Geraldine resolved to call them both that day, whatever else happened. Right now, her immediate concern was the investigation into the deaths of Mark and Amanda. Over breakfast she phoned Celia to apologise for not being able to see her that weekend, due to pressure of work. Helena’s call could wait until later. She probably wasn’t even awake yet.
‘Don’t worry, I know you’re on a case,’ Celia replied promptly. ‘And I know you’d come and see us if you could.’
Somehow Celia being so understanding made Geraldine feel more guilty than before. Both of her sisters seemed to react to her in extreme ways, at opposite ends of the spectrum. Promising to call Celia for a proper chat as soon as she could, she hung up and leaned back in her chair, momentarily overcome by weariness. Life was never simple. If only Helena could be even half as reasonable as Celia, she and Geraldine might be able to build a relationship.
She spent most of the day sitting at her kitchen table with a pot of coffee, poring over her iPad. She had to stay on top of information flooding in as all the officers on the case logged their reports. If she failed to keep up to speed, the amount of new information could become impossible to absorb. Initially she focused her attention on Mark’s wife and son. Close to the victim, they were the most likely suspects in the absence of any hard evidence. Charlotte had an obvious motive for killing Mark, since his death made her a wealthy woman. Eddy seemed an improbable suspect. Not only was he Mark’s son, he was less likely to inherit any of his father’s estate now that it had all gone to his stepmother. So although he had struck Geraldine as a shady character, he had no apparent motive for killing his father. In fact, it would have served Eddy’s interests had his stepmother died before his father as the latter was more likely to bequeath his fortune to his son.
Of the two suspects so far, Charlotte also seemed more likely to have wanted to kill Amanda, considering her sister-in-law had accused her of murdering Mark. If Charlotte really was responsible for Mark’s death, and Amanda had been outspoken in her presence, Charlotte might have wanted to silence her, especially if she learned that Amanda had reported her suspicions to the police. But without evidence, this kind of speculation led nowhere. In the end Geraldine gave up trying to work out the reason for the two murders, and focused on reading all the reports, hoping that a detail would strike her as significant, or a pattern would become apparent, as sometimes happened. But she was disappointed.
Before preparing her supper, she phoned Helena.
‘There’s someone here who wants to say hello,’ her sister said.
Geraldine was surprised to hear the voice of her former sergeant, Sam.
‘Geraldine!’ Sam greeted her. ‘How’s it going up there in York?’
‘We’ve got a new case.’
Before she could elaborate, Helena came back on the line.
‘I’ve got to go,’ Helena said. ‘Sam and I are going out for supper.’
‘That’s nice.’
Helena hung up without even saying goodbye.
‘Well, please don’t wait to go out on my account,’ Geraldine muttered. ‘It was nice talking to you too.’
Geraldine had asked Sam to look in on Helena once in a while, and she and Helena seemed to have hit it off leaving Geraldine relieved, but also slightly envious of their friendship. The possibility that Helena was putting on an act in order to make her jealous seemed too petty to be true. All the same, she was bitterly disappointed about the way Helena treated her. It seemed that nothing Geraldine said or did satisfied her sister. She desperately wanted to bond with the only blood relative she had, but Helena seemed to have an agenda of her own, which involved blatantly taking as much from Geraldine as she could.
Reminding herself about the sad life Helena had led before they had met, she wondered whether she might be partly to blame for Helena’s shortness with her. She could hardly have done more to help her twin, but she hadn’t invited Helena to come and live with her, balking at such an unwelcome intrusion into her own life. They were effectively strangers who had known nothing of one another’s existence until they were forty. They just happened to have been born together. Geraldine had been far more generous than many other people would have been in her situation, footing the bill for Helena’s stay in a rehab clinic and now paying her rent. Perhaps Helena resented her because Geraldine was in a position to do that. In Helena’s eyes, Geraldine must appear wealthy and successful. The reality was very different. But she was afraid that if she exposed her own needs, she might end up suffering worse humiliation. Appreciating Geraldine’s neediness might encourage Helena to try and exploit her even more, and if she failed to wheedle more money out of Geraldine, she might use the knowledge of Geraldine’s emotional vulnerability to punish her. Geraldine felt uncomfortable acknowledging that she didn’t trust her sister, but it was the truth.
