Her Sister's Lie

by Debbie Howells

  A cold feeling came over me as I shook his hand. Last time I’d spoken to DI Collins, there was no case. They’d been treating Nina’s death as an accident. “Please, come in. Abe’s upstairs. I’ll go and tell him you’re here.”

  As they came inside, I closed the door, suddenly claustrophobic. It wasn’t just their presence; it was the feeling of foreboding that swept over me. As they followed me into the kitchen, DI Collins spoke. “Actually, before you get him, it might be good if we could talk alone.”

  “Of course.”

  She glanced at the door. “Do you mind if I close it?”

  “I’ll get it.” Walking over, I quietly shut the door, then, turning to them, gestured toward the table. “Please, have a seat. Would you like coffee? Or tea?”

  “No. Thank you.” As they sat down, my unease was growing. “I thought you said there was no case?”

  “As I mentioned earlier, there have been a couple of developments.” DI Collins got out her notebook. “But before I go into them, can I ask you if Abe has told you much about his mother?”

  “Not really.” I shrugged. “In general, he says very little. The other night, though . . . He did say that Nina had stopped drinking and was going to AA meetings. He hasn’t said anything about her taking drugs, but when I mentioned the empty bottle in her room, he got quite angry.”

  “He would have been upset,” DI Collins said. “If he believed she’d given up drinking, he must have felt badly let down.”

  I hadn’t thought of it in those terms, but she was right. And hadn’t everyone let Abe down—including me? I thought of how I’d shouted at him earlier. “Another thing he said was that someone must have put it there deliberately. The bottle, I mean.”

  DI Collins glanced at the DCI, then back to me. “You’re sure he said that?”

  I nodded. “It seemed an odd thing to say, but he was adamant.”

  After making a note of it, she looked up at me. “We’ve spoken to one or two of your sister’s neighbors. Mostly they had little to say about her. They mentioned that she didn’t appear to have a job and her behavior was odd . . . One of them said that, more than once, they’d seen her with a younger man who used to hand her something—presumably drugs. They also knew her in the shop at the end of her road, where she used to buy vodka. Otherwise, it seemed she was rarely seen. By all accounts, Abe was quite solitary. A couple of them said they’d seen him at night, outside, standing there for hours as though he was looking at the sky.”

  “He’s been doing that here. He’s interested in the stars.” I paused. “I’ve called his school.”

  “And?” DI Collins looked interested.

  “I spoke to one of his teachers. I wanted to know her impression of him, because I’m not finding him at all easy.”

  “Who did you speak to?”

  “Elizabeth Rainer.” I watched as DI Collins wrote it down. “She said that Abe was bright, especially at math. Also, that he kept to himself, but she thought that wasn’t surprising, given his mother’s problems.” I paused. “Have you found Jude?”

  This time, it was the DCI who spoke. “We have an address, but as yet we haven’t spoken to him. I would imagine he doesn’t feel too well-disposed toward the police.” He glanced at DI Collins. “He was found guilty of assault. He was given three years. He got out a year early—a month ago.”

  I heard myself gasp. I’d told DI Collins she could give him my address, but I was having second thoughts. “Maybe it’s best he doesn’t know where I live. But what if he wants to see Abe?” I was panicking, imagining an angry Jude taking matters into his own hands, taking it upon himself to find out where his brother was and just turning up here.

  “I understand. Under the circumstances, it’s probably best if we don’t pass on your details for now, though he may well get in touch with Abe. Do you know if they’ve spoken?”

  I shook my head, making a mental note to ask Abe. “I’ve no idea.”

  The DCI went on. “If he does turn up here and you’re worried, you can always call the local police. I think it’s unlikely, though. From the little Abe’s already told us, it doesn’t look as though they were close. And Jude’s going to have to be careful—if he doesn’t want to end up back inside.”

  “Is this what you came to tell me?” I looked from one to the other.

  When DI Collins was silent for a moment, I knew there was more. “After you and Abe left the other night, I did another search of Ms. Tyrell’s room. I found a suicide note.”

