by Annie Dalton
Something – Anna thought it was red wine – had been splattered across the last few words, rendering them illegible. Laurie had told Anna that Owen had never found the courage to come out as his lover. But in his last entry she felt Owen’s desperate longing to be worthy of Laurie’s love.
She closed the notebook and sat down on the floor of her study, holding the notebook against her robe. Her head ached. A police car went wailing down the Banbury Road, then the silence closed in again. It was beginning to get light. She felt increasingly disturbed, and she didn’t understand why, except that this all felt too desperately real in the way the Albanian gang threat had not. It was painful to admit, but even her own traumatic memories were gradually being subsumed into a kind of fiction. She clung to them because it was all she had left.
But Laurie was here and now. She needed to decide what to do with his secret papers. She had thought she might talk to him about storing the originals somewhere secure like a bank. But Paulette had told Anna she’d seen him on a good day. Next time she visited he might be zonked out on morphine, or his illness might take a turn for the worse. When she thought back, she realized that Laurie had given her his papers like someone who needed to be free from a heavy burden. He had handed this huge responsibility over to Anna, and she wasn’t sure if she could deal with it alone. She knew she couldn’t drag her grandfather, her usual go-to person, into this. But she thought she could ask Tansy and Isadora. For one thing they were already involved. They were both open-minded women who didn’t shock easily, didn’t worry about convention. She checked the time. It was only five a.m. Much too early to call.
Anna’s eyes were hot and gritty from lack of sleep, but her mind was buzzing, her entire body thrumming with adrenalin. Tired but wired, her therapist used to call it. There had been a girl in Anna’s therapy group who was compelled to cut herself when her demons became too all-powerful to bear. Anna thought she’d been lucky in that she’d found a less violent coping strategy. And she had decided to offer it as a shared tool to help Laurie. This thought exhilarated and terrified her. She flew across the landing to find her phone, firing off a one sentence text to Tansy before she could lose her nerve. Then she sat down at her computer and typed the first name into the search engine. If Tansy and Isadora accepted her invitation, she wanted to have everything ready and waiting.
They arrived in the early evening after Tansy had finished work for the day. Tansy had freed her curls from her waitress’s topknot and was carrying a distinctive Marmalade carrier bag. She had texted Anna saying not to bother with food as she’d bring left-overs from the cafe. Anna hadn’t liked to say she hadn’t even thought of bothering with food. Isadora, dressed in some kind of fringed Navajo blanket over wide-legged trousers, had brought two bottles of red wine.
‘Come in, please,’ Anna said, knowing she was supposed to put her guests at their ease, but feeling so freaked she could barely even smile. Anna never invited anyone to her home. Her last visitor (not counting Jake, who had somehow slipped under her radar) was the lady who came to do the home check for Bonnie. Anna had cleaned manically for about a week beforehand. She’d felt as if her entire life depended on giving an Oscar-winning performance as a responsible future dog owner. She had that same desperate do or die feeling tonight, but with the added terror of complete exposure because this wasn’t a performance. Tansy and Isadora were going to see the real Anna, a person almost nobody had ever got to meet.
‘We’re in here.’ Anna showed them into the sitting room. There was a stunned silence as the women took in the murder-board she’d set up bang in the middle.
‘Holy shit,’ Tansy breathed. ‘I thought only serial killers had these!’
‘I’ll explain about that in a minute,’ Anna said, carefully avoiding their eyes. ‘But first, can I get anyone a gin and tonic?’
In the icy grip of panic she could barely remember why she’d invited them. Her private and public lives were converging. Her entire world was about to implode. She vaguely heard Isadora exclaim, ‘Bombay Sapphire, one of my favourite gins. Do let me pour them, darling. I’m the gin and tonic queen.’
And Tansy asked, ‘And can you just point me in the direction of your kitchen so this food can be out of the way?’
Anna and Isadora made polite conversation while Tansy went away and returned. They all found somewhere to sit and sip their drinks. They were being far more polite with each other than normal, but as the minutes ticked past it slowly dawned on Anna that no one was about to die simply from being here with her – not tonight, anyway.
