by Clare Chase
‘I’m sorry, Ruby,’ he said, ‘but there’s no way out of this. Steph probably thinks you’re going to kill yourself because of what happened with Luke. One false move and she knows this place will blow sky high. Even if she calls the police, they’ll just try to talk you out of the house. They won’t dare to intervene directly, in case it makes you panic.’
And I knew he was right.
Steph was standing in the street outside what must be Ruby’s house when Nate got to Saxwell, and he felt a chill run like iced water through his veins at the sight of her. Mascara was cascading down her cheeks, and her skin was the colour of chalk.
‘It’s Ruby,’ she said, without questioning his presence. ‘I think she’s …’
What was she trying to say?
‘I can’t believe it,’ Steph said, starting again, ‘but I can smell the gas from the front doorstep. I think she’s planning to blow up the house, with her inside it.’ The last words came out in short bursts, as she gasped for breath between sobs.
He took a long, deep breath. For a second he’d thought he was already too late. Not that he’d had any idea what to expect. Nate shook his head. ‘She’s with Paul Mathewson. He’s our murderer. And it’ll be he who’s turned on the gas.’
‘What?’ Steph blinked wet eyelashes. ‘I don’t—’
‘I don’t get it either,’ he said quickly. ‘But he’s always seemed overly close to Emily Amos. Maybe he had some pre-existing obsession with her, and killed Newbold for mucking her about.’
‘God. Ruby said there was something odd about their relationship.’ Steph rubbed her eyes. ‘I just teased her for being nosy… but how did you come to think—?’
As she spoke Nate dragged his mobile out from his jeans pocket and called the emergency services. Yes, he told them, he did want all three. And he wanted them to come in very quietly indeed. They were dealing with a man who could blow a woman sky high if he was alarmed in any way… And quite possibly even if he wasn’t.
After Nate had rung off he explained to Steph as briefly as he could, so she’d stop asking questions, and he could think. ‘Mathewson left a briefcase full of student essays on the pavement when he drove off with Ruby this afternoon. I spent ages trying to work out why. Then it suddenly came to me. He wanted them to be found and returned to their rightful owners. Because, murderer though he is, he cares about his students. And if he wasn’t going to be able to return them himself, it meant he wasn’t coming back. I figured maybe he was making a run for it. Perhaps taking Ruby with him – as a hostage, or for entertainment. But—’ he looked up at Ruby’s house, feeling nauseous, ‘—I didn’t imagine he had anything this final in mind.’
Steph was crying again. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Nate said, ‘but I’ll think of something. One thing we do know: this guy Mathewson’s mad, but only north by north-west. He still cares about his students. That scrap of humanity means he’s got a chink in his armour.’
Although Paul was armed again now, the knife didn’t represent the same split-second threat that the matches had. But if he found another way of creating a spark we’d both be killed instantly. It was only luck that the automatic lighter on the cooker had conked out a while back. I needed to clear the room of gas. But how? The windows were double glazed, the sort that weren’t going to yield, even if I threw a saucepan at them. And I couldn’t get at the saucepans anyway.
I was just going to have to hope that some other idea came to me before Paul found a second source of ignition.
At that moment I heard a very faint sound, a tiny click. Paul didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were darting left and right, looking for what he needed. Then suddenly they fixed on the light switch. My legs started to wobble. I’d read that operating one could be enough to make a spark; knew you should never turns the lights on in the event of a gas leak. He reached out and put a finger on the switch.
It took me a moment to realise that the light wasn’t coming on. Someone must have cut the power. And then the gas stopped hissing too. Paul let out a howl that sounded far more animal than human. It sent shivers down my spine.
For a second I breathed a sigh of relief, but there was still no way to dissipate the gas, and Paul’s anguish had triggered an even higher level of desperation. Still facing me, and holding the knife high, he opened the kitchen drawer next to the cooker, darting his eyes down for a moment to scan the contents. I could see he’d noticed something that interested him.
Then suddenly, I was aware of another faint sound from outside the kitchen door. A second later it opened and Nate walked in.
