by M A Comley
Laughing, Claire pointed in her daughter’s face. “I think you’ll find it’s too late to start saying things like that, my girl. Tell me!”
Olga took a few steps back and began pacing once more, tugging at the roots of her hair.
Claire walked towards the phone and picked it up. “Do I have to ring Teagan myself?”
“No! Don’t do that. I should have reported back to her once I’d completed the task, but I came straight here instead.”
“Why? Because you thought I would dig you out of a hole? You expect me to make things right when you’re prepared to go behind my back like this? You’re crazier than I thought. Either tell me or get the fuck out of this house now. My patience for your drug-related behaviour ran out years ago.”
Olga sighed heavily. “Teagan is going to kill me when she finds out.”
“It’s me you should be worried about, not Teagan. I’ll bloody kill you if you don’t reveal what you’ve done, Olga. And believe me, that’s not an idle threat.”
“Jesus, Mother!”
Claire placed the phone back in its docking station and crossed her arms. Her foot tapped impatiently as she waited for her daughter to come to her senses and tell her what bizarre plan the two sisters had concocted.
“I want to sit down. My legs are going to give way any minute.”
“I’ve heard some pretty lame excuses come out of your mouth, but that tops the lot. Get on with it!”
Olga began to cry.
Claire’s heart had been hardened to her daughter’s ability to break down into tears when she craved sympathy. She remained quiet and continued tapping her foot.
“You’re a hard bitch! A mother is supposed to be kind and gentle to her offspring, not like you. Sometimes I think all maternal instincts were stripped from you once all of our umbilical cords were cut. I hate you!”
“The feeling’s mutual at times, I can bloody assure you. Now, get out of my house and don’t ever darken my doorstep again!”
Olga’s eyes widened, and her jaw slackened to reveal her teeth. “What? But where will I go? Who will get me out of this mess?”
“You should have thought about that before you started slinging shit at me. Go back to your sister with these words: ‘Two fuck-ups in a week will land you all in deep trouble. Don’t bother coming to me for any advice or help.’ You two are on your own from now on. I’m publicly washing my hands of you. Now, let’s see how long it takes for one of you to end up in prison.”
“But Mum...”
Claire shook her head and pointed at the front door. “Out!”
“What about the funeral? We can’t fall out before Ryan’s funeral. Lucy needs our support.”
“Lucy will have my support. It’s the rest of you who need to realise what I do for this family. Between you, you’ve darkened my name once too often, and I’m sure you’ll be guilty of leading the police to my door. I don’t take stupidity like that lightly. Keep your secrets between you—that’s your prerogative. Just don’t turn up on my doorstep expecting me to get you out of the shit. Pass the message on.”
Claire walked out of the room and made her way upstairs. She stood at the top and strained her ear, waiting to hear the front door close behind her daughter. Once she heard the slam of the door, she continued along the landing and into her bedroom, where she proceeded to fill the bath. In times of stress, only a deep bubble bath would suffice. It also helped her to think. She had a feeling her bath would be refilled with hot water numerous times as she hatched plans to get herself out of her dire financial straits. The mess that Olga had brought to her door didn’t even enter her mind. The rest of her family could go to hell. She would have no hesitation in sticking by Lucy, however. She was the only one who had ever shown Claire any form of loyalty in recent years.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Lorne travelled back to Norfolk alone to attend the funeral of Ryan Timcott with Sally. She pulled into the police station car park and announced herself at the front desk. A few moments later, Sally came to collect her and took her to the incident room.
Sally ran through the information she and her team had gathered about Lucy and her family since Lorne’s departure. “That’s it really at this end,” Sally said, standing next to the incident board. “Nothing that exciting to go on. None of Ryan’s friends knew he even had a boat, let alone went aboard to take a gander. I did, however, find out one thing that could prove to be interesting.”
“What’s that?” Lorne asked, intrigued.
“Ryan took out a secured loan for the boat against the property.”
