Chapter 18
My confidence that Avenger’s true identity would remain anonymous had been based on the care with which I had concealed myself from the school IT technicians. I had not reckoned on the police coming in to investigate Sue’s suicide, with all the forensic powers at their disposal to back up their technological expertise. In spite of my guile, my part in the events leading up to Sue’s death risked exposure, and all I could do was pray they wouldn’t find anything incriminating on my laptop. If they did, I would have to lie my way out of the situation. Whatever happened, were the police to establish the authorship of those emails, Nick’s position as headmaster of a leading school could be compromised. Even worse than that, our marriage might be in jeopardy.
Lying in bed that night, I wracked my brains, trying to recall every step of my email campaign. What mattered was whether any of the emails about Sue had been sent from my own laptop. Once I had gained unrestricted access to the school intranet, my emails had gone out from a fake address which I had set up directly through the main server in the IT office. Hopefully nothing could link me to those messages, other than the fact that I had been given free access to the heart of the system, and I remained cautiously confident my disguised identity would safely mask the real source of the malicious emails. The problem was that I couldn’t remember whether the first email had been sent from my own laptop, before I had been given the freedom to work from the school office. I was almost certain I hadn’t used my own device, but doubt niggled at the back of my mind. If the police were able to link that first email to my private laptop, my anonymity would be blown.
Not only was I worried about the authorship of those emails being discovered for my own sake, but it was devastating to think that my actions threatened to destroy Nick’s career. He would never forgive me for what I had done, and it was hard to see how I could live with myself if my worst fears were realised. And then there was Sue. It was difficult to hold back my tears whenever her name came up. Once Nick was asleep I wept silently, tormented by remorse. I even considered making a full confession, but Nick was snoring gently and it seemed unkind to wake him to tell him his wife had hounded his secretary to her death.
Finally, lying in bed, wide awake, I came to the conclusion that my only sensible course of action was to do nothing. Sue was dead, and there was nothing I could do to reverse that harsh reality. It would be stupid to sacrifice my own future, and probably my husband’s as well, in a vain attempt to appease my conscience. Instead, I would have to learn to bear the knowledge of my guilt in silence. That must be my only punishment. As long as no one discovered my role in the events leading up to Sue’s death, the horrible experience would hopefully fade from my memory, eventually haunting me no more than a distant nightmare.
‘You look tired,’ Nick said at breakfast, glancing up at me from his journal with an anxious frown.
We were sitting in the dining room, with orange juice and coffee and croissants fresh from the oven. Nick liked a continental-style breakfast in the mornings at the weekend.
‘I promise you this will all blow over very soon,’ he went on. ‘It’s been an exhausting year, but we came through it with flying colours. Apart from one issue that wasn’t our fault, it’s gone better than we could have hoped. There’s no need to look so downhearted.’ He gave me an encouraging smile. ‘Try not to think about poor Sue.’
‘I’ve got a headache.’
That was true, but I didn’t go on to explain the reason. Plagued by guilt, or fear, I had barely slept all night.
Nick looked worried again. ‘You’re not ill, are you?’
I shrugged. ‘Not that I know of.’
‘Lou, you would tell me if there was anything wrong, wouldn’t you?’
‘Yes,’ I muttered.
If Nick had pressed me, I might have broken down and confessed, but he merely grunted and turned his attention back to his journal.
After clearing away the breakfast things, I left him to his work. I did some desultory cleaning, and put on the laundry, anything to keep myself occupied so I could stop thinking about what the police might find on my laptop, but I didn’t feel any better by the time they arrived at our house halfway through the morning.
This time the inspector looked straight past my husband and addressed me directly.
‘We’d like you to accompany us to the police station, madam. We have a few questions for you.’
I knew then that the game was up.
A tall broad-shouldered man in pristine jeans and smart sports jacket, the detective’s fair hair was tinged with ginger, and the skin around his blue eyes was crinkled with laughter lines. But he wasn’t smiling. While my husband carried himself with an exhibition of authority, a lion leading his pride, the inspector was a tiger, his devastating power masked by the stealth of his cunning as he stalked his prey. I was that quivering prey.
Noticing the detective was wearing a plain gold wedding ring, I wondered if his wife was strong enough to withstand the force of his character, or if she enjoyed submitting to his will. But perhaps he behaved differently at home.
Outwardly I maintained an air of dignified composure, but the inspector’s cold gaze seemed to see right through me. Any interrogation would be a formality. In his eyes I was already convicted.
Ignorant of my role in the events leading to Sue’s death, Nick stepped in at once to defend me. ‘You can speak to her here,’ he blustered.
A headmaster accustomed to getting his own way, he was rattled by the inspector’s high-handed interference. But, just for an instant, I thought I saw a flicker of fear in my husband’s eyes, and wondered whether he had glimpsed the truth.
‘It’s okay,’ I assured him quickly, before turning back to the inspector. ‘I’m happy to do everything I can to help. But is there a problem? We wondered why the body hasn’t been released for burial yet, didn’t we?’