  “But . . .” I shook my head, trying to make sense of what she’d just said. “Nina hit her head. There was blood. It was an accident.”

  “That was what we thought. We’re waiting for the postmortem results, because, at first, it looked as though Ms. Tyrell had taken an overdose. There was an empty bottle of sleeping pills that I missed the first time I searched her room. And the note, of course.”

  “What did it say?”

  “That she’d tried to sort out her problems, but she’d ruined too many lives. She was sorry to do this, but Abe was better off without her . . . That was about it.” She frowned. “It’s likely she was suffering from depression. She’d been prescribed antidepressants in the past; we’ve spoken to the GP practice she’s registered with, though they hadn’t seen her for two years.” She paused. “Were you aware of your sister’s history of depression?”

  “No.” I was silent for a moment. There’d been moments of bleakness, but nothing worse than that. There wasn’t anything more I could tell her. “Is there anything else I don’t know?”

  It was the brief hesitation before she spoke. There was something, something they didn’t want to tell me. I was filled with alarm.

  DI Collins looked carefully at me. “Can you think of any reason why someone would have wanted to harm Ms. Tyrell?”

  I stared at her. “I’ve already told you that I hadn’t seen Nina for ten years. I’ve no idea who was in her life or what she did. We’d completely lost touch.” I paused, frowning at them. “But you just said she committed suicide.”

  “That’s how it appears. But we haven’t ruled out the possibility that someone else was involved.”

  “You think someone killed her?” I stared at her, horrified.

  “We’re not sure. There are several things that don’t fit.” She glanced at DCI Weller. “As I told you before, there was another contusion to the back of her head. Again, we need the full pathologist’s report before we know for sure, but we’re not convinced it was an accidental blow.”

  “What about the suicide note?” I stared at her.

  But my question went unanswered as DCI Weller leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “I don’t know whether you noticed, but there were a couple of CCTV cameras rigged up near where she lived. A year ago, there was a spate of break-ins, and a few people who lived in the street clubbed together and had them put in. We’ve been through the footage—it looks as though earlier that day, Ms. Tyrell had a visit. We’re not sure who from. We haven’t been able to identify the person.”

  “I don’t understand.” I was having trouble grasping what he was telling me. “Are you saying that she took an overdose but someone came in and killed her before it had taken effect?”

  “Or perhaps her killer tried to make it look like a suicide.” DCI Weller looked at me.

  Her killer . . . I was still struggling to take it in. “But the note . . . her handwriting . . .”

  “It’s possible it was forged. We’ve taken it to analyze the handwriting; we found a letter she’d written recently to compare it with. They look similar enough, but we’ll know more when forensics has looked at them.”

  God, Nina . . . What happened that day? Who could have wanted to hurt you?

  DI Collins spoke. “Right now, we can’t really tell you any more than that.” She glanced at her watch. “Would you mind asking Abe to come in?”

  My head was buzzing. In the short space of time since the police had arrived, Nina’s death had go
ne from an accident to a suicide to suspected murder. I got up. “Of course.” I was still reeling as I went upstairs and knocked softly on Abe’s door. “Abe? Are you in there? DI Collins is here. She asked if you’d mind coming to talk to her.”

  There was quiet for a few moments; then I heard the floor creak just before the door opened. Without saying a word, he pushed past me.

  I followed him back downstairs and into the kitchen, where DI Collins was getting to her feet. “Hello, Abe. How are you?”

  He shrugged, only half looking at her. “OK.”

  DI Collins nodded. “Abe, this is Detective Chief Inspector Weller. We’d like to ask you one or two things about your mum, if you’re all right with that?”

  Glancing at the DCI, he gave a nod.

  “Why don’t you sit down?” DI Collins waited as he drifted over and pulled out one of the chairs, slumping onto it.

  I stood there, uncertain as to whether I should stay or not. “Do you want me to go?”

  “That’s up to Abe.” She turned to him. “Do you mind if your aunt stays while we talk to you?”