I gulped in a great lungful of gas, retching as the smell engulfed me all the more completely.
Paul only took a second to react. Before I was able to move he’d leapt behind me, and had the knife to my neck. ‘Don’t come any closer.’
‘I’m not going to.’ Nate held up a hand. ‘I just wanted to talk. You need to know that the police are on their way. I wanted to find out the situation in here.’
‘You’re not involved,’ Paul said. ‘I don’t have to kill you. Leave now. Close the door behind you.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m not interested in going anywhere without Ruby.’
‘Then close the door anyway, if you don’t want to see her hurt.’ Mathewson tightened his hold.
‘Okay.’ Nate did as he’d asked. The air was only marginally changed, right by the door. As soon as he returned to where he’d been standing the smell of gas was sickening. Ruby must have been trying to reason with Mathewson all this time, but Nate had to give it a go too. ‘I found the students’ essays you left behind. I know you care about innocent people; you don’t want them to suffer, even in a small way.’
He saw Mathewson swallow, but he didn’t speak.
‘Well, Ruby’s also innocent.’ Surely he could get through to him. ‘I don’t believe you really think it’s right to hurt her; whatever your reasons may be.’
Mathewson’s eyes were swimming with tears, his hair flopping down over his face, but he still held the knife hard against Ruby’s neck.
Nate took a tiny step forward. ‘Let Ruby go, Paul.’ His mouth was so dry he could hardly get the words out.
Mathewson’s eyes were wild. ‘No! I told you, don’t come any closer.’ The tears were stopping; he was regaining control. ‘Walk with me towards the drawer, Ruby.’
She shifted awkwardly towards the cooker, just in front of him. The drawer to its right was already open.
‘Get the knife sharpener out.’
Shit. ‘That’ll never do the job.’ But Nate wasn’t sure. It was an electric one that ran on battery. Even if the blade didn’t spark, the motor might.
‘Take a knife from the block.’
Nate saw Ruby’s hands shake as she reached forward.
‘Put the knife in place. Won’t be long now. Nearly over.’
He couldn’t risk it. Nate was going to have to use his last resort. ‘Paul.’
Ruby’s hand, holding the knife, hovered above the sharpener.
‘There’s no way you’ll get a spark out of that. Not with a knife of that quality. Cooking’s a hobby of mine. By the time you’ve finished the police will be here, and maybe they’ll risk storming the building. I’d already guessed you were having trouble making the explosion – why the delay otherwise? They’ll know you’re stuck, without any means of igniting the gas. You’ll be left without any options. Is that what you want?’ He put his hand into his jeans pocket, and took out the lighter Steph had dashed to find for him, once he’d guessed the type of bargaining chip he might need. ‘I’ll give you this, in exchange for Ruby.’
Mathewson hesitated, but at that moment someone called through a loud hailer, and his eyes widened. ‘Okay. But you come and take her place. Bring the lighter.’
‘Nate, don’t.’ Ruby’s eyes held his for a moment.
‘All right, Paul. I’ll do that.’ Nate walked over to his side. ‘Now let Ruby go.’
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Mathewson released her, and turned his knife on Nate, but he was tensed and ready. Holding on tight to the lighter, he swung a punch at Matthewson’s stomach. The tutor bent double, but Nate didn’t have time to get out of the way as his arm jerked up. The knife sliced him from elbow to wrist and he dropped the lighter.
They both dived for it, but Mathewson landed first and Nate watched, almost unable to react as he took it in his hand.
It was only then that Nate realised Ruby was still in the room. ‘Shit, Ruby – get out!’
Mathewson’s thumb was on the lighter’s wheel, pushing down. And then, at that moment, something collided with his head. A cast-iron skillet.
Nate felt as though his reactions were in slow motion. And time wasn’t a luxury they had. Mathewson was reeling. Down but not out. Blood streamed from his nose.
Nate grabbed Ruby, who was still staring at the damage she’d done to Paul, and propelled her towards the door. From the hall he heard Mathewson calling: ‘Never tell her, Ruby. Please, never tell her.’
