Harbinder sits next to her father, breathing in the familiar smell of clean linen and aftershave. After a while, just because she’s very tired, she tells herself, she lets her head rest on his shoulder.
‘You must be exhausted,’ says Deepak. ‘You’ve had quite a time of it. I got in from the football to hear that you saved your mother’s life.’
‘That was Sultan really. He had Patricia pinned against the kitchen counter.’
She can feel her father’s chest swell. ‘Didn’t he do well? You know, he must have understood the whole thing. He must have suspected that terrible woman from the start. That’s why he started growling at her when she made the tea. He really is a first-class guard dog.’
Let’s just give Sultan the Nobel peace prize right away, thinks Harbinder. But she reaches out to stroke Sultan’s ears. ‘He was a hero,’ she says.
They watch the television in silence for a while. The weather forecaster tells them that the Indian summer will continue in the south of England. ‘Indian summer,’ says Deepak. ‘That’s racist in itself.’ There’s another pause and then he says, ‘You know, I’m very proud of you, Heena. I hope you know that. I know it’s difficult sometimes, living with your old parents.’
‘You’re not that bad really,’ says Harbinder.
‘It’s not easy. You’re an adult now. A woman with a responsible job.’
Blimey. Can she have this in writing?
‘I hope you know that . . . that you can always invite your friends here.’
Harbinder’s heart seems to have stopped. Is her father saying what she thinks he’s saying?
‘You can always invite boyfriends home. Or girlfriends.’
There it is. What should she say? Maybe best to keep quiet. Deepak seems to have been preparing this speech for a while.
‘We just want you to be happy. We don’t care if it’s with a man or a woman.’
Harbinder feels her heart fluttering as if it is about to fly away, taking her body with it. On her phone there is a text from Julie.
Fancy a walk in Brighton one day?
Harbinder and her father stare at the screen as the wave of high pressure swoops across Europe.
36
Benedict
A Seaside Lady’s Diary
IT’S ALISON, THE warden, who tells Benedict that Peggy’s flat has been sold. ‘I wondered if you and Natalka wanted to go in and see if there’s anything left of Peggy’s. The son and daughter-in-law took most things away but I think there’s a box or two left.’
‘They’ll only have left things that have no value,’ says Natalka. ‘I know what those two are like.’
‘You always say that you think the worst of people,’ says Benedict. ‘But you don’t really.’
He feels that he can say things like this to Natalka now. They’ve been seeing each other almost every day for nearly two weeks. Dmytro has gone back to Aberdeen and Natalka has been spending most nights at Benedict’s flat. They have even talked—briefly—about getting a place together.
‘There will be nothing left at Peggy’s,’ says Natalka. ‘Nothing worth anything.’
But, when they open the door to the familiar apartment, there is a large box in the middle of the room. It’s mostly full of old notebooks and Benedict gets these out now and spreads them on the floor. It’s odd, being back here, with the sunlight streaming through the bay window. Benedict thinks of Peggy’s funeral, the room full of people in dark suits, Nigel standing apart, glowering. He thinks of the footsteps on the stairs and staring down the barrel of a gun. Was that really Patricia Creeve behind the mask? Harbinder says so. It still doesn’t seem possible to Benedict. But Patricia has been charged with the murder of Dex Challoner, having been caught on CCTV with a gun in her hand. Harbinder says more charges will follow. Natalka and Maria are running Care4You until a new manager can be found.
‘Look at this,’ says Benedict to Natalka, who is sorting through postcards. ‘It’s Peggy’s Investigation Book. I wondered where that was. She’s written it in this book. A Seaside Lady’s Diary.’ The title of the book is written in loopy writing, surrounded by pallid marine life.
Benedict flicks through the pages, marvelling at Peggy’s neat writing and her meticulous lists of joggers, cyclists and people with dogs. September 2018, Peggy’s last month on earth. Did she really die of a heart attack or did Patricia kill her? According to Harbinder, insulin poisoning is almost impossible to prove without a post-mortem.
Tenth of September 2018. The day Peggy died. What had Peggy seen that day?
2 x women with pushchairs
1 x priest (vicar?) eating an ice-cream
11 x dog-walkers. 6 lone women: 4 x indiscriminate breed, 1 x pug, 1 x Jack Russell
1 man with greyhound, 2 x couples with doodle types.
