Dying to Know (A Detective Inspector Berenice Killick Mystery)

by Alison Joseph

  ‘Are you alone?’ he said.

  She was still staring, as the trees dripped rain behind him.

  ‘I need you,’ he said.

  She noticed the sparkle of raindrops in his hair.

  He took a step towards her, and she put her hand up to stop him, her fingers against the soft linen of his shirt.

  ‘Helen – ’

  ‘You know what I’m going to say,’ she said.

  He shook his head, gazing at her.

  ‘It was never possible,’ she said.

  ‘What? You’re wrong – I’ve come here to tell you – ’

  ‘Liam.’ Her eyes on his.

  ‘No.’ His voice was loud. ‘This is different. For the first time in my life - Oh, God. Helen. Surely you can see – ’

  She was shaking her head.

  ‘I love you,’ he said. ‘I know you’re married, I know there’s your husband – ’

  ‘There isn’t,’ she said.

  He looked at her. ‘What?’

  ‘He’s gone. Chad.’

  ‘He found out?’

  She stared at him, at his wide-eyed surprise, and she wanted to laugh. ‘Found out?’ she echoed. ‘Oh, God, Liam, how little you know. Chad… he’s my life. He’s the man I chose. And I know everything was so right with you, and you made me laugh like no one else and you’re so clever and sexy and… and sexy,’ she finished. ‘But Chad’s my husband. Or was, anyway.’

  And then she burst into tears, real sobbing, standing there in the rain on her doorstep, and Liam reached out and took hold of her, clumsily, and as she didn’t move, he found himself gripping her elbow as she sobbed, her other hand dashing tears from her face. Aren’t you going to ask me in, he was about to say, but it was quite clear she wasn’t.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want it to be like this. I didn’t want to harm your life…’

  She shook her head. ‘It’s me,’ she said, through tears. ‘I harmed my life. Not you.’

  He moved to hug her then. She stood, stiff and awkward in his arms. And then, soaked with rain, he faced her. ‘We’ll be friends,’ he said. ‘Won’t we?’

  She almost smiled, through tears. ‘Who knows,’ she said.

  He turned away, took a few steps towards his car. She saw him dab at his eyes, at his wet face. She watched him get into the car and drive away.

  The voice in Liam’s head was silent. Just the windscreen wipers, slicing through the grey day.

  He drove, waiting for the words to start, his sister’s voice.

  There was still silence.

  Just as well, he thought.

  What Sinead will say, when she gets to hear, is that it’s typical of me. Same old Liam, falling in love with the unattainable. Perhaps I always knew she loved her husband. Perhaps that’s what made her so desirable…

  A sudden braking, a scuttle of paws across his path, a rabbit, badger, maybe.

  No. This is not the same old Liam.

  I love her. Helen.

  I don’t think I can bear it.

  Helen stared unseeing at Amelia’s pages.

  I don’t think I can bear it.

  It was for fun, wasn’t it? To be desired, to make love without thought of anything else, to push to one side all those hopes of conception.

  And now it’s not fun. I’ve lost the man I love most of all. And I’ve hurt poor Liam…

  Poor Liam. He had walked away into the rain, his coat flapping at his shins.

  If there’s one thing I know in all this, she thought, it’s that Liam will be all right.

  She picked up Amelia’s pages and began to read.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The day wore on. Berenice reappeared at work. Four hours sleep, it’s enough, she thought.

  ‘Any news?’

  DS Conway looked up from his files. ‘He’s still quiet. We’ve told him about the DNA match, the CCTV from near the Tower.

  ‘We’ve told him that no one else could have killed Moffatt,’ Mary added.

  ‘What does he say?’

  Ben shrugged. ‘Nothing much. He goes on about the house, the old Voake house. Told me he’s going to plant white roses round the door. He said there used to be roses there when he was a kid.’

  ‘Has he asked about Elizabeth?’

  Ben shook his head. ‘Not once.’

  ‘I’ll go back in and have a word.’

  ‘He said – ’ Ben glanced at Mary, shuffled his notes.

  ‘He said,’ Mary finished for him, ‘that if we sent that mare in to see him, he wouldn’t say a word.’

