Dirty Secrets

by JANICE FROST

  Gail and Paul exchanged looks. “Are you sure?” Paul asked.

  “Yes. I met Dana. I was able to identify her body,” Ava replied. Gail looked genuinely shocked.

  “That’s terrible news,” Paul said. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Gail said. “Did she suffer?” Ava told Gail that Dana’s death would have been quick. She hoped this would satisfy her for now. It was not in the police’s interest to reveal the probable cause of death at this stage. Besides, it had yet to be firmly established.

  “Does this have anything to do with Russ Marsh’s murder?” Gail asked.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t have any further information at the moment.”

  “But surely there must be a connection. I mean, it can’t just be a coincidence that two people connected to us are murdered in one week? Unless this is some kind of random serial killer thing.”

  “I’m not able to speculate, Mrs Cornish, but I think I can reassure you that this is not the work of a serial killer.”

  “Then there must be a connection between the deaths,” Gail insisted.

  “That’s not logical, sweetheart. The one doesn’t follow from the other.” Paul Cornish’s tone was mildly patronising.

  “We retrieved Dana’s phone from the scene,” Tom said. Ava had been looking at Paul, and now she thought she detected a tiny rift in his composure. If so, it was fleeting. “Dana had been in contact with Russell Marsh shortly before his death.”

  “Told you so,” Gail said immediately. “A connection.” No one contradicted her. In any case, she was probably right. Ava wasn’t sure that it was wise of Tom to have brought up the phone at this point, but she was interested in studying Paul Cornish’s reactions — or lack thereof.

  “Dana sent Russ Marsh some cryptic texts. She seemed to suggest that she had some information that Mr Marsh might be willing to pay to obtain. Any ideas?” Tom asked. His tone was accusatory. Ava would have pitched the question differently.

  “What?” Paul immediately adopted a defensive stance, arms folded across his chest, legs wide apart.

  Gail looked uncomfortable. “My affair with Russ Marsh was over and done with, if that’s what you’re getting at. Whatever secret Dana thought she’d stumbled upon, it didn’t involve Russ and me.”

  So why mention it?

  Tom followed up with routine questions. Gail had been at the parents’ evening until nine o’clock. She’d driven home with the twins afterwards, and they’d arrived home at around nine thirty. Paul claimed he’d got home just before them. Kitty Cornish had been at a friend’s house, returning at around ten.

  Time of death for Dana was most likely between seven forty-five and nine o’clock. Her nails had looked newly manicured, though several were broken off. She must have met her attacker on her way home from the salon, while taking a shortcut through the woods to Kingfisher Lodge. Obviously Gail knew about the nail appointment, but there was no way of ascertaining who else Dana might have told.

  “We’d like to take a look at Dana’s room,” Ava said.

  Ava and Tom followed Gail upstairs. Not unexpectedly, Dana’s room was on the small side and was probably the only room in the house without a view of the lake. On the plus side, it was pleasantly furnished and had an en suite bathroom. There was a tray with some mugs and a stainless-steel kettle on a dressing table, which gave the room a hotel-like feel. Gail excused herself, saying that she had to ‘sort out a meal.’ Was that normally Dana’s job?

  Dana hadn’t been particularly tidy. There were discarded items of clothing on the floor and a bath towel hanging loosely over a chair. The mugs were dirty and the bin was overflowing with empty crisp packets and biscuit wrappers. Ava ventured into the en suite and found it crammed with skincare and beauty products. Pricey stuff too. How did Dana afford this?

  She put on some latex gloves and rummaged in the bin. Nothing of interest. Loads of cotton wool balls and discarded make-up products, much like the one in Ava’s own bathroom. She returned to the bedroom.

  Tom was looking pleased with himself. “Look what I found under the bed!” He held up a tartan tin with a picture of a stag on the lid.

  “Petticoat tails?” Ava asked.

  “Take a butcher’s inside.” He removed the lid and held it out. Ten or so plastic snap bags of white powder were tucked neatly inside.

  Ava gave a low whistle. “Interesting.”

  Tom held up one of the bags. “Got to be a few k’s worth in here.”