5 cyclists
6 joggers
1 Unicyclist
Benedict looks at the list again. 11 x dog-walkers. 6 lone women: 4 x indiscriminate breed, 1 x pug, 1 x Jack Russell.
‘Natalka?’ he says. ‘What sort of dog does Julie have?’
‘A Jack Russell,’ says Natalka. ‘Remember, she showed us a picture.’
‘Look at this,’ he says. He shows her the list.
‘Unicyclist,’ says Natalka. ‘Probably from Brighton.’
‘No. Lone woman with Jack Russell.’
‘That could be anyone.’
‘I know but Julie said that she’d never met Peggy. And there’s something else that’s been bugging me.’
‘What?’ says Natalka. She sounds exasperated but not entirely unaffectionate.
‘When I read Julie’s book You Made Me Do It, it reminded me of something. I’ve just realised what it was. The plot was exactly like the plot of Thank Heaven Fasting.’
‘The book the gunman took.’
‘Exactly.’
Natalka looks at him. They were both sitting on the floor but now they are standing.
‘Where does Julie live?’ says Benedict.
‘Hove,’ says Natalka. ‘But she’s out today. She’s gone out with Harbinder.’
* * *
NATALKA’S CAR IS outside her house and they are held up by Debbie who insists on discussing Dmytro and how charming he is. When they set out they are further hampered by the Saturday afternoon traffic on the coast road. Natalka weaves in and out of lanes as Benedict tries to call Harbinder and Julie. Neither of them are answering their phones.
‘Do you really think that Julie killed Peggy?’ says Natalka, overtaking an open-topped bus. ‘She seemed such a nice person.’
‘Means and motive,’ says Benedict. ‘Julie had both. She could have killed Lance too. She was right there in the hotel.’
‘And now Harbinder’s on a date with her,’ says Natalka. ‘I know where they’ll go. Harbinder said they were taking the dog for a walk. Edwin said that Julie always walks between the peace statue and the pier.’
‘Are they seeing each other then, Julie and Harbinder?’
‘This is their first date, though Harbinder insists it isn’t a date. I think they like each other though. I first noticed it at Cove Bay. When Julie broke her wrist.’
‘I had no idea. I didn’t realise Julie was gay. I didn’t know Harbinder was until you told me.’
‘I’m good at sensing these things. I’ve told you I’ve slept with men and women.’
‘Yes. Thanks. Always good to hear.’
‘Don’t be sarcastic, Benny. Look for a parking space.’
It’s easier said than done. The seafront in Hove seems to be full of people enjoying the beautiful autumn weather. Eventually Natalka squeezes into a space vacated by a motorbike. She negates all those jokes about women being bad at parking. Not that Benedict believed them anyway. He’s always suspected that women were the superior sex.
They race along the promenade. Past the angel of peace, the café, the remains of the West Pier, like the skeleton of a vast sea creature. This boardwalk has changed since Benedict use
d to come here as a boy. Now it’s all landscaped and manicured: pebbles embedded in concrete, skateboard areas and basketball nets, shops selling dreamcatchers and animals made out of shells. There are countless women with dogs but none of them are Julie and Arthur.
‘We’ll never find them,’ says Benedict, stopping to get his breath beside a whelk stall with a pink plastic lobster on its roof.
‘Look over there,’ says Natalka.
Harbinder is sitting alone on a bench, looking out to sea. She’s holding a lead which is attached to a small dog. Benedict and Natalka stumble over the stones towards her. Harbinder looks up but doesn’t seem that surprised to see them. Nor does the dog. Natalka and Benedict sit on either side of her.
‘We want to talk to you about Julie,’ says Benedict.
‘She’s not here,’ says Harbinder, her voice flat. ‘She’s at the police station.’