“Hmm... you’re thinking that Lucy doesn’t know about this?”
“Exactly. I think she would’ve mentioned it.”
“Maybe. Let’s give her the benefit of the doubt. She appeared to be riddled with grief. What about his background check into his finances? Any other surprises there?”
“We’re still looking. A few insignificant oddities, but nothing major from what we can gather. Any joy at your end?”
“It’s tricky, and as far as Claire Knight is concerned, she’s tricky. I managed to visit her latest ex last week. He’s an extremely bitter man and rightly so. My take is that she’s blackmailing him in some way, although he wouldn’t come out and say it.”
“Blackmail? That points at him having something to hide.”
Lorne nodded thoughtfully. “That’s my assumption. He lost his job because of an anonymous phone call to the head office of the bank where he worked. Do you think both Ryan Timcott and Allan Watts being involved in the finance industry has anything to do with this case? Should Allan feel relieved that he’s escaped with his life intact, or is that me blowing things out of perspective?”
“We’ll need to keep digging into that side of things. Let’s see what the funeral throws up today and go from there.”
Lorne agreed, and they drove to the little church in Horning, where the service was being held.
“Well, there’s Claire. Am I imagining things, or does she appear to be glaring at some of the other family members?” Lorne asked as Sally brought the car to a halt and switched off the engine.
“Looks that way to me. The other girls are all together, and the mother seems keen on keeping her distance from them. Do you think they’ve fallen out? It’s not unheard of at funerals.”
“Possibly. I’m dying to find out.” Lorne got out of the car and stopped before she closed the passenger door. She spotted a man in in his mid-thirties, wearing a black coat, standing close to Claire. “Interesting... I wonder who he is?”
Sally followed Lorne’s gaze. “Her next conquest perhaps.”
They both chuckled. “Quaking at the thought of that, given the difference in their ages. Not that it matters with today’s cougar generation.”
Lorne and Sally approached Claire, hoping to get an introduction, but as soon as she realised they were heading her way, she linked arms with the man and steered him in the opposite direction, away from the gathering crowd. “Interesting. Little does she realise what she’s done by doing that. Let’s play it cool for now, give her the space she needs. We’ll pounce on them when she’s least expecting it.”
“I agree. Not the wisest move she’s ever made.”
Lucy smiled when she saw Lorne and Sally walking towards her. She held out her hand for them to shake. “I’m so pleased you could make it. I was hoping you might have some good news regarding my husband’s case.”
“Sadly not, Lucy. We’ll have a private chat afterwards. We just wanted to offer our condolences to you all.” Lorne turned to the other members of the group and smiled. She was hoping that Lucy or one of the others would introduce everyone who was present—they didn’t. “I’m sorry. You are?”
Lucy bashed the side of her head with the palm of her hand. “Where are my manners? These are my three sisters, Teagan, Helen, and Olga.”
Lorne smiled briefly at the sisters. “Pleased to meet you. Sorry for your loss.” She looked behind her and
asked Lucy, “I have to ask, is your mother okay?”
Lucy glanced through the crowd at her mother. “Yes, she’s just catching up with Joe. He’s our brother. He lives up in Manchester, so we don’t see him much.”
“Yeah and Mother seems intent on keeping him all to herself,” Olga complained, glaring in her mother’s direction.
“Am I sensing some animosity between you all?” Lorne asked.
“No! Nothing of the sort,” Teagan replied before adding sharply, “If you’ll excuse us, we’re needed in the church now.”
With that, the group disappeared inside the church. Lorne looked over her shoulder at Claire. “Well, she doesn’t seem to be in any rush to get inside. I can’t say she looks happy to be chatting to her son, either.”
“Are you surprised? This family’s antics get weirder by the day. Shall we go in or wait outside until everyone is seated?”
“I’d rather observe things from inside. Anyway, it’ll be warmer in there than out here.”
