No Secrets (MARNIE WALKER Book 6)

by Leo McNeir

  As suddenly as it had burst into the news, the story was dropped. The front pages were taken over by a new scandal. The star of a television soap opera admitted to a “sex romp’ with the wife of a Premiership footballer. For once Marnie was grateful to the tabloids for their voracious appetite for titillation.

  By the time the question arose of an appeal in the matter of Regina versus Gerard, it was relegated to the inner pages, where brief notes recorded that the motion had been denied. There was no new evidence; the police had carried out their investigation by the book; the trial had been conducted according to the letter of the law; the conviction was safe. No appeal. A life sentence. Open and shut.

  12

  “The trouble with boating in the spring is you have to take so much gear because of the vagaries of the weather.”

  As if to prove her point, Marnie stowed her bulging kit bag behind the seat on the train, squeezing it in to fill the entire space, and flopped down while Anne did the same with hers on the other side of the aisle. Both were breathing heavily. The train was half empty. It was Saturday morning, too early for shoppers making their way to the London stores, too late for those unfortunate commuters who had to work at the weekend.

  “You’d think we were setting off to the Caribbean rather than just popping down to Bull’s Bridge.” Anne took the seat opposite Marnie. “Still, it’ll be a nice change to be on a boat again for a real trip, even if it is just one night away.”

  This was an impromptu journey. Mike Brent had phoned on Thursday. The police had notified him that Perfidia was no longer in quarantine, and the boat could be moved at any time. He had liaised with Jock Mackenzie at Bull’s Bridge boatyard and had been told gruffly that the works could be fitted in, provided it was in his yard by Monday morning first thing.

  Marnie had sent an e-mail to Charles, with whom she had had no contact for a few weeks, and he had surprised her by phoning back without delay. Could Marnie arrange for Perfidia to be at the yard in that time? They worked out a hasty plan of action. Ralph was going to be away, so there were no complications on the domestic front. Angela would be at the cottage – The New Vicarage – and would take care of Dolly.

  Ralph had dropped them off at the station on his way to a two-day seminar in Oxford. So here they were, dressed in jeans and weatherproof jackets, ready for whatever the fickle climate could throw at them. As soon as the train pulled out of the station Marnie went to stand by the doors at the end of the carriage and dug out her mobile. Mike Brent picked up after the third ring.

  “We’re on our way, Mike, should be at the boat in about an hour or so.”

  “It’s good of you to do this, Marnie. I’m really sorry I couldn’t keep my promise and take her to Bull’s Bridge. The family’s got a lot on this weekend.”

  “No problem. We’re looking forward to the trip. Anne’s coming with me. You wouldn’t believe how much kit we’ve brought, just in case. Is she in the same place as before?”

  “No. That’s another reason I’ll be glad to see her gone. At the moment she’s down towards Sally Ann’s old mooring, but on the south side, Maida Avenue, near the church.”

  “Whose mooring is she on?”

  “You know Kay and Bruce, the Bentincks, their boat Annabel? They’re down on the Thames, due back this weekend.”

  “Don’t worry, they can have their slot back. We’ll have her out of there pronto. I’m sorry we couldn’t have shifted her sooner.”

  “Not your fault, Marnie. But it’s been a nightmare. I’ve had Perfidia all over the place, Blomfield Road, Paddington Basin, Lisson Grove, Cumberland Basin. I even had her up by Camden Lock for a week.”

  “You’ve had a lot of congestion?”

  “It’s been murder. Oh God, sorry, I didn’t mean … sorry.”

  “It’s okay, Mike, just a turn of phrase.”

  “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “A lot of folk got caught out by the lock closures this winter. Everything seemed to be running late, and most of the work on the southern sections only started after the new year. Well, you know that yourself.”

  “Never mind, it’ll all be sorted now.”

  “Thanks a lot, Marnie.”

  “Hey, Mike, this could be a record.”

  “Go on.”