She wished she could be more like Sam, and make allowances for what Helena had suffered. But Sam could remain emotionally detached from it all. If Helena returned to her former habit Sam would be disappointed, but she could choose to walk away from the situation. Helena knew that if she reverted to her former lifestyle, Geraldine would be devastated. All Geraldine could do was try to conceal that she would do almost anything to try and protect her sister. She had already ruined her own career by helping Helena to escape from her drug dealer. Thinking about how Helena was taking advantage of her without any show of gratitude, she wondered miserably what more Helena could want from her.
Even a phone call from Ariadne asking if she wanted to go out for dinner failed to lift her spirits. She explained that she was too tired, and they agreed to go out the following evening. Geraldine should have been pleased. She wanted to start making friends in York, and she liked Ariadne, but as she leaned back and closed her eyes, she felt miserable. She tried to reassure herself that slowly she would establish a new life for herself in York, and Helena would settle down into her new life in London, and meanwhile they would track down whoever had killed Mark and Amanda, and everything would be all right. But she felt increasingly uneasy knowing that somewhere in the darkness outside a killer was hiding.
29
Eddy had been growing increasingly desperate. After two more surreptitious trips to the bookies that week to lift himself back up out of trouble, he had only sunk deeper into debt. It was heartbreaking. But his run of rotten luck had to end soon. It defied all the odds that he would keep on losing. If he could just hold his nerve, it would all come right in the end. He had seen other guys fall apart in a losing streak and bottle it, but it was idiotic to stop when you were down on your luck. The time to throw in the towel was when you were ahead. All he needed was one massive hit and he’d be able to retire from the game. It had to happen. Sooner or later he was going to make a killing. So in the face of mounting debt, he remained sanguine. In fact, he had started increasing his bets, at higher odds. The greater the risk, the sooner he’d be able to cash in and call it a day.
He hadn’t been able to get away from Luciana even for a moment on Saturday, but on Sunday she announced she was going out for a drink in the evening with her girlfriends from work. Eddy tried to look interested as Luciana told him about it, but all he could think was that she would be going out later and she would be gone for the whole evening. This was it. He could feel his luck was about to turn. As soon as she had left the house he hurriedly pulled on his old jacket and retrieved his baseball cap from the back of his wardrobe. It was a carefully selected disguise, enough to prevent his wife recognising him if she spotted him from a distance, but sufficiently trifling to explain away if he did happen to bump into her on the street. He had rehearsed possible conversations to himself.
‘What on earth have you got on your head?’ she might say.
‘What? This old thing? I’ve had it for years. It looked like it was going to rain,’ or perhaps, ‘It’s been so hot today it seemed a good idea to wear a hat,’ or simply, ‘I came across it and thought I might wear it. What do you think?’
/> So far he hadn’t needed to resort to any excuse because he had only gone out when she wasn’t around to notice his absence. And now he had a whole evening stretching ahead of him, and a good feeling about his chances. After stowing the stash of cash he’d withdrawn from the bank in readiness, he set off. Whistling, he walked down to the bus stop where he only had to wait a few minutes for his bus. Yes, for once everything was going his way and he was seeing the back of his nightmare run of bad luck. Sitting on the bus, he hunched his shoulders and pulled his cap right down over his eyes. It wasn’t much of a disguise, but wearing it added to the thrill of his outings. He felt like a schoolboy playing truant. But if he left home feeling like a disobedient child, he was going to return as a conquering hero, hundreds of thousands of pounds better off.
