‘She still might have been planning to leave Patston,’ Reed said. ‘Just not that morning. Unless she was leaving the child.’
‘With him?’ Keenan said. ‘Not for a minute.’
‘Maybe she always kept her passport with her,’ Reed pondered. ‘Always ready to run, or just scared he might not let her have it.’ He paused again. ‘Do you think Joanne might have decided to shop him for child abuse?’
‘It’s more likely than the rest,’ Keenan said, then shook his head again. ‘Mrs Finch said she thought Patston got – gets – upset when Irina cries, which is probably when he loses it with her. But he must have known that with Joanne dead, he’d be stuck full-time with the child.’
‘No logic in passion,’ Reed persevered. ‘Or jealousy, or plain old rage.’
‘Giving her the tranquillizers points away from anything that hot-blooded.’
‘Maybe not the long, brewing kind,’ Reed said.
‘Not enough,’ Keenan said.
The two men were silent for a moment. Outside, beyond the closed windows, traffic rumbled back and forth, a lorry braked sharply, an impatient driver hooted.
‘What about getting in CPT so we can talk to Irina?’ Reed asked.
‘Not yet.’ The creases in Keenan’s face deepened. ‘I’d rather keep a careful eye on her for now, keep on digging around her. Kiddie’s still in the dark about what happened to her mum, and I don’t want us to be the ones to change that. I certainly haven’t had any sense from her that she saw or heard anything upsetting.’
‘I suppose,’ Reed said, ‘so far as protecting her from Patston goes, we don’t have to worry too much as long as grandma stays and we’re in and out.’
‘When Karen’s done at the hospital, I want her back at the house as much as possible,’ Keenan said. ‘And someone posted outside for protection when she’s off duty.’
‘Done,’ Reed said.
Chapter Sixty-Four
Lizzie’s e-mail, when she got around to checking it just before lunchtime, included her proposed schedule for the Pure Bliss tour, and a message from Andrew France.
She called Susan first. ‘This is great, but a bit daunting.’
‘It’s only Edinburgh and back,’ Susan said, ‘not quite what you’re used to now.’
The barbecue on Kefalonia flashed into Lizzie’s mind, and she pushed it swiftly away. ‘It’s terrific, Susan,’ she said. ‘So long as you’re coming with me.’
‘Wouldn’t miss it,’ Susan said. ‘Obviously the schedule’s subject to any number of changes, since it’s a whole week away, but you’re happy in principle?’
Lizzie looked over the pages she’d printed out. ‘Starting in Oxford – lovely.’
‘You’ll see there’s a gap in the middle for you to spend some time at home.’
Lizzie did see that, told Susan she was a darling and that she was delighted, then chatted for a few moments before ending the call and ringing Andrew back on his direct line.
‘Glad I caught you,’ she said when he picked up. ‘Thought you might be lunching.’
‘Sandwich at my desk today,’ he said. ‘Family okay?’
‘Fine,’ Lizzie said, not bothering with details. ‘What’s up, Andrew?’
‘Time to start talking about Part Two of the Roadshow.’
‘Oh, God,’ she said.
‘Vicuna have been fine, as you know, about postponing, but the Food and Drink people are now insisting you sign an addendum to your contract.’
‘What sort of addendum?’ Lizzie felt herself tensing.
‘They want a guarantee that, barring natural disasters and other major unforeseeable difficulties, you’ll complete recording.’
‘What does major mean?’ she asked, already prickly.
‘Let’s not even go there, Lizzie,’ Andrew said.
‘I think we should,’ she disagreed. ‘What’s major to me, I suspect, might be very minor to them.’ She paused. ‘Is this Richard Arden’s doing?’
‘Don’t think so for a minute,’ Andrew said. ‘Their legal people, I expect, but I don’t think we need be too concerned.’
‘You might not need to be, but I do.’ Lizzie was perplexed and annoyed. ‘They know about my commitments, they have since the outset. Richard seemed to understand perfectly after the accident that I had to go.’
‘And of course he did understand that.’ Andrew was beginning to sound soothing. ‘But now the lawyers are saying that he and, more to the point, his masters, did rather expect you to go back as soon as the initial crisis was over.’
