McKenna continues, “I know this must be incredibly difficult for you but do you know of any people you think might be involved with all of this? Anybody who perhaps bore a grudge where your husband is concerned?”
“There are many people going back over the years I’m sure. He could be tricky to get along with at times and his split from the band was quite acrimonious.” She wipes at the corner of her eye with a crumpled tissue. “Though why someone would want to hurt him these days I haven’t a clue.”
“Even so,” McKenna encourages her. “If you wouldn’t mind giving us some names of people we could talk to?”
She sighs and then nods. “Yes, of course. Anything I can do to help. I want to know who did this and why.” Pausing she takes a few breaths, composing herself. “He always had a difficult relationship with fellow band member Marshall Coombes. He was the drummer but he wrote and sang as well. When the band first got together they were best friends. Something happened and they fell out. The awkwardness between them was one of the factors which led to him eventually leaving Dynamo Monsoon.”
“You never found out what led to their falling out?”
“No. I tentatively raised the subject once or twice but he never would talk about it. He was,” she stops, her voice breaking a little. “Like I said, Flynn had what would probably be called an artistic temperament when he was in the band. At times he was volatile. I learned when to keep quiet and stay out of his way.”
“Are you saying he was violent towards you?”
She shakes her head and sniffs into her tissue again. “No, never. Nothing like that. Before he finally quit the band he was miserable. Hated all the media attention. Being followed around by paparazzi all the time. He felt trapped. I think that’s why he loved coming up here so much back then. It was a place he could escape from it all. He always wanted to come up to Scotland alone. Which was fine by me. I preferred London and enjoyed all the media attention. When he was out of the way I could accept invitations, go out, be seen. If there wasn’t a contractual obligation to attend events then he didn’t go. So often neither did I. But when he was away… well, I had some freedom.”
“I see. Did he ever bring anyone to the island with him? Family perhaps?”
“No. He always came here alone. He said he needed the space to think. To just be himself. He said coming up to Farra was the only thing keeping him sane. His visits here got more and more frequent. I didn’t complain though. Like I said, his being away, well, it suited us both.”
“You know, there are all these women out there,” she continues. “Who have this ambition to be a wife or girlfriend of somebody famous. They think life must be wonderful if you’re with a man in the spotlight. If only they knew what it’s really like. It puts a huge strain on your life.”
“I’m sorry to have to ask you this, Mrs Garrison but did it also put a strain on your marriage?”
She nods. “At times. We worked through it though. Eventually. We figured out that we both needed some space from each other in order to keep our marriage alive. He came up here to his work. To his solitude. I stayed in London and socialised. Then when we did spend time together it was quality time. Made our relationship stronger. Strange as that may sound.”
“I assume next you’re going to ask if either of us were ever unfaithful,” she continues. “I can honestly say no. I never cheated on my husband. I loved him. I did what I needed to do so that I could stay married to him. Still have him in my life. I let go, gave him his space so that he would come back to me from time to time. He did have another love and I accepted that.”
I sit forward in my chair. Did she just say she knew her husband had another love? Could she know about the mystery woman? But she also just said neither of them were unfaithful.
“Another love?” McKenna prompts.
“Yes. His work. When I first knew him he would wake in the middle of the night with a song lyric going round in his head. He was obsessed with music. When he fell out of love with all that he went back to his love of landscape, geology, the environment.”
“I see. So, is there anybody else you think we should talk to? People who could help us with our investigation?”
“Not that I can think of just at the moment. If anything comes to mind once I can think more clearly then I’ll get in touch.”
McKenna nods. “Do you know much about this GeoComm Scotia company he was doing the consultancy work for? Do you know who he reported to there?”
“No. I wasn’t involved in anything to do with that.”
“OK, thanks very much, Mrs Garrison. Of course we’re all very sorry for your loss.”
She sniffs at her tissue again and gets to her feet. “Does this mean I’m free to go home?”
“Yes. For now. We have your contact details and will call if we have any further questions.”
“Do you think it was the right thing to do? Not mention this mystery woman and the child to Mrs Garrison?” I say as we pull up outside the rental cottage later. “Obviously she’s upset about what’s happened but maybe it wasn’t an affair and she might have been able to identify the woman. It could have been his twin sister and her child.”
Charlie switches off the car engine. “As she said he was always here alone, I’m afraid it looks as though she didn’t know about them. Whoever they are. There are no pictures of his sister online. She wasn’t active on social media and judging by his own dislike of the limelight I’m guessing he’d have been keen to keep his family out of things anyway. We don’t have a definitive description of mystery woman either to try and match things up, even if we did find a photo of his sister.”
“If it was her, and they were close enough for her to visit the island so often then surely there would have been family photos in his house,” he continues. “There was nothing.”
I nod and rub at my eyes. It feels like it’s been a long day but it’s still only early afternoon. For once the wind has dropped and the sun is out. A severe storm is forecast to hit the island in the next twenty-four hours or so but for now all is calm. Ahead of us the cottage door is wide open suggesting Martha’s home. Fantastic. I see Charlie follow the direction of my gaze.