  “So, d’you reckon Dana’s been doing a bit of dealing to supplement her income? Explains the upmarket cosmetics she’s got all around the bathroom. Was she dealing herself, or just storing the stuff for someone, I wonder?”

  “Friend? Member of the Cornish family?”

  Ava nodded. Statistically, people were more likely to become involved in the drug trade through friends or family members who were already involved.

  “Could this have got her killed?” Tom asked.

  “Maybe. Find anything else?” Ava asked.

  Tom laughed. “Five k’s worth of coke isn’t enough?”

  Ava took a quick look in Dana’s wardrobes and drawers, but she found nothing out of the ordinary.

  They went downstairs and into the kitchen, Tom carrying the shortbread tin tucked under his arm.

  “What’s that?” Gail Cornish peered at the tin. Tom opened the lid and showed them. Gail gasped.

  Paul frowned. “Dana was taking drugs?”

  “Not necessarily,” Tom said. “This is way too much coke for one person. Dealers aren’t always users themselves.”

  “Dealers? Dana was a drug dealer?” Gail shrieked. “Oh, this just keeps getting better and better. Oh my god! The children. Has she been giving that shit to my kids? Is she mixed up with some big drugs cartel?”

  “Calm down, Gail,” Paul said. His voice could have cut steel.

  “Fuck off, Paul. It’s bad enough that you were shagging the little slut, but she’s put my kids in danger. I won’t have you defending her.”

  A profound silence followed her words. Paul’s face turned puce, whether out of rage or embarrassment it was impossible to tell.

  Now that she had started, there was no stopping Gail. “What? You thought I didn’t know? How stupid do you think I am? I’ve seen the clothes she’s got hanging in her wardrobe up there, and the expensive toiletries. She can’t afford stuff like that on what we’re paying her.”

  “She was dealing cocaine,” Paul said coolly. “You don’t think that would have helped her afford a few luxuries?”

  Gail looked unconvinced.

  “Besides, aren’t you the one who indulges in extramarital affairs?”

  Ava and Tom listened in silence, embarrassed for the pair of them.

  “Once. One bloody time in twenty-five years of marriage. You just can never resist an opportunity to rub my nose in it, can you?”

  Ignoring his wife’s remark, Paul Cornish turned his icy gaze on Ava and Tom. “Enjoying this are you, officers? How the other half live, eh? Not as idyllic as it looks, is it?”

  Ava risked a glance at Tom. You bet he was enjoying it.

  “Come on,” she said briskly, and grabbed Tom’s arm. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr and Mrs Cornish. You can expect a visit from our forensics people. DS Knight and I will see ourselves out.”

  Chapter Eight

  Hector read Kitty’s text in utter dismay. Hi bro. WTF the police have just raided Dana’s room and found a humungous stash of coke under her bed!!

  He had a burning urge to call Kitty back immediately and demand more information. But that would be foolish. Far better to play it down.

  His fingerprints were all over those clip bags. That didn’t matter, did it? He wasn’t on a police database anywhere, was he? So they couldn’t identify him, right? Hector relaxed a notch. Panicked again. What if they wanted to take fingerprints from everyone in the family, just to rule them out? Shit. Could they do that? He ran through t
he possibilities, his heart pounding.

  At least the police weren’t going to be pointing the finger at him. Not right away, anyway. With a sick feeling in his gut, he wondered just how much digging they were likely to do.

  All because his parents had left him in near penury after that gambling business. The way he saw it, his father was partly responsible for his current predicament. He’d only got involved in dealing after Paul cut his allowance. Not that he’d be stupid enough to say that to his face when the inevitable showdown took place.

  Could he be certain of his father’s help? When he found out about the gambling, Paul had refused to pay off any more of his debts. Hector had endured a long lecture about money and responsibility, about learning the hard way. Tough love, Paul had called it.

  And it had been tough. Gambling was more than a distraction, it was a necessity. Everything about Cambridge bored Hector. He hadn’t even wanted to go there in the first place. He wasn’t an academic. If it hadn’t been for all the extra tutoring his parents had paid for, he’d never have attained his A levels, or the grades that he’d needed to secure his place.