‘Richard knew that wasn’t going to happen.’
‘Hard to prove, darling,’ the agent said. ‘And no need to do so, anyway, since no one’s threatening to sue or even get nasty.’
‘I should hope not.’
‘Their implication seems to be that with Christopher at Edward’s bedside, there was no need—’
‘So is that what they’re after now?’ Lizzie cut in. ‘My guarantee that I cease being a mother for the duration of the Roadshow? Because if that is what they want, I’ll be saying no to the rest of it.’
‘Lizzie, don’t get so upset.’
‘And if they want their advance back, they can have it.’
‘You need to think about this, darling,’ Andrew said.
‘No, I don’t,’ Lizzie told him.
‘I frankly don’t think turning them down flat’s the best long-term move.
‘Too bad,’ Lizzie said.
‘Lizzie, are you unwell?’
‘Never better,’ she said.
Chapter Sixty-Five
‘Maybe,’ Sandra said to Karen Dean, currently making sandwiches for their lunch – ham for the adults, peanut butter for Irina, ‘we should go on TV, the way people do, to ask for witnesses?’
‘They do that when kids go missing, don’t they?’ Tony said, sitting beside his mother-in-law at the kitchen table.
‘And for . . .’ Sandra didn’t finish the sentence.
Irina, who had been helping Dean spread her peanut butter, held up her hands, palms up, for her grandmother to see. ‘Reena dirty, Grandma,’ she said.
‘You’re too old for baby-talk,’ her father told her.
Sandra threw him a look. ‘Come on, darling.’ She stood up and extended her own right hand to the child. ‘Let’s wash all that off.’
At the sink, she helped Irina stand on the red plastic step that Joanne had bought for the purpose, turned the taps for her, squirted Fairy Liquid onto her palms and watched her rub them into a lather.
‘Surely,’ she went on quietly, speaking to the constable, ‘anything that might help’s worth trying.’
‘Maybe,’ Dean said, ‘when DI Keenan gets back, you should raise it with him.’
‘We could talk about all the love that went into finding this little one.’
‘Adoption’, like ‘murder’ or ‘killing’, was another word they had all tacitly agreed to ban in Irina’s presence.
‘I wouldn’t want to talk about that,’ Tony said. ‘It’s private.’
‘Finished,’ Irina announced.
Sandra helped her down, pulled the tea towel from its holder and watched her granddaughter dry her hands. ‘I’ll do it if you won’t,’ she told Tony sharply. ‘I’ll do anything if it helps get whoever did this to us. I should have thought you’d feel the same way.’
Tony, still at the table, began to weep, not burying his face in his hands now, just letting the tears flow from his eyes down his face into his stubbled chin.
‘For God’s sake,’ Sandra hissed. ‘If I can control myself, why can’t you?’
‘Why’s Daddy crying?’ Irina asked.
‘Because he’s a bit sad, darling,’ Sandra told her gently, and glanced helplessly at Dean. ‘We’re all sad, Irina.’
‘Cos Mummy’s not here?’ Irina asked.
‘That’s right, my darling,’ Sandra said, and her own eyes filled.
‘I want my mummy,’ her granddaughter said
.
As Karen Dean watched tears begin to well up in the child’s big dark eyes, it was all she could do not to join in.
Chapter Sixty-Six
‘Everything all right there?’ Christopher asked on the phone shortly after two.
‘Fine,’ Lizzie said, ‘unless you count my behaving like an unprofessional idiot with the Food and Drink people.’
She told him, briefly, what had happened.
‘You were absolutely right,’ Christopher said. ‘Bullying you.’
‘I’m not so sure. I think I rather startled Andrew,’ Lizzie said. ‘I bet he doesn’t pass on what I said without calling me again.’
‘I think he should tell them exactly what you said.’
‘You just think I should be home with the children,’ Lizzie said coolly.
‘That’s a ridiculous thing to say,’ Christopher told her, equally coolly.
‘Yes,’ Lizzie admitted. ‘I suppose it is.’
‘I may have my faults,’ he said, ‘but—’
‘May?’