“Why do you dislike Martha so much?” he asks, turning towards me, one elbow resting on the top of the steering wheel.
“Because,” I reply, averting my eyes from his.
“She’s a good agent. She’s here to do a job. It’s as simple as that,” he says.
I nod but don’t say anything, still keeping my eyes looking out of the window, scanning the landscape of nothingness which manages to have a bleak foreboding air, even bathed in autumn sunshine.
“So what’s wrong?” he prompts, nudging my knee with his own.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Not buying it,” he says with a shake of his head. He unclips his seatbelt and hops out of the car. In a second he appears at the passenger door, opening it he reaches for my hand. I clamber out, assuming we’re heading inside but instead he leads me away from the cottage and onto a single track lane.
“Charlie? Where are we going?”
“For some much-needed fresh air.”
A few metres down the lane a footpath sign points across a field towards the coast. We walk, hand in hand, across the field and ten minutes later find ourselves on a white sand beach. The tide has gone out; leaving a band of freshly-washed sand stretching away into the distance for what seems like miles.
“Wow!” I say, transfixed by the view. Farra is very much an island of contrasts. Away from the coast it’s mile upon mile of green and brown hillocks, boggy land, sheep and hunkered down cottages, battling the fierce wind. But where the land meets the sea it’s an entirely different matter. The pristine beaches are simply stunning.
Charlie moves to stand behind me, looping his arms around my waist and leaning down a little so he can rest his chin against my shoulder. The amazing view, the delicious impromptu cuddle and the exciting warmth of Charlie’s body next to mi
ne combine and I feel a sense of bliss envelop me.
“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” he says, his mouth close to my ear.
“It is.”
We stand watching waves moving laconically back and forth on the beach, birds circling above the water. I miss this. Miss the usual ease we have around each other. I know it’s all my own doing. Insisting we put some distance between us when Martha is around. Charlie would be perfectly happy to behave how we usually do (within reason!) while we’re staying on the island. Sharing cuddles on the sofa in the evening while watching TV. Sharing kisses while cooking dinner. Sharing a bed. But I just don’t feel right doing those things while Martha is around, judging my ability to do my job. I have to prove I’m up to doing this job on my own merits. That I’m not just here because I’m with Charlie.
But right now I do miss us.
Charlie’s phone beeps with a text and for a second I think he might resist and opt to ignore it, choosing to not ruin the moment. He pulls his right arm from around my waist and reaches for the pocket of his jacket. I stay where I am. Staring out to sea, both hands over Charlie’s left arm which is still holding me close as he checks his phone.
Slipping the phone back in his pocket he leans in close again, nuzzling my ear. “Good news.”
“Oh?” I say. “Progress on the case?”
“That was Martha. She said she’s heading down to interview somebody who works on the ferry and then she’s calling in at the police station to see McKenna and go through some stuff she’s come up with today during her case research. Said she’ll be out until this evening.”
“Evening you say?” Now I realise why this text is such good news. Charlie and I have the cottage to ourselves for a whole afternoon.
“So what are we waiting for?” I say, a smile creeping across my face. I playfully skip out of Charlie’s grasp and he catches my hand, tugging me impatiently back up the beach. It takes us only a fraction of the time to get back to the house that it took us to walk down to the beach. We collapse inside, pausing briefly to shut and bolt the door before Charlie strips off his jacket at the same time as reaching for my shirt. “Your room or mine?” I ask as I stand on tiptoe to kiss him.
“Maybe both,” he replies with a cheeky smile which makes me pray it will be very late indeed before Martha gets back.
Chapter Six
“I think we’re missing something about his consultancy work,” Martha says the next morning as we congregate in the kitchen making coffee and toast. “That could be where we start finding some decent clues as to why Garrison was killed.”
“What suspects do we have so far?” I ask, leaning against the kitchen counter, hands cradling a mug of steaming hot coffee. Outside the sun has gone and the sky looks threatening. The forecast storm is on its way.
Charlie pulls a notepad across the table and starts a list.
“Melissa Garrison,” he says. “There’s something odd about her and about their relationship I reckon.”
“She obviously wasn’t supportive of his decision to walk away from the band and stardom,” I add. “I think she’s fed up with him hiding himself away up here, doing this geology stuff. His death will bring him back into the spotlight.”
“Putting her firmly in the spotlight too,” Martha says, giving me an approving nod. “She could get a lot of money for telling her story in the papers. It sounded as though they were living pretty much separate lives but with him gone she could paint any picture she wants of their marriage to the media. Got to admit that’s a good motive.”
“Mystery woman is next on the list,” Charlie says. “Why did she try and keep such a low profile? She didn’t arrive with him. They didn’t travel together. She didn’t even go into the village store with him. Just a few sightings of them all on the beach and even then she was always wearing a hat so people didn’t get a proper look at her.”
I tap eager fingers against the side of my mug, mind whirring with thoughts. “What about this band member Marshall Coombes who Mrs Garrison said Garrison had had some falling out with? What do we know about him?”
“Not much. Not yet anyway. I’ll look into his background this morning,” Martha says, pulling out a chair and sitting opposite Charlie.