  “I’m phoning from the train and I haven’t yet had to tell you I’m going into a tunnel. I’d better go.”

  Anne was studying the cruising guide, her lips moving as if she was praying silently, when Marnie got back to her seat.

  “I make it around fourteen miles, with no locks. So that means roughly … three and a half hours of actual travelling time?”

  “Plus time to check the boat over before we go,” Marnie added. She lowered her voice to almost a whisper. “We’ll need to make sure we can operate the heating system, but the rest of the gas has been switched off.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. How do we wash and do the washing up?”

  “Perfidia’s equipped with an inverter, and there’s an electric kettle on board. We can shower when we get home tomorrow.”

  Anne nodded. “Then there’s the time we’ll need at Kensal Green to get some provisions at the supermarket. I’m looking forward to that. It’ll be fun tying up outside and wheeling our trolley out to the boat.”

  “Anne, we’ll be buying a pack of croissants, some bread, coffee, milk and a few things like that. This is not a cruise on the Oriana. Anyway, they have a grid to stop trolleys finding their way out onto the canalside and diving in for a refreshing dip.”

  “It’ll still make a nice change from going in the car and having to drive round to find a parking space.”

  Marnie smiled. “You’re excited about going on this trip, aren’t you?”

  “Of course I am.”

  “And it doesn’t bother you that – “

  “Marnie, I thought you said we weren’t going to mention that.”

  “Sorry.”

  Arriving at Little Venice by taxi from Euston, the first sight that met their eyes as they approached Perfidia’s mooring was a police car. Marnie froze.

  She unlocked the gate onto the towpath, and they walked the short distance to Perfidia, passing a handful of other boats on the way. A uniformed constable was standing on the path outside the boat, and Marnie expected him to turn her away, but he simply wished them good morning and moved aside to let them go aboard. Marnie left Anne with the kit bags on the bank and stepped down through the side doors into the saloon. Two men were seated at the table and stood up when Marnie entered.

  “Ah, Marnie, good morning.” Charles Taverner took her hand and kissed her on both cheeks. “You know Chief Inspector Bruere, I believe.”

  Bruere restricted his greeting to shaking hands. By his standards he was moderately cordial.

  “Another problem?” Marnie tried not to stress the word another.

  “Not really. I phoned Mr Bruere to make sure it was in order to move Perfidia. I didn’t want you to come all the way here to find the boat impounded, as happened last time. That was a misunderstanding on my part, I’m afraid.”

  Marnie nodded. “You had a lot on your mind, Charles.”

  “We’ve finished with the boat, Mrs Walker,” Bruere confirmed.

  Marnie thought that summed up Charles’s point of view, too. “So I can get her repaired at the boatyard? You’ve no objection?”

  “None.”

  “Then, do you mind if I ask why you’re here?”

  Bruere gave a hint of a smile. “Nothing sinister. I arranged to meet Mr Taverner to hand over the boat in person. We’ve been through a lot together, and he’s been very co-operative. It’s the least I could do.” He turned to Charles. “Thank you, sir. Good-bye. I’ll leave you to it.”

  At the sight of Bruere climbing out of the boat, Anne’s eyes widened. He said something to her quietly and walked away with the constable. Marnie watched him go, reflecting on the kind of treatment reserved for a VIP, a captain of industry. Charles helped bring in
the bags and suggested a cup of coffee before they departed. In the galley Marnie saw a carton of provisions on the worktop. There were two bottles of wine, one red, one white.

  “I got you a few stores to save you having to bother. This evening and tomorrow lunchtime, I figured you’d prefer eating out somewhere rather than cooking for yourselves.” He pointed to an envelope on the bench. “I’d like you to be my guests. That should cover it.”

  Charles waved Marnie’s protests away with a hand. “Marnie, if we were out travelling together, you wouldn’t think it unusual – even for a young woman of your generation – for me to invite you to a meal.”

  “That’s not the same thing, Charles.”

