Nemesis

by Marley, Louise

  Originally Alicia had only wanted to complete the work her father had started, to explore the family tree sideways, connect with other members of the family, hear their stories, perhaps get them together at the castle for some kind of annual reunion. But James was right, the research was taking over her life - to the point where she was spending more time with her dead relatives than she was with the living.

  As though on cue, there was a knock on the door. When Alicia went to open it, she found a uniformed police officer on the other side and a stream of cars and vans trundling down the drive, most of which had the County police crest emblazoned on the side. Her first thought was that James had arranged for a removal firm to collect his belongings. But what were the police doing here?

  Before she could speak, a slim blonde woman scrunched across the drive towards her. She had the bland prettiness of a catalogue model and everything about her was plain and neat, from her manicured fingernails to the tiny gold studs she wore in her ears. This was a woman who meant business.

  “Mrs Fitzpatrick?” Her voice was calm and unhurried, with no trace of an accent.

  “What is it?” Alicia tried to keep her composure but could hear her voice rising in panic. “What’s going on? Has something happened to one of the children?”

  “I’m Detective Inspector Lydia Cavill. Your husband has been arrested for a serious crime. As he was living here when the crimes were committed, we have a warrant to search this house and gather any evidence we believe is connected to that crime.” She held out an official-looking form.

  Alicia did not take it. “What kind of evidence?”

  “The nature of the case means we are obliged to seize anything we feel is relevant. If it transpires that it is not relevant, it will be returned.”

  “But what has James been charged with?”

  “You’ll have to discuss that with your husband. He’s been taken to the local police station to await interview.”

  “Can I see him?”

  “You could certainly try, but probably not. DCI Bloom is the officer in charge. You should speak to him about it.”

  Oh God, James. What have you done?

  The woman was still holding the search warrant towards her and, as though in a dream, Alicia took it. She tried reading it, but the text was closely printed and the words swam into each other, not making any sense at all. After three attempts she gave up in despair. How could this be happening?

  The DI was watching her carefully. “I would be grateful if you would allow my officers to enter?”

  Alicia drew on her last vestige of defiance. “What if I refuse?”

  DI Cavill shrugged. “You can’t.”

  So Alicia stepped aside. Hardly had she done so, then the police surged into hall, their heavy boots clattering against the polished floor boards. Alicia, thinking she would be required to explain the layout of the house, followed but was not given the opportunity to speak. Instead the DI gave her team a quick briefing, instructing them in which rooms to search and what to look for in particular, which seemed to cover pretty much everything, including Alicia’s computer.

  Alicia had to lean against the wall for support. The police must have discovered James’s affair with Summer. Why else would they want to seize her computer? They probably thought he had all kinds of lewd stuff on there. As far as she knew, they’d find nothing except scanned copies of wills, census returns and parish records in connection with her family history, in addition to any music downloaded by the children.

  But what about James? What had he been downloading?

  You bastard, James …

  How could he do this to her? To the children? How could he risk everything - his family, his career - for one stupid little fuck?

  She hoped it had been worth it; that it had meant something to him. Because otherwise -

  There was a crash above her head, as furniture was clumsily moved. What the hell were they looking for that they needed to move furniture?

  It was some kind of torture, having strangers picking over her belongings. In the kitchen she could see two officers emptying cutlery from the drawers, carefully separating the knives from the rest and lining them up on the table. They were wearing thin latex gloves. Through the open door of the study there were two more officers taking everything from her desk and packing it into a crate. This included the A4 notebook she considered to be her ‘bible’ - containing the original scribbled notes she made on her trips to the various archives.

  Thank God she had everything backed up on her memory stick, which was safely tucked into her pocket - they’d have to pry that out of her cold dead hands. And thank God she had the money to buy another laptop, because it was unlikely she would be getting her own back in a hurry.

  If she ever saw James again she was going to kill him.

  The door beneath the staircase swung open and a female officer emerged from the cloakroom. She had a transparent plastic bag, which she was holding high in a gesture of triumph.

  “Look what I’ve found!”

  To Alicia, everything around her seemed to stop still and fade out.

  Inside the plastic bag, instantly recognisable, was James’s mobile phone.

  50

  When Alicia arrived at the police station, a uniformed PC showed her into a small interview room where James had been taken to wait for her. He was wearing the same jeans and t-shirt as this morning, when she’d thought he looked like an advert for breakfast cereal. In the time since, his demeanour had completely changed. His clothes remained clean and fresh, he was his usual, almost too-attractive self, but the way he sat sprawled in his seat, the way he barely glanced up when she entered, the almost obsessive-compulsive way he was picking at a scratch in the plastic surface of the table, revealed his confidence had been shattered.

  She felt sorry for him. He was living the day from hell and it was partly her fault. Practically from the moment they’d walked back down the aisle, she had spent her time fussing over the children, helping her mother run the castle and researching her long-dead ancestors. She couldn’t even remember the last time they’d gone out together as a couple. For a man who was used to the undivided attention of attractive women, this must have come as a huge blow to his ego. Not to mention that while he earned a good salary as a head teacher, it could hardly compete with owning an actual castle.

