Death in the Family

by Jill McGown

  He wondered if that was why he and Kayleigh got on so well; she had never known who her father was at all, and perhaps that shared feeling of rootlessness had given them the bond that undoubtedly existed, as strong as if he were her real father. And something of that bond existed between him and his Aunt Jean; their lives had taken separate paths when he had reached adulthood, and even the exchange of Christmas cards had ceased once he’d taken up with Lesley and found himself moving every few months. He still sent Aunt Jean one, but she never knew where to send his.

  She might have moved herself, he supposed, but he doubted it.

  Judy was sitting on Lloyd’s reclining chair, the only piece of furniture he had imported from his own flat, holding Charlotte close, rocking her gently backward and forward. She had long since gone to sleep, but Judy needed the comforting motion. She couldn’t let Charlotte go, because nothing could happen to her while she was in her arms—no one could steal her; no one could harm her.

  It could have been Charlotte. That was all that was going through Judy’s head as she sat and rocked. It could have been Charlotte. And there was no comfort to be had in her overwhelming thankfulness that it wasn’t, only a heightened awareness of how Nina Crawford must be feeling.

  The world frightened Judy today, in a way that it never had before. She wanted to put bars at the window, to build a fortress round her baby, to keep the world and its wickedness out. On a slightly higher plane, she knew that she couldn’t, that it wouldn’t be right, because Charlotte lived in this world like everyone else and most people in this rich, healthy, civilized society survived it to old age.

  But not Emma. Not Emma, because while the wealth and the health were a reality, the civilization was an illusion, merely cosmetic, and not even skin-deep.

  At last, the divers were here, two of them, taking it in turns to go down into the river and search. Tom watched, not wanting to be there yet having to be there. They had been looking for a very long time; he was beginning to think that it wasn’t going to resolve anything at all when one of the divers surfaced, and he was holding the baby cradled in the crook of his arm.

  Tom’s stomach turned over, and then he couldn’t believe what he was seeing when the diver gave a thumbs-up. It was their usual signal that they had found what they were looking for, but it was hardly necessary and hardly appropriate. Then the diver removed his mouthpiece and his goggles, swimming toward Tom, and he was laughing.

  And soon so was everyone who was there, including Tom, even though the laugh was on him and his laughter was very close to sobbing with sheer relief. No one else had seen what he had seen and no one else had been through what he had been through since he’d seen it, because no one else had been as certain he was that Emma Jane Crawford had been drowned in that river.

  Except Judy, he realized. She had trusted the evidence of Tom’s eyes, as he had himself. He couldn’t get away, not yet, and he couldn’t just telephone her. She had been deeply shocked by what he’d told her he had seen, and a telephone call simply wouldn’t do. He’d go there as soon as he was through here, confess face-to-face. She might never speak to him again.

  * * *

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Kayleigh still hadn’t spoken a word. The doctor had left, and after a few minutes another woman had come in with the baby and Mrs. Spears had left. The new woman had asked Kayleigh if she wanted to change Alexandra; when Kayleigh hadn’t replied, she had done it herself and then had sat with the baby in her arms. She said the baby had been fed, that she didn’t think she would be due another feed for a couple of hours, and would Kayleigh like to feed her next time? Kayleigh hadn’t answered, and eventually the woman had taken the baby away, saying that Kayleigh would get fed herself soon.

  That was why, when Mrs. Spears came back, Kayleigh thought she had come to tell her that her meal was ready, but she hadn’t.

  “Kayleigh? The police have just rung to say that they’re going to contact someone they think you’ll be pleased to see. Someone called Phil Roddam?”

  Kayleigh closed her eyes briefly. How? How had they got on to Phil? It wasn’t anything she’d said.

  “And . . . the hospital rang. Mr. Waring has had his operation, and they seem quite hopeful about him now.”

  That was something, Kayleigh supposed. The first good news she’d had.

