone except me, she took every opportunity to undermine me. She was a current favourite of Aram’s, and I could only think her thinly disguised animosity was based on her jealousy of my special status with him. Had he known how she behaved towards me, he would have been furious, but it was my word against hers, so I said nothing.
Maybe her antipathy was rooted in a conversation I’d heard between her and Aram a few weeks previously. I’d decided to start work early in Aram’s study because a delivery was expected that day and I needed to go to the courier’s to collect it. The door between the study and Aram’s private rooms was ajar, and I heard Alice’s voice.
‘You and me would make beautiful babies, Aram. Why don’t you let me stay for the next few nights? Surely you’d love a child?’ Her tone was plaintive, and I knew it would irritate him.
‘Maybe one day I will have a child, but I can assure you that it won’t be with you, Alice. Now go and do your work.’
I heard a soft sob, and she ran from the room. I pretended to have heard nothing and carried on working. But she knew, and her hatred of me grew.
On the night when Aram decreed that I was to stand before the community to admit to my mistakes, I wasn
’t surprised when the door opened without so much as a knock and Alice walked in. Aram must have known, somehow, that sending her would be the worst humiliation, which had to mean that he understood how she felt about me. I should have realised he would know. His eyes saw everything – pierced everyone’s minds, so they ceased to be their own.
Alice smiled as she looked at me, but it was a smile of self-satisfaction, and I realised at that moment that she had no future there. Aram would use her while she pleased him, but then she would be gone. He wouldn’t tolerate tension between members of his family, and it seemed I didn’t need to tell him anything.
She was surprised when I smiled back. I would take whatever was about to be thrown at me, and realising Alice’s days were numbered made me feel infinitely better.
When I entered the meditation room, everyone was there, seated on the floor or on cushions. I saw Dad glance at me with a hint of concern. He knew better than to show me any sympathy, so he quickly averted his gaze. Mum gave me a stony stare, as if my disgrace reflected badly on her. It was hard to see how, as she hadn’t behaved like my parent for years. I was told to stand at the front of the room, and Aram asked me in a mild voice to tell the group why I had been summoned.
I took a deep breath. ‘I went to town on an errand for Aram. I was late arriving back because I met a boy and spent some time with him.’
I said no more than that and waited for the next question. The only one that no one would dare ask – and despite my humiliation, I would never answer – was about the nature of the errand.
‘Had you seen this boy before?’ Aram asked.
‘Yes. He works in the courier’s office.’
Close Your Eyes Page 18