  None of which excused his subsequent behaviour.

  Her silence must have unnerved him. “What do you want?” he snapped.

  What did she want?

  There were two other chairs at the table, both bright orange plastic and heavily stained with something Alicia hoped was only coffee. She pulled one out and sat on it, facing him.

  “I came to see you,” she said. “I want to know why you’re here. I need to know what’s going on.”

  He didn’t reply, just went back to picking at the peeling table.

  She tried again. “The police are searching our house, did you know that? They have a search warrant. They’re in my study, taking everything out of my desk, including all my notes and files. They’ve even taken the computer and the old laptop. How the hell am I supposed to work?”

  “Right at this precise moment, I have to say I don’t give a shit.”

  It might have been more tactful to have omitted that last statement.

  “Presumably they are expecting to find something stored electronically?” she said. “Something more inflammatory than the Vyne family tree?”

  James remained silent, but his fingernail kept pick, pick, picking at that bit of curling plastic.

  “Are you a paedophile, James?”

  His head snapped up. “What the hell kind of a question is that? Of course I’m not a bloody paedophile!”

  “Why have you been arrested? Do they know about your affair with Summer?”

  “It’s the stupidest thing,” he said slowly, “but they seem to think I’ve killed her.”

  The interview room became darker, the air more close.
r />   “Summer’s dead? But how?”

  “They won’t tell me anything. All I know is that her body has been found.”

  Alicia remembered the way the police were systematically searching every room at the Vicarage. How they had laid out all the kitchen knives, side by side.

  “They must be quite certain you’re guilty … ”

  “Oh God … ” he put his head in his hands. “Perhaps you and the children should go away. This is going to get nasty. Once the press get wind of it, and they will, trust me - it’s too good a scandal for them to pass up - the other kids at school will make their lives hell.”

  “Why should we have to go into hiding? We haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Neither have I!”

  Alicia lost her temper. “For heaven’s sake, James! Stop lying to me! I’ve seen the photograph.”

  His eyes met hers, instantly wary. “What photograph?”

  “Summer texted you a half-naked picture of herself.”

  He frowned. “You’re mistaken.”

  “I saw it myself. She sent it to you on the night of the fire. She was lying in her own bed, topless.”

  “I don’t believe you. She wouldn’t do that. I specifically told her not to do anything like that - ” He broke off with a groan. “You were the one who took my phone … ”

  “It was childish of me. I’m sorry.”

  She waited for him to explode in a fury, as he had done earlier.

  Instead he just sighed. “I hope you hid it in a very good place.”

  Alicia remembered the glee with which the police woman had brandished her evidence bag. Unable to admit that though, she said, “The police are bound to find it.”

  “Look, Summer sent that photo to me, not the other way around. It was inappropriate but it doesn’t mean anything more. Once I explain, I’m sure it will all be sorted out. I’m the youngest head teacher that school has ever had. Of course some of the older girls are going to have a crush on me.”

  “You don’t have to act on it though!”

  “OK, I took her to London, but I had to come home before anything could happen. There is no evidence to connect me to her murder, it’s all circumstantial. I know for a fact she had a boyfriend. She called him ‘vanilla boy’ and complained about how straight he was. Perhaps he was jealous?”

  The worst of it was, James didn’t even seem upset the poor girl was dead. His only concern was the trouble he now found himself in - trouble that was entirely of his own making.

  “Summer sent you text messages and photographs - did she send you emails too?”

  “All deleted,” he said, with a certain amount of pride.

  Alicia would be the first to admit that she was hopeless when it came to technology, but even she knew that it took more than deleting something from a computer for it to vanish completely. There were software programs, created purely to retrieve lost information from a hard drive. And as for his phone, it would be easy for the police to find records of all calls made to a certain number. It might take them some time, and they might not be able to obtain every detail of the call, but the records existed.

  She couldn’t quite bring herself to tell him that though, or bear to stay in his presence a moment longer. So she got up from the chair, picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder.

  “Deserting the sinking ship?” he said bitterly. “I can’t say I blame you. I’d probably do the same.”

  She might not have been the best wife for him these past fifteen years, but she had always been loyal, even when he’d behaved like an arrogant pig. So if she needed any further proof that their marriage was dead, that comment was decidedly it.

  “A young girl has died,” she said coldly, “and the only thing you care about is saving your own skin. You’re my husband, and I owe you a certain amount of loyalty, but please don’t think I’m going to lie for you, not for something as serious as this.”

  “I wouldn’t ask you to.”

  That was something, at least.

  “I’ve got to go,” she said. “I have to collect the children from drama club. Let me know if you need anything.”

  But James, back in his own little, self-absorbed world, didn’t reply.