  Berenice smiled. ‘I expect there was another word before the mare one, wasn’t there?’

  Ben chewed his lip.

  ‘If references to my colour were any bar…’ Berenice picked up the file.

  ‘… you wouldn’t be where you are today.’ Mary finished.

  ‘Wherever that is.’ Berenice went to the door. ‘I’ll have a lovely chat and nice cup of tea with our friend. Those attitudes are very easy to shift, trust me.’

  At the lab, Richard the director consulted Tricia in the Press Office.

  ‘Ooh, I don’t know, Director. I mean I know these new particles are all very exciting, but hadn’t we better wait until the fuss has died down…’

  At the lab, Neil wondered, quietly, to Liam, when the funerals would be. ‘More to the point, who will be at them? Do you think Elizabeth will go to Murdo’s – or maybe she can use her injury as an excuse to absent herself. Liam?’ But Liam, gazing at his screen, seemed not to be listening.

  In her hospital bed, Lisa slept. Sometimes she would stir, aware of whispering anxieties, about where she would live, where they might put her, wishing she were older and could decide for herself… but then she’d settle back to sleep, the dreamless sleep of someone warm, dry, fed and safe. For now, at least.

  On the floor above, Elizabeth dozed. There were wires, and drips, and beeping. Sometimes she heard rushing water, like the sea. Sometimes she’d hear deafening loud bangs, and the beeping would shift rhythm, and a passing nurse would come and soothe her. ‘You’ll be well enough for visitors soon,’ one of them said.

  Visitors. Will they come to blame or praise? Will they talk to me of courage or foolhardiness?

  It was neither, of course. At the point where I walked into the firing line, it was because I didn’t care whether I lived or died.

  And now…

  The beeping settled into evenness. The rushing tidal noise retreated. She could hear the quiet busyness of the hospital ward. Elizabeth breathed, and thought, I am still here.

  At the end of that day, Clem Voake appeared in court charged with murder, kidnap, wounding and firearms offences. In the absence of any response, a not guilty plea was entered. He was remanded in custody.

  Outside Police HQ the reporters began to drift away. The rain, too, had stopped, and the evening air was cold.

  ‘It’s late, Boss.’

  Berenice looked up from her desk. ‘I’m thinking,’ she said.

  Mary laughed. ‘The DS better get further away than Ashford, then.’ She glanced at Berenice’s desk.

  ‘What’s that photo?’

  Berenice sighed. ‘It’s a funeral.’

  Mary took it from her. ‘A baby? That little white coffin…’

  ‘It belongs to the Maguires. I should give it back to them.’ Berenice placed it on her desk. ‘Do you think the case stands up?’

  ‘The Voake case? Sure. DNA everywhere on the Moffatt killing. He’s admitted to a grudge against Henrickson, as he wanted the house too. It’s all about the house. All about his entitlement. He would have killed Dr. Merletti, as she was a Van Mielen once.’

  ‘How’s she doing?’

  ‘OK. The hospital want to discharge her tomorrow.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘It’s amazing what she did. She saved that kid’s life, I reckon. Do you think it makes you brave like that, being The Other Woman?’

  Berenice smiled. ‘I’m not
sure it extends to walking into a firing line. Not in my case, anyway.’

  ‘Not yet, Boss.’ Mary closed the door behind her, wishing her a good night.

  Outside the beams of departing cars cut through the darkness.

  She picked up Tobias’s lions, the green and the red. The coloured paint was flecking away from the brown plastic underneath.

  Dear Tobias, she thought. An ordinary toy plastic lion becomes something greater, endowed with meaning, with magic…

  She looked at his mixtures. Perhaps he’ll do it, she thought. Perhaps he’ll make gold out of lead. Perhaps all you need is faith…

  As if we thought he was capable of killing. Just because he was angry with the Prof. But then, it’s quite clear Alan was capable of shouting at everyone, like his rage with Iain over the land sale, what was it Tobias said, that he was shouting at Iain about the ghost and the dead child, and how Iain was very angry with the Prof after that, very very angry. Uncle Murdo had to take him for a walk to calm him down, Tobias had said.

