“Dylan, what a lovely surprise. Are you on your way to see Alek?” She strode over and opened the gate. She was wearing clean black trousers, a blue jacket and shoes with small heels.
“I am, yes. I thought I’d call in here as I’m passing, but it looks like you’re on your way out.”
“It’s my day to visit Aunt Joyce,” she said. “Come inside and I’ll make you a coffee.”
“No, it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to delay you.”
“Come on.” She smiled. “Aunt Joyce won’t mind.”
“Okay then, thanks. Sorry, but I don’t have anything new to tell you.”
“You can tell me how you’re managing to get all these visits to Alek.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
“Hey, I’m only teasing. In any case, when you get him out of that place, I’ll have him back here where he belongs.”
Dylan gave her a noncommittal smile.
She took him into the kitchen which, to Dylan’s surprise, was empty of dogs. A cat was curled up in the windowsill, waiting for the sun to shine perhaps, but it was the lone four-legged occupant.
“Milk and two sugars, wasn’t it?” She filled the kettle and switched it on.
“Please.”
The Aga was throwing out heat, as it had been on Dylan’s first visit. The extra warmth was still needed as Lancashire couldn’t understand that spring was supposed to have arrived. The only sign of the new season that Dylan had seen was a couple of brave lambs being buffeted by the wind.
“I saw Alek’s parents on Monday,” he said.
She tried to stifle a groan and failed. “Agata phoned me last night. They’re paying me a visit tomorrow.”
“Oh? Any particular reason?” Strange that they hadn’t mentioned it.
“It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, I gather. Agata said they hadn’t seen me for a while. Which is true. I keep meaning to call them but time just vanishes. How are they?”
“They’re fine.” He took a seat at the table. “How do you get on with them?”
“Okay.” The reply was automatic but her hand stilled on the kettle. “They’d known Alek’s first wife for a long time so they were upset when he got divorced. I’m not sure anyone could measure up after that.”
Dylan could believe that. He’d seen no framed photos of Sue with Alek.
“And she used to visit them more often because she still had family in Birmingham. She used to call on Alek’s parents when she saw her own, you see.” She put a mug of coffee in front of him. “There you go.”
“Thanks.”
She was waiting for Dylan to speak and it served as a reminder that he was getting nowhere. All he’d discovered was that Neil Walsingham had an affair more often than Dylan changed his shirt, and that he might not have been at the hospital when his wife was killed. Other than that, he had nothing.
“Do Alek’s parents ever talk to you about Mrs. Walsingham?” he asked.
“Not really, no. Sometimes, they’d tell Alek that she’d called in. They’d say it was nice to see her, that’s all.”
“They never mentioned any problems she was having? Financial problems? Disputes with anyone?”
“No. Never. Why do you ask?”
“Someone wanted her dead, Sue, and I can’t think of a single reason why anyone would.”
“You know what I think? I think a burglar got in, thinking she was out and then, when he realised she wasn’t, he killed her.”
“An opportunist?”
Dylan didn’t think so. Burglars tended to stick to their own craft. They might, if disturbed, hit out at someone, but they were unlikely to turn killer. It wasn’t as if Carly had disturbed anyone as she was still lying in her bath.
“Do you know Kirsten? She was Carly’s best friend and acted as bridesmaid when Alek married Carly.”
Sue shook her head slowly. “Never heard of her. But I wouldn’t expect to. Why? What’s she been saying?”
Frederyk and Agata Kaminski were paying Dylan too well for him to worry about hurting people’s feelings.
“She claims Carly was still in love with Alek,” he said.
A nerve twitched at Sue’s throat and she pulled a face, as if she had a bad smell under her nose. “Well, she would, wouldn’t she? Carly didn’t want Alek, but she didn’t like it when he married me. She couldn’t have, could she? That’s why she made him go round to her house. If he hadn’t, if he’d kept away from her—” She broke off, preferring to chew on her bottom lip.
Sue could live to be a hundred and still not accept that her husband had enjoyed sex with his ex-wife. He was a grown man, not a child. He hadn’t been forced into Carly’s bed. He’d gone willingly.
“Well, I won’t keep you from visiting your aunt, Sue. I’ll go and see Alek.”
“Give him my love, won’t you? I hate to think of him stuck in that place when he should be at home. I know you’re doing all you can, Dylan, but all the same—” She broke off. “Tell him I’ve written, and that I’ll see him soon.”
“I will.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Despite telling himself not to, Alek had looked forward to Dylan Scott’s visit. He’d failed to quash the hope that maybe Scott was as good as everyone claimed. He’d dared to think that maybe, just maybe, the bloke really was capable of getting him out of this hellhole.
He was doing okay in here. It was possible to cope with Strangeways so long as you kept the right attitude. If you kept yourself to yourself and didn’t upset anyone, you could get by.
At first, he’d thought he had nothing to get out for, but then he’d imagined taking Charlie for a long tramp across the hills. He’d discovered a longing to feel the wind on his face, and to sort out his fishing gear and spend a day on the riverbank.
As soon as he spotted Scott, he knew he’d been a damn fool to raise his hopes. He’d be better off putting his head down and accepting that this was as good as it got for the next decade or so. It was clear the bloke had no good news for him.