They entered the church and sat in the last pew on the right. Lorne’s gaze remained glued to the group of sisters. She was aware her presence could possibly trigger someone into making a foolish mistake, if they were guilty of anything.
Over the next five minutes, the crowd filtered into the church and found seats. Lorne was surprised to see Claire and her son enter the church at the rear of all the other mourners. Claire pulled on her son’s arm when he attempted to sit next to his siblings. His mother led him to a pew at the front, on the opposite side to the rest of the family. Sally nudged Lorne and pointed at Claire’s daughter Teagan, whose annoyance oozed from every pore. “Looks like that particular move hasn’t gone down well.”
Lorne placed her hand up to her face and whispered behind it, “There’s an obvious rift. What we need to find out is what has caused such a split in the family. Maybe after the service, you can think of a way to distract the mother long enough for me to grab a quick word with her son.”
“Sure, if I can. She strikes me as being super cute. There’s every possibility I might fail in that task.”
“Do your best. I’m going to try and organise a meeting with him later.”
After the lengthy service had concluded, the crowd followed the family out of the church and milled around outside in the car park, apparently at a loss for what to do next. Lorne seized her opportunity to talk to Joe Knight when a couple in their sixties started speaking to Claire. Swooping like a bird of prey, she tapped Joe on the shoulder and extended her hand.
“Hi, Joe, please forgive the intrusion. I’m DI Lorne Warner from the Met in London. I’m the investigating officer in your brother-in-law’s murder.”
His eyes darted in his mother’s direction, then he surprised Lorne by grabbing her by the elbow and leading her a few feet away, out of his mother’s earshot. “I can’t talk here.”
“Why? Because of your mother?”
“Yes. I’m staying at the Innkeeper’s Lodge in Horning. Can you drop by this evening to see me? I’d do it sooner, as I’m keen to speak with you, but I’ll have to show my face at the wake this afternoon. Shall we say at seven this evening? I have to go. Mother is watching us.” Apparently for his mother’s benefit, he raised his voice and said, “I’m sorry I can’t help you. I’m not from around here. Goodbye.”
Lorne resisted the urge to shudder under Claire Knight’s vicious gaze, which ended only once her son was safely standing alongside her.
Sally turned her back and chuckled. “That’s a pretty nasty stare she’s intent on aiming at us. Anyone would think we’re the enemy instead of trying to do our best to help her. I’d love to know what her problem is.”
“Let’s hope Joe can shed some light on that later. Will you be able to accompany me to the hotel this evening?”
“Of course. You better stay overnight with me again.”
“I don’t want to put you and your parents out, Sally.”
“You won’t be.”
That evening, Lorne and Sally remained at the station until six thirty then drove to the hotel where Joe was staying.
He was waiting for them in the reception area. “Thank you for coming. Shall we go through to the bar?”
Lorne and Sally shook his hand then followed him into the hotel’s bar. It was empty except for a giggling man and woman sitting at the bar. They calmed down the instant Lorne and Sally entered.
“What would you like to drink, ladies?” the barman enquired.
“Orange juice will be fine for me,” Lorne replied with a smile.
“Sounds good to me, and another drink for our friend.” Sally pointed at Joe.
The barman prepared the drinks and placed them on the polished wooden bar before pouring a pint of lager for Joe.
Once they were settled at a table by the window, avoiding any unnecessary small talk, Lorne asked, “What can you tell us, Joe?” Lorne noticed the redness surrounding his eyes. Has he been crying before we got here?
He picked up his drink, and his hand shook uncontrollably, causing him to spill some of it on the table. “Damn! What do you want to know, Inspector?”
Lorne smiled, trying to reassure him that he’d done the right thing calling a meeting with them. “Anything and everything. How’s that? You live in Manchester, is that right?”
Replacing his glass on the table, he reclined in his chair. “Yes. I left the London area years ago.”
“Any particular reason?” Sally withdrew her notebook from her handbag and opened it to a clean page.