  Berenice put the lions back in their box. She stared at the photograph on her desk. That small white coffin…

  What she remembered was the flowers. Cascades of them, draped in piles, over the coffin, filling the church. She remembered thinking that perhaps he was hiding behind them, perhaps he’d jump out, smiling, laughing, and their mother would look up and see him. She’d imagined, perhaps, how her mother would give him a clip round the ear, giving him what for, getting everyone to make this fuss…

  But there’d been nothing like that. Her mother, when she glanced at her, as she did all through the service, was tight-faced with grief, unashamed of the tears which soaked her face.

  We didn’t recover. My mother and I. We never managed to negotiate the gap that lay between us. As soon as I could, I joined the Job, fled to Leeds.

  Berenice fingered the edge of the photograph, then slipped it into the file. Her fingers brushed against the van Mielen book, and she pulled it out.

  She scanned the words in front of her, about light and rays and transformations, about particles and aether and the flood that will cleanse us all.

  And yet, in the end, it was an ordinary crime.

  That man downstairs is hard, ruthless, greedy. Damaged, maybe, but in the end just an ordinary criminal.

  She stared at the photograph again. Jacob, she thought. She imagined the tiny body lying in its coffin. That mother, the van Mielen one. Amelia. Burying her child. And then, years later, Virginia has to do the same…

  She remembered her mother saying, over and over, I loved him more than my own life. She remembered Virginia’s words, I couldn’t have loved that child more.

  I couldn’t have loved that child more. If… if what?

  She stared, unseeing at the plastic lions. A thought, just beyond her reach. The white coffin, the flowers…

  Oh My God, she thought. It’s so bloody obvious. No wonder Clem Voake is denying everything.

  She picked up her coat, grabbed her bag, and raced for her car.

  Helen set the table for dinner. One plate, one glass. She picked up her phone, dialled Chad’s number again, heard it click to answer, left yet another message.

  ‘It’s me. Please just tell me where you are.’

  He could be anywhere, she thought. When does he become a missing person? When do I tell the police? Tomorrow? Now?

  The saucepan of pasta was boiling over, dripping sticky water over the hob. She switched off the gas. Then she poured a large glass of wine. The pasta congealed, uneaten, in the pan.

  Berenice drove slowly through the darkness. The sea glittered in the distance.

  If I’m right, she thought, Elizabeth lied. But why? Why would she lie?

  And if Iain and Murdo were best friends…

  If I’m right…

  Ghosts. Like Amelia’s brother. And Amelia’s daughter, buried in an old church.

  What if they’re just stories, just fairy tales?

  In the beginning, she thought…

  She drove up the hill to Virginia’s cottage, slowed to a halt. A single light glowed pale in the window.

  She switched off the engine. Then she walked up the path to Virginia’s door.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Virginia stood in her doorway.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I’d like a word, Mrs. Maguire.’

  ‘You’ve arrested him.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Has he admitted it all?’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t go into that.’

  Virginia gave a shrug of her shoulders. She turned, unsmiling, and led the way inside. She indicated a chair, and Berenice sat down.

  ‘I’m not sure I can help you any further,’ Virginia said.

  ‘Are you alone?’

  Virginia nodded. ‘Tobias will be back soon. He’s out at the pub, with his friend Finn.’ She looked up, nervously. ‘This isn’t about him, is it? He’s a changed boy with all that suspicion lifted – ’

  ‘No,’ Berenice said. ‘This isn’t about him.’

  ‘Oh. Good.’

  Berenice fished in her bag and drew out the photograph. She showed it to Virginia.

  Virginia looked down at it. ‘Did I give you that?’

  ‘It was in Tobias’s things.’

  ‘Oh. Yes.’ She glanced at the mantelpiece. ‘We can have it back now, can’t we?’ She spoke fast.

  ‘Soon, yes.’

  Virginia reached for the photo, but Berenice moved it out of reach.

  ‘Mrs. Maguire,’ she said. ‘Why is Elizabeth at Jacob’s funeral?’

  ‘Was she?’ Virginia stared at Berenice’s hands. ‘I can’t remember.’

  Berenice held it out again. ‘There. And she looks terrible.’