“Hi, Alek,” Scott said. “How are you doing?”
“Okay.”
They sat opposite each other on plastic chairs that were attached to the table.
“Sue sends her love,” Scott said with a forced smile. “She’s written to you and she says she’ll see you soon.”
Sue wrote every day. Every. Single. Day. It would only be newsworthy if she hadn’t.
“I called to see her on my way here,” Scott said. “She was on her way out. Off to see her great-aunt.”
“Like the old lady will care whether she’s there or not.”
Scott shrugged. “I saw your parents on Monday.”
“How are they?” He knew damn well how they were. It hurt to think of them having to go through this. They’d come to England years ago, when he was only three years old, but they were still outsiders. It wasn’t England or the English, it was them. They considered themselves inferior, saw themselves as the unwanted guests at a party. Alek could have made them proud, made them feel as if they belonged in this country, but instead, he’d wound up in Strangeways, branded a killer.
“They’re doing okay,” Scott said. “They’re paying Sue a visit tomorrow.”
“Sue?”
Scott smiled. “You sound surprised.”
“I am a bit.” A lot. His parents had never taken to Sue and any meetings were always strained. “We don’t see much of them.”
“Yes, so Sue said. While I was in Birmingham—I think I told you Carly’s parents have refused to see me? Well, I spoke to Kirsten.”
“Oh, yes?” He hadn’t seen her since he and Carly divorced. He’d never really liked or disliked her. In his eyes, she’d been Carly’s best friend. Nothing more and nothing less. He’d always believed she’d been jealous of him though. She’d wanted Carly for herself.
“She’s not your biggest fan,” Scott said, “but, unlike everyone else, she did say that Carly still loved you. She didn’t know you’d been seeing Car
ly, but she wasn’t surprised to hear it.”
Alek nodded again. Scott was telling him nothing he didn’t know, and nothing that warranted his parents handing over a lot of cash.
“I had a chat with Neil Walsingham, too.”
“Lying bastard.”
“Yes.” Scott drummed his fingers on the table. “The trouble is, I can’t think why he’d kill Carly. His life seemed to be going okay, after all. He had his sons, a nice house, a job he enjoyed, a mistress. Why would he want her dead? It wasn’t as if he’d taken out a huge life insurance policy so he didn’t gain financially.”
Alek had asked himself that same question countless times and, just like Scott, hadn’t come up with a single answer. Walsingham had enjoyed playing the respectable doctor, meeting up with his golfing cronies and climbing the social ladder. A wife like Carly, an attractive one who any man would enjoy taking to functions, and one who didn’t make demands, suited him. Carly might have been made for him. So why the hell would he risk everything by killing her?
“Perhaps he had nothing to do with it,” Alek said.
The hopelessness of it all hit him in the stomach. Carly’s killer could be long gone. Maybe a young thug had got into the house and been surprised to find Carly there. Perhaps he’d only intended to steal some cash. Drug addicts would kill their own grandmothers for a fiver. That thug would be long gone by now. Either that or he’d be living in Dawson’s Clough and laughing with relief.
“In which case,” Scott said, “why would he lie about the phone conversation he supposedly heard between you and her? Why would he claim you threatened her the night before?”
Alek wanted to scream. He had no fucking idea.
“According to him,” Scott said, “he didn’t push her for information because they were going out for a meal and he didn’t want to spoil the occasion.”
“He didn’t want to spoil—fucking hell, that’s rich. He picked a fight with her.”
“A fight? What are you talking about?”
“He did it all the time. Image, his image, was everything to him and, whenever they went out, he reckoned she didn’t look pleased to be with him. He used to accuse her of chatting up blokes and stuff like that. He was right, she did. She used to do it to piss him off half the time.”
“And you’re saying they quarrelled about it that night?”
“Yes. Carly told me about it the next day, the day she was killed. She said he was in a foul mood all evening. He accused her of chatting up the waiter and then sulked like a child. Once he got her outside, he had a right go at her. She was laughing about it when she told me. The car was parked at the back of the restaurant, apparently, and he kept shouting at her and wouldn’t unlock it.”
“That’s interesting. Did you mention any of this at the time?”
“Only about a dozen times. He denied all knowledge and, of course, they couldn’t find any witnesses. They wouldn’t. He was always careful to lose his temper in private. Besides, I expect they didn’t try too hard.”
“I’ll have a word with him about that and see what he says. But he’s lying about other things too,” Scott said. “According to his current mistress, he knew his wife was seeing you.”
Alek shrugged. “We always guessed he did.”
“When I questioned him, he brushed it off. He claims he’d told her that when he was still angry with Carly. According to him, he and Carly used to argue about you. You kept phoning her, pestering her, refusing to accept your marriage was over and he accused her of enjoying your attention.”
“If he did know about us, I’m surprised he didn’t say something to Carly.”
And yet—
Alek hadn’t said as much to Scott because it was none of his business, none of anyone’s business, but, on that last afternoon, Carly had said she was ending things between them. She’d been a little crazy. Crazier than usual.