  After Cambridge, there was a job lined up for him in the City with an old friend of his father's. But not if he were charged with possession with intent to deal. He could even be looking at a spell in prison. He’d end up with a criminal record, meaning he could kiss goodbye to any hopes of a career in banking.

  The more he thought about it the more he realised that someone else needed to take the fall for him. And it might as well be Dana.

  * * *

  Ruth had been having a good day prior to Hector’s phone call. Her mother had been making a big effort with her and Cam, and he was enjoying running about in the big house and its grounds. This afternoon, Val had taken him swimming, insisting that she could cope easily with a toddler splashing about in the pool. Everyone, it seemed, could manage Cam better than his own mother.

  Ruth’s homecoming hadn’t been all good. Walking into the study and looking at her father’s desk had been pretty upsetting. Someone — the police? Val? — had made an effort to clean up, but wherever she looked, Ruth could see tiny tell-tale dots that had been missed.

  Ruth was in the study now. Despite the horror of what had happened there, it was still the place where she felt closest to her father. The room drew her like a magnet every time she passed the door.

  She crossed to the bookcase and picked out the old volume of eighteenth-century verse that she’d given her father for his fiftieth birthday. She’d found it in a second-hand bookshop and knew at once that he’d like it. It was the last gift she’d given him, as it turned out. The foxing on the top edge looked like dried blood. Ruth shuddered. She returned it to the shelf before it set off a chain of associations in her mind.

  Next, Ruth took a few tentative steps closer to Russ’s desk and picked up his paperweight, a bronze replica of a flying horse of the Tan Dynasty that she had coveted for most of her life. She remembered playing with it on the floor of her father’s study while he worked. “I’ll leave it to you in my will,” he had joked. If she asked her mother for it now, it would be hers at once. The thought made Ruth realise that her father was truly gone.

  He’d taught her a lesson by not simply giving it to her all those years ago. Ruth had always known her parents were wealthy, but she’d also learned that she couldn’t have everything she wanted.

  What she wanted more than anything in the world right now was to see her father sitting there in his ergonomic leather chair, smiling at her and bouncing Cam on his knee. Ruth wiped away a tear, and replaced the paperweight.

  Her phone rang. Hector Cornish. What did he want now? He’d promised to leave her and Fin alone. Perhaps she was wrong to assume his call meant more trouble. Perhaps Hector had heard the news of her father’s death and was ringing to offer his condolences. But Hector tended to have some agenda of his own. She was right.

  “I need a little favour, Ruth. Can we meet? This evening?”

  “It’s not a great time, Hector. In case you didn’t hear, my dad died. He was murdered, actually.”

  “Yes, I heard. I’m sorry, Ruth. I wouldn’t trouble you at such a time but it’s kind of urgent. It affects Fin, maybe you and Cam too. Shall we say seven? I’ll pick you up.”

  “What’s this about, Hector? You said you’d leave us alone. Is this something to do with—?”

  “Have you heard about Dana?”

  Ruth caught her breath.

  “I didn’t kill her if that’s what you’re thinking. You always did have an overactive imagination, Ruthie.”

  “Why did you ask about Dana, then?”

  “Because her death has complicated things. Look, I don’t want to say any more on the phone. Can you meet me or not? I know what I said about our little secret, but needs must . . .”

  Did she have a choice? Given what Hector knew about her past, Ruth didn’t think so. He’d used that knowledge against her once and promised never to use it again. She and Fin had been stupid to trust him.

  Ruth sighed. “I’ll meet you.” Hector named a bar that they’d spent a lot of time in as teenagers.

  Ruth texted her mother and asked if she could look after Cam that evening, so she could go out with a friend. Val sent her back a picture of Cam looking cute in his tiny Nemo swimming trunks.

  Later, Val offered to drop Ruth off in town so that she could ‘have a drink and forget her worries for a bit.’ She even offered to pick Ruth up afterwards, but Ruth said she’d take a taxi to save disturbing Cam.

  “Who are you meeting, sweetheart?”

