No Secrets (MARNIE WALKER Book 6)

by Leo McNeir

  Charles remained where he stood. He looked grim. “There were things I had to attend to here, after all.”

  “I … I was just thinking about you.” She immediately regretted saying that.

  “About me?”

  Marnie nodded. “I’ve been thinking about what happened to Barbara. You know beyond any doubt that Neil Gerard didn’t kill her, don’t you?”

  “Yes. What were you thinking about me, Marnie?”

  “It was something you said about life being about women. That’s the system, that’s how it works, you said.”

  “Well, of course, I was wrong.”

  “You don’t believe that any more?”

  “It’s only part of the story, part of the system, so to speak.”

  “What’s the rest?”

  “The rest, I suppose, is children, the most basic thing of all. Have you got children, Marnie?”

  She realised how little he knew about her compared with how much she knew about him. “No.”

  “Nor me. I never had kids from either marriage, not my greatest success.”

  “There are all sorts of reasons why people don’t have children, Charles.”

  “Of course, forgive me. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “I wasn’t talking about my own circumstances, just people in general.”

  “Yes. I didn’t mean to imply anything about you, Marnie. Anyway there’s still time for you to start a family, if you want one.”

  “It’s none of my business, of course, but is that what you wanted?”

  “Isn’t that what most women want, the system?”

  “But it wasn’t possible for you?” Marnie was horrified to be talking like this, but she felt drawn along by the conversation and by Charles’s frankness. “There was a biological reason?”

  Charles cleared his throat. “The medics eventually discovered that the problem lay with me.”

  “Are you saying it was a problem for you and Barbara?”

  Charles shrugged. “Barbara never made a fuss about it, but I think she regarded it as an imperfection intruding into her life. I saw you speaking to the woman with the pram, Marnie. Such a simple thing for most people, but a huge failure when it doesn’t work out, especially for someone with such a lust for life as Barbara had.”

  A flash seemed to erupt in Marnie’s head. Could Barbara have been pregnant when she died? She racked her memory for any reference to that possibility in the press reports of the trial. If it had been the case, her whole theory would be blown apart. And her supposition about who had murdered Barbara would be based on false premises.

  Marnie became aware that while her mind was racing over these ideas, Charles was looking around him.

  He shook his head. “I never thought I’d stand here again,” he said quietly. “Marnie, I have to go. I just came to make sure everything was all right. I’ll leave you to do the necessary. Sorry to inflict all this on you.”

  Before she could reply, he was gone, closing the doors behind him. Marnie caught sight of Charles through the window walking quickly away. She breathed out audibly and sat back in the seat, releasing the tension in her body. Her thoughts were all a jumble now. The pattern she had created seemed to lie in fragments before her.

  She got up and looked through the window on the water side. The willow on Browning Island was in fresh leaf, its fronds brushing the surface of the water, almost concealing the swan’s nest at the edge. Without thinking, Marnie went to a cupboard in the galley and found the bottle of cognac. The nearest glass to hand was a heavy whisky goblet. She took it and poured herself a generous measure. Standing in the middle of the saloon, she sipped the brandy, felt its warmth in her throat and closed her eyes. It occurred to her that she was standing very close to the spot where Barbara’s body had lain, but she was past caring.

  She was taking another sip of cognac when she heard movement at the far end of the boat. A key was turning in the lock near the tiller. The door was opening and there were footsteps by the engine room. Seconds later, Mike Brent came into the cabin. His face registered surprise when he saw Marnie. Pleasant surprise.

  “Oh, you gave me a shock, Marnie.” He smiled. “I didn’t expect you to be here. I was just coming back to make sure the boat was locked up and secure. I didn’t have time to check properly before.”

  “You were preoccupied with all the travellers’ boats. You had a lot on your mind.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “That’s why you made your mistake.”

  “Did I leave a door unlocked? I know I didn’t check the side doors. I was certain you’d have made sure the gas and electrical systems were –”

  “That isn’t what I meant, Mike.”

  “What did you mean? The boat looks fine to me, even more beautiful than before.”

  “I’ve just met one of your colleagues. Karen was visiting the office … brought the baby to show everyone.”

  “Nice girl, and a good colleague.”

  “I could imagine she was the dependable sort, one who’d stay to the bitter end, even if she was feeling ill.”

  “Feeling ill? I don’t get you, Marnie.”

  “You told the police you were away with flu the evening Barbara died.”

  “That’s right. The staff confirmed it. We were all interviewed.”

  “When were you interviewed, Mike?”

  “As soon as we came back after the Christmas break, all of us, along with everyone else in Little Venice.”

  “Not quite all. Karen wasn’t around then, was she? She was on maternity leave.”

  “I don’t think they regarded Karen as a suspect, Marnie. And we could all vouch for each other’s whereabouts that day. By that afternoon we’d all gone home because of the flu.”

  “Who locked up the office that evening?”

  Mike returned her gaze evenly. “The cleaners … as usual.”

  Marnie wavered. She had not thought of that. “But Karen knew you were there that afternoon, Mike, the one person the police didn’t question.”

  “How would she know that if she went off with flu?”

  “She put something in your in-tray when you’d popped out, something you’d left on the photocopier.”