“For good this time, Alek,” she’d said.
“Yeah, yeah.” He’d grinned at her, pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
“I mean it. I’ve got the boys to think about. They’re growing up fast, and I can’t have them finding out that their mother’s—you know.”
“I’ll go now then, shall I?” He’d heard it too often. How many times had they, for one reason or another, decided to put an end to their relationship once and for all? He’d lost count. “I hope you’ll be very happy, my love.”
He’d been at the door before she’d called him back.
“Honestly, Alek, you always take things too literally. I didn’t mean now, this minute, for God’s sake.”
“Ah. So when are we supposed to end this thing?”
“Stay for a while.” She’d slipped her hands beneath his shirt and covered his face with kisses…
Alek hadn’t taken her seriously. They’d both known for years that they had to get over each other, that they both had spouses, that Carly had children. They’d known that what they were doing was wrong. The truth of the matter was that they’d been powerless to do anything about it.
Perhaps this time, Carly would have done something about it. Maybe Walsingham had confronted her. Perhaps he’d threatened her with divorce. If she’d thought she was on the brink of losing her safe life as the doctor’s wife and, far more important, her children, she might have ended things between them.
He’d never know the answer to that one. No one would.
“I’m a bit short of suspects,” Scott said.
“So were the police.” Alek knew he sounded bitter, but he couldn’t help it. “That’s why I’m here.”
“You’re here because one hell of a lot of evidence put you here.”
“I had no motive though. If, as everyone wants to believe, I couldn’t accept our marriage was over, I wouldn’t want her dead. If, as I know, she was the only woman I ever truly cared about, I wouldn’t want her dead. Why in hell’s name would I?”
Scott looked at him for long moments and finally shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know why anyone would.”
Scott pulled at his tie to loosen it. The bloke always looked uncomfortable. Alek wondered if Strangeways was making his skin crawl or if Scott felt guilty about wasting his parents’ money.
“You were close to her,” Scott said. “If someone had wanted her dead, surely to God she would have said something, mentioned something odd, talked about someone who disliked her.”
“She didn’t.”
Alek’s heartbeat picked up pace and he tried to take a few steadying breaths. His panic attacks were becoming more frequent. His hands were cold and clammy, his throat was dry. He began tapping a tune with his foot, anything to take his mind off the panic.
Tap, tap, tap.
That bruise on her arm—Christ, he’d never bruised her before. He’d claimed she liked rough sex, but she hadn’t. She liked to have fun in the bedroom, but she didn’t like any rough stuff. She certainly wouldn’t have liked anything that involved pain, so how the hell had he bruised her?
“You okay?” Scott asked.
“Yeah.” He ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“It’s this sodding place,” Scott said. “It gives me the creeps and I know I’ll be walking out soon.”
“Sue’s the same.” He sighed. “God, she must be having one hell of a time of it.”
“She’s doing okay.”
“Financially she isn’t. Without my income, she’s had it. She’s already sold her car. Not that it was worth anything. All she’s done is exchange one heap of rusting crap for another. She sold my van too and got a couple of grand for that, but she must be really struggling. And knowing her, she’ll go without herself rather than give the animals less food.”
“She has a lot of friends,” Scott said. “I’m sure they’ll help her out.”
“It’s not the same though, is it?”
“No, but they’ll help. She has Jamie, and I get the impression he’d be more than happy to help her out.”
Al
ek almost smiled. “Yes, I bet Jamie’s loving every minute of this. Having me stuck here must make him feel as if all his birthdays have arrived at once.”
“Yes, I suppose it must.”
He saw a hundred questions in Scott’s eyes. “Don’t go getting ideas about him.”
“Why not? If you didn’t kill Carly Walsingham, someone else did. Until we know who that someone is, everyone is a suspect.”
“But Jamie? Come off it. And even if he was a killer, he’d have gone for me, not Carly. One thing is certain, the killer couldn’t have known I’d take the blame for any of it.”
Scott shrugged. “He could if he’d known you were visiting Carly that afternoon.”
“But no one did. Christ, I didn’t even know myself until the night before.”
They talked some more and, with every passing moment, Alek’s heartbeat increased.
He’d been a fool to think that Scott might be able to work a miracle and get him out of this place. It would be far more sensible to accept what had happened and make the most of it. He’d been doing okay in here until Scott arrived on the scene. Since then, he’d started to fall apart. It wasn’t just the panic attacks, it was those fucking awful nightmares.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Megan took her time locking her back door and stepping out into the night. It had been dark for more than an hour but the stretch of canal running past her house was close to the dual carriageway, and lights from that made it possible to see the path. Just.
An icy wind whipped up the water. No one else was about. Only the mentally challenged would be down by the canal at this time. A bubble of anger rose inside her. Only Neil would expect someone to meet him here.
He’d strolled into the ward after lunch, something he’d never done before. Usually, even if they met in the corridor, he wouldn’t acknowledge her. But today, he’d been all smiles, holding doors open for staff. He’d been on show.
At first, she’d been pleased when he’d taken her aside. “I’ll be out running this evening. About seven?”
Silent Witness (A Dylan Scott Mystery) Page 16