On the short journey in the back of an unmarked police car, I reviewed the transgressions that must have been uncovered. It wasn’t illegal to write a few nasty emails, although sending them anonymously was a shameful way to behave and might raise a question mark over my suitability to be a headmaster’s wife. At the very least, what I had done would cause Nick a great deal of embarrassment, even if it didn’t cost him his job. As for what it might mean to our marriage, I didn’t dare think about that. I had risked my whole way of life: my husband’s career, my home, and my marriage, for a few moments of joyful insanity. But if I had endangered our marriage, so had Nick, and his actions had kickstarted the whole ugly chain of events. I had only reacted to extreme provocation. My conscience should have been untroubled.
My best course was to deny any involvement in the emails that had been sent about Sue. Even if the police were able to trace something back to my laptop, they couldn’t prove I had been responsible for sending them. In addition, I loved my husband, and not only was I aware that Sue’s help had been invaluable to him, I had liked her. I had no obvious motive to have wanted to harm her.
On that terrible journey to the police station, one idea remained clear in my mind. I had to stick to my story. As the headmaster’s wife, I was keen to help the police investigate the death of my husband’s colleague, a woman who had been a good friend to me. Outraged by the horrible emails that had been sent round, I was shocked by the suicide which none of us had seen coming. That was all I would say. I hoped it would be enough.
Chapter 19
Even sitting down, Detective Inspector Jarvis cut an imposing figure. It wasn’t only his height and his broad shoulders that gave him an air of authority, his presence seemed to fill the entire room. His expression was impassive and he spoke in a flat voice, yet he commanded attention. He would have made an excellent teacher. With his eyes half shut, I could feel the force of concentration behind his apparent indifference. He was watching me closely, alert to any modulation in my voice, any heightened colour in my face, any hint of my gaze faltering.
‘It’s time to tell us
the truth, Mrs Kelly,’ he said quietly.
A policewoman sat at his side, immobile as a waxwork, her dark eyes fixed on mine. However often I glanced at her, I never saw her blink. The inspector introduced her as Detective Sergeant Hilary Woods.
‘We’d like you to tell us the truth, Mrs Kelly,’ the inspector repeated. With his blank expression and flat voice, he looked and sounded bored.
‘Am I being charged with anything?’ I asked. ‘Because if not, I’d like to go home, please.’
The inspector sighed. ‘We’d all like to go home, Mrs Kelly. Now, is there a reason why you’re reluctant to answer a few simple questions?’
‘First tell me what I’m doing here. You could have asked me your questions at home. Why am I here?’
‘We’re investigating the death of Susan Ross.’
‘Yes, I know that. It was a terrible loss to the school. We’re all in shock over what happened.’
‘Was she a particular friend of yours?’ the sergeant asked suddenly, with what appeared to be a flicker of interest in her eyes. She spoke calmly, but I sensed a hint of menace behind her question.
‘You could say we were friends, yes. On friendly terms, at least. But I couldn’t say we were particular friends,’ I replied truthfully. ‘I didn’t know her well, but I liked her. Sue was a very warm person. She got on well with everyone. I don’t think you’ll find anyone on the staff who wasn’t friends with her. She was that kind of a person.’
‘What kind of a person is that?’ the inspector asked.
‘What I mean is, she was popular. She’d been working at Edleybury for about seven years. She knows – that is, she knew everyone at school, and everyone liked her.’ There was a pause, and then I stood up. ‘I’d like to go home now.’
‘Please sit down, Mrs Kelly.’
The words were polite, but something in the inspector’s tone made me resume my seat and ask him whether I should call a lawyer. ‘If I’m being kept here against my will, I would like someone to represent me,’ I added.
The detective raised his eyebrows, very deliberately. ‘Hardly against your will, Mrs Kelly. We merely wish to ask you a few questions about the death of your colleague and friend.’
I wondered if there was a slight sneer in his tone as he said the last word, but his face remained deadpan.
‘Go on then. What is it you want to know?’
I frowned, aware that I sounded agitated. The inspector had riled me, and he knew it.
He leaned forward in his seat. ‘On the eighteenth of June an email was sent to all the staff at your school describing Susan Ross as a slut. Do you have any comment to make about that?’
My mouth felt dry and it was an effort to speak. ‘Shocking,’ I mumbled. ‘It was shocking,’ I continued, forcing myself to speak up. ‘We all thought it was – shocking. That’s the only word for it.’
‘Do you have any idea who sent that email?’
I shook my head, wondering whether he already knew the answer to his question.
The policewoman at his side stirred. ‘What we really want to know is why it was sent. Please tell us the truth, Mrs Kelly,’ she added, as though she knew I was going to lie.
For a moment no one spoke.
At last I broke the silence. ‘What do you mean by asking me to tell you the truth? If you don’t trust me, what’s the point in my saying anything?’
‘We would like you to answer our questions honestly,’ the inspector said. ‘Is that unreasonable?’
His even tone had begun to grate on me.
‘I want to call my husband and ask him to get me a lawyer. I refuse to answer any more of your questions until then.’