They had just reached the road when the explosion came.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The day after Paul died, I stood outside what was left of Bookman’s Cottage, crying. Luke was next to me, but I think he understood it was the house, and our past, that I was mourning.
‘We were happy here, weren’t we?’ he said, putting a hand on my shoulder for a second.
‘We were. For a long time. I’d been feeling the years had been wasted, but I suppose they weren’t really. They were good while they lasted.’ I looked at him then and he nodded.
‘I was the biggest fool, but I never thought my actions would put you in danger. I’m glad you’re okay.’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘And I’m glad you are too.’
I was wrung out when Steph had me in for coffee, after Luke and I had said all we had to say. But in spite of that, I also felt more peaceful than I had since I’d moved out of Saxwell. It was hard closing the door on the past, but it was what I wanted.
‘I still can’t believe you thought I was going to blow up my own house,’ I said as Steph put my drink in front of me.
‘You’d already said you didn’t belong there any more.’
‘It was hardly going to increase the sale value, though, was it?’
‘I thought you’d gone crazy.’
‘Well, thanks very much. That makes it just fine then.’
She cut me a piece of the cherry cake she’d bought. ‘Will you shut up, and just be grateful you’re still alive?’ she said.
‘Hmm.’ I picked up the slab she’d put on my plate. ‘You have a point.’
‘Thanks. Where’s Luke staying?’
‘A B&B in Bottisham. Even I have to admit it’s a bit rough on him, though maybe it’s nice to be out of the village. I wonder if having your house exploded by a murderer is covered by standard buildings insurance. At least we won’t be arguing over the white goods after all, and I think it’s safe to say the oak table’s no longer up for grabs.’
She snorted, accidentally shooting cake crumbs off her plate. ‘Have you seen the newspapers? It’s made the nationals. They’re reporting on your starring role. Here.’ She handed me one she’d got with her. It implied that I’d worked out the details behind the three murders before the police, but that I was refusing to comment, making me sound dignified and modest.
‘Well, of course,’ I said, ‘their information is correct. The instant Paul Mathewson tried to blow me up in my own kitchen I knew he was the killer.’
Suddenly, she came round to my side of the table and put her arm around my shoulders. ‘I understand why you’re being flippant, Ruby. You’ve always used it as a defence mechanism. But you’d better let everything out sooner or later, sweetie. It’s not good for you otherwise.’
‘What do you mean?’
She sighed. ‘I know you and Paul were getting close. What happened must have knocked you for six.’
My mind took a moment to latch onto what she’d said. She was right about being knocked for six of course, but the rest? ‘Excuse me?’
‘Well, it was obvious you’d started to, you know, like each other.’
‘You mean, in that way?’
‘Of course,’ Steph said. ‘Nate mentioned you’d been spending a lot of time together, pub trips and so on.’ She gave me a look. ‘You might have let me in on that one. I had no idea.’
I turned to her. ‘Steph, look at me.’
She did.
‘Now think. Think very carefully, was Paul Mathewson, in your lifelong experience of my tastes and habits, my type?’
She opened her eyes wide. ‘No. Well, no, of course not. I thought that straightaway. But you might have been acting out of character, under the circumstances. And Nate said it was a fact, so I assumed—’
‘That he was right? Nope. One hundred per cent wrong. You should trust your instincts.’
‘Well, my instincts told me you were sweet on Nate, but you put me right quick enough on that one.’ She was giving me that look of hers, all pleasant speculation.
‘Ah, yes,’ I said. ‘I remember that.’
I had one more visit to make before I went back to River House. Fi had asked me to drop in. Both she and Emily wanted to talk. I was a bit anxious about it, but it had been the prospect of the initial police interview that had chewed me up the most. Paul’s dying plea not to give him away had rung in my ears, and the desperate, devastated look in his eye haunted me.