Benedict and Natalka stare at her. Harbinder goes on, still gazing out to sea, ‘I know Julie killed Peggy. Lance Foster too. I’ve suspected for a while. Patricia killed Dex because she thought Maria had told him about her stealing from Weronika. But Jim was right. That murder was very different from the other two. Then I remembered that the person who stole the book held the gun in their left hand. Patricia’s right-handed. Julie broke her right wrist but she could still type. Then I read that book, Thank Heaven Fasting. Julie took the plot from it for her first book. Peggy must have known. She didn’t advise Julie on her first book, according to Edwin. Maybe she read it later. That’s why she asked Miles if he’d read Thank Heaven Fasting. Miles must have told Julie. So Julie killed Peggy.’
‘Just for that?’ says Natalka.
‘It was Julie’s big break,’ says Harbinder. ‘Her only really successful book. I think she would have killed to protect the secret.’
‘That must have been why she killed Lance,’ says Natalka. ‘He asked her that question about Peggy. He must have suspected. And he mentioned Thank Heaven Fasting on his panel. That must have been aimed at Julie.’
‘Yes,’ says Benedict. ‘He specifically mentioned Sheila Atkins’ plotting skills. But, surely, if Julie had stolen the plot, she must have known someone would find out one day.’
‘Maybe,’ says Harbinder. ‘I just think, when it came to it, she found it surprisingly easy to kill Peggy.’
‘Julie had been a nurse,’ says Natalka. ‘Edwin told me. She would know how to inject someone with insulin.’
‘The Brighton police are interviewing her now,’ says Harbinder. ‘I said I’d take Arthur to some friends of hers. She was really worried about him.’
Benedict reaches out his hand to the little dog, who ignores him.
‘I think she’ll confess,’ Harbinder continues, still in that odd, expressionless voice. ‘There might be other evidence too. CCTV from the Majestic. Forensics from the room.’
Benedict thinks of Lance sitting in his chair by the window. He wouldn’t have felt threatened when Julie appeared at his door, even if he’d guessed that she’d come to talk about Peggy. He would have sat down, almost looking forward to the conversation. Had Julie then stabbed him in the arm with a needle? As Harbinder says, the forensics will probably show if this is true.
‘I’ve told Jim,’ she says. ‘That’s the second case that I’ve solved for him. Not that he’s grateful.’
For a few minutes, they all sit looking out over the beach. The sea is very blue, flecked with tiny white waves. Even though it’s October, people are still swimming. A Jet Ski cuts its way across the horizon. From the undamaged pier they can hear music and shouts of laughter.
‘I’m sorry,’ says Natalka.
‘It’s OK,’ says Harbinder. ‘At least my parents know I’m gay now. I think they may have known for a while. I just hope my next prospective girlfriend doesn’t turn out to be a murderer too.’
They all sit in silence, looking at the crowded blue sea.
37
Harbinder
Influencers
‘SO THIS JULIE person confessed to killing Peggy as well as Lance Foster?’ Donna sounds almost irritated but this is probably because she’s had to come in to work on a Saturday.
‘Apparently so,’ says Harbinder. She had asked the Brighton police to wait at the peace statue but not to approach until she gave the signal. The café had its tables out and business was brisk but Harbinder found a spare seat and waited. As she saw Julie coming towards her, wearing a stripy top and blue trousers, with an excitable white dog on a lead, Harbinder had a sudden violent hope that it wasn’t true. Julie was simply a thirty-something woman out walking her dog. An attractive, intelligent thirty-something woman with whom Harbinder could have her first adult, sanctioned-by-her-parents affair. Julie’s wrist was still in plaster, she was holding Arthur’s lead in her left hand. Julie waved, smiled and, when she reached Harbinder, kissed her on both cheeks. Harbinder’s heart had sunk. She’s no Christian but she remembered how Judas had greeted Jesus.
‘Am I late? Sorry.’
‘You’re not late. I was early.’ What should she say now? Did you kill Peggy Smith? Did you kill Lance Foster and then spend two cosy days in a safe house laughing, chatting and playing cards?
‘How are you?’ said Julie. She sat next to Harbinder at the café table. Arthur strained at his lead, anxious to continue the walk.
‘OK. Still working hard on the case.’ Was it her imagination or did Julie suddenly grow still beside her?
‘I thought that was solved. I thought the manager of the care place did it. You said you had CCTV footage of her.’
‘We’ve got CCTV footage of Patricia Creeve at Dex’s place. She killed him, all right. The thing is, though, we’ve got CCTV of the person who threatened Natalka and Benedict with a gun. It’s a different person.’