  51

  The school was less than five minutes’ drive away. As Alicia drove between the large silver gates, she was cheered slightly by seeing one of the other mothers shoot past in the opposite direction. In the back of her car were a couple of squabbling children, still wearing what appeared to be Munchkin costumes. At least she wasn’t the only one to be late.

  Alicia parked beside the main hall. Will was sat at the top of a small flight of steps by the entrance. He was so engrossed in his Nintendo he had not even noticed her arrival. Alicia began to feel a little less stressed.

  “Hello, darling,” she said, walking up and ruffling his hair. “Sorry I’m late.”

  He did not glance up but merely grunted.

  “Where’s Lexi?”

  “She’s in a mood because she didn’t like her Glinda the Good costume. She said it made her look like a loo roll doll.”

  Alicia could imagine. “She is still here?”

  “Sure, I guess so - oh bugger, I’m dead!” He gave the Nintendo a hard slap. “Bloody thing!”

  Under the circumstances, Alicia let it pass. “Here,” she said, handing over her keys. “If you get into the car, I’ll find your sister. Do have any idea at all where she might be?”

  “The girl’s dressing room? Duh!”

  “Where would I find that?”

  “Backstage.”

  Alicia raised an eyebrow.

  Will sighed extravagantly. “You go up the steps onto the stage and then down through the wings. All the other doors are locked.”

  “Thank you, darling. Now, you run along and get into the car. I won’t be long.”

  Without taking his eyes from the Nintendo, Will heaved himself up from the step and trudged off down the path. Alicia continued into the school.

  The hall was empty. There wasn’t even any sign that it had recently been occupied. All interior doors were shut and the blue velvet curtain was drawn across the stage.

  “Hello?” she called. “Is anyone here?”

  No one replied. She waited a few moments to be certain, but there was nothing. Had everyone gone home? Surely the staff wouldn’t leave Will on his own? Unless they had assumed that, as he was the headmaster’s son, his father was somewhere in the school building?

  She crossed the hall and mounted the steps that led to the stage, fumbling with the curtain until she found where the two sections met, and then stepped between them. There was no one here either, not that she expected there to be, but on each side of the wings she could see a glimpse of the corridor that led backstage.

  “Lexi? Are you here?”

  The stage creaked as she walked across it and down another short flight of steps into the corridor, which was also deserted. By now she was beginning to feel irritated. What if Lexi wasn’t here at all? What if she had gone home with a friend? Once again she cursed the fact that she had left her mobile phone at home. Lexi might have sent her a text message explaining everything; she’d be none the wiser.

  The corridor was shaped like a ‘U’, leading from one side of the stage and around the back to the other. At regular intervals were doors, which were in the majority locked. Hopefully they were only store rooms - for costumes, equipment and the like. She had already passed the boys’ dressing room. Presumably the dressing room for the girls was directly opposite?

  It would be quicker to walk back across the stage, but there was always the chance she might miss Lexi coming out from one of these rooms instead. So Alicia went the long way round, pausing only to rattle each locked door with growing frustration.

  Then, as she rounded the final corner, she heard voices talking softly. She paused to listen, but as her footsteps ceased, the sound of the voices ceased too. Had she imagined it?

  There was an open d
oor at the end of the corridor, although the room beyond was in darkness. It was the girls’ dressing rooms.

  Alicia hesitated on the threshold. “Lexi?”

  A smothered giggle.

  Was Lexi playing a silly trick? Or was this some other random teenager? Alicia’s patience began to wear thin.

  She entered the dressing room. There were no windows, and therefore no natural light. There were benches around the walls and hooks above to hang clothes. Between the benches were banks of pink lockers. Filling the central space was a long rail of brightly-coloured costumes, all individually wrapped in plastic. There were a couple more Munchkin outfits hanging lopsidedly from the hooks above the benches, and another for the Scarecrow, already shredding straw. A pink gown had been discarded altogether, heaped on the floor.

  Alicia automatically picked it up and hung it on one of the spare hangers. It was a voluminous ballgown. Beautiful - in an ostentatious Charles Worth kind of way; such a shame it had been left screwed up on the dirty floor.

  Will’s last remark came back to her.

  “She’s in a mood because she didn’t like her Glinda the Good costume.”

  Poor Lexi, thought Alicia, with a faint smile. Surely Simon would have known he would never get her to wear a gown like this, costume or no costume? He’d have had more success if he had cast her as the Witch. As least she could have worn her favourite black.

  It solved the riddle of where Lexi was - somewhere back here, crying her eyes out. Alicia stepped around the rail, confidently expecting to see Lexi huddled up on a bench. But instead of one person there were two, standing close together, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. A man and a woman.

  Simon was half sat on the edge of a dressing table. One thumb was hooked casually into his belt loop, his other hand rested on the bare back of a woman wearing a 1920’s style cocktail dress. She was standing between his legs, which meant all Alicia could see of her was the white-blonde hair.

  “Natalie?”