No Secrets (MARNIE WALKER Book 6)

by Leo McNeir

  15

  Late morning on Sunday, cool and overcast with a hint of drizzle in the air, and Marnie had made an early start to be sure of arriving on time. It was just as well because, by Sod’s Law, every lock was set against her. At regular intervals on the steady climb away from Cassiobury Park, she had to tie up for each one, empty it, drive in and refill it. Time-consuming and tiring. Normally, operating the locks was one of her favourite aspects of boating, but this time with a deadline, she felt under pressure.

  Going through the group of Apsley locks she perched on the balance beams, staring into the chamber. Waiting for the water level to fall and rise again, she had time to wonder about her rendez-vous. Charles was going to pump her for any hints Barbara might have given about an illicit relationship. She felt sure of that. Then something else began nagging at her mind. Charles had said that pub at Hemel. There were two pubs on that stretch, both famous and long established, separated by about a mile and three locks. If Charles was referring to the further pub, that would add an hour or so to the journey – yet more pressure.

  But Marnie had scarcely left Boxmoor lock behind when she saw Charles walking slowly along the towpath towards her. She pulled over to the bank and he stepped aboard, complimenting Marnie on her time-keeping. They tied up near the first of the two pubs, and she spotted the cherry red metallic Jaguar gleaming in the car park.

  The saloon bar was almost empty as Charles guided Marnie to a table by the window giving a view onto the canal. She sipped her customary spritzer while studying the menu. Charles drank mineral water. It was twelve noon exactly, and one couple was seated at a nearby table making a determined onslaught on generous plates of fried fish and chips.

  “Have you ever noticed, Marnie …” Charles looked at her over the top of his menu, his voice low. “No matter how early you arrive, there’s always at least one other table where people are already eating?”

  Marnie smiled back. He was breaking the ice as a preamble, of course, but she thought he had a point. It was the closest he came to making conversation during the meal. With the excuse that she would be having dinner with Ralph that evening, Marnie opted for a sandwich, and Charles was content with the same choice. When she suggested they take coffee on Perfidia, he accepted without hesitation.

  Once on board, Charles wasted no further time. “You’re a very perceptive woman, Marnie. I expect you’ve worked out why I wanted to meet you here.”

  Marnie was spooning ground coffee into the cafetière, while Charles sat at the table in the dining area. “I’m not sure. I guessed your … having a reason for being in this area might not be strictly true. I wondered if you wanted to tell me that you’d be selling the house as well as the boat. Or perhaps you were going to ask me about Barbara, about anything she might’ve said to me privately in relation to Neil Gerard … girl talk. All those things occurred to me.”

  “Interesting.” Charles stared out of the nearest porthole.

  Marnie waited, poured hot water, fitted the top on the coffee-maker. “Was I right?”

  “Wrong on all counts, actually. I’m surprised. I thought if anyone would’ve worked it out, it would be you.”

  Glad to have something to occupy her, Marnie assembled cups and saucers on a tray. “You don’t want to talk about the house … or Barbara?”

  “Not directly. You told me the work on the house was completed. I know – or I feel fairly certain – that you’d have volunteered any information about Barbara if you’d had it.”

  “Yes.” She brought the tray to the table and set out the crockery while the aroma of the coffee brewing filled the air. “You said I was wrong on all counts.”

  “Correct.”

  “Including what I took as an excuse for a meeting, your … having a reason for being in the area?”

  “Oh yes. And that’s the point, you see.”

  Marnie was puzzled. “If that’s the point, Charles, I’m not getting it.”

  “Will you come with me to see Neil Gerard?”

  The directness of the question stunned Marnie. “See him? Me?”

  “You may have been a new friend, but you’re important in that part of our lives. Now, looking back on these past few months, it’s you I think of in connection with Barbara. She was always talking about you, spent hours going through your plans and drawings. She really had a high regard for you, Marnie, as well as liking you a lot as a person.”

  Marnie sat back and took a deep breath. “I don’t know, I mean, this is so unexpected.”

  “You had no idea?”

  “No idea.” An emphatic shake of the head. “I don’t really understand why you want to do this, Charles.”

  “Nor do I, in some ways. It’s just that somehow when we met that woman – his sister – I had the strangest feeling she was telling the truth.”

  “The court thought she was telling the truth,” Marnie reminded him. “It’s Gerard himself they didn’t believe. That was the point.”

  “But don’t you see, Marnie, perhaps that’s the kind of family they are … truthful, honest.”

  “That’s a very generous assessment.”

  “Will you come with me to see him?” Charles was almost pleading.

  “I … I’d have to think about it.” Embarrassed. “It would depend on my being free. I have a lot of commitments at work. I’m not sure when I might have the time.”

  “You’ve made time today.”

  “But that’s different. I had to fit this into the schedule –”

  “That’s not what I meant, Marnie. You have time today.” He looked out of the window, across the canal. “Neil Gerard is just over there.”

  Marnie turned her head so sharply, she cricked her neck. “What?”

  “Not literally. He’s in prison not far from the canal.” Charles indicated with a gesture. “Up there on the hill. We can be there inside five minutes.”