‘I do have my faults,’ he amended. ‘Huge, unforgivable, monstrous faults, as I know only too well.’
‘I’m not in the mood for sarcasm,’ Lizzie said sharply.
‘And I’m not in the mood for being got at,’ Christopher said.
‘Tough,’ Lizzie said, and put down the phone.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
‘Robin called,’ Novak told Clare when she got back to the agency at four o’clock, after a few hours in Wood Green with Nick Parry. ‘Jim Keenan, the DI from Theydon Bois, is coming to see him at five.’
‘Doesn’t he want to see you?’ She hung up her raincoat on the pine coat stand.
‘Not yet,’ Novak said.
He followed her into their tiny kitchen, moved behind her as she filled the kettle, kissed the back of her neck. Generally, if he did something like that, even at work, Clare responded with warmth, but today she just plugged the kettle in.
‘You all right?’ Novak asked.
‘Bit tired.’ She took the top off the tea jar, tossed a bag into a mug. ‘Didn’t sleep too well last night.’
‘It’s okay to be upset,’ Novak said gently. ‘And I know you’re afraid for the little girl.’
‘Aren’t you?’ Clare turned so sharply that her curly hair bounced.
‘Of course.’ Novak was startled by the accusation in her eyes, put a hand on her arm. ‘You’re trembling, sweetheart.’
‘I’m not.’
‘Come and sit down.’
‘I’m making tea.’
‘I’ll do that in a minute.’ He steered her back into the office towards the couch. ‘Now sit down and tell me what’s going on.’
She sat. ‘Nothing’s going on.’
‘Nick okay?’
‘Fine.’
Novak heard the kettle boiling, went to make the tea, brought it back and sat down beside her. ‘I’ve put a bit of sugar in.’
She smiled for the first time. ‘I don’t need sugar.’
‘You need energy,’ he said. ‘You’ve been looking tired for a while now, so I know it’s not all to do with the Patstons. And I thought we had a deal about sharing feelings.’
‘Okay,’ she said.
‘Okay, what?’
‘I’ll share.’
Her voice was soft, but so tense that he felt suddenly fearful. ‘What is it?’
‘I’m pregnant,’ Clare said.
Novak felt as if his mind had split into two, one part blazing fireworks, the other groping in dark bewilderment.
‘But that’s wonderful,’ he said.
‘Is it?’ Clare asked.
And instantly he realized – already angry, furious, with himself for his denseness, his insensitivity – that of course any joy she might be feeling was being cloaked by the memories of last time.
‘Oh, God, I’m sorry,’ he said.
Clare looked at him. ‘Do you see?’ Her voice was very tentative.
‘Of course I see.’ Novak put out his arms, relieved when she came into them, leaned against him. ‘Of course I see. I know how you felt, know how I felt, for God’s sake, and I’ll never forget it for the rest of my life.’
‘Oh, Mike, I’m sorry.’
He drew back a little way, saw tears in her eyes. ‘Don’t say that,’ he told her. ‘You have nothing to be sorry for.’ He drew back further, laid his right hand against her flat stomach. ‘A baby,’ he said, quietly.
‘You’re happy,’ she said.
‘Christ, yes.’
‘I’m frightened,’ she told him.
‘I know,’ he said.
‘Tell me it’s going to be all right,’ she said.
‘Of course it’s going to be all right,’ he said.
‘You don’t know that,’ Clare said.
‘I do,’ he told her. ‘I honestly believe that I do.’
‘From your mouth to God’s ear,’ she whispered.
Amen, he thought, but didn’t say, because he’d just told her he was certain, and anything less now would feel like hedging his bets, and if there was one thing Clare needed right this minute, it was his confidence.
And the dark bewilderment had already fallen from his mind, and the other side, the soaring rockets, the hope, was taking over.
‘Our baby,’ he said.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
If Robin Allbeury was less than pleased to see Helen Shipley again when she arrived (having persuaded DCI Kirby to give her time out from the drugs case and her pile of overdue paperwork) at his apartment with Jim Keenan, he didn’t let it show.
‘Not surprised to see me?’ she asked as the solicitor, wearing a grey cashmere sweater over charcoal wool trousers, showed them both into the living room with its fabulous view.
