by JANICE FROST
Neal was waiting in the kitchen when she arrived at the station. To her surprise, he pointed to a takeaway coffee on the worktop near the kettle. “I’ll drive,” he said. If he’d been anyone else but Neal, Ava would have hugged him.
It was about a two-hour drive to Cambridge. Just getting out of Stromfordshire could take ages in the rush hour, hence the early start. Stromfordshire wasn’t connected to any main arterial routes. It was also in a predominantly rural and agricultural area and at some point this morning, Ava knew, they’d be stuck behind a tractor for miles.
“How’s Archie getting along?” Ava asked, as they chuntered along at fifteen miles an hour behind said tractor, with Neal sighing loudly. “He’s in his last year at primary school now, isn’t he? Have you thought about which secondary school he’ll go to?”
“I think he’ll probably go to the Crossgate Academy,” Neal answered. “It’s the nearest to us and he seemed to like it when we visited.”
“It has a good reputation.”
Neal agreed. He craned his neck to see if the road beyond the tractor was clear. Mentioning Archie was a clumsy lead into what Ava really wanted to ask of him. “So, Maggie told me that Archie’s mother’s been in touch.”
There was a pause while Neal pulled out and overtook the tractor. “Er . . . yes,” he answered, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. Not keen to talk about it, then. And really, it was none of her business.
Still unsure of how to be with Neal, Ava didn’t press. Maybe she’d misinterpreted the look that had passed between them when she’d saved his life that time. Maybe it had been gratitude, plain and simple.
But then, there’d been the meal. Again, perhaps she had misinterpreted Neal’s easy manner as meaning something more. She had left Neal’s house that evening feeling almost like one of the family. Neal had even pecked her on the cheek when she got into her taxi. She sighed. She wished he would tell her what Myrna wanted. Him, no doubt. Time to give Maggie a call.
She gave up and steered the conversation to the case at hand, and how they would handle the interview with Fin O’Shea.
“I’m still kind of puzzled about Ruth volunteering that info. PJ and I both got the impression there was something off about it. I still think Hector Cornish might have put her up to it to deflect suspicion from himself. When we interviewed him, he sort of kept bringing drugs up as though he expected we would if he didn’t, if you see what I mean.”
“Dana’s prints weren’t the only ones on the clip bags,” Neal pointed out. “But even if Hector’s or Paul’s — or anyone else in the family’s prints were on there, all that would prove was that they’d touched the bags at some point, not that they’d had the drugs in their possession. The bags might have come from a kitchen cupboard. Thinking about what PJ said yesterday about Ruth and Hector being at Cambridge together, it would make sense that if Hector had something on Ruth that would compel Russ Marsh to lend him money, that same thing would potentially give him control over Ruth herself.” Neal beeped the horn at a van driver overtaking on the inside.
The rest of the journey passed in dreary motorway monotony. Ava, though sustained by the coffee, only just managed to stay awake. On arriving in Cambridge, they parked up and walked a short way to Ruth and Fin’s terraced house.
A young man with a bushy beard answered their knock and invited them inside. A laptop lay on the floor next to a two-seater sofa, papers and books strewn around it. Fin had evidently been working.
There wasn’t a lot of space. Ava couldn’t help thinking that it was a modest home for a millionaire’s daughter to be living in. She remembered that Ruth and her father hadn’t been on speaking terms for some time before Russ Marsh’s death. She and Fin had been fending for themselves. Ruth was working part-time teaching English to foreign students. Ava wasn’t sure if Fin worked as well as pursuing his studies.
“I can’t believe what happened to Ruth’s father,” Fin said, shaking his head. “I never met the man, and I know he didn’t approve of me, but no one deserves to die like that. And poor Val, finding him. Have you got any leads?”
“One or two,” Neal said evasively. “We’re here to talk to you about Dana Schell. A shadow descended over Fin’s face at the mention of Dana’s name.
“Yes, poor Dana.”
“How would you describe your relationship with Ms Schell, Mr O’Shea?”