  Marnie had come to Hemel in the expectation of being driven away by Charles, but had not envisaged travelling with him to a prison. With no time to collect her thoughts, she felt totally unprepared for what was awaiting her. First, she had never been inside a prison before. In fact, she could not even remember seeing one from any angle, apart from on television or in films. Accustomed to determining which meetings she attended – and being in the habit of dealing generally with civilised people – she felt apprehensive even at the idea of crossing the threshold of such a building.

  It seemed so incongruous. There she sat on soft cream leather, her feet cushioned by deep-pile carpet, surrounded by polished hardwood trim, being wafted along in a silky smooth limousine, on her way to a place that housed convicted murderers, rapists, arsonists, thieves. Words like cell, punishment, prisoner came to her. She shuddered at the thought of – what was the term? – slopping out. The only comfort was being with Charles, good solid Charles.

  But why was she with him? What did he want from this meeting? What did he want from her? She suspected – against all reason – that he was wanting to convince himself that Neil Gerard might be innocent. She glanced at him beside her, his hands firmly gripping the wheel. Her self-confidence was returning. She needed to reassert her judgment to bring herself back up to his level. She believed she knew what he had in mind.

  “Charles, what do you expect to get out of this? Are you wondering if Gerard might persuade you he wasn’t guilty?”

  “Quite the reverse, actually, Marnie.” Charles turned his attention to negotiating a roundabout.

  “The reverse?”

  “You were surprised when I asked you to come here, weren’t you?”

  “That’s understatement. It was the last thing I –”

  “How d’you think Gerard’s going to feel when he sees me?”

  “Stunned, I should think.”

  “Quite.”

  “So?”

  “I think he might be so shocked he might not be able to argue his innocence.”

  “A surprise attack from an unexpected quarter,” Marn
ie muttered.

  “Exactly. I’m hoping to take the wind right out of his sails – to continue your sailing metaphor – get him to admit his guilt and drop his ridiculous notion of making an appeal.”

  Marnie mulled this over while Charles steered the Jaguar into a parking area. She tried to understand what he was trying to do. Unaware that she had been using a sailing term, she had to admit it was a bold move. Perhaps this was the kind of tactic that City businessmen used to surprise their rivals. She recalled phrases from the news like boardroom coup and dawn raid. Perhaps captain of industry was itself a naval metaphor.

  Accustomed to setting her own agendas, planning her meetings in advance, Marnie felt anxious about what to expect inside the walls. Approaching the heavy doors, she felt her stomach turning over as they joined the little group of prisoners’ friends and families who loitered by the entrance, avoiding eye contact with each other. When they began filing into the prison, Marnie wanted to run away as fast as she could, and she was comforted by the thought that that was something she had in common with the inmates.

  They were seated at a small table in a room painted in a subdued shade of pale green, as if at a whist drive, waiting for a change of partners. The other visitors were at their tables, a few talking in muted voices, most sitting in silence.

  Neil Gerard was led in and at first panned around the room, looking for a familiar face. When the prison officer ushered him to the table where Charles and Marnie were waiting, he stared at them. Charles had gained his first victory, surprise.

  Gerard quickly composed himself and held out his hand, saying, rather unnecessarily, “Neil Gerard.”

  Charles shook it briefly and sat down. When Gerard offered a hand to Marnie he searched her face as if trying to place her. His grip was cool and dry, a firm handshake, but not a bone-crusher.

  “Marnie,” he said quietly. “Marnie Walker.”

  Charles looked up sharply. “You know each other?”

  “We’ve never really met as such,” Gerard began, “but I attended a press conference with Marnie a couple of years ago, even wrote an article about her.”

  He indicated the seat and, after Marnie sat down, he followed. Despite taking the advantage he now seemed wary. Charles recovered enough to pursue the line he had prepared in advance.

  “I think you know why I’ve come here today.”

  “How should I know that? I was expecting to see my sister waiting for me.”

  “It’s because of her that I’m here.”

  “And Marnie? I take it you are Marnie.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Why have you brought her? Do you need moral support, a second opinion, reinforcements?”

  “She’s here as a friend … of mine and of Barbara. They had become close.”

  “But she knows nothing of my relationship with Barbara.” He turned towards Marnie again. “Forgive me for talking about you as if you weren’t here.”

  “How do you know that?” Charles seemed intrigued by Gerard’s confidence.

  “I do. Tell him, Marnie. It’s true, isn’t it? Barbara never talked to you about me.”

  “That’s right, she didn’t.”

  “Ever.”

  “No.”

  To Charles again. “You said you came because of Sarah, my sister.”

  “She told me she’s trying to organise a campaign to get an appeal hearing.”

  A wry smile. “That’s Sarah, all right. Loyal to the end.”

  During this exchange Marnie took in her impressions of Neil Gerard. He was different from the photographs she had seen in the press, very clean-looking and fresh, despite the grey prison uniform. Alert and interested in the odd situation in which he found himself, he managed to appear dignified and – Marnie searched her brain for the right word – undefeated.