It wasn’t as though he was leaving anything to chance. If he kept going for long enough, it stood to reason that he had to have a lucky break sooner or later. It had taken him nearly two years to amass such a huge debt. Keeping their financial troubles concealed from his wife had taken some doing, but he had been clever enough to keep her more or less in the dark. Before she discovered any more about their financial straits, not only would he have repaid everything he had borrowed but they would be seriously wealthy. She was bound to understand then that he had done all this for her, to give her everything she wanted.
Entering the bookies he found the brightly lit shop half empty. Screens displayed hypocritical messages about gambling responsibly and setting a time limit and a cash limit, even warning that ‘chasing your losses leads to bigger losses’ interspersed with adverts for ‘new’ games and online ‘bonuses’! A young man entered, gabbling into his phone in a low voice. An old man sat hunched over a table, studying a newspaper. Everyone seemed to be ignoring a woman’s voice calling out odds on horses from one of the screens on the walls. Another man standing in a corner looked round and dipped his head in a wordless nod, their eyes meeting in tacit camaraderie. Of course half a dozen or so fellow gamblers weren’t going to affect the odds, but Eddy always felt there was less competition when there were very few other people there.
He had walked in thinking this was his night, but now he could feel his confidence seeping away. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that he was no ordinary gambler. Most of them were losers, but he had a strategy, and he had the willpower to walk away at the right time. He started out with a few little bets. After losing three or four times, he had a small win. It was insignificant compared to what he had lost so far, but although he wasn’t a superstitious man, he had to accept that was a good sign. Holding his breath, he reached into his pocket and drew out the envelope stuffed with cash. This was his moment of glory, the bet that was going to solve all his financial difficulties in one stroke.
He physically staggered when he lost.
Stunned, he gazed around the betting shop, willing this to be a nightmare. The screens continued to display results, a couple of men Eddy hadn’t seen before stood staring at them, while the man behind the counter didn’t even look up. The whole shop was quiet and dull as though nothing had just happened. The old man at the table watched Eddy as he sat down on a stool. His legs were shaking. The disappointment was so huge he couldn’t even comprehend it. Unless his fortune was reversed soon, he would be homeless. He was already behind on the rent. Luciana had no idea he had stopped paying it, but he simply didn’t have the money. The bailiffs had already been round once, thankfully when she was out, but it was only a matter of time before they returned. He had given them his father’s old watch and whatever else he could find that she might not miss, but he had been forced to hand over the television. When Luciana came home, he had to spin her a yarn about having taken it back to the shop to get it fixed. He couldn’t go on like this. He had to get his hands on some money.
‘You had a bad hit,’ a low voice said, right by his ear.
Eddy spun round to see a stranger staring at him. The man’s eyes glittered with unspoken interest as he smiled, displaying yellowing teeth.
‘What’s it to you?’ Eddy muttered. ‘Fuck off, will you, and mind your own business.’
The man shrugged, undeterred by Eddy’s hostile response. There was something uncompromising in his expression. ‘You’re in the shit, mate. Maybe I can help you.’
He was standing very close to Eddy, almost pinning him against the wall.
‘I told you to fuck off. What makes you think I need anyone’s help?’
The man grinned. ‘Let’s go for a drink and talk.’
Eddy wasn’t inclined to discuss his private affairs with a stranger, but he could certainly do with a drink. Without another word, he slipped down off the stool and followed his new acquaintance out of the betting shop. Aware that a desperate man risked getting himself into all sorts of trouble he was determined to be on his guard, but one drink couldn’t do any harm, and it would help him to think clearly. As he followed the man along the street and across the road into the pub, he wondered whether he might persuade Luciana to emigrate. Perhaps they could go and live in Australia and start all over again, and she would never find out he had returned to his old habits. He sighed, knowing that was just pie in the sky. It would be impossible to persuade her to leave home without any preparation or discussion, and anyway he had no money to buy plane tickets. He could barely pay for his bus fare home.
