Finally Bea and Chris were allowed to go. Bea rang Maggie to say they were on their way, a police car transferred them back to the mews, and Bea drove herself and Chris back home. Her home. She wasn’t particularly surprised to see CJ arriving in a taxi, just as she parked her car outside her door.
Bea half expected CJ to collect Chris and remove himself, but he drifted in with them, frowning. Chris seemed to be in a world of his own; a grim world, to judge by the look on his face.
Inside the house the central heating was ticking away, the lights were on in the kitchen, and there was a smell of something good cooking. Hurray.
Maggie had been busy. She’d spread herself all over the kitchen table, with large sheets of paper in an untidy pile in front of her and a mug of coffee at her elbow. There was no sign of the headache she’d claimed to have earlier.
Bea looked at the clock. Breakfast seemed a long time ago.
Maggie said, ‘Ready for a cuppa? Cheese scones in the tin, butter in the fridge. I’ve some lamb shanks in a casserole in the oven. Ready about six, if you can wait.’
Bea put the kettle on. Chris looked as if he still had a headache. Eyes half closed, he peered at what Maggie had been doing. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’ve been ringing around. I tried everyone who knew Tomi, told them the news and asked did they think Tomi had ever taken drugs. No one thought she had. I told them how she’d died and, like me, they were shocked and then got angry, thinking of someone doing that to her. Shock and anger loosens tongues. So I asked each one if they knew who might have tried her with something – for fun, you know.’
She picked up the top piece of paper. ‘This is Simone’s list, for instance. She gave me a couple of names, but it was all for recreational stuff, very mild, hardly illegal at all. So we talked about people who gave parties, and I asked her who she usually invited and how many people gatecrashed them, and we chatted for a long time about that, and I got quite a lot of names. She even gave me some telephone numbers.
‘Then I tried other people I’d met with Tomi. Mostly they were from your team, Chris, people who’d been involved in making the film. Some I knew quite well, and some I didn’t, but they all go to parties, or nearly all of them, so I yakked on and got more lists of people they invite, and one or two more names, people who have a reputation for pushing drugs. I started a new list with each person I spoke to.’
‘Good grief!’ Chris was impressed. ‘That must have taken hours.’
‘You’ve been away for hours. Some names come up on everyone’s list; some, I’ve never heard of.’
Bea picked up a couple of lists and compared names. ‘There must be a hundred names here.’ She spotted a discrepancy, looked at Maggie, who was all wide-eyed innocence, and decided not to mention what she’d seen.
Maggie shrugged. ‘We need Oliver and a computer. He could sort it out. He rang, by the way. I said you were out and told him what had been happening. He’s mad keen to get back to help us, said could you collect him about noon tomorrow instead of waiting till Wednesday, and I said I thought you might. He’ll ring back later to confirm. Oh, and Nicole rang, too. I said you were out and she sounded really angry; wanted you to go over there and cook a meal for her or something. I said you’d ring her when you got back, but that might not be till late and she should get a takeaway.’
Oh dear. Bea’s hand went to the phone. If Nicole really needed her, she must go. At once. She hesitated, took her hand away because it was too late for her to go over there today. She’d ring Nicole back as soon as she could.
Maggie realigned her pile of paper. ‘I spotted a couple of names of possible drug pushers which come up fairly regularly, but I don’t know either of them. In fact, I got two different spellings for each one, so there may be four people there or two or three, or . . . whatever.’
CJ bent over her shoulder, lifted up the top couple of sheets and glanced down them. If he’d noticed what Bea’d seen, he said nothing about it. ‘This is incredible. It would have taken the police hours to find so much out, and these people probably wouldn’t have talked openly to police, anyway. You haven’t got phone numbers for everyone?’
‘No, and a lot of it is hearsay; two people said they’d heard that if you wanted something to liven you up, you could invite so-and-so because he had some pretty good stuff for sale, but then they’d say they hadn’t tried it themselves, of course. They’d probably deny it if asked direct, or if they were asked tomorrow. It was the shock of Tomi’s death which made them indiscreet. Also, I suspect that those who denied all knowledge of drug availability might know a lot more about it than some of the others. Might even sell it themselves. Maybe I’m being fanciful.’