  Charles continued. “She could’ve got you off the hook with one word at the trial. It’s a bit late now, when you’re convicted, no-one believes your story – at least no-one in the judiciary – and your own sister refused to back you up. I’ve spoken with the police. The investigating officer told me he’d never seen a more clear-cut situation –”

  Gerard nodded wearily. “I know … an open-and-shut case. I’ve heard it all before.”

  “So perhaps it’s time you accepted it and let people get on with their lives. After all, when your own sister –”

  “You don’t believe I’m guilty.”

  The sentence hung in the air between them like a banner.

  “What are you talking about?” Charles was almost blustering.

  “If you did – if you really did – you wouldn’t be here now.”

  “But –”

  “No. Don’t tell me about my sister failing to give me an alibi. She told the truth when she gave her statement to the police. Afterwards it would have been impossible to change it. She told them what happened not because she wouldn’t back me up, but because she never thought – we neither of us ever thought for one instant – that I would be accused, let alone found guilty and convicted.”

  “Do you honestly think –”

  “I honestly think there must be some doubt in your mind, Charles. Sorry to be familiar. I’ve only ever thought of you by that name.”

  Charles flushed and glared at Gerard, and Marnie sensed him become rigid in his seat. In the awkward silence, Marnie feared that Charles might reach across the table and hit him. Instead, he took a few deep breaths.

  Neil carried on in a subdued tone. “Look, I didn’t mean to cause you offence. The situation’s bad enough as it is, but the fact that you’ve come here, brought Marnie …” Gerard looked at her directly. “You don’t believe it either, do you?”

  Marnie held his gaze, but from the corner of her eye she saw Charles look at her. “I don’t think the police are fools or that the courts make mistakes. Sure, there are miscarriages of justice, but when all the evidence is clear, I think the system works. I’m sorry if that makes me sound like a backwoods reactionary, but Bruere isn’t incompetent, and you had every chance to defend yourself.”

  “Then I don’t understand what you’ve come for, either of you.”

  Good point, Marnie thought.

  Charles had by now regained his voice. “I want you to face the facts, back down from campaigning and let us try to get our lives back. As long as you and your sister are going on, for whatever reason, I’ll never recover my peace of mind. Is that too much to ask?”

  Neil paused. “I’m glad you came. I saw you at the trial, and I’m very sorry for what happened. Whether you think I’m innocent or not does matter to me in ways that I couldn’t even try to explain, but I still think there’s an inkling of doubt in your mind, and if in coming here you’re looking for peace of mind, then you’re looking in the wrong place.”

  Charles shook his head slowly. “I’ve seen your sister and I don’t doubt her sincerity. But I’ve taken legal advice from a top barrister, someone I’ve known for years, got him to review the case. He told me that an appeal seems out of the question, given the evidence and the way the trial was conducted. In his view the conviction was safe.”

  “He’s right. The investigation, the trial, everything was properly carried out. The only thing wrong was they accused and convicted the wrong person. The trial was perfectly fair … just wrong.”

  “But you can’t go on –”

  “We gave our evidence when we were first questioned, Sarah and I. We didn’t collude, just told the truth. It didn’t occur to us the police wouldn’t find anything else, or anyone else.”

  “Who else might they have found?”

  Gerard shrugged. “It could’ve been anyone. Barbara knew a lot of people.”

  “You’re saying this was done by someone who knew her?”

  “Yes. The police always thought it was an inside job.”

  Charles looked shocked. “ Are you implying they might have suspected … me?”

  “You must’ve been as strong a suspect as anyone else.�
��

  “Are you mad? I loved my wife.”

  “If it’s any consolation, Charles, I never thought it could be you.”

  “I’m supposed to take comfort from that? And what are you talking about? If it was an inside job, as you put it, who else could it have been?”

  Gerard looked down. Marnie caught the implication at once, but it took a few seconds before Charles realised what was being said.

  “Do you mean …? No. That’s ridiculous!”

  “You must’ve known I was not her only … that there had been other lovers.”

  Charles blundered to his feet. “I’ve got to go.” He turned away from the table and stumbled towards the door.

  Getting up to follow him, Marnie looked down at Gerard, slowly shaking her head. He stared back with an expression not of defiance or anger, but of regret.

  Outside in the car park Charles rested his head on his hands on the roof of the car. “You were right, Marnie … not a good idea.”

  “I didn’t say that, Charles. I just said I didn’t understand why you wanted to see Gerard.”

  “It amounts to the same thing, a crazy idea, stupid.”

  Marnie had to bite her tongue. Agreeing would not do Charles any good. He turned and leaned back against the Jaguar, looking up at the prison walls, breathing slowly and deeply. Eventually he pressed a button on the keypad, the locks clicked open and they climbed in.

  They returned to Perfidia for Marnie to collect her belongings, but instead of driving her straight home, Charles surprised Marnie by accepting her offer of a drink. He asked for a cup of Earl Grey, and they took their seats in the boat’s dining area.

  “What are your plans, Charles?”

  “You mean now or in the long run?”

  “Both, probably.”

  “God knows. Oh, sorry if that’s offensive. I –”

  “That’s fine. You’re the one who’s going to live in a vicarage.”