Dirty Secrets

by JANICE FROST

  “Interesting what Dana said about Russ telling Paul to watch his back, wasn’t it?”

  “What was it she said exactly?” Ava searched her memory. “She said it sounded more like a warning than a threat.”

  “Which begs the question, who did Russ feel Paul needed to watch out for?”

  Chapter Three

  The morning after her arrival at her aunt’s house, Ruth woke feeling refreshed after a good night’s sleep. She was full of trepidation about the days ahead, but hopeful that with her Aunt Lizzie — and possibly her mother — taking care of Cam when he woke in the night, just maybe she’d manage to hold it together.

  The previous day had passed in a blur. In a trance, she’d packed two suitcases of clothes, most of which belonged to Cam.

  She had no idea how long she’d be staying. Aunt Lizzie had called her back to confirm that her father had been murdered. That meant a delay before his body could be released for burial. Ruth planned to stay with her mother until after the funeral. She hoped that by then the police would have some answers.

  She lay in bed, luxuriating in the lie-in, thinking back over the past twenty-four hours.

  She had been almost ready to leave by the time Fin showed up. Cam was having his usual reaction to being forced into his car seat — kicking and screaming and making his body go rigid so she couldn’t do up the straps. Ruth was nearing the end of her tether. Blinking back tears, she pleaded, “Please, please, please, Cam, just give me a break.

  “You’re doing it all wrong.”

  “Oh, Fin! I’m so glad you’re here.”

  At the sight of his father, Cam stopped struggling and held out his arms, gurgling, “Dada.” Fin took his son and Ruth in his arms, and for a moment their little family unit was at peace. Thank goodness for Fin! Everything about him was reassuring. She breathed in his familiar scent.

  She told him the bleak news. “My dad was murdered.” A beat. “You don’t think . . . ?”

  Fin’s grip on her tightened. “No,” he said fiercely. “It’s nothing to do with that.” Ruth gave a nod. It was what she’d wanted him to say. “I’m so sorry, Ruth. What happened?”

  “I don’t know the details yet. Mum phoned me as soon as she knew. He was shot in the head. At first they thought it might be suicide, but the police are saying murder.”

  “And you’re driving home? In this state? Let me drive you.”

  “No!” Ruth said, sharply. “You’ve got seminars to supervise and work to do. I can manage.”

  “Anything you need, Ruth, any time, just call and I’ll be there.” Ruth gave him a desperate kiss. Then she strapped a strangely compliant Cam into his seat, got behind the wheel and drove off, watching in the rear-view mirror the forlorn figure of Fin growing smaller, until she turned off at the junction.

  Cam fought sleep for the first hour, then, perhaps realising that oblivion was preferable to boredom, he dropped off and didn’t stir again until Ruth parked the car outside her aunt’s house in Stromford.

  “Ruthie!” Aunt Lizzie hadn’t been able to restrain her sheer delight at seeing her niece and her great-nephew. As soon as Ruth got out of the car, though, Lizzie drew her to her, and held her as they both wept.

  “Aunt Lizzie . . .”

  “Oh, Ruthie, I’m so, so sorry.”

  “I didn’t speak to him for all that time and now he’s dead.”

  “I know, sweetie. I know.” Lizzie understood tragedy. She’d had her share of it, losing Will and then Craig.

  “Is Mum here?”

  Lizzie shook her head. “She’s gone out for a walk. You know your mum. Even grieving, she’s restless. Now, let’s get you both inside.” A weight seemed to lift from Ruth’s shoulders as she watched her capable aunt take control of Cam.

  “Is Stephen here?” she asked.

  “He’s at work. You’ll see him this evening.”

  “How is Mum?”

  “Still in shock, I think. A bit better now that the police have accepted the fact that your father didn’t take his own life.”

  “He would never do a stupid thing like that.” Ruth coloured. “I’m sorry. Uncle Craig . . . I didn’t mean . . .”

  “It’s alright, sweetheart. I’m not one to take offence, you should know that by now.” Ruth bit her lip. She really hadn’t meant to make it sound like her Uncle Craig had been weak. He’d just been unable to get over the death of his son.