  Theresa told Chief Inspector Lloyd everything she knew about Lesley and Kayleigh, which wasn’t a great deal, but it did seem to add up. The crisis with Kayleigh that resolved itself in January; the unsuitable relationship that so worried Lesley that she was dragging both Ian and Kayleigh off to Australia, though neither of them had any desire to go; keeping their whereabouts secret from Phil. Was that what it had all been about? Kayleigh had got involved with some boy and had had a baby, and Lesley didn’t want Phil to know? Ian would have been sworn to secrecy as far as she was concerned, of course, in case it got back to Phil through her.

  “So you know Mr. Roddam quite well?”

  “No. I don’t actually know him at all. I’ve only spoken to him on the phone. But—well, yes, I suppose we have got quite close that way.” They had; she felt as if Phil and she were old friends.

  “But you haven’t rung to tell him what’s happened here?”

  “I couldn’t—I had no idea what had happened. I didn’t want to make him think Lesley was dead if she wasn’t. And . . . well, as I said, I had honestly forgotten about Kayleigh. I should have told him—he’ll want to be with her, and she’ll want him here; I’m sure she will. I suspect that if anyone can get her to tell you what happened, he can.”

  She had been too busy worrying about Ian to think about Kayleigh. But the doctor had assured her that Ian was still holding his own and that the prognosis was now good.

  Lloyd sounded thoughtful when he spoke again. “You said that Mr. Waring had been having problems with Mrs. Newton?”

  Theresa brought her thoughts back to the here and now and frowned. She might be giving the man a lift, but he was still a policeman and there could only be one reason that a policeman was interested in Ian’s domestic troubles. “You surely don’t think he killed her, do you? He almost died himself.”

  “I still have no idea what happened. At the moment, there are a number of people who could have killed Mrs. Newton, and Mr. Waring is one of them. You said you saw him this morning? When was that?”

  “I saw him twice. He came at about seven to borrow the van, and he brought it back again.”

  “He borrowed the van this morning? And then took it all the way to London just to come all the way back?”

  My God, when he said he had no idea what had happened, he meant it. They really didn’t know anything. “Malworth,” she pointed out. “They lived in Malworth, until today. He was only in London for a couple of weeks before they moved here.”

  “Dr. Black, I’m very glad you turned up. Though I have to confess I’m not sure whether you’re clearing up a lot of puzzles or creating a whole lot of new ones.”

  She flicked her eyes toward him to see him run his hand over the strip of thin hair that still grew on his scalp.

  “Where did they live in Malworth?” he asked.

  “Riverside. In one of those big town houses on Bridge Street.”

  Lloyd gave a whistle.

  “She’s wealthy. Was wealthy.”

  There was a little silence before he spoke. “Right. Let’s take one thing at a time. What time did Mr. Waring bring the van back to you?”

  “I think he came at about twenty to eleven or so. And he stayed for a few minutes, chatting.”

  “About his problems.”

  She smiled a little reluctantly. “Yes. He really didn’t want to go to Australia any more than Kayleigh did. But he’d hardly murder Lesley because of that.”

  “It would seem a little extreme. When did he leave?”

  “I can tell you that exactly, because I was leaving to go on my rounds. He left at five minutes to eleven.” She realized from Lloyd’s reaction t
hat the time was important and took her eyes off the road again to glance at him. “When did all this happen?”

  He looked as though he was going to get official on her, but if he had been going to, he changed his mind. “He made the emergency call just on eleven o’clock, and we arrived within five minutes of that call.”

  Theresa relaxed. “Well, there you are. He couldn’t have done it—it takes five minutes to get from my flat to the cottage. You can’t do it any faster than that because of the speed bumps. So he could hardly have packed in killing Lesley and getting half killed himself before you got there, could he?”

  “No,” Lloyd agreed. “He couldn’t.” There was a heartbeat before he asked his next question. “Do you go from your flat to the cottage often?”

  She smiled. “Not to meet Ian in secret, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’ve been doing it every day to pick up the mail, because I keep forgetting to tell the post office my new address, and poor Ian hasn’t been in one place long enough to decide what his address is, so his mail still goes there, too.”