“Non-existent. I only met her twice. The first time was when Ruth and I bumped into her and Ruth’s school friend Hector Cornish, in the Grafton shopping centre in Cambridge. I chatted with her for a bit while Ruth and Hector had a catch up. Ruth invited them for dinner.”
“What did you chat about?” Ava asked.
“It was small talk, mostly. I asked Dana if it was her first visit to Cambridge, whether she’d done much sightseeing. She told me she’d been once before, as a child, and couldn’t remember anything much except seeing the punts on the river.”
“Did the topic of drugs come up in your conversation? Cocaine, in particular. Did Dana ask you where she could get some in Cambridge, or offer to sell you some?” Ava asked.
“Er . . . yes. She asked me where she could score. I told her I didn’t know. That I wasn’t interested.” All at once, Fin’s manner seemed guarded.
“You were arrested for drug offences, weren’t you, Mr O’Shea?” Ava said.
“That was a long time ago, Sergeant. I’ve moved on since those days. And I was never a user.” His tone was polite, even deferential. Ava had expected her comment to provoke him. He was telling the truth. About his own metamorphosis, at any rate.
“Your partner, Ruth Marsh, claims that you caught Dana doing a line of coke in your bathroom one evening, when Hector and Dana came to dinner,” she said.
“Yes. That’s right.” Fin’s lips were a thin, puckered line set in a taut face.
“Did Hector indulge?” Ava said.
“No.”
She frowned. “You seem very sure of that.”
“I know the signs. As you pointed out, I have experience.”
“Did Hector know Dana was using?” she asked.
“I’m not sure, but he wasn’t aware she was dealing. He was pretty mad when I told him that’s what I suspected.”
“And what exactly made you suspect Dana was dealing coke?” Ava watched him carefully.
“She, er, said as much. Said it was good stuff she was taking and if I wanted she could sell me some.”
His story seemed to chime more or less with Ruth’s. Nevertheless, Ava had the feeling, as she had when Ruth came to the station, that this story had a false ring to it.
“What was your impression of Hector Cornish, Mr O’Shea?” Neal asked.
“I’ll be honest. He’s not my sort of person. Too full of himself. I tolerated him for Ruth’s sake, but I was glad when the evening was over, not least because of catching Dana at her habit. It made me nervous. I’d closed that chapter of my life and didn’t want to be reminded of it.”
“How did Hector seem with Dana, before you told him about the incident in the bathroom?” Ava said.
“How do you mean?”
“Did he treat her with respect, for example?” Her question seemed to throw Fin. There was a prolonged silence.
He cleared his throat. “I suppose so.”
“You suppose?” Ava waited.
“He was a bit — you know — condescending. Kept correcting her grammar, mimicking her accent.”
“Belittling her?”
“Maybe, yes, probably. Wait, is Hector a suspect?”
“He was Dana’s boyfriend, so we have to ask questions. It doesn’t mean he’s a suspect as such.” Ava changed tack. “How well did you know the rest of Ruth’s family?”
Fin frowned. “As I said, I never met her father. Val’s okay, we get on alright. She didn’t agree with her husband’s prejudices about me. I’m assuming you know already that Ruth’s father didn’t approve of me?”
“Yes, but we’d like to hear your side
of the story.”
Fin gave sigh. “Look. When I first met Ruth, I was a penniless student living in a house share from which I was about to be evicted. Ruth was staying in her college, but later she moved into a nice flat that her dad was paying for. She suggested I come and live with her. Next thing we know, her old man’s telling her to get shot of me. He’s hired a PI to check into my background and found out I’d been in trouble over drugs. Her father was obviously horrified at the thought of his precious daughter being associated with someone like me.”
Fin looked from Neal to Ava, as if expecting to be judged. “He got more than he bargained for, though. Ruth wasn’t having any of it. She was shocked that he’d go to such lengths to control her, and she refused to stay in the flat any longer, or take another penny from him. Ruth’s aunt, Lizzie, helped us out with a deposit and a month’s rent, and so we got this place.”
“Lizzie Hamilton lent you money?”
“Yeah. She’s alright, is Lizzie. Very possessive of Ruth, though. I think it bothers Val a bit.” His voice dropped. “You know what happened to Lizzie’s son and her first husband, don’t you?”