The inspector nodded and leaned back in his chair. ‘Make the call.’
Inspector Jarvis and Sergeant Woods disappeared, leaving me in the company of a stout female constable.
After that matters progressed slowly. First of all, it took me a while to persuade Nick to arrange for a lawyer to join me at the police station.
‘What’s going on?’ Nick asked. ‘I don’t understand what they’re playing at.’
‘I don’t know what’s happening. They suggested it would be a good idea for me to have a lawyer here.’
That wasn’t quite true, but I needed to convince Nick to help me.
‘Why don’t I come and get you?’ he replied.
‘There’s no point. They’re not going to let me go just yet.’
‘Put the inspector on the phone. No, don’t bother, I’ll come in and speak to the superintendent, or whoever is in charge there, and sort this out.’
‘Nick, please, just find a lawyer and it’ll all be done with much quicker. Don’t drag this out any longer than necessary.’
When he finally understood that finding a lawyer was the best means of
expediting my departure from the police station, he said he would contact one of the school governors, a fairly eminent criminal barrister who would be able to recommend someone suitable. After that, I could do nothing but wait.
Another constable brought me some tea and biscuits, and escorted me to the toilets where she waited right outside my cubicle, as though she suspected I might try to make a run for it. Other than that, I was left sitting in a small room, with my police guard standing by the door. If it hadn’t been so frightening it would have been funny, like being catapulted into a film. I comforted myself with the thought that they hadn’t charged me with anything yet and when the truth came out, as seemed likely, all that could be proved against me was that I had sent a few stupid emails.
The most difficult part of it was going to be squaring my actions to Nick. Perhaps it might be best to claim I had a drink problem. Whatever happened, we were in for a difficult time, but this whole situation was not of my making. If my husband had kept his dick in his trousers, Sue would still be alive. He alone was to blame for everything we were going through. He had known the risk he was taking, but he had gone ahead anyway. The more I thought about what had happened, the more aggrieved I felt.
By the time my lawyer arrived, I was furious, convinced that I was an injured victim.
‘None of this was my fault,’ I blurted out to a tall willowy woman who entered the room and introduced herself as the solicitor who had been sent to defend me.
Ingrid Sunderland was dressed in a silvery grey jacket over a crisp white blouse and black pencil skirt that reached just below her knees. Her blond hair was pinned up in a neat swirl and her make up was flawless. It must have cost a fair amount to perfect that look of casual elegance. I wondered how much Nick was paying her to act on my behalf.
‘I need you to tell me everything,’ she said in a firm clipped voice. ‘Remember, whatever you say to me is in complete confidence, and I’ll share only what is going to help us get you out of here as soon as possible. It’s not my job to judge your actions, only to defend you. Your husband has told me quite unequivocally that the police interest in you is a mistake, but I suspect they may be privy to information of which your husband is ignorant. I need to know everything, including what you haven’t told anyone else, even your husband. I can’t help you if you conceal the truth from me. Start at the beginning and leave nothing out.’
I nodded. My mouth felt dry. I thought quickly, wondering how much to tell her.
Chapter 20
‘So you sent those emails?’ Ingrid asked when I finished speaking.
Relieved that she didn’t sound shocked, I burst into tears. This was the first time I had shared my secret with anyone. Without mentioning Rosie, I told Ingrid that I had discovered my husband was having an affair, and how I had reacted. My lawyer was there to help me, and it was important to be completely honest with her about those wretched emails. As she took pains to point out, if I hid any detail from her that the police later discovered, she might be unable to defend my credibility.
‘I never meant this to happen,’ I sobbed, shaking with a mixture of worry and relief at finally being able to share my dark secret. ‘
I never meant any of this to happen. How was I to know she was going to kill herself? No one knew she was going to do that. She must have been unstable to do something like that. Who does something like that? How was I supposed to know? Even her own family said they didn’t have a clue about her fragile mental state.’
I had to be careful not to let slip that I had been to Sue’s house and seen her body lying across the bed. My orderly life had descended into unimaginable chaos, and every move I made was fraught with peril, every word I uttered had become a potential grenade that might blow up in my face and destroy me. I would have given anything for Nick never to have gained his headship, and for us both to be transported back into the classroom, working within the constraints of a timetable that prevented us straying too far from the safe territory of an externally dictated syllabus, plagued by nothing worse than insolent pupils and poor examination grades – ordinary people, living ordinary lives, contending with ordinary fears and disappointments.
‘I never meant for any of this to happen,’ I repeated.
‘But you meant to send those emails,’ Ingrid replied, in her clipped tone. ‘It’s unfortunate, but we can’t skirt around that fact, not after you took such pains to try to cover your tracks. Hiding your identity like that proves beyond doubt the emails were premeditated. And to make matters worse, you planned your actions very carefully to avoid detection not once, but three times, over a period of eleven days. We can’t argue those emails were sent in the heat of the moment, a jealous wife losing control and not responsible for her actions. If we try to claim temporary insanity we’ll be shot down.’
Suspicion Page 10