  Ruth followed her aunt indoors. This wasn’t the house she had been used to visiting and staying in when she was younger and had come to play with her cousin when Will was still alive. Aunt Lizzie had moved to a new place closer to the centre of town. Ruth didn’t think she’d have been able to go inside the old house.

  Even so, when she walked into the room that her aunt had prepared for her and Cam, she couldn’t help thinking of Will.

  “You look exhausted, Ruth. Why don’t you take a nap? I’ll see to Cam.”

  “I’d like a cup of tea first, if that’s alright. And Cam should have something to eat.”

  “Come on, then. Let’s sort you both out. I know I shouldn’t say it under the circumstances, but it’s lovely to have you here.”

  Ruth knew she shouldn’t think it, but it was lovely to know she’d be looked after for a while. It had been so restful when she and Fin had been ill and her mother had taken care of them. Ruth had sometimes regarded her as a disengaged sort of mother, more interested in her own life than in Ruth’s, but the visit had made her think again.

  Now that she had a child of her own, Ruth was beginning to realise that the selfless mother was a bit of a myth. Even the most dedicated and loving mothers must harbour some resentment about the compromises and sacrifices involved in bringing up a child.

  Aunt Lizzie was easier to talk to than Val. She never tired of telling Ruth that the two of them were alike, and that’s why they were so close. The implication being that Ruth and her mother were too different to get along. But Ruth alone knew that the truth about her relationship with her aunt was far more complicated than either Lizzie or her mother could guess at.

  At her aunt’s insistence, Ruth had her cup of tea and put her head down, intending to rest for half an hour or so. She’d been astonished to wake up and discover that two hours had passed. Downstairs, her mother and her aunt were talking. Ruth splashed some water on her face and went to join them.

  They were sitting on the floor. Cam was lying nearby, fast asleep on the rug, surrounded by the toys that Ruth had packed for him.

  “He lasted a lot longer than you, but he’s out for the count now,” Aunt Lizzie said cheerfully. Ruth was mildly surprised to see her mother on the floor. Now she’d become a grandmother, Val was showing a different side to her character. She got to her feet and embraced her daughter. So much had happened that morning, yet Val seemed remarkably calm.

  “Can I see him?” Ruth asked. Val shook her head.

  “Not yet. They’re going to do an autopsy. It’ll be a while before we can claim his body.”

  “When can we go home?”

  “In a couple of days. The police forensics people are crawling all over the place at the moment.” Val gave a shudder of revulsion.

  “Who do you think did it?” Ruth said, hotly. “Who would hate Dad enough to kill him?”

  “Hate probably had very little to do with it, darling. I’d be very surprised if it wasn’t all about money.”

  “Money?”

  Her mother stared at her for a moment. “I sometimes forget you were born into wealth. I wasn’t always well-off, you know, Ruth. Lizzie and I grew up in a house where money was scarce. I was just a humble secretary when I met your dad. A lot of people will do bad things, if it means they don’t have to face the despair of a lifetime trying to make ends meet.”

  Ruth rolled her eyes. She’d heard it all before.

  Val droned on. “I know you’ve had a little experience of what it’s like to be hard up in the past couple of months, but you always knew you had a safet
y net in the family’s wealth. Your inheritance.”

  “Stop it! You sound just like Fin,” Ruth said.

  “You need to stop being so naïve,” Val said. “Greed is one of the oldest motives in the world for murder. What’s that phrase? ‘Follow the money.’ If the police want to find out who killed your father, they’d be wise to heed that advice.”

  “But what do you mean by that exactly? No one stands to benefit from Dad’s death but us.”

  Val rambled on about disgruntled shareholders and jealous rivals, and Ruth quickly grasped that her mother knew as little as she did about her father’s business affairs. Or the reason for his death. Still, there was no denying that money and wrongdoing often did go hand in hand.

  Her mother changed tack. “Of course, money won’t be an issue for you in the future. I have more money than I know what to do with now, and I plan to ensure that you and your family are well provided for.”