“OK.” Charlie nods. “He’s on the list as well. Anybody else?”
We all fall silent as we think. My eyes flicker across to Charlie. He instantly catches and holds my gaze. Martha was out until early evening yesterday and by the time she returned in the other rental car we have on the island Charlie was sprawled on the sofa watching a football match and I was sitting in a chair reading. Hopefully we looked the picture of innocence. I’m not sure she was entirely convinced by the way she looked first at me and then at Charlie. I think she knew we’d taken advantage of an afternoon to ourselves. She’d even smiled at me as she’d removed her coat and for the first time I’d wondered if she might have sent the text and planned her afternoon out on purpose. Did she actually want to give Charlie and me some privacy? My feelings towards her had flickered confusingly at that point. Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all.
When she’d arrived on Farra I’d assumed she’d been sent by the agency boss because they didn’t think I was up to the job. I’d immediately taken offence and set out to prove I’d earned my place with the CCIA in the same way everyone else does and not because my boyfriend recommended me as a support officer. I’d pushed Charlie away. Moved into a separate bedroom. Put myself on best behaviour, viewing Martha almost as the enemy. Perhaps I was wrong and Charlie was right. She was just a good agent doing her job. Maybe I’d imagined the part about her having designs on Charlie too.
The sound of laughter pulls me from my thoughts and I see Martha leaning across the table towards Charlie. She’s wearing a low cut V neck jumper and from here I can see her position is the perfect one to show off her assets to Charlie. She laughs again, flicks her hair over her shoulder in a classic flirting manoeuvre and then reaches further across the table for Charlie’s empty coffee mug, offering him an even better view down her top.
OK. Maybe I wasn’t wrong about her after all.
She dumps the mug in the sink and reaches for a folder of paperwork on the kitchen worktop.
“So anyway about this stuff I found yesterday. I did some more bank account checking. I found he has a personal account with a separate bank to the one where his other accounts are including the joint account with his wife. I’m presuming she doesn’t know about this one either.”
She starts spreading various print-outs on the table. “There are some regular cash withdrawals of substantial amounts from this account. They stretch back about two years. Looks to me like he’s paying somebody off.”
“He was being blackmailed?” I say, stepping forward and scanning the various documents.
“Could be. Question is who and why,” Martha replies.
Charlie leans forward, elbows on the table. “Could be debts of some kind. Drugs? Gambling?”
“He doesn’t seem like the type to be gambling or doing drugs. The guy wanted to get out of the spotlight. He wanted to come up here and escape,” I reason.
“True,” Martha says. “But we need to try and find out who he was giving all this money to. He clearly didn’t want it to be traceable. Using cash means there’s no paper trail. The only clue we have is that he always withdraws the cash from the same place, the branch of his bank at Edinburgh Airport. It’s as though he had some kind of arrangement in place so he could access such a large amount of cash over the counter regularly.”
“We need to visit the bank,” Charlie says.
“Which brings me to my next point,” Martha continues, gathering up the various documents scattered across the table. “We can visit the bank when we arrive in Edinburgh later on today.”
“Edinburgh?” I frown. “We’re going to Edinburgh?”
“Well Charlie and I are. Sorry, there were only two seats left on the flight out at lunchtime. It’s probably for the best anyway if
one of us stays here to keep the investigation ticking over at this end. We’ll be back on the nine o’clock flight tonight. Providing the storm doesn’t disrupt the flights of course. You’ll be OK keeping the investigation on track here won’t you?” She smiles sweetly at me.
“Oh, right. Fine, yes, of course.” I silently will myself to channel calm thoughts. It’s just a work trip to the mainland. Nothing more.
The atmosphere in the kitchen has instantly changed. Charlie looks uncomfortable and I’m very aware I need to be professional about all of this. Martha did not deliberately exclude me from their trip because she wanted to get Charlie on his own. There were only two seats left on the flight. Simple as that. It makes perfect sense that it should be the two more experienced agents who go over there. Doesn’t it?
“After all the background stuff I did on Garrison and his work I’ve made an appointment at this GeoComm Scotia research place based at the university in Edinburgh. We’re going to meet with Carter Marston the guy who awarded the consultancy work to Garrison.” She looks at me and then at Charlie. “Well I’m off to put on some smarter work clothes and throw together an overnight bag just in case we do have to stay in Edinburgh thanks to the weather. We’ll have to leave soon.”
A part of me is relieved to be trusted to keep the investigation on track here on Farra. It’s a chance to prove I’m capable. Another part of me is more than a little miffed at the idea of Martha and Charlie going off together to Edinburgh.
Yeah. I know. Right now I’m coming across as the jealous unreasonable girlfriend and it’s not a particularly flattering look.
“Forgot to mention,” Martha pops her head around her bedroom door. “I also found out yesterday that since she split with her husband Garrison’s twin sister and her son have been renting a place about thirty minutes outside Edinburgh so we can go check things out with her too while we’re at it.”
Precious: A Humorous Romantic Cozy Mystery (Amber Reed Celebrity Crimes Investigation Agency Mystery Book 2) Page 5
