by SP Edwards
Things turned out to be a little bit easier than Marr had expected. Whatever else John Markham might have been, he was not good at hiding things. When Sam pulled out the records from Caroline Marcus’ burner phone, his cheeks flushed. Michelle turned and looked at her husband; the look wasn’t returned.
‘Well, that makes things easier.’ Marr said, trying to keep the mood as light as he could. The last thing the Markhams needed was anymore stress.
Michelle was absent-mindedly touching the corner of the phone bill.
‘John,’ she said ‘I thought we were done with this; I thought it was over.’
John nodded, but still wouldn’t look at his wife. He reached a tentative hand out for hers, but Michelle pulled it away. Marr felt uncomfortable just sitting there, but there wasn’t anything he could do.
Tell the truth John, he thought. While you’ve still got the chance.
John looked at the record, the times and dates attached, as well as the length of phone call. There was little harm in him seeing: it wasn’t like he was even pretending it hadn’t been him who’d spoken to Caroline.
He did, though, still look hesitant.
‘Mr Markham’, Becky said, ‘I promise you that anything you’ve done is liable to be looked upon with sympathy. You just lost a daughter. It would be much easier if you could just tell us what you and Caroline talked about. You might even help us find out more about what happened the night Anna died.’
John finally brought his face up to meet Michelle’s. She nodded, and he turned towards Marr.
‘Caroline rang me to tell me about her and Greg. At first, she was in tears, all embarrassed. Almost hysterical. It took me a minute or two to even work out it was her: I nearly hung up. Eventually, though, she calmed down a bit. Started asking me if she could trust me, if I’d be able to help her. Initially, I thought she might have done something really stupid like taken pills or something. I mean, Anna had mentioned before that she’d been a bit troubled. I…well, I just wanted to try and help.’
Marr nodded, indicating John should continue, and he did so.
‘Anyway, she started saying that she was a horrible person, and that she didn’t deserve Anna as a friend. Then, after ten minutes or so of that, she told me that she and Greg had been sleeping together for years, and that she loved him. That she couldn’t live without him and that she wanted him to herself’
‘How did you react to that?’ asked Marr.
John shrugged.
‘How the hell are you meant to react to that? The day before the wedding? The first thought, aside from why the hell Caroline was calling me, was that she might be making it up. I mean, again, Anna said she had problems, you know? I just thought she might be feeling…well, a bit jealous.’
‘So, anyway, I asked her why she’d phoned me. And she said that it was because Anna always listened to me. She said that Anna wouldn’t believe it coming from Michelle, but that she would from me.’
‘Anyway, I wanted to get it all straight in my head, so I asked Caroline for more information. She seemed happy that I was asking; she probably took it as me definitely believing her. So she told me that she’d been sleeping with him on and off before he even met Anna. They stopped for a while when he and Anna first got together, but then after a few months he got bored with the relationship, and it started up again.’
John shook his head. He did look relieved to be letting this out. It must have been tough, lying to Michelle.
‘She said, we tried as hard as we could to stop, but it just felt like it was meant to be. Bless the girl, I think she saw it as destiny, rather than something that you could just stop doing if you chose to. She kept saying that she loved Greg, and that he loved her. After a while, I got a bit annoyed and just asked her outright why she’d called me rather than Anna.’
‘And what did she say?’ asked Sam.
‘She said that she wanted advice, on whether or not she should tell Anna about the affair before the wedding.’
‘And what did you say to that?’
‘Well, it was obvious enough. She was hoping that I’d do the telling: break the bad news for her. She might have thought she could deal with the fallout, but actually looking Anna in the eyes was something different altogether.’
‘Did you say that to her?’ Marr asked, receiving a shake of the head in reply.
‘Not as such, no. If it had been someone else I might have done, but Caroline didn’t seem quite stable enough. Some people can’t take home truths, can they?’