She started talking, relieved to hear her voice sounding almost like her usual self. ‘OK, I should probably tell you why I’ve asked you to come round. The thing is, I went to visit Laurie Swanson late last night.’ Anna pressed on through their surprised exclamations. ‘I managed to track him down on the Internet. It was your composer, Isadora. He lives in North Oxford, and he’s very sick. In fact, he’s dying. Anyway, he told me something – something he’s had to keep secret for more than half his lifetime.’ She swallowed. ‘He said he’d only told one other living person. He told Naomi the night before she was killed.’ She saw their shocked expressions, but kept on talking. She needed them to know everything she knew. ‘Before I left he gave me that box.’ She pointed to her coffee table where she had deliberately placed it for them to see. Exhibit A.
‘Inside, there are letters and drawings that Owen Traherne sent to Laurie over the years, plus some of his old notebooks. I got a bit freaked about having them here in my house – you’ll understand why in a minute – so I scanned them all on to my hard drive. I also copied some of his material to show you.’ She handed them each a printout. ‘I’m sorry to be so school teacherish, but there’s too much stuff to just explain.’ She took a breath. ‘I know I can trust you not to let anything you read here go beyond this room.’
She made herself sit quietly. She wanted Isadora and Tansy to form their own opinions about the contents of Laurie’s box. She heard Isadora’s sudden sharp intake of breath, then saw her go over to mix herself a second gin and tonic.
Tansy seemed to be counting on her fingers. Anna heard her whisper, ‘No way.’
Isadora knocked back a good third of her second gin, then set her glass down on Anna’s hearth. ‘It’s not often that I’m lost for words, Anna, but I am utterly stunned by what I’ve read here today.’
‘You never suspected that Owen was gay?’ Anna said.
‘Never once!’ Isadora said emphatically. ‘I have the most phenomenally efficient gaydar, and I had absolutely NO idea that Owen was anything other than one hundred per cent heterosexual. I do remember a drinks party at Somerville and hearing whispers that he might be having an affair with his secretary. But one was always hearing whispers of Owen’s affairs,’ she added carelessly. ‘One never took them at all seriously because everyone knew that Owen always went back to Audrey.’
‘Tell Tansy what you told me about Audrey,’ Anna said.
Isadora frowned. ‘What did I say?’
‘That she was beautiful but—’
‘Oh, that! Yes, she was almost completely absent. Like Sleeping Beauty waiting for the prince to wake her with a kiss. Of course now, with hindsight, one wonders whether if she had married a less conflicted man …’
‘Did you ever meet Owen’s secretary?’ Tansy asked.
‘Several times,’ Isadora said.
‘What was she like?’
‘A cross between Wallace Simpson and Cruella De Vil,’ Isadora said promptly. ‘One of those brittle calorie-counting women. Mouth like a scarlet slash.’
‘I’ve printed out a picture,’ Anna said. She went over to the montage she had carefully constructed. ‘As you can see, I’ve put up pictures of everyone I can think of whose lives touched Laurie’s and Owen’s.’
After Tansy’s initial nervous reaction, she and Isadora hadn’t said another word about the murder board Anna had created using a whiteboard propped up on an old easel of
her grandfather’s. She wasn’t sure if this was because they were too polite, or because they were too alarmed. Either way, it was feeling increasingly like the metaphorical elephant in the room.
She took a deep breath. ‘This is the only way I know to make sense of all this stuff in my head. I have to put everything where I can physically see it, so I can literally put my finger on each and every possible connection. For instance, this is Eve Bloomfield, who Isadora was just talking about.’ Anna lightly touched Eve’s picture. She had found two photographs: one of a younger Eve from the time when she’d been a budding poet in New England, and another of her after she’d turned into Cruella De Vil. The younger Eve had long dark hair that fell over the shoulders of her black Juliette Gréco style polo-neck sweater. Her soulful dark eyes suggested wounded intelligence mixed, Anna thought, with secret longing.
The second picture showed an older embittered Eve, her severely bobbed hair dyed an unnatural black, looking up at someone or something just out of shot. A younger woman in that pose might seem appealingly vulnerable. Eve just looked disturbingly untethered. Her scarlet lipstick only heightened the impression of someone who was inexorably coming undone. Anna had connected both pictures to Laurie’s and Naomi’s photographs with a whirling vortex of crayoned arrows.