“The fire?” Ava said.
“Yeah. Ruth can’t bear any mention of that. Or of her cousin, Will. I guess she and her cousin must have been pretty close.”
Had they? No one had mentioned it. Ruth had attended the same private school as Hector, and Will had gone to one of the local comprehensives. They couldn’t have had much in common.
Fin’s remark about Lizzie being possessive of Ruth was interesting. As an outsider to the family, Fin was more likely to be objective. Ava thought of Val’s display of jealousy when Neal suggested that Ruth and her son stay at Lizzie’s. There was a tension between the sisters. That in itself was nothing unusual. Not all sisters got along like a house on fire — grim simile.
Neal was evidently of like mind. He said, “What was your impression of the relationship between the sisters?”
Fin seemed more relaxed now that he was no longer the focus of their attention. “Complicated one, that. According to Ruth, it’s historical. Lizzie was always their parent’s favourite. Val left home as soon as she hit sixteen and moved to London. Lizzie was regarded as the clever one, but she ended up being less successful than Val, financially speaking. Depends how you measure success, doesn’t it? I guess Val was jealous of Lizzie being the golden child when they were growing up. Then, later on, she must have looked at Lizzie’s dreary existence compared to hers and felt a certain satisfaction. Now she’s jealous all over again because of the bond between Ruth and Lizzie.” He paused. “Val once claimed that Lizzie saw Ruth as a substitute for her dead son.”
Ouch. Val could have kept that to herself, Ava thought.
“Like I said, though, I get on okay with Val. She’s been pretty good to us, especially since Cam came along.” By good, Ava read generous.
“And she looked after us all when Ruth and I were sick recently. Val got up in the night with Cam, and Ruth and I slept the best we’d done for months.”
Ava glanced at Neal, who nodded. Time to bring the interview to a close.
“You must be missing your family, Mr O’Shea.”
“Yes. I’ll be glad when this is all over and things get back to normal. If that’s even possible, after all that’s happened.”
“Thanks for your time, Mr O’Shea. We’ll let you get back to your work.” Ava’s eyes travelled to the laptop. “What are you studying, by the way?”
“History.”
“Well, good luck with that,” Ava said. Neal nodded approvingly. Fin escorted them to the door.
* * *
They were in striking distance of the car when Neal said, “Let’s grab a bite to eat.”
It was still a little early for lunch, but Ava offered no resistance. Like her, Neal had probably had an early, rushed breakfast.
“How about over there?” She pointed at a café on the other side of the street with a board outside advertising an all-day breakfast.
“Perfect. I only managed half a bowl of cornflakes this morning.”
A few minutes later they were sitting at a table by the window, waiting for their ‘Seven-ups’ — seven breakfast items for five ninety-nine — and watching passers-by battling against the autumn wind.
“He seemed an intelligent, likeable young man,” Neal said, referring to Fin.
“Obviously very much in love with Ruth. His face lit up every time he mentioned her name. And Cam, of course.”
Neal tucked in with relish, devouring sausages and bacon like someone who’d been starving for days. Ava took a sip of coffee, not expecting much, and was pleasantly surprised. With added approval, she noted that the price included ‘bottomless hot drinks.’
Only when his plate was half empty did Neal, meditatively pouring his tea, remark on the interview. “Fin’s angle on the Val, Ruth and Lizzie triangle was interesting.”
“I thought it was a bit unkind of Val to taint Lizzie’s love for Ruth by suggesting that she was compensating for losing Will.” Ava chewed her sausage ruminatively. “I wonder why we’ve never thought to ask where Ruth was on the night of the fire.”
Neal looked up from buttering his toast.
“I mean, we’ve heard that Lizzie blamed Russ for Will’s death because he stayed at work late instead of picking the boy up on time. Will and Ruth were the same age, weren’t they? So who was looking after Ruth that night?” She gave a shrug. “There’s probably some utterly obvious answer.”
Ava held her cup aloft for a refill. Her third. Now she’d need to pee. How embarrassing. Then again, Neal had just started his second pot of tea . . .