‘So I told her that it was probably for the best that she talked to Greg about it. After all, he was still planning to get married to Anna, so presumably did still love her. I said that she should talk to Greg and make him choose. I don’t think he’d have chosen Caroline, but it just seemed like the best way to keep everyone happy. I told her that, and then I cut the call. She tried to call back a couple of times, but I just repeated myself to her and hung up. Eventually, she gave up trying. And that was that.’
John turned to Michelle.
‘I’m really sorry, love. I didn’t want to keep it a secret but…I guess I just didn’t want Anna to find out. She was so looking forward to the wedding. I didn’t want it ruined.’
Michelle still looked upset, but her face had lost its tension. Marr exhaled as quietly as he could. The Markhams would be OK. In time, anyway. John really had been trying to do the right thing. He might have been stupid - well, very stupid - but it was because he loved his daughter.
‘I know, John. I know you were.’ His wife said, reaching forward to put her arms around her husband.
They both held each other, and Marr knew that it was time to leave.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Back out in the car, Marr felt frustrated and relieved at the same time. It was nice to know that John Markham hadn’t done anything too stupid. He really was a good man.
At the same time, they was now right back where they’d been forty-eight hours ago. Except now, the one decent lead they had had turned out to be nothing.
And there was something, somewhere still bothering him. Marr knew from experience that eventually it would click inside his head. He just hoped that the click happened before Caroline’s suicide inquest was held.
‘Do you think he was telling the truth?’ Becky asked as the car began to pull away.
‘I don’t see why not. He didn’t strike me as much of a liar.’
‘Agreed. Why wouldn’t he tell Anna, though? Was he really protecting her by not saying anything?’
‘He might have thought he was. He was probably wrong.’
‘True. I don’t know; it seemed like he bottled it, to be honest.’
‘Well, maybe he was being stubborn: if he had told Anna then he’d have been doing what Caroline had been trying to get him to do. Maybe he didn’t want to give Caroline the satisfaction of thinking she played him.’
‘Well, it was the fact that he thought he could keep it a secret that got me. I mean, if he thought she was doing it to break the wedding up, she’d try something else, surely? She’d tell someone else. She wouldn’t just give up.’
And then, it clicked inside Marr’s head.
‘Maybe he did. Thomas Coulthard. I’m sure that he said he’d had a drink with Caroline the week before the wedding: that he’d just stumbled across her at a bar.’
‘That’s a co-incidence.’
Marr nodded.
‘What’s the bet that Caroline was trying another approach? What if Caroline was the one that told him about the affair?’
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Michelle Markham sipped her tea at the table, thinking about her husband, and the daughter she no longer had.
John wasn’t a bad man, Michelle knew that. He’d been a lovely father to Anna. Supportive but tough. He’d worked hard to make sure they wanted for nothing. Anna’s toughness had come from him. Michelle loved her daughter and her husband so much.
My two soldiers.
And yet, h
ere they were. John had changed. The toughness had melted away. He’d been unable to protect his little girl.
Well, it was time for him to be protected. He deserved it.
And, even though she wasn’t here anymore, Anna deserved it, too. She deserved something better than that hungover detective.
John had lied for good, if stupid reasons. Caroline had been trying to stop Anna’s marriage. But unlike John, Michelle wasn’t foolish enough to think that she’d have given up just because one attempt at doing so hadn’t worked as well.
So, if she hadn’t gotten what she wanted from John, where would Caroline have gone? She wouldn’t have gone to Anna, because she was scared. She wouldn’t have gone to Greg either; she knew that he would just do whatever his dick told him to in the moment.
No, Caroline would go to Thomas. Doubting Thomas, Michelle thought, smiling slightly. If ever there was someone who’d be prepared to help Caroline out, it was Thomas. Yes, Thomas would have been very happy to try and help ruin Anna and Greg.
Hell, he might even have been behind everything from the start. A dickless little boy like that.
She couldn’t be sure, but she couldn’t let the possibility lie.