‘Sadly, not very,’ Allbeury said. ‘In view of the link between these two women and myself, I was anticipating a visit.’
‘Do you have an explanation for this link, sir?’ Keenan asked.
‘Please,’ Allbeury said, indicating the sofa and armchairs, ‘make yourselves comfortable.’
Shipley wandered across to the big telescope just inside the glass doors.
‘Feel free to use that,’ Allbeury told her.
She turned around. ‘No, thanks.’
Keenan sat down as invited, on the sofa. ‘The link, sir?’
‘No explanation,’ Allbeury said. ‘Though I assure you that if I thought for an instant that this was more than a coincidence or that my connection had any relevance to these two deaths, I’d be even more wretched about them than I already am.’
Shipley came to sit in the armchair closest to Keenan, noticed, with mild irritation as she crossed her legs, that her tights had snagged in two places, wished she’d worn a trouser suit.
‘Can I get you both some coffee?’ Allbeury asked. ‘Though you prefer tea, don’t you, DI Shipley?’
‘Nothing for me, thanks,’ she said.
‘Nor me.’ Keenan waited as the solicitor sat too. ‘What makes you so sure your connection has no relevance?’
‘I’ve thought about it long and hard, naturally,’ Allbeury answered. ‘And yes, I suppose it is remotely feasible that both women’s husbands found out that their wives were in contact with a solicitor, and became enraged enough to kill them.’
‘Maybe that’s exactly what did happen,’ Shipley said.
‘Unlikely, at least in both cases, surely?’ Allbeury was sceptical.
Shipley said nothing.
Allbeury regarded her for a moment longer, then turned to Keenan. ‘So how exactly can I help you, Detective Inspector Keenan?’
‘First,’ Keenan said, ‘by remembering where you were at the times of both deaths. Second, by telling us precisely what your involvement was with the victims.’
‘I’ll need to consult the diary on my computer for the first,’ Allbeury said. ‘As to the second, I’ve already told DI Shipley about my one encounter with Lynne Bolsover.’
Again, Ship
ley made no response.
‘As I recall,’ Keenan said, ‘you told DI Shipley that you offered Mrs Bolsover some sort of legal advice gratis, but outside the legal aid system.’
‘Correct,’ Allbeury said. ‘But she didn’t want my advice.’
‘Probably a bit convoluted, from her point of view,’ Keenan said. ‘When all she had to do was go to Citizens Advice or open the Yellow Pages for one of the firms who do freebie first-times.’
‘But she didn’t do either of those things,’ Allbeury said, unruffled. ‘That’s exactly the point. Mrs Bolsover was too afraid of her husband finding out, to risk that kind of visit.’
‘You mentioned,’ Shipley said, ‘an “escape route.” ’
Allbeury thought for a moment. ‘I believe what I said to you was that many unhappy women seem unable to see that they might have an escape route.’
‘Because they have no money,’ Keenan added.
Allbeury nodded. ‘That’s often the primary stumbling block.’
‘So how would you have helped Lynne Bolsover to “escape?” ’ Shipley asked. ‘If she hadn’t said no to your offer.’
‘I can’t answer that,’ Allbeury said.
‘Can’t, or won’t?’ Shipley asked.
He smiled. ‘Can’t, Detective Inspector. Each case is different, and clearly, any advice or help I might have given Mrs Bolsover would have depended upon her specific circumstances or needs.’
‘What about—’ Jim Keenan leaned forward slightly ‘—Joanne Patston’s needs?’
‘I’m sorry to say,’ Allbeury replied, ‘that I can’t be very much more helpful to you there either.’ He paused. ‘Mrs Patston and I had only one meeting, at her local library.’
‘The branch in Hall Lane?’ Keenan asked.
‘That’s right.’ Allbeury paused. ‘She brought her daughter, Irina, and we talked while the little girl looked at books – her mother kept an eye on her the entire time.’
‘What did you talk about?’ Keenan asked.
‘Mrs Patston was afraid for Irina,’ Allbeury said, ‘because her husband had been hitting the child. We spoke about that, and about the possibility of my being able to help her find some way out of the marriage.’
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