I, too, wished that Emily need never know, but, of course, I couldn’t keep back the fact that he’d been her father. And it turned out that Paul’s old teacher, Imelda West from the art gallery, had beaten me to it, anyway. She’d told the police the whole story about Saskia Amos’s affair with Paul, and the fact that the staff had always wondered whether he might have fathered her youngest child. She would have spoken up sooner, only she’d liked Paul Mathewson very much, and had had no idea that Emily Amos and Damien Newbold had any connection. It was only when Saskia Amos was found dead, that such old history seemed potentially relevant.
After I’d arrived at Oswald House I sat in the kitchen with Fi. She told me that Saskia’s husband was coming over to look after Emily, and that her grandmother was on her way back from Spain too.
‘Between ourselves, Ruby,’ she said, looking at me with sleep-deprived eyes, ‘he’s talked to Emily about it, and he says although it’s possible she’s not his, it’s by no means certain. When you think about it, he and Saskia must still have had an active sex life when she got pregnant, otherwise he’d have been asking questions at the time.’
‘True.’
‘Emily wants to get a paternity test done,’ Fi went on. ‘She says it would be too horrible for her dad otherwise, not knowing whether he’s got a cuckoo in the nest.’ She sighed. ‘Or, as Emily put it, the daughter of a psycho in his house.’
‘So will they do that?’
‘I think so,’ Fi said, ‘because Emily won’t rest until she knows for sure, and her dad wants what’s best for her. He’s told her it won’t make a difference, whichever way the results go. As far as he’s concerned she’ll always be the same daughter he’s known since babyhood. And I have a feeling he’ll stick around a bit more now, so they’ll get to know each other better.’
‘That’s good news.’
But we both knew the effect it would have on Emily if she did turn out to be Paul’s child.
A few minutes later, Emily herself turned up. She wanted to hear everything that Paul had said in detail. It wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have, but there was nothing for it. It was when I got to the bit about Maggie that her eyes seemed to grow in size, filling with tears. She said, in a small voice, ‘It was me.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Me,’ she said again. ‘At the college. The woman with long, dark hair asking questions about Paul.’
Another bit of the jigsaw I’d thought was secure shifted and slotted into its correct place.
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‘I’d …’ she paused, raising her right hand to her forehead ‘… well, you know, I’d got a bit of a thing about him. I suppose because he’d been helping me through a tough time. I started to think that maybe he was the one for me instead of Damien. Only suddenly he didn’t seem to be coming round to see me quite so often, so I dolled myself up and slipped over to his rooms. I thought I could invent some reason for suddenly needing his support; only he wasn’t there and his bedder was. I told her I was looking for him, and asked about his timetable. Might he be around that evening or did he tend to go out? But when she asked my name I bottled it and said I’d contact him later. If I hadn’t done that …’
I couldn’t think how to respond. ‘Paul was convinced Maggie had recognised him anyway,’ I said at last, hearing the lameness in my tone. ‘It wasn’t just the business at the college.’
Emily looked at me, wanting to believe.
‘It was Paul that did all this,’ I said. ‘No one else.’
‘She’s right, Em,’ Fi said, and crouched down by her friend’s chair to give her a hug.
Ruby looked wiped out when she got back to River House.
‘Would you like tea?’
She nodded. ‘I would fight anyone who stood between me and the kettle.’
They went into the kitchen. ‘You won’t get any argument from me. Not after seeing you in action with that skillet yesterday. Talk about saving the day.’
‘Just a contribution. If you hadn’t come in and persuaded Paul to let me go, I’m pretty sure I’d be dead by now.’
He saw her shiver. And he knew she’d been doing the rounds, tackling one emotionally difficult situation after another. He might as well face her with the latest bit of news immediately, and get it over with.
‘I’ve just had a call from a solicitor’s firm in London. Damien Newbold did make another will.’
She turned to him, her face pale. ‘I can’t believe it. In Maggie Cook’s favour?’
Nate put teabags into mugs. ‘Seems not. He left the lot to the Actors’ Benevolent Fund. When he told Maggie Cook he was going to make sure she had a comfortable future that must have been what he meant. One last laugh.’