  “No, you’re right. On this occasion you’re making a journey on my business. Think of it as travel and subsistence expenses rather than as a personal invitation, if you prefer it that way. I am still a client, you know.”

  “You’ve got it all worked out, got all the answers.”

  “Please accept, Marnie … and Anne. You’re doing this for me, and I’d like to do something in return for you.”

  During this exchange Anne retreated to the galley where she heated water and began putting the provisions away. Marnie had been wondering why Charles had really taken the trouble to come to the boat to see them off. A phone call would have sufficed to check that the police were in agreement. She was soon to find out.

  Standing in the saloon, Charles spoke quietly. “This is where they found her.”

  Marnie tried to keep her voice steady. “I know.”

  “Marnie, there’s something I have to ask you. Do you mind?”

  “I don’t know the details, Charles, only what was in the papers.”

  “You’ll think I’m dim, but I don’t know about the technical side of boats.”

  Marnie shook her head. “No I won’t. I live with one of the most intelligent men in the country – Ralph’s a professor at Oxford – and he’s a complete technophobe. Anne had to give him lessons in operating his mobile phone.”

  A faint smile momentarily crossed Charles’s face. “What actually happened, Marnie?”

  “As far as I understand, there was a leaking gas pipe back there in the galley.”

  “Barbara had no idea about it? She never mentioned it to you?”

  “Well actually, it wasn’t exactly expressed as a specific worry, I mean about a particular leak, but Barbara had mentioned to me that she wanted the gas system overhauled.”

  Charles looked aghast. “Really? She suspected it was dangerous?”

  “No, it wasn’t quite like that. She said she wanted it checked to make sure it complied with the new boat safety regulations. I included it on the list of things to be done when the boat went in for servicing.”

  “I see. So what actually happened to the gas system?”

  Marnie shrugged. She wanted this conversation to end before Anne came back with the coffee. Why was he asking this? Charles knew the evidence as well as she did. He picked up on her thoughts.

  “I was too distraught to take in all the technical details at the trial, Marnie.”

  “Apparently Gerard tampered with the pipework, loosened something when he returned that evening.”

  “Didn’t his barrister say it could’ve worked its way loose because of vibration?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you believe that, Marnie?”

  “I doubt it. Boats are safe if they’re properly maintained. The prosecution said the boat was smooth-running, had the latest engine mountings to reduce vibration.”

  “I’m sure that’s true. The boat cost enough. Does your boat vibrate, Marnie?”

  “Sometimes, a little, but she’s old. And you don’t really notice it. Boats are very solid.”

  “When I was cross-examined, the defence counsel asked if we’d ever bumped into anything, if we’d ever rammed a hard surface’

  “That’s always possible on the water, Charles. There are lots of things to bump into.”

  “No. You never saw Barbara steering. She was top class, won prizes. She didn’t make mistakes.”

  “Perfidia could’ve been rammed by another boat.”

  “I thought of that. There’s not a mark anywhere on the hull. I checked.”

  A tinkling of crockery could be heard in the galley. Anne was loading a tray.

  “Where’s this line of thought leading, Charles? You’re not having doubts, are you?”

  “No. I just wanted to be clear in my mind about everything, just wanted … closure, you know.”

  Marnie touched his arm lightly. “I understand.”

  Charles moved quickly to take the tray from Anne. While they drank and ate chocolate Bath Olivers, Charles asked about their plans for the journey to Bull’s Bridge. He insisted that all their expenses for travelling to London should be included with the costs of the work, otherwise he would make his own estimate and add it to the bill. He stayed only long enough to finish his cup.

  When he left, Marnie stepped out with him onto the bank and walked as far as the gate to the pavement.

  “I hope you can feel settled, Charles, that you’ll find what you need.”

  “Yes.” In that one word it sounded as if there were still doubts in his mind. “It’s just … that Gerard chap, somehow he didn’t strike me as being the mechanical type. You’d need to know what you’re doing to cause a leak by loosening a compression joint.”

  “He was a boating journalist, Charles.”