‘You’re a wonder,’ said CJ. ‘May I have these?’
She got up to fetch a large envelope for him from the side. ‘I’ve run off some photocopies for you. I liked Tomi. I’m not much good at office work or computers or anything, but I thought this was something I could do for her. So the police finally let you go?’
Bea shuddered. CJ pinched in his mouth. Chris said, ‘We had to give statements to the police because we found Harry, dead. It looks as though he committed suicide.’
‘What?’ Maggie couldn’t believe it. ‘He’s the last person, I’d have thought.’
‘What makes you say that?’ CJ, putting her under a microscope.
Bea dished out plates, knives, scones and butter. Put the kettle on.
Maggie looked bewildered. ‘Well, I suppose I oughtn’t to say that, but Tomi did talk about him quite a bit, and she said he was always so pleased with himself. He only ever talked to her about what he was doing, and what he wanted to do. If Tomi ventured an opinion he cut her off at the knees. I asked her why she continued to go out with him, and she said he’d been quite an experience, but she was probably going to move on sometime soon.’
Chris hunched his shoulders. ‘He left a suicide note on his laptop.’
CJ took a stool, helping himself to a scone. ‘His body was found hanging from a dressing-gown cord via a hook behind his bedroom door. A chair had fallen over beside him. There was indeed a suicide message on his computer. I believe the police will think he killed Tomi after an argument, stuck a syringe into her to make it look as if she’d tried drugs, and dumped her out in the country. They think it was he who sent the texts from her phone, to give himself some sort of alibi and stave off enquiries from her friends and workplace.’
Bea made a big pot of tea. ‘So where’s her mobile? And where’s his? Did they find them at Harry’s?’
‘They haven’t finished searching yet. If they don’t find them, they’ll say he got rid of them after texting the police and Chris last night.’
Maggie shook her head. ‘I suppose that makes sense. How horrible. I don’t think he treated her well—’
‘Plus,’ said Chris, ‘he was all over someone else as soon as she was out of the way.’
Maggie nodded. ‘But why would he want to commit suicide?’
‘The only person he ever loved was himself,’ said Chris. ‘He didn’t love Tomi, and he didn’t love Hermia. He fancied being seen around with them, that’s all.’
‘Nevertheless,’ said CJ, round a mouthful of scone, ‘I think the police will accept the easy option. Maggie, just to tie up loose ends, did Harry have access to anyone selling drugs?’
‘Well, I suppose we all did or could have done. I mean; they are around if you want them. Someone told me, ages ago, that you only had to ask and someone would know someone who could help you.’
‘Can you point out any names of people Harry might have had contact with?’
‘I suppose so.’ She rustled through her papers, then pushed them away from her. ‘No, I don’t believe it. None of it. If Tomi died of a drug overdose, then someone else gave it to her without her knowledge, and if Harry committed suicide, then I’m a . . . a Polish plumber!’
‘Agreed,’ said Bea. ‘CJ, what can we do to help?’
‘Not
hing, my dear. Let the police deal with it from now on.’
‘Tomi’s parents?’
‘I’ve given the police her laptop. That gives them her parents’ email address, and the police will inform them of what’s happened.’
Bea poured out tea. ‘What about Miss Drobny? She’s still holding all Tomi’s belongings.’ And has already let her room again.
‘They’ll see to all that.’
Chris stared at his empty plate. ‘I know you’ll say it’s not rational, but I feel responsible. My vanity caused me to drop out of university, where I might have learned something useful, just so that I could show off and make a film. To do this, I made use of my friends and trespassed on my father’s good nature. My inflated ego! I thought myself no end of a genius when I won that prize. I thought the world was going to beat a path to my door, asking me to direct the next Hollywood blockbuster. Idiot that I am!