Harbinder remembers now that Julie had said nothing.
‘It was you, Julie. You went to Peggy’s flat with a gun—probably a replica—and you stole that book. There aren’t many still in print and you wanted it out of the way. You’d already killed Peggy, hadn’t you?’
When Julie finally spoke it was to say, ‘You’ve got no proof.’ And Harbinder’s last gleam of hope faded. No innocent person would ever say those words.
‘There’s always proof,’ said Harbinder. ‘If not at Peggy’s, there’ll be forensics in Lance’s hotel room. You know that. We always leave a trace of ourselves behind. Mind you, there’s not much about police procedure in your books, is there? Or in Sheila Atkins’. ’
She’d gestured then to the PCs who were trying, unsuccessfully in Harbinder’s view, to blend in with the day-trippers. They had taken Julie away for questioning. Harbinder had said that she would follow them after she’d taken Arthur to Julie’s friends but, actually, she had walked a little way along the promenade and sat on a bench looking at the sea. It was there that Benedict and Natalka had found her.
She’d rung Donna from Holland Road police station.
Now Donna and Neil are trying to process this latest development.
‘Julie Monroe killed Peggy because she knew that she’d copied the plot of her book from some old murder mystery?’ That’s Neil, putting it in subtitles for the hard of hearing.
‘Yes,’ says Harbinder. ‘I thought it might be impossible to prove. There wasn’t a post-mortem and so many people have trampled through that flat. But Julie confessed. She’d confessed by the time I got to Hove police station. She confessed to Lance’s murder too. Both by insulin injection. The forensic psychologist who interviewed her said that she thought Julie might have killed her own mother too. That’s what gave her the idea. Apparently that’s how the victim is killed in Julie’s first book, with an insulin injection. No wonder she didn’t have any trouble with that murder.’
‘Did you have any idea?’ says Neil. ‘I mean, you must have known this Julie quite well. You were all held in the safe house together, weren’t you?’
He’s looking at her intently, quite unlike his usual darting squir
rel gaze.
‘I had my suspicions,’ says Harbinder.
‘Then you should have shared them with us,’ says Donna, but quite mildly.
‘They were just suspicions,’ says Harbinder. ‘I didn’t guess until I finished Thank Heaven Fasting last night.’
‘All this reading,’ says Neil. ‘You’ll be joining a book club soon, Harbinder.’
‘If I do,’ says Harbinder, ‘you have my permission to shoot me.’
* * *
IT’S EARLY EVENING by the time she gets home. Her father is in the shop so Harbinder helps her mother prepare supper, watched droolingly by Sultan. Harbinder is glad that she didn’t tell her mum about the date with Julie. Bibi is so keen to show that she isn’t prejudiced that she will probably shower any prospective girlfriend with rose petals and Indian sweetmeats. It’ll be even worse than the times when her brothers brought their girlfriends home.
After supper, Harbinder watches Saturday evening television with her parents, listening to their ritual comments on Britain’s Got Talent.
‘Look at that, Deepak. I couldn’t do that.’
‘Why would you want to, Bibi?’
As early as she can, Harbinder excuses herself and goes upstairs. After her shower, she gets into bed, picks up her phone and puts it down again. She’s trying to wean herself off Panda Pop. She remembers Neil’s comment about the reading. Maybe that’s what she needs to do now. Read and take her mind off Julie’s face when she saw Harbinder this afternoon. If this hadn’t happened, could she have had a relationship with her? Maybe, thinks Harbinder, and, after their first row, Julie would have approached her with a loaded syringe. She’s safer staying single.
She looks around her room for possible reading matter but there are only her old school and university books, plus a full set of James Herberts. But she isn’t in the mood for horror tonight. On her desk is the jiffy bag from Pippa Sinclair-Lewis, containing Dex Challoner’s first book, A Town Called Murder. She gets the book out now and flips through the pages. Death, guns, sex, murder. Looks like the perfect comforting read. As she opens the book at Chapter One, a postcard falls out. Pippa Sinclair-Lewis has written, Enjoy! P. Harbinder turns the card over and reads the words: We are coming for you.
The Postscript Murders Page 28