  He shrugged. “If she wants.”

  I glanced across at DI Collins, who nodded. I pulled out another chair.

  “How are you settling in?” she asked him gently.

  “OK.” His face gave nothing away.

  “Abe, we wanted to find out more about your mother.” The DI watched his face the whole time she was speaking. “Did she see many people?”

  “No,” he muttered, his face expressionless.

  “Had she fallen out with anyone?”

  He shook his head. Then he looked up at her. “Why d’you want to know?”

  DI Collins hesitated. “Do you know how often she used to drink, Abe? Was it every day?”

  Abe’s eyes flickered toward me. “I already told her.” He nodded in my direction. “She’d stopped drinking. She was going to AA.” He said it angrily, daring anyone to challenge him.

  “Abe, it’s best you just tell us the truth. Some of your neighbors have told us about her drinking.” DI Collins spoke gently.

  “They’re lying.” Abe glared at her, his face furious. “How would they know anything about her when they hardly saw her?”

  The police officers exchanged glances. It was a fair point. When she was rarely seen, how could anyone know the way Nina spent her days? But there was enough evidence to suggest that Abe was understandably in denial.

  “We’re just trying to work out exactly what happened,” DI Collins said diplomatically. “Do you know which AA group she went to?”

  He looked down again. “It was in some church place. Down the road—on Tuesdays.”

  “Do you know which church?”

  He shook his head, and DI Collins glanced at the DCI. “It shouldn’t be hard to find out.”

  “Why are you asking all this?” His eyes blazed into hers. “There was an accident. She hit her head . . .” He broke off.

  “The thing is . . .” DI Collins glanced at me, then back to Abe. “We’re not sure that’s what happened. We found a suicide note.”

  “No.” He stood up, his face furious. “She wouldn’t do that.”

  “I agree. We don’t think she did.” DI Collins spoke slowly and calmly. Abe sat down again. “You see, there was another injury to the back of her head. We’re not sure yet, but we don’t think it was accidental.”

  Part of me wanted to reach out to Abe, to protect him from the brutality of what she was saying to him. I watched as he clasped his hands together, but he’d closed down again, and his face gave nothing away as he spoke. “So why was there a suicide note?”

  “We don’t know.” There was a moment of silence. “A lot of things don’t make sense right now. But please be assured, we’ll find out what happened. Was there anyone she used to meet? Or who used to come to the house? Friends of hers? Or family?”

  He shrugged. “Not really. She used to have this friend called Lisa, but they hadn’t seen each other for ages. Mostly she was on her own.”

  “Do you know where Lisa lives?”

  Abe shook his head. “I think she moved.”

  The DCI leaned forward. “Did your mother have a laptop?”

  Abe shook his head. “Sometimes she used mine. But hardly ever. Why?” Suddenly he looked alarmed. “You can’t take it. I’ll need it for school.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m going to have to ask you to hand it over. You’ll get it back. But there could be something on there that’s important.”

  Abe stood up. “There isn’t.”

  “We still need it, Abe.” DI Collins spoke firmly. “Can you get it for us, please?”

  He paused, then fled from the room and up the stairs, where I could hear him crashing around before he reappeared carrying his laptop. He slammed it on the table and stormed out.

  “I’m sorry.” DI Collins looked unhappy. “He’s not coping too well, is he?”

  “No. He really isn’t. It isn’t easy for either of us.”

  “Give it time.” She shook her head. “We’ll talk to your sister’s AA group. She might have made a friend there who can tell us something.” Pausing, she got up. “We’ll be in touch.”

  5

  The weather had been unseasonably warm for March, with clear, pale blue skies and a warmth that was almost summer-like, rapidly changing at sunset when the temperature plummeted. I got used to Abe slipping outside as the day came to an end, standing there while the last of the light faded, watching the sun fall behind the trees, the outline of their branches stark against the pink and lilac sky. I wondered if he found the same solace out there that I found; it seemed to calm him in some way.