‘I don’t know, myself, if Eve is capable of murder. But Laurie says she’s completely unhinged when it comes to Owen or his reputation. So, OK, even Laurie’s admitted that his meds might be clouding his judgement, but I stuck her on the board because I believe she represents a possible threat to Laurie’s mental state during his last months of life.’ She traced along an arrow to Laurie’s photo. ‘This is Laurie Swanson, who I went to see last night,’ she said for Tansy’s benefit. She’d chosen the picture of him playing music with the street children in Brazil. She chose it because it showed him both as a musician and someone capable of adventures, not permanently in Owen’s shadow.
Tansy and Isadora had come over to study the photographs.
‘Who are these two?’ Tansy said.
‘That’s Owen’s son Huw and his wife Sara,’ Anna said.
Tansy ran her finger lightly over the montage, finally stopping at Naomi. Anna had taken the picture from one of Naomi’s social media pages. It showed her at a fancy dress party dressed as Groucho Marx.
Anna’s mouth was suddenly dry. It scared her that she couldn’t tell what the others were thinking. She picked up her glass and found it empty.
‘Let me fill you up, darling,’ said Isadora.
‘I know we agreed we’d lay it to rest …’ Anna began.
‘That was before you spoke to Laurie,’ Tansy said immediately.
‘And before you found out what Naomi was so excited about,’ Isadora added.
So they didn’t think she was nuts. Anna felt sufficiently encouraged to continue. ‘Basically, what I want to know is: what now? Might Laurie be right, or even half right? Might his secret life with Owen have a bearing on Naomi’s murder?’
‘It certainly suggests a new motive,’ Isadora said.
‘So you don’t think I’m just being paranoid then?’ Anna asked anxiously.
Tansy said, ‘Ever see that movie Strange Days? “It’s not about are you paranoid, but are you paranoid enough?”’
‘I loved that movie,’ Anna said.
‘Can we please eat soon?’ Tansy asked plaintively. ‘I’m starving, and the gin is making my head really swimmy.’
Downstairs in Anna’s kitchen, Tansy quickly microwaved any dishes that needed reheating, while Anna fetched cutlery and plates, plus serving bowls for all the leftover salads. Tansy had already uncorked Isadora’s wine and found where Anna kept her glasses. ‘OK, everybody! Sit down and help yourselves.’
Anna was surprised to find she was ravenous. After a while she glanced up from her plate to find Tansy watching her expectantly. She seemed to be waiting for Anna to say something, so she said shyly, ‘This is wonderful food, Tansy, thank you.’
‘You’re welcome! I never catered a murder investigation before.’ Tansy pulled a face at Anna. ‘Look, I’m really glad you asked us round, but I’ve just worked a double shift, so I’m going to have to go home to crash in about an hour. So is it OK if we continue talking about why we’re here while we eat? Because I think I know the perfect person to help us.’
‘No,’ Anna said firmly. ‘You can’t involve Sergeant Goodhart.’
‘Why not? I think we can trust him, even if he is a cop.’
‘No!’ Anna repeated, and this time her voice had an edge. ‘This material is too sensitive to share with anybody else. It would be like stripping Laurie’s life naked.’ And Owen’s, she thought. She had risked trusting Isadora and Tansy, but she couldn’t expose Laurie to Sergeant Goodhart or to anyone else when there’d be no guarantee his privacy would be respected. Anna laid down her fork, her appetite suddenly gone. ‘We did our best for Naomi,’ she said, trying to soften her voice. ‘We tried to lay her to rest and just succeeded in stirring up even more questions. But Naomi’s dead and Laurie is still alive, and he’s alone and ill! He’s the one who needs our help now.’
‘You mean it’s down to us?’ Isadora sounded dismayed.
‘Laurie hasn’t got anybody else,’ Anna told her. ‘He only ever had Owen, and Owen’s dead. If he’s right about Eve, even if there’s only a one per cent chance that Owen’s mad, sixty-plus PA attacked Naomi, we can’t risk not helping.’