  “Could it have been later than twenty minutes to eleven when he brought the van back?”

  “I don’t think so. But I expect the security cameras in the garage area at the flats will tell you exactly.” It took Theresa a moment to work out why he wanted to know. “Because he could have done it before he left the cottage, is that what you’re saying? You think he killed Lesley and then calmly brought the van back to me?”

  “I deal in possibilities, Dr. Black, and that is a possibility. I’d be delighted to cross Mr. Waring off my list of suspects; believe me I would.”

  Theresa sighed. “I wish you’d call me Theresa. I don’t call myself Dr. Black anyway. And how do you know I could if I wanted to?”

  “The mail. You didn’t pick it up today. Just one letter. It’s at the forensic lab, but you’ll get it in due course.”

  “No need. It’s just junk mail.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because,” she said patiently, despite the implication that she was lying about not being at the cottage today, “they’re the only ones addressed like that. They get the lists from professional organizations that I once belonged to.”

  “And why didn’t you pick the mail up as usual?”

  She sighed and indicated the left turn off the dual carriageway. “I didn’t want to risk running into Lesley. Forbearance goes just so far.”

  “I’m sure it does.”

  “Am I on your list of suspects?” she asked. “I was shopping from about half past nine.” She gave him a list of the shops she had gone to, before he asked. “And then I went to the bank, where I stood in an enormous queue, and I posted some letters at the town center post office. I got home at about half past ten, I think. You can probably track my movements on a dozen security cameras.”

  “I’m afraid that at the moment everyone is on my list of suspects, though I’m inclined to believe that it was someone closer to Mrs. Newton than you are.”

  “In other words, Ian. Despite what happened to him?”

  “Including Ian,” he said. “But not exclusively Ian.”

  “You don’t know him. Even if he had resorted to murder as a means of getting out of going to Australia, he could never have carried it off like that. He’d have confessed what he’d done as soon as he’d seen me.”

  She pulled up outside the greengrocer’s as instructed, and Lloyd got out. “Oh,” he said. “Can I ask—did you have a heavy cast-iron doorstop in the cottage?”

  “A doorstop? No.”

  “Not necessarily a doorstop, though that’s what it is. It could be thought of as an ornament. It’s shaped like a cat.”

  “I didn’t have a heavy cast-iron anything.”

  He smiled. “Thanks. I might see you at the hospital tomorrow—I’ll want to talk to Mr. Waring as soon as they let me. And we might need to talk to you again.”

  “If the security cameras don’t bear me out?” She smiled. “I’ll be either at the hospital or at home. Feel free to talk to me anytime you like.”

  She had finally put Charlotte in her cot, but she still hadn’t left her, couldn’t leave her. She stood in the shaded nursery, her arms folded on the edge of the cot, watching her sleep. She heard Lloyd’s footsteps on the stairs, heard the front door open, heard him come into the nursery, but she didn’t look round; she couldn’t take her eyes off Charlotte. Lloyd came and stood beside her, his arm round her shoulders, his head touching hers. He didn’t speak, just held her, and she felt safer with him there.

  “Is this what maternal instinct feels like?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

  “Sometimes, I suppose.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Instinct’s a very primitive thing,” he said. “It frightens us.”

  In that moment, as in many previous moments, she knew why she loved him. He knew what was frightening her, better than she knew herself. That it wasn’t what had happened so much as her reaction to it, because it wasn’t just disturbed, sick, unbalanced people who reverted to the untamed state. Judy knew now that she would kill to protect Charlotte, and that realization of her own lack of civilization was what had frightened her so much. And it frightened her a little less now that Lloyd had put into words what she had merely felt.

  Lloyd straightened up the cot blanket that his sister had made, and the movement momentarily woke Charlotte. Then her arms went up beside her head; she gave a little sigh and fell asleep again. Lloyd kissed her, straightened up, and put his arms round Judy.