  Ruth bit her lip. Val had included Fin! She’d said ‘you and your family.’ Of late, she and Fin had experienced considerable anxiety over money. It had seemed exciting at first, but the debts were mounting up, and the bills were being left unpaid. Fin’s postgraduate funding wasn’t enough for a family to live on, and her part-time job didn’t pay much. Ruth could see how a person could be ground down by the prospect of life continuing like that forever.

  She’d told herself she could bear it. For love. For Fin. But there was no doubt that she wanted more for Cam. Much as she hated to admit it, her mother was right. Money mattered.

  Lizzie hadn’t said much. Ruth looked around. Her aunt and Stephen Hamilton had a nice home, but it wasn’t a pricey executive one. Lizzie and Stephen were comfortably off, but not wealthy. Val sometimes forgot that her sister probably still had to be careful about money.

  “Anyone like a drink?” Lizzie asked breezily. She disappeared for a few moments, returning with three gins and a bottle of tonic. Ruth had been expecting more tea.

  Then Stephen came home. He seemed shaken by the news of Russ’s death. A couple of years ago, he’d expanded his business with the help of a loan from his brother-in-law. Cynically, Ruth wondered how much of his apparent grief was actually worry about his own financial security. She noticed Lizzie pour him an extra-stiff drink.

  Val was downing the gin faster than any of them. Not long after dinner she announced she was going to bed. Ruth too, was exhausted, despite her unaccustomed afternoon nap. She yawned.

  “Off to bed with you, and don’t worry about Cam. I’ll get up if he wakes in the night,” Lizzie said.

  Twice. He always wakes up at least twice. Ruth hugged her aunt, her relief quickly superseded by guilt when it occurred to her that it had taken a death in the family to get her a decent night’s sleep.

  * * *

  Ruth got out of bed and tiptoed into the bathroom, hoping she’d have time to take a rare morning shower before Cam started to miss her. Aunt Lizzie was so good with him. Ruth suddenly wondered if her aunt had expected her to name her son after Will. The thought was like a blow, and reminded her of the enormity of Lizzie’s loss.

  Ruth sank to the floor in the shower cubicle. She sat, watching the water disappear down the plughole, until she began to shiver. It was the thought of anything bad happening to Cam that did it. All of a sudden she felt as tired as if she hadn’t slept a wink.

  * * *

  Neal and Ava met Paul Cornish in the office he had shared with his deceased business partner. It was the day after they’d spoken with his wife. Paul accepted their condolences, and said, “I’ve been expecting you since Gail told me about your visit yesterday.”

  Neal got straight to the point. “Tell us about your relationship with Russ Marsh.”

  “You want to know about the fight, don’t you? Gail thinks it was to do with business, and I only wish she could continue to believe it.” He gave a weary sigh. “I suppose there’s not much chance of that happening now, is there?”

  They remained silent.

  “I thought not. It was about our eldest son, Hector. Russ loaned Hector a considerable sum of money without first consulting Gail and me. When I found out, I was furious.” Paul leaned forward in his chair, his legs spread beneath his polished desk, asserting his virility.

  “Look. Russ and I were friends as well as partners, you know. But we had our tiffs. No one can get along all the time.”

  “You fell out once before, didn’t you? Over your wife’s affair with Russ Marsh?” Ava said.

  Cornish turned his chilly grey gaze on Ava as if noticing her for the first time. It wasn’t something she was used to.

  “Yes, Sergeant.”

  “Not a lot of friendships would survive a betrayal like that.” Neal almost smiled. Typical Ava. Straight for the jugular.

  “We all moved on. Gail was distraught about what she’d done. Russ apologised. We didn’t want to destroy everything we all had going for us in terms of business and friendship because of a stupid mistake that would never be repeated. Gail had no feelings for Russ, or Russ for her.”

  “What did Val think?” Ava said.

  He shrugged. “You’d have to ask her. I suppose, like me, she decided to be pragmatic about it.”

  “What did Hector need the money for?” Neal asked.

  “To pay off a debt.”

  “I take it we’re not talking about a student loan?”

  “This has nothing at all to do with your investigation into Russ’s death, Inspector.”

  “That’s not for you to judge, Mr Cornish,” Neal said politely.

  Cornish sighed. “Look, the lad got himself in with a bad crowd. Started gambling.”