  “A friend from Cambridge. Her name’s Peri,” Ruth said. She kissed Cam, surprised — and a little disappointed — that he didn’t protest about being left with Val.

  Hector was waiting for her outside the bar. Although they had both been at Cambridge at roughly the same time, their paths had seldom crossed there. Until, one afternoon, she and Fin had bumped into Hector and Dana Schell in the Grafton shopping centre, and Ruth had invited them round for a meal.

  After they had been reminiscing for a while, Ruth had grown comfortable and trusting, and had stupidly told them why her father wouldn’t accept Fin as a suitable partner for her. He had been involved with dealing drugs, years ago. If only she’d kept her mouth shut.

  This evening, they greeted each other with mutual suspicion. Hector paid for their drinks and led Ruth upstairs. The pub was in a medieval building. It had a warren of connecting rooms spread over two different levels. All of the rooms had low, beamed ceilings and small, leaded light windows. To compensate for the dimness, and, presumably, to provide atmosphere, the owners of the bar had provided table lamps with colourful Tiffany-style shades. On any other occasion the room might have seemed cosy and intimate. This evening though, the building’s great age and the dark room added to Ruth’s sense of unease.

  Hector chose a quiet room on the second floor, where they were the sole customers. As soon as they were settled at the table, she came straight to the point. “So what do you want, Hector?”

  Hector got straight to the point too. “I need you to lie for me.”

  Ruth nodded, unsurprised. “What makes you think I still care about keeping what happened that night a secret? Now that my father’s dead . . .”

  Hector leaned across the table, and covered her hand with his. “Your father’s death doesn’t change a thing.” He leaned in closer. The whites of his eyes were criss-crossed with thready red veins. “You know that, don’t you, Ruth?”

  Facetious bastard. Ruth scarcely knew herself, so how could Hector sit there and claim to know what made her tick? But he was right. Hector understood not only the source of her sadness, but also her need for silence. Still, she challenged him. “No, actually, I don’t.”

  Hector’s look said, Oh, come on. “Look at you,” he said. “Twenty-two years old and saddled with a kid we both know you never wanted. You were a high flier, Ruth. With your privileged upbringing, you should be well o
n the way to a great career by now. You wanted to be a doctor when we were kids, didn’t you? Before—”

  “What’s your point, Hector?”

  “You’re living the life you think you deserve.”

  “I like my life well enough.” It was true. She loved Fin. Her feelings for Cam were complex, but there was love mixed in with all the other emotions. In time, perhaps, love would be uppermost. Wearily, she asked again. “What do you want?”

  “Nothing much. The police found some coke under Dana’s bed. I persuaded her to hide it there in case Gail or Kitty or the twins found it in my room. Dana at least had a lock on her door. Just in case the police point the finger at me, I need you to tell them that you saw Dana doing drugs in Cambridge. I’ll tell them she was a cokehead and that’s why we split up. Because I don’t do drugs.”

  “What if they start asking questions in Cambridge? It won’t take them long to discover what you’ve been up to.”

  “They won’t get anything on me. I’ve been the soul of discretion,” Hector said. “My clients are loyal to me and they know how to keep their mouths shut. Besides, like me, most of them are headed for lucrative careers when they leave Cambridge, and it wouldn’t do for their future employers to know they had a drug habit.”

  “You’d blackmail them?”

  “I’ve had practice.” Hector smirked. Ruth wanted to punch him in the mouth. “You and your father.”

  “My father?” Ruth was shocked.

  “I needed a little help with some gambling debts and Pater was being boring. He cut my allowance.”

  “You asked my dad for money? You bastard.”

  “Again, needs must. You’d be surprised how much he was prepared to cough up to protect his little darling’s reputation.”

  Ruth felt sick. Her past was like the ripples from a whirlpool. Eventually it sucked everyone in.

  “The pigs are already asking themselves how that poor working-class girl could afford to buy that amount of drugs from her wages as a skivvy. Was it, in fact, the rich kid she was screwing? Look, all you need to do is tell them Dana was doing a lot of drugs when she was in Cambridge. That your boyfriend, Fin, thought she might be dealing. With Fin’s background, they’ll believe him.”