  That evening, the wind picked up. I heard it gusting through the trees and buffeting against the windows as something outside got blown over, so that I almost missed the knock on my back door. The leap of my heart was involuntary, illogical, but I couldn’t help hoping. Had Matt come back?

  But as I opened the door, hope turned to disappointment when I was greeted by the sight of a familiar face.

  “Curtis. This is a surprise.” Before Matt and I met, Curtis and I had been on a few dates until I broke it off. He was a nice enough guy, just not really my type. I hadn’t seen him for a while. I was guessing he’d got wind of the fact that Matt had gone. I was right.

  “Hi.” He paused. “How are you? I heard . . .” He broke off.

  “About Matt.” Needled, I finished the sentence for him, wondering whom he’d heard it from, as the wind caught the door.

  “Looks like we’re in for a storm.” He was hunched, his collar turned up around his neck as he stood there on the doorstep.

  Resigned, I stepped back. “Do you want to come in?”

  “Thanks.”

  Closing the door behind him, I wandered back through to the kitchen. He stood in the doorway watching me. “How are you doing?”

  I didn’t answer his question. Instead, I turned around to face him. “How did you hear?”

  He shrugged. “One of Matt’s friends—in the pub.”

  “What did he say?” I glared at him, hating that I’d been talked about behind my back.

  “Hey, take it easy, Hannah. No one was gossiping. All he said was that he hadn’t seen Matt since he’d moved out. Nothing else. Then we changed the subject.”

  “Sorry.” I sighed. “You know I hate the way people gossip around here. Would you like a drink?”

  “A coffee would be good.” His face was sympathetic as he stood there.

  Curtis meant well, I knew that. Not for the first time, I wished I were more attracted to him, but it just wasn’t there. I filled the kettle and switched it on, then went to the fridge for the bottle of wine, aware of him watching as I topped up my glass. Just then Abe burst in through the back door. Without so much as glancing at me, he kicked off his boots and disappeared through to the den. Seconds later, I heard his feet on the stairs.

  “My nephew,” I said by way of explanation, taking in Curtis’s lo
ok of astonishment. I took a gulp of wine; then, as I passed Curtis his mug of coffee, I pulled out one of the chairs and sat down.

  Curtis looked at me questioningly.

  “My sister died. And please don’t say you didn’t know I had a sister.” I was already on the defensive. “It’s a long story. I didn’t talk about her because we weren’t in each other’s lives. OK?”

  “Cool.” He looked unfazed. “How long’s he staying with you?”

  Leaning forward, I fixed my eyes on his. “How about forever?”

  He frowned. “Really? You’re OK with that?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t really have a choice. There isn’t anyone else.” Drinking my wine, I was silent.

  “You’re going through it, aren’t you?” He said it gently, as I got up and went to fetch the bottle.

  I blinked away the tears suddenly filling my eyes. “A bit.”

  “Can I help at all?”

  Sitting down again, I looked at him. I wasn’t sure what he meant. Given our past, Curtis getting involved in my life could be complicated.

  It was as if he read my mind. “Look, I’m offering as a friend, no more. I know you’ve just split with Matt. It just occurred to me that your nephew might like some male company. I could take him fishing . . . or something else . . . I don’t know. Just an idea.”

  I tried to imagine Abe in his school trousers sitting on a river bank with Curtis and couldn’t. “I’ll think about it . . . but thanks.”

  Just then, Abe came back into the kitchen. After Curtis’s offer, it seemed a good idea to introduce them.

  “Abe? This is a friend of mine. Curtis.”

  “Hi.” Curtis looked at him. “Hannah was just telling me you’ve moved here. Hope you’re settling in?”

  Abe frowned at him. “Thanks.” He walked over to the fridge and got out a carton of milk. After pouring a glass, he went back upstairs.

  I looked at Curtis’s questioning face. “This is what it’s like. All the time.” I was speaking quietly, not wanting Abe to hear me. “I’ve tried, but there’s no conversation—well, hardly any. The only thing he talks about is the stars.”