  “How much did he owe?” Neal asked.

  “Ten k. Not so much in the scheme of things.”

  “Drop in the ocean, really,” Ava said. “Why do you think he went to Russ instead of you and Gail?”

  “Isn’t that obvious, Sergeant?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Obviously he didn’t want Gail and me to know he’d got into trouble.”

  “How did you find out?” she asked.

  “Russ accidentally sent me a message about it instead of Hector.”

  “Oops,” Ava said. “Who did you confront first, Russ or Hector?”

  “Hector. The other reason he didn’t come to Gail and me was that we’d bailed him out once already, and I’d cut his allowance as a deterrent to further gambling.”

  “You must have been doubly pissed off at Russ. First, he sleeps with your wife, then your son turns to him instead of you when he’s in trouble.” Ava was embracing her inner bad cop today. Neal almost felt sorry for Paul Cornish.

  “I didn’t kill Russ if that’s where you’re headed.” Cornish’s face and neck were red and blotchy. He fiddled with the collar of his shirt, and loosened it with a finger. “Gail was right when she said you’d make a big deal about the fight. That’s why she told you about it up front. Things sometimes got a bit frosty between Russ and me, I’d be the first to admit that. But at the end of the day, we were still mates. We go back a long way, Russ and I. That’s not something you sacrifice over a stupid error of judgement. The bad feeling would’ve blown over eventually.”

  “You seem to have a very forgiving nature, Mr Cornish,” Neal observed.

  Cornish shrugged. “Yeah, well. Power of positivity and all that jazz. Look, I was angry and I lost my temper. That’s all.”

  “Lose your temper a lot, do you?” Ava asked.

  “No more than the next person.” Cornish looked at her with active dislike.

  “Right. Obviously we’ll need to talk to Hector. He’ll be able to confirm your story about Russ lending him money?”

  “Of course, Sergeant. And it’s not a story. It’s a fact.”

  “Concerning your business, Mr Cornish. You and Mr Marsh made a lot of money back in the eighties so I’m told,” Neal said.

  “It was a case of right place, right time. We made our money and had enough foresight to get out
before everything went tits up.”

  “You came back to Stromford and founded Cornish and Marsh. What exactly do you do, Mr Cornish?” Neal said.

  “We’re financial advisers.”

  “You also lend money to help struggling businesses?”

  “We help young entrepreneurs get on the ladder, yes. That’s what we do . . . er, did.” He frowned. There was no longer a ‘we.’ “When potential clients approach us, we assess their business capabilities, take a look at their plan. We calculate the risks and if we like what we see, we invest in the business.”

  “You then have a share in the pie?” Neal said.

  “Crudely speaking, yes. There’s always an element of risk when you invest so much money in an individual. Bit of a leap of faith in some cases, but Russ and I are . . . were . . .” Confusion again. “Good at what we do. Of course sometimes it can take years before we see our investment making good returns. What’s that saying? ‘Good things come to those who wait?’” He gave a self-satisfied smile.

  “Have there been issues with any of your clients lately?”

  Cornish was silent for a couple of moments, and then he shook his head. “I . . . er . . . not exactly an issue but we did disagree over a client. I thought it was a lost cause, but Russ was dead set on going ahead with the investment. In the end, I acquiesced. Against my better judgement. In fact, Russ and I sometimes have our own projects. This became one of Russ’s.”

  “And the client’s name?”

  “Stephen Hamilton.”

  Neal and Ava exchanged a glance. “Russ Marsh’s brother-in-law?”

  “The same.” Cornish shook his head. “I understood Russ’s desire to help his wife’s sister out. God knows that woman’s had enough tragedy in her life.” He gave them a questioning look. “You know about her son, Will, and her first husband?” Neal and Ava nodded. “Stephen Hamilton’s a good enough man, but he’s no businessman.”

  “What sum of money was involved?” Neal asked.

  “Twenty k.” A look of regret crossed Cornish’s face. “It was the first time I’ve felt truly angelic lending money. I never expected Cornish and Marsh to get a pennyworth of profit from that venture.” His eyes widened. “You don’t think . . . ? You’re not suggesting Stephen . . . ?”