Michelle heard the sound of the football blaring from the TV in the next room, and smiled.
That’s it, love. You just relax. I’ll take care of it from here.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
By the time Marr and Becky reached Thomas’ workplace, he had built up a head of a steam. He knew – knew – that Thomas had been lying. He’d known it all along. But now, though, he had proof. Enough to stand up in court? Possibly not. But it was enough for Marr to carry on investigating Thomas, and he knew that Brooke would see it in the same way.
However, Thomas wasn’t there. The secretary on the front desk said that he’d called in sick earlier on that morning, claiming a dislocated knee.
‘Said he’d probably not be back in until next week,’ the secretary said, ‘That he needed a week to rest it.’
Leaving the building, Marr punched the side of the doorframe, immediately cursing himself as the pain shot across his knuckles. Not broken, but they’d definitely bruise up.
‘Come on sir,’ Becky said, touching his shoulder, ‘we’ll go and see if his knee really is knackered.’
Marr nodded.
‘And if it isn’t, we’ll try not to dislocate it ourselves’.
Again, though, there was no luck. If Thomas Coulthard really was at home, he was doing a good job of ignoring them. Marr banged the back door hard.
‘Oi!’ came a call from across the road.
Marr turned to see an older woman, probably in her seventies, pottering across the road, waving her stick in the air.
‘He’s not there, for god’s sake. What the hell do you want?’
Marr pulled out his ID.
‘DI Marr, DS Alexander. Where’s he gone?’
The old lady shrugged.
‘No idea; he left about nine this morning. He was chatting on his phone, but I obviously couldn’t hear him from across the road. Got in his car and drove off. I thought it was odd; he wasn’t wearing his work outfit, and he normally does during the week.’
‘Was he limping, or on crutches or anything like that?’ Sam asked.
The old woman, who Marr assumed was the nosy neighbour Thomas had mentioned before, shook her head.
‘No, nothing like that. He looked like he was in a hurry if anything. Red-faced, flustered. It could be his size, though; he’s definitely got a bit bigger in the last couple of years, I don’t mind saying. All that office work doesn’t do a young man good, in my estimation. He should be out moving around like you people.’
Marr smiled despite himself and handed over a card with his number.
‘If you see him come back, can you give me a call?’
The old lady looked over the card.
‘Well, I’ll think about it, but don’t hold your breath. I don’t like to stick my nose in other people’s business you know, I’m not a tattle tale.’
And with that, she was walking back across the road, leaving Marr slightly gobsmacked in her wake.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
It took three rings for Brooke to pick up.
‘Steve, where are you?’
‘Chasing down Thomas Coulthard.’
‘Well, I hope you’ve got something bloody good, because Caroline Marcus’ inquest just got pushed forward.’
‘You’re kidding.’
‘No; apparently a friend of DCS Hume owns a stake in Hendon House, would you bloody believe it. They’re rather keen for the press to die down, and think that Caroline’s inquest – which at the moment is likely to end with her being dubbed Anna’s killer – is the best way to achieve that.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake.’
‘Well, yes. So, what have you got?’
‘Evidence that Thomas did know about the affair between Anna and Greg, and probably found out the night Anna died.’
‘Real evidence?’
Marr thought about this.
‘Technically not yet, but I believe it all the same. What’s more, he’s gone. He called in sick saying he’d bust his knee up, but a curtain twitcher across the road saw him drive away this morning.’
Brooke exhaled thoughtfully.
‘Well, I admit it sounds iffy. But it still doesn’t prove anything, does it? Hell, he works in a call centre, they probably get fifty sickies a fortnight. It might be he’s just going to the pub.’
‘It’s too much of a coincidence. Whatever the hell he’s up to, it’s got something to do with the case.’
‘The trouble is, we can’t prove that. I’m sorry, Steve, but we can’t prove a thing. The inquest is on Friday. You’ll have to provide evidence for it, of course.’