“PJ’s going to look at the Ruth angle. Maybe she’ll dig something up,” Neal said.
Ava asked if he thought Fin’s story about Dana and the drugs let Hector off the hook too conveniently.
“Their stories matched. Then again, Ruth would have been in touch with Fin. They had time to make sure they told the same tale. Fin was clearly uncomfortable talking about the drugs thing with Dana, but that could be because of his past.”
“So, is Hector in the clear? About the drugs? We only have Fin’s word for it that he witnessed Dana taking coke in their bathroom. Fin could easily be back in the drugs game himself. They aren’t exactly living in the sort of luxury Ruth was brought up in. He might even have come to some arrangement with Dana.”
“If he is dealing, he’s not living large on the profits. How is he funding his studies? Do we know?”
“I checked. He won a scholarship, but it’s barely enough to live on. Certainly not enough to provide any extras for Cam. He might have been tempted back into his old way of life to make things easier.”
“Val’s helped them out,” Neal said.
“Fin’s another one who doesn’t have an alibi for the time of Dana’s death. He claims he was in Cambridge, at home, alone, working into the early hours. It’s not inconceivable that he could have driven to Stromford, killed Dana and driven back.” She paused. “Except Ruth had the car. But there are ways around that.”
“Hmm . . .” Neal didn’t look convinced.
Ava was contemplating another refill when Neal asked if she was finished. She excused herself and went to the loo, and when she returned she found that Neal had paid for both of them. He refused to let her pay her share. “Your turn next time.”
Pleased to think he anticipated a next time, Ava took over the driving. To her surprise, Neal dozed off along the endless stretches of boring motorway. Ava didn’t mind. She was content to listen to the sound of his gentle snores and go over the case in her head. Before long, though, she began to feel the pressure on her bladder and she was obliged to pull into a garage. When the car stopped, Neal started awake and began apologising for falling asleep.
After using their facilities, Ava felt obliged to buy something. Her gaze fell on a coffee machine, but she chose some chewing gum instead. As she was waiting for her change, the pictures on the front cover
of one of the gossipy magazines caught her eye. She took a closer look.
“Shit!”
The assistant glared at her. “Pardon?”
She grabbed the magazine and said she’d have it too.
Not wishing Neal to see it, Ava squashed the magazine into her handbag. There had been a number of pictures on the cover, but the one that caught her eye was tucked away in the bottom corner. It showed Myrna’s smiling face, accompanied by the caption, Myrna McCloud to tie knot with American musical director Joey Brighton.
Ava walked back to the car, her mind in turmoil. By the time she climbed into the seat beside him, she had convinced herself that Neal had been the one to contact Myrna. He wanted to stop the wedding.
Chapter Twelve
Ruth woke to the sound of Cam wailing. She waited a few minutes, hoping her mother might come and take him downstairs, but for once, Val must have been sleeping soundly. When Cam’s cries became more insistent, Ruth tossed her bedclothes aside and padded across the room to his cot.
Ruth didn’t even try to soothe him back to sleep. He was already standing up with his arms raised to be lifted. Ruth took him into her arms and caught a sharp whiff of ammonia. With a sigh, she gathered what she needed to change him and set him down on the mat to remove his wet nappy. He was gurgling now, content and wide awake, his eyes bright and full of mischief.
“Oh, Cam,” Ruth said. “Won’t you go back to sleep for Mummy? She’s so tired.”
“Dadadadada,” Cam babbled, his eyes searching the room for Fin.
“Daddy’s not here,” Ruth whispered, despairing. Cam continued to babble, louder now, and Ruth kept expecting her mother to appear in the doorway. Would she ask Ruth to quieten him, or take him downstairs herself to let her daughter sleep? But Val did not appear.
Ruth picked Cam up and carried him downstairs, shuddering as they passed the study. In the kitchen, she warmed some milk in the microwave, hoping it might make Cam sleepy.
Hand in hand, they walked across the wide hallway and into the big airy lounge. Through the windows overlooking the garden, she could see that the moon was out, casting its silver light across the lawn. At least it wasn’t cold like it was in her house in Cambridge when she had to get up in the night.