  ‘It’s not a good picture – ’

  ‘You can see she’s crying…’

  Again Virginia grabbed at it. Berenice tucked it back into her briefcase.

  ‘You shouldn’t have it,’ Virginia said. ‘It’s not yours…’

  ‘You and Elizabeth… You’ve not been entirely honest, have you? About your relationship…’ Berenice watched her.

  Virginia shrugged. ‘You can understand why, surely. After she and Murdo…’

  ‘After she and Murdo what?’ Berenice waited.

  ‘Do I have to spell it out to you? You know all there is to know about that woman tempting my husband away from me…’ She got to her feet. ‘Do you have anything else to say to me?’

  Berenice returned her gaze. She shook her head.

  Virginia went to the door and held it open for her.

  Berenice gathered up her things.

  ‘I’d like my photograph back too.’

  Berenice shook her head. ‘Evidence, I’m afraid.’

  At the door she offered her hand to Virginia. ‘Thanks so much for seeing me.’

  Virginia’s arms stayed at her side. The door slammed behind her.

  She drove fast, back to the police station. No point going home, she thought.

  The duty sergeant nodded at her in greeting. ‘Someone to see you, Ma’am,’ he said. ‘In reception. A woman. Bit of a state, I’d say.’

  She walked round, glanced through the glass.

  The vicar’s wife. Helen, wasn’t it?

  She opened the door. ‘Hello.’

  Helen looked up. She was ashen-white, red-eyed. She got to her feet. ‘I want you to have these,’ she said.

  She was holding out some sheets of paper in trembling fingers.

  ‘Amelia,’ she said. ‘Van Mielen’s daughter. Gabriel’s wife. Her child died…’

  ‘Are you all right?’ Berenice said.

  ‘No,’ Helen said. ‘I’m not all right at all.’

  They sat in the canteen. Berenice placed a large mug of tea in front of her.

  ‘Missing?’ she said.

  ‘I bet he’s with Virginia,’ Helen said.

  Berenice shook her head. ‘I’ve just come from there. She was alone. Unless
he was hiding.’

  ‘He doesn’t need to hide.’

  ‘Do you think he’s in danger?’ Berenice asked.

  Helen shook her head. ‘Not in physical danger, no.’

  Berenice felt suddenly weary. It must be about midnight, she thought. I have work to do –

  ‘… it’s all connected,’ Helen said, suddenly. ‘The physics and the lab and the aether in the writings, and the dead child and the poor ghost of a soldier who died in the war. And now Chad has gone.’

  ‘I have a murder enquiry on my hands.’

  Helen looked at her. ‘That’s what I mean. It’s all the same.’

  ‘In what sense is it all the same?’ Berenice stifled a yawn.

  Helen began to speak, stopped. She shook her head. ‘Perhaps I’m wrong. I’m not really thinking straight at the moment.’

  ‘Marriages often have their troubles.’ Berenice stirred her spoon around in her mug.

  ‘This isn’t troubles.’ Helen’s voice was loud. ‘Oh no. This is entirely my fault. This is me wrecking something that was good, just because I – I wanted…’ She looked up. ‘I’m not even sure I want children. I mean, yes, of course, I do, but to wreck my marriage, to run off with someone else out of some kind of rage or pain or something, when I could have just said to Chad, we need to talk about this – ’

  ‘Perhaps you did say all that. Perhaps he just didn’t listen.’

  Helen looked at her.

  ‘Mind you,’ Berenice was saying, ‘what do I know? All I’ve learned about marriage I learned from being the Other Woman.’ She glanced at Helen. ‘I don’t imagine that’s your problem with him, is it?’

  Helen shrugged. ‘Who knows?’

  ‘Even vicars, yeah?’

  ‘They’re only human.’

  Berenice smiled. ‘Aren’t we all.’

  Helen pushed the yellowed pages across the table to her. ‘Keep these. Please.’

  ‘You don’t want them?’

  She shook her head. ‘They’re bad for me. All that pain and heartbreak and grief about children. I can’t do it anymore.’ She got to her feet.

  ‘What will you do?’ Berenice walked beside her through the canteen.