And throughout all of his troubles his stepmother was sitting on a small fortune, refusing to share a penny of it with him, even though he must be entitled to inherit something from his father. If his father had been alive, Eddy could have gone to him and discussed his problems, man to man. His father would have understood. He used to enjoy a flutter on the horses. If it hadn’t been for his father, Eddy might never have begun to gamble in the first place, so his father had a kind of moral responsibility for his difficulties. But his father was dead, and Eddy couldn’t confide in his stepmother. He would have to find another way to relieve her of some of his father’s money.
His new acquaintance put a pint down on the table. ‘Cheers. Drink up. And then we can talk business.’
30
Geraldine needed to find out more about Mark. When she had found out all she could from official sources, instead of questioning his family again she decided to speak to other people who had known him. If she hurried, there was still time to visit the law firm where he had worked before they closed for the day. After parking near the station she walked along Micklegate to the office where a well turned-out young woman looked up from her computer screen and smiled at her as she walked into the building.
‘Can I help you?’
Briefly Geraldine introduced herself. As she was talking, the man she had met at Mark’s funeral walked past. He nodded at her, with a quizzical expression.
‘You were Mark’s neighbour,’ he said. ‘We met at his funeral, didn’t we? This is a pleasant coincidence.’
‘Rodney, this is Detective Sergeant Geraldine Steel,’ the receptionist interrupted him quickly.
The lawyer looked surprised, then nodded. ‘But it was you I saw at the funeral?’
‘Yes. I was there.’ She hesitated. ‘I found what you told me very interesting. I wonder if you have time to talk to me right now?’
The lawyer glanced at his watch and then nodded. ‘Would you mind waiting for a moment? Please, take a seat.’
Hoping he wouldn’t keep her waiting long, Geraldine sat down. After a moment she stood up and went over to talk to the receptionist. It was unlikely the girl would tell her anything she didn’t already know about Mark, but it wasn’t in Geraldine’s nature to overlook a potential source of information.
‘You knew Mark Abbott, didn’t you?’
The girl looked flustered. ‘Yes, I knew him. He’s dead, isn’t he?’ She lowered her voice and glanced around. ‘What happened to him? They haven’t told us anything. I mean, nothing at all. I know the senior partner went to the funeral, but they haven’t given us any details about how Mark died. It was
so sudden.’
‘There isn’t time for me to give you all the details right now,’ Geraldine replied, deliberately implying she might share more information after she had finished speaking with the senior partner. She leaned forward. ‘What was he like to work with?’ She listened to the girl trot out platitudes, before asking whether Mark had any enemies.
‘Apart from his wife, you mean?’
‘What makes you say that?’
According to the receptionist, Mark’s wife had called to ask if she could recommend a divorce lawyer.
‘She wanted to see someone who wasn’t associated with the firm. I don’t think she wanted Mark to find out until she was ready.’
‘When was this?’
‘About a year ago, I guess. Anyway, I said I’d get back to her with a few names, but when I did, she said it wasn’t necessary any more, so I suppose they sorted out their differences.’ The girl shrugged. ‘That’s all I know.’
Geraldine thanked her and a moment later the senior partner emerged from his inner office.
‘Please, come in.’
Leading her into a small white room, he sat behind a large wooden desk that dominated the space, and invited her to take a seat. Then he waited to hear what she had to say.
‘How well did you know Mark Abbott?’
At the funeral, Mark’s colleague had been forthcoming. Now, seated at his lawyer’s desk, he hesitated, aware of whom he was addressing. He gazed thoughtfully out of his high window, considering his answer, before he replied.
‘We worked together for many years,’ he hedged. ‘We were colleagues. So I’d have to say I’ve known him for a long time, but as to whether I could say I knew him well, that’s a different question. How well do we really know the people we work with, day after day? We couldn’t even be said to have worked together. We each had our own office, and our own clients.’
Death Rope Page 12