‘Caroline didn’t kill herself; Thomas killed her. He killed Anna, too. I’m sure of it.’
‘So why the hell has Gregor Stanic done a runner? And more importantly, where’s he gone?’
‘Christ knows. But how can they confirm Caroline killed Anna when the bloody murder weapon showed up in Stanic’s rubbish? And he didn’t do it, either! Christ, I don’t know, Sir.’
‘Steve, if you’re stuck, I’m stucker. But that’s enough. You’ll need to pull a real rabbit out of the hat to get Thomas. He’s only public enemy number three: public enemy one’s dead and public enemy two’s done a runner.’
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Relaxing back in her armchair, Sam took a sip of her drink.
What a fucking shitty day.
Becky had sent her a quick text earlier.
Told him.
No explanation, not that the message needed one. Her and Marr had said their piece already; what happened now was really his problem. His to deal with.
She flicked her phone onto Bluetooth, and began to scan through her music.
Swans, The Seer. Perfect for the sort of mood she was in right now. Tense, pissed off, and unresolved.
She turned up the noise, letting the jagged chords ring out in her head as ‘Lunacy’ kicked off the record.
‘Break the chain, hide within, innocence, not innocent, innocent, in no sense…’
Sam closed her eyes, and tried to block out the day. She tried not to think about Marr and her in the car. Her offering herself up, and him rejecting her.
The buzz of her door system broke the state. Loud enough to go right through the music.
She got up and walked to the handset, where the building’s camera showed the outside of the door.
It was Lizzie.
Sam exhaled, loudly. She didn’t have the energy for this; this wasn’t her problem anymore, was it? She wasn’t the one who was married; she hadn’t been in the wrong.
Lizzie looked into the camera, and Sam saw her eyes were pooled. It wasn’t raining; Lizzie had been crying. She held up a bottle of whiskey and shrugged, in a why the fuck not way?
Sam, however not bothered she felt, found herself unable to c
ome up with a reason to disagree. She buzzed Lizzie in.
They drank the first two glasses in less than ten minutes, in virtual silence. Both of them seemed accepting enough that if they were going to do this, they needed to be at least moderately drunk. Otherwise it would be just too uncomfortable.
‘How are you?’ Sam asked, beginning to feel the slight warmth spread across her body as the wine took effect.
Lizzie shrugged.
‘I’ve been way, way fucking better’ she replied. That seemed like a fair assessment.
As always when Sam was around Lizzie, she wondered just why the hell she was married to Marr. She was gorgeous; she really was. But cute, too; the ultimate girl next door, he’d heard Alex describe her as once. Surely, surely, she could do better than some Inspector who just mindlessly followed his dick around.
It was true – at least Sam assumed it was – that Marr probably hadn’t done this kind of thing before. But then, she didn’t know that. She’d assumed that he wasn’t the type to just sleep with anyone. But was she right?
The drink talking – or the drink giving her the gall to ask – Sam did.
Lizzie shook her head.
‘Not as far as I know. Does that make you feel better? It must do, I suppose. Good to know you’re not just some tart. Hell, I’d want to know.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Sam said.
‘No, you aren’t. If you were, you wouldn’t have done it. I’m not here for an apology; it wouldn’t mean much if you did give me one, anyway. He said that he’d broken it off with you before he knew I’d found out. I came here to ask you if that’s true.’
Sam thought about what answer to give. She suddenly felt oddly in control. The chance to change Marr’s future. It was the opposite of how helpless she’d felt in the car when Marr turned her down. It was a nice contrast to the embarrassment: the inability to think of anything she could do.
By the way Lizzie was looking at her, the way she was really waiting on the answer, Sam got the feeling that if she said no, the marriage would be over. The affair Lizzie might be able to bear, especially with a baby on the way and a potential family on the line. The lie, though? That was what real scumbags did, especially if it was just to save their own skins.