‘On top of that, as the police have pointed out, I’ve been making a fool of myself rushing around after Harry, actually hitting him. Stupid! Stupid! And now what? I’ve no job, no place at university, no stomach for making another film, no car. Not even a mobile phone, as I had to leave mine with the police. I can’t help feeling Tomi wouldn’t have died if I hadn’t picked her out to star in my film. I feel responsible. And you tell me that I can’t do anything to put things right?’
There was a long silence while Chris looked out over the snowbound garden, and CJ looked at him. CJ would want Chris to return to university, of course. Would he? No, thought Bea; probably not. And if he does, I’ll think less of him.
Chris shook his head, more at himself than anyone else. ‘I got into the film-making without thinking it through, without any proper training. But I do have a flair for it. I think I’d better sign up for some courses, or get a job as a gofer with some film company or other. Start at the bottom.’
Bravo, thought Bea. ‘There is something else you can do, Chris. I’ll bet you’ve got some unused footage of Tomi. You could splice it together with the best bits from the film and put it all on a DVD for her parents.’
Chris nodded and helped himself to a scone. The lines of strain around his eyes remained, but he tried to smile. ‘Wouldn’t you know, I put Hermia’s phone number on my mobile and said I’d ring her tonight. Now I can’t even do that.’
Maggie pushed one of her sheets of paper towards him. ‘Oh yes, you can. I’ve got her number here. Simone gave it to me.’
Sunday evening
‘Hush a bye, baby . . .’ Claire rocked the baby in her arms, smiling to him. He smiled back, well fed, clean and sleepy. ‘Time for bed, little one’.
She’d agreed to work this evening, while his parents went out. In a few days’ time she would pass out of his life for ever. Did she regret moving on all the time? Yes, sometimes, but the future was rosy.
She’d dropped in on the agency that morning to see if there was anything of interest, and they’d offered her a couple of places which weren’t suitable because they wanted her to live in.
Her darling boy would be back soon and was taking her out on Wednesday. Hurray. She knew she had a mountain to climb still; his friends weren’t all that keen on her, and there was always the childhood girlfriend in the background, though she wasn’t as much of a threat as she had been. Not since Claire had introduced him to her way of making love.
She laid the baby down in his crib. He protested, but not much. She watched him fight off sleep, and fail.
She tidied the room, thinking that since she had two more nights to herself, she could use it to tackle someone else on her list. Excitement rose in her. Who should it be? Little Nick, probably. Dapper little Nicky-wicky, with his high-pitched, penetrating voice and bottom-pinching habits. He wore pinstriped suits with silk ties, but never picked up the tab in a restaurant or paid for his round in the pub. Took home a giant’s salary, ran a Porsche, but kept the central heating turned down really low at home. He complained about the housekeeping bills and told his wife to buy her clothes in charity shops. No wonder she’d filed for divorce and was currently pursuing him for everything she could get in the law courts.
Claire would bet on his having stashed lots away in offshore accounts somewhere, just so’s his wife couldn’t get at it.
Yes, little Nick should be next. Little Nick should be easy.
SEVEN
Sunday evening
Chris and CJ stayed for supper, of course. They talked about Harry for a while, before moving on to discuss Oliver’s return home and what sort of training Chris might go in for. CJ and Bea were mostly silent.
Oliver phoned, and Bea arranged a time to collect him. Later, she rang Max, who might be back from the Midlands by now, only to find he’d switched to his answerphone. She left a message, but no promise to dash over there to housekeep for them, because she was going to be busy the following day. She ached to think of the baby, her darling little grandchild, wailing unhappily to himself, but there . . . her interference had only made matters worse, hadn’t it?
Only when their guests had gone, and Maggie was packing dirty dishes into the dishwasher, did Bea approach the delicate question of who had helped Maggie with her research. It would have been easy for the girl to say she’d had a friend call who’d volunteered to help, but Maggie hadn’t mentioned it, which might mean that Zander – her on-off boyfriend – had been involved.
Zander was an intelligent, handsome man of mixed race, who’d found himself a job he liked and was climbing the career ladder. He was sensible, sensitive and serious about Maggie.