  “I couldn’t get here any sooner,” he said, kissing her, too. “And I have to go back to work.”

  She nodded. She didn’t know which variant of wickedness he was having to deal with, and right now she didn’t want to know. Wicked enough for him to have to carry on dealing with it regardless of the time. But she was very glad he was here now.

  “I’ve time for a sandwich,” he said. “I’ll make you one.”

  Her automatic protestation that she had no appetite was silenced by his finger on her lips.

  “You have to eat. And I’m sure Charlotte wishes we would get the hell out of her bedroom and let her sleep.”

  She took another look at Charlotte, then allowed herself to be propelled gently out of the nursery and into the kitchen.

  “A lioness protecting her cubs still finds time to grab the odd impala.” Lloyd reached into the bread bin as he spoke. “And so can you.”

  The doorbell rang, and they looked at each other.

  “Tom,” she said. “I made him promise to tell me what happened.”

  “I’ll go.”

  Judy didn’t leave the kitchen, not until she heard Lloyd’s voice echoing up the stairwell.

  “A doll? How the hell could you mistake a doll for a baby?”

  She went back out to the hallway as Lloyd and Tom came upstairs. “A doll?” she said, uncomprehendingly, when they arrived in the doorway. “Did I hear you say it was a doll?”

  “Judy, I swear to you, it looks exactly like a baby. Well—not really when it’s close to, but from a distance, in the water—I made them bag it up, so you could see it for yourself.”

  “I don’t want to see it for myself!”

  “I’m sorry.” Tom looked helplessly at Lloyd. “I’m so sorry. I would never have—”

  “Nothing to be sorry for,” said Lloyd briskly. “It wasn’t a baby—that’s the main thing. I’m just about to make some impala sandwiches. Do you want some?”

  Tom looked a little puzzled.

  “Private joke,” said Lloyd. “Irritating, aren’t they? I don’t know what will be in the sandwiches until I look in the fridge, but it probably won’t be impala. Do you want some?”

  “Yes, thanks, I’d love a sandwich, even if it is impala. I’m starving.” Tom looked at Judy. “That’s if I’m welcome.”

  Judy’s maternal instinct was running riot now; she looked at poor Tom, all pink and worried and upset, and she wanted to cuddl
e him, too. She contented herself with smiling at him. “Of course you are,” she said, and followed him and Lloyd into the kitchen. She felt guilty for having snapped at Tom, but sheer relief had prompted that reaction. “It wasn’t your fault. And thank God it wasn’t Emma.”

  Judy found out what Lloyd was working on, as he quickly and efficiently made enough sandwiches to feed the entire Bartonshire constabulary, and he and Tom proceeded to demolish them. Her ravaged emotions had done nothing for her appetite.

  Lloyd told them that he had thought at one point that he had found Emma, but now he thought it might possibly be Kayleigh’s own baby. “But if it is, I still don’t know what happened to all the baby things, so I’m keeping an open mind about that.”

  “And do you really reckon this Waring bloke did it himself?” asked Tom.

  “He’s fast becoming my favorite, but they’re all still on the list, including Kayleigh herself. I’m crossing no one off but Alexandra.” His mobile rang, and he sighed. “Oh, well, that’s my meal break over.”

  Judy smiled. “Maybe it’s a breakthrough.”

  “Maybe. Hello—Lloyd.” He smiled. “I think your sister should be on a retainer.” His face grew serious as he listened. “No—I’ll go. I’ll update you when I get back.”

  “Is it a breakthrough?” Judy asked.

  “It could well be.” He stood up. “Could I have the keys to your car? Mine’s run out of petrol, would you believe, and now I don’t even know where the petrol can is. I think I probably left it in a panda car.”

  Judy gave him the keys, and he was gone. When she and Tom were alone, he apologized again.

  Judy shook her head. “I was overreacting. I wasn’t being very professional about it, was I?”

  Tom smiled. “You’re off-duty, and you’ve had a lot to cope with recently. You get to overreact. But you’re always professional.”