“Let’s just say that I was eager to leave my mother’s clutches as soon as I could.”
“Well, that statement has certainly sparked our interest, Joe. Care to share why?” Lorne took a sip of her orange juice as the inside of her mouth dried up with the anticipation.
Joe inhaled and exhaled a few deep breaths, and his gaze drifted out the window. Lorne winked at Sally. A final sigh left his body before he continued, “His screams still haunt me. They fill my dreams and turn them into nightmares.” He fell silent again.
Lorne placed a hand over his. “Take your time, Joe. There’s no rush.”
“I’ve lived with this torment for years. He didn’t deserve to die, not like that. She did it.”
Her hand squeezed his. “We’ll do all we can to ease your pain if you’ll confide in us, Joe. Who died? Who is she? Your mother?”
His gaze met Lorne’s, and he nodded as his eyes moistened with tears. “There’s only one word to describe my mother, ladies: Evil.”
“We haven’t discovered much about your mother’s past yet, but from what we can gather, that word pretty much sums her up accurately. My partner and I visited your ex-stepfather in London last week. He was far from complimentary about your mother, understandably so, in the circumstances. Did you get on well with him?”
“To be honest, I didn’t really know him. Over the years, I’ve had less and less to do with my family.”
“Sorry to hear that, Joe. If that’s the case, can I ask why you turned up for the funeral today?” Lorne asked.
“I see weddings and funerals as a duty, nothing more.”
“Did you go to your mother’s last wedding? I’m only asking because you just said that you barely knew Allan.”
“Yes, I attended the wedding, but I kept my distance. That has always been expected of me.”
Lorne frowned. “What? To keep your distance?”
He took another sip of his drink. “My mother has always preferred the girls to surround her, which suits me, Inspector, especially after I witnessed that tragic event.”
“Are you referring to the person who died? Who was that, Joe?”
His hands covered his eyes, and a sob escaped his mouth. Then he whispered, “My father.”
Lorne’s eyes widened. When she looked in Sally’s direction, her eyes were as round as plates, too. Recovering quickly from the revelation, Lorne asked, “I know how hard this must be for you, but we’d really appreciate it if you would shar
e with us what happened.”
Joe remained quiet for the next few moments.
“Joe, we’ve delved into your mother’s background and are aware that two of her husbands have died in suspicious circumstances. Did she kill them? Is that how your father died?”
His breathing came in short bursts.
Lorne covered his hand with hers again. “Please, Joe, tell us. Help us to right a very bad wrong.”
“He came towards me. I was five at the time. My mother hated me. Nowadays, she tolerates me, and that’s all I can say about our relationship. My sisters are the same. I’m treated as an outcast only because I had the guts to leave the family home as soon as I was old enough.”
“You said he came towards you; in what respect?” Sally asked quietly.
“Mum and dad were arguing, as usual. I heard them going at it downstairs, but somehow, this sounded different to the others they’d had, more intense, I suppose. I crept downstairs and watched the proceedings through the spindles midway on the stairs. She started throwing things at him, aiming at his head. One particular pot shattered on his forehead; I remember that so clearly. My father dropped to the ground, blood seeping from the wound to his head. Did she care? No! She continued to throw all she could find at him. He tried several attempts to get to his feet, but it was hopeless. I saw her pick up the lamp and knew then that her intention was to kill him.” He paused and swallowed noisily.
Lorne smiled and nodded, encouraging him to continue.
Another shuddering breath left his mouth, and tears began to fall. “Can you imagine what it must have been like to have witnessed your own father’s death? Not only that but to see your own mother carry out the fateful deed. That image has haunted my days and nights for thirty-two years. I tremble when I’m in the same room as that woman, unsure whether I’ll be next on her list. Lord knows I’ve certainly pissed her off enough over the years for her to want to punish me in the same kind of fashion.”
Wanting to get to the crux of his painful story, Lorne urged, “What happened next, Joe? With the lamp?”