‘I suppose …’ Tansy’s voice trailed off.
‘What?’ said Anna.
‘Being sixty-plus needn’t put someone totally out of the frame. Eve could have paid someone to – you know.’
‘You’re not suggesting it was a contract killing?’ Isadora sounded disbelieving.
‘Why not?’ Tansy said. ‘If it was a professional hit that might explain why there wasn’t any DNA.’
‘If Eve did have Naomi murdered, Laurie might be next on her list,’ Anna said.
At the moment she made it, her comment seemed to follow naturally from Tansy’s talk of hit-men; then she mentally replayed what she’d said and felt herself go hot and cold. She sounded deranged! She was a deranged woman who created murder boards and put them on display; as if that could keep Laurie safe! As if Anna had ever had any influence on the world or its chaotic events!
‘What are you thinking, darling?’
Startled, Anna glanced up to see Isadora watching her with concern.
She swallowed. ‘I sound like I’m treating Naomi’s murder like it’s part of some kind of game. I don’t want to do that. I don’t mean to be disrespectful to Naomi’s memory.’ Anna knew she was really asking to be reassured about all those other things that Isadora and Tansy couldn’t and wouldn’t ever know – her cupboard of horrors; her life.
Isadora leaned forward. Her voice was quietly passionate. ‘No, this is something real, my darling, something big. I haven’t slept properly, you know, since we found Naomi. I can’t forgive myself that we arrived too late to save her. This is the only thing I can do for Naomi now – and for myself.’
Tansy said softly looking at Anna. ‘Everyone carries secret stuff around. Things we wish we could change.’ There was a long, highly-charged silence, then in the same soft voice, Tansy said, ‘Aren’t you ever going to tell us about what happened?’
She can’t ask me that. No one’s allowed to ask me that, Anna thought. Then she felt a rush of relief, as if an invisible knot had come undone, and she thought, Why not? They had to trust each other. If they couldn’t be their real selves, they’d be lost.
She made herself meet Tansy’s eyes. ‘I haven’t slept for twenty-four hours. It’ll have to be the short version.’
Tansy just nodded. Isadora pushed her plate away and rested her elbows on the table, her fingers interlaced. Anna went to sit on the floor beside Bonnie, her back to the French windows. She started to talk, careful not to look at their faces.
‘When I was sixteen I was angry all the time. I hated my
parents. I hated Oxford. I did a lot of stupid, self destructive things. One day I stormed out after a row. Back then I saw storming out as like my basic human right. I didn’t care that it was my little sister Lottie’s sixth birthday. I was so wrapped up in myself, I didn’t even bother to let anyone know where I’d gone. I went to Natalie’s house. Her mother pretty much let her do what she liked, and we got really stoned. Then I borrowed some clothes from Nat and we went out clubbing. I was hoping Max would be there. Any energy I had left over from being angry I spent thinking up ways I could accidentally run into Max. At last he showed up, and we left the club together. We spent a couple of hours getting stoned in his car. Then we had a fight about something and I stormed off.’
Anna shot a glance at the women and forced herself to keep talking. ‘I walked all the way back to our house in North Oxford. Someone had tied pink balloons to the handle, and I remembered it was my sister’s birthday. I let myself in with my key. I tiptoed upstairs in the dark. I’d decided to get into bed with Lottie so I could tell her happy birthday. I smelled of booze and dope. I was completely off my face. Lottie’s door was open. I could see the glow of her night light.’
Anna took a shaky breath before she went on. ‘It was the kind of night light that has fairy-tale cut outs. Lottie’s had a castle and a princess and unicorns. I walked in and I could – I could see all these cute fairy-tale figures revolving around the room, and then I saw all the blood, dark-red blood, splashed over the walls and soaking into her little flowery quilt. I couldn’t make sense of it. I ran out, and I crashed into someone on the landing. I said, ‘Dad!’ But it wasn’t my dad. It was somebody who didn’t belong in our house. He had a knife.’ Anna’s hand went to her stomach. ‘I managed to get away. I ran out of the house to find help. But it was already too late. Everyone was dead.’ She gave a tight nod. ‘That’s what happened.’