  “Mm. Not a good idea to dwell on it, is it, Marnie? I keep wondering about Barbara’s last moments, what it must’ve been like, how she died.”

  Marnie felt a sudden contraction in her throat, a difficulty breathing, and tears came into her eyes. She could barely speak.

  “It would be a gentle way to go, Charles, just like falling asleep.”

  Charles leaned forward and kissed Marnie on the cheek. He turned and walked away without another word and without looking back.

  They had no difficulty manoeuvring Perfidia out of her mooring. They only had to push out the stern, while the bow-thruster moved the front end away from the bank. It was the first time Marnie had ever used one, her first reminder of the level of equipment on Barbara’s boat. The engine responded with a whisper, a far cry from the clanking of Sally Ann’s old Lister, and they slid quietly along the last stretch of the Regent’s Canal to the pool of Little Venice, passed Browning Island where the willow tree was just coming into leaf and headed west along the Paddington Arm of the Grand Union. Marnie kept the speed down to dead slow until they left behind the last of the moored boats. Neither had spoken since the engine had come to life.

  Marnie handed the tiller to Anne and rested her elbows on the hatch cover. They were standing close together on the steerer’s tiny stern deck.

  “What length is Perfidia?” Anne asked.

  “Fifty-two, I think.”

  “She steers nicely.”

  Marnie continued gazing at the houses lining the route.

  “Marnie, are you all right?”

  “Mm.”

  “Something’s bothering you, isn’t it? Was it your conversation with Mr Taverner? I kept out of the way so you could talk in private.”

  “And you tinkled the cups to announce you were coming back. Thanks.”

  “I feel really sorry about what’s happened to him … well, to Barbara as well, of course, but he’s the one who has to go on living with it all.”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s something else bothering you, isn’t there? Not just feeling sad for Mr Taverner. Shall I shut up and leave you in peace?”

  Marnie touched her friend’s hand on the tiller. “Course not. But you’re partly right.”

  “I knew there was something. How d’you mean partly right?”

  “There were two things.”

  “Two things. What are they?”

  “I don’t know. That’s the trouble.”

  “You must have some idea, Marnie. Something must’v
e prompted you. What made you think there were two?”

  Marnie stared back into her memory. “I think the first time was when we arrived and saw the police car.”

  “It made you worried that something had happened to the boat, or on the boat?”

  “I don’t think so. It was just a vague feeling like a question, or a doubt.”

  “What was the other time?”

  “I had another feeling. It was about the time we cast off from the mooring back there when I returned on board. I’d just said good-bye to Charles … No, it’s no good.” Marnie pointed ahead. “Boat coming!”

  “I see it.”

  Anne pulled gently on the tiller, and Perfidia responded smoothly, moving a fraction to the right from mid-channel. Moments later they passed the other boat left-to-left. A man and woman were standing together at the stern, and they both nodded a greeting as they went by. At the last minute the woman glanced at Perfidia before turning quickly to say something to the man at the helm. Both looked back at Marnie and Anne, frowning and speaking to each other.

  “What’s up?” said Anne, worried. “Is something wrong with the boat?”

  “No. I was expecting this. That’s the first time it’s happened. It won’t be the last. We’ve just been recognised, or rather Perfidia has. We’re travelling on what is currently the most notorious boat on the waterways. There’s hardly anyone in the country who hasn’t heard of Perfidia since the Little Venice Murder made the news.”

  Ten minutes later another boat passed. This time they knew the crew – the Bentincks whose mooring they had just vacated – and they waved to each other in friendly fashion. Marnie guessed the Little Venice crowd would be glad to see the back of Perfidia.

  After they had been travelling for half an hour they cruised past Porto Bello dock and came in sight of the gasholders at Kensal Green.

  “Marnie, because Mr Taverner brought us those supplies, it doesn’t mean we won’t be going to the supermarket, does it?”

  Marnie grinned. “You like the idea of tying up there and going to the shop.”