Maggie had been brought up by a petite, fluffy mother who’d denigrated her tall daughter at every turn. Maggie’s father had disappeared into the woodwork when his daughter was two, which – having met the mother – Bea didn’t find surprising. Maggie hadn’t had much sense of self worth even before a short-lived marriage to a man who’d carried on criticizing her where her mother had left off.
In her late twenties, Maggie ran as fast as she could from commitment to men.
Zander patiently followed. An interesting situation. Bea’s money was on Zander in the long run.
‘So,’ said Bea, ‘if you didn’t want us to know that Zander had helped you, why didn’t you give him a black biro to match yours, instead of letting him use a fountain pen with blue ink in it?’
‘Mm?’ Maggie blushed to the roots of her spiky hair. ‘Oh. Well. I told him about Tomi, and he offered to help. So he took some names, and I took others. I’m afraid my phone ran out of credit so I used your landline for a while. He put some more money on mine, so it’s working again now. Sorry about that. I’ll repay you, of course.’
‘Nonsense. Thank you, Maggie. I’d never have thought of ringing around like that and getting people to talk, and I’m glad Zander wanted to help.’
‘He’s not my boyfriend.’
‘Of course not.’ Tread carefully here. ‘But he’s a very good friend and I like him.’
‘So do I. Not that way, of course, but as a friend. He said that what we did was like dropping a stone into a pond. The ripples would fan out and reach all sorts of people who knew Tomi in different ways, and that some of them might then phone back to whoever told them about her death, and they might then contact us. The only thing is that the landline might be busy for a while, maybe even a few days.’
‘All right by me, but won’t it interfere with your work schedule?’
Maggie stretched and grimaced. ‘I’ll make it up somehow. If Oliver comes home tomorrow, maybe he can help me out. That is, if he’s not above such things, what with doing so well at uni and winning prizes and stuff.’
Bea was anxious. ‘Perhaps we ought not to ask him to help?’
‘Nonsense,’ said Maggie. ‘He was fond of Tomi, too.’
Monday morning, Cambridge
The weather was atrocious, making it doubly difficult to stow all Oliver’s gear into the car. It was just as well that Maggie hadn’t come, for there wouldn’t have been any room for her.<
br />
Oliver looked well, and Bea thought he might even have grown another half inch. She wanted to put her arms around him and give him a hug, but this handsome young man, so poised and confident, didn’t bear much relation to the skinny little outcast whom Maggie had dragged home over a year ago.
Bea found herself talking about the weather. Absurd.
He seemed to feel awkward with her, too. After all, she wasn’t his birth mother – whoever she might have been. In his second term at uni he’d immersed himself in some weird and wonderful research project which was totally beyond her understanding, but which was already gaining him kudos in his rarefied field of higher mathematics. He’d moved further away from the nest, and she wasn’t sure he’d still welcome a hug and a kiss.
When all his bits and pieces had finally been stowed inside the car and his bicycle lashed to the roof rack, she looked up at the sky and grimaced. ‘Shall I drive the first leg?’ The snow had turned to sleet. The main roads had been gritted and the motorway would be all right, but the rain made driving difficult.
Oliver had passed his driving test at the first attempt but, like other university students, used a bicycle to get around town. He wouldn’t have driven a car for some months and might be rusty at the wheel.
As they fastened their seat belts, he gave her a big smile. Only then did she relax. ‘You’re growing up so fast.’
‘You look just the same. You never change.’
She laughed and shook her head. She had her bad days, like everyone else. ‘Tell me how to get out of this one-way system.’
‘Turn right at the end here. I’ve had Chris and CJ emailing me, both worried about Tomi. Have the police been informed? What do you think has happened to her? Can you tell me exactly what’s going on? Keep going. I’ll tell you when to turn left.’
‘I wish I knew. It started when Chris wanted me to find his library books. No, it started before that, but this is hearsay, right? Needs checking.’ She proceeded to tell him everything she had heard and learned. And, as they left the city and approached the motorway, she went on to tell him what she’d seen and heard for herself.
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