  Mike shook his head. “You’re forgetting that I’m the manager here, not a clerk. I don’t touch the photocopier. My secretary deals with all that sort of thing.”

  “Not when she’s away through illness, she doesn’t.”

  Mike sighed. “Marnie, I think you’re muddling things up. The police did a very thorough job. They checked with us in case we’d seen anything. They were satisfied we weren’t involved. You should leave them to do the detective work. They know what they’re doing.”

  “But they can’t know everything. They couldn’t know about the keys, for instance.”

  Mike looked puzzled. “What keys? What about them?”

  “Another distraction, Mike. You must have the keys for so many boats at one time or another, it didn’t occur to you that this was one set of keys you shouldn’t have. I’ve got the keys from Knightly St John, the spare set that Charles kept. There were always two sets on the boat, Barbara’s and the ones in the locker in case of emergency. The police kept that set, thinking they had Barbara’s. But you’ve got hers, Mike.”

  Involuntarily Mike’s hand moved to the bulge in his pocket. “The emergency set,” he muttered.

  “Good boating practice,” said Marnie. “Never risk losing your keys overboard and not having spares with you. Barbara was always well organised.”

  “Yes.” He seemed far away in his thoughts.

  Marnie continued. “That’s how you were able to bring the boat down here from where I left her. It’s only when I started to wonder how you’d moved her, that I worked it out. But you had too much on your mind with all the chaos of the travellers’ boats. You didn’t have time to think of the implications of what you were doing.”

  “Didn’t you think, Marnie, that I might’ve had a spare set
cut after Barbara died? I needed to take care of the boat when the police were holding the keys along with all her other personal effects.”

  Marnie had to think quickly. “So there’s no chance of Barbara’s DNA being on the ones you’ve been using, presumably, if you had a new set made?”

  “I …” He closed his mouth slowly. “They’ve been on the boat. They could’ve picked up traces. It must be possible.”

  “It’s no wonder you didn’t think about that. You told me ages ago you’d been moving Perfidia around to make space all through the winter, up to Camden Lock, Lisson Grove, all over. I’ve only just realised the significance of that. You had keys all that time. You had Barbara’s keys. The police had the other set. You automatically did what you always did with boats in your charge, moved them when you had to. Only you shouldn’t have been able to do that.”

  “This is all very interesting, Marnie. But one set of keys is very like another, like thousands of boat key rings used all over the waterways. Who’s to know how many sets Barbara might’ve had cut?”

  “I think it could be worked out, Mike,” Marnie said quietly. “Barbara was very methodical about everything.”

  “You think you’ve got it all sorted, Marnie? I don’t think it adds up to very much.”

  “I know you were still around on the day she died. Karen would testify to that. Leaving a piece of paper on the photocopier, such a small detail. And of course you wouldn’t realise you’d done it, because you had that letter in your in-tray, where you’d expect it to be.”

  Mike looked defiant. “What about the eye witness?”

  “You know you can forget Belle Starkey’s story. You must’ve read the papers. The police will work out that it was you she saw that evening. You’re about the same size as Neil Gerard. It was dark, an easy mistake.”

  Mike perched on the corner of the table. “I must say I’m really quite impressed with how you’ve worked things out. If it wasn’t so far-fetched I’d have to agree your theory hangs together. But it just hangs by a thread, doesn’t it? I mean, you couldn’t prove any of this.”

  “It’s not my job to prove anything, Mike. That will be for the police and their experts to do. They might also be able to link you with the death of Ian Stuart.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I think you were trying to kill me that afternoon. You didn’t know I hadn’t gone by car and neither did he. My guess – and I grant you it is just a guess – is that you thought you were tampering with my car. Ian got in the way and became your victim.”

  “This is nonsense!”

  “Possibly. But if the police look into it and if you were involved, they’ll find evidence from your clothes, no matter how tiny or invisible the traces. They can do that these days.”

  “Marnie, if you go around making these wild accusations –”

  “I think I’ve got things worked out pretty well.”

  “You haven’t answered the most important question of all. What reason could I possibly have for wanting to do away with Barbara Taverner? She was a client like hundreds more. Our relationship was purely professional. Anyone will tell you that.”

  “Neil Gerard knows otherwise.”

  Mike spluttered. “Who’s going to believe him? Come on, Marnie. Get real. You’ll need more than that.”

  “What if I told you I’d heard it from Barbara’s own lips?”

  “Well she’s not around to testify, is she? Or had you overlooked that small detail?”

  “Barbara made recordings on cassette tapes. They’re in my possession.”

  Mike’s eyes widened and his mouth gaped open. “You’ve got them.”

  “You knew about –?” Marnie did not finish her question. The penny dropped. “It was you who burgled Neil’s flat. You were looking for the tapes.”

  “And you found them.” Mike’s voice was hoarse, almost a whisper. “She told me she’d made them. She taunted me that night, here in this cabin. She said she’d recorded details about everything, said I was just a one-night stand. I think she thought of me as a bit of rough.”

  “You were never that, Mike. Whatever she felt about you, she didn’t think of you like that.”

  “What did she think of me? If you’ve heard the tapes, what did she say?”

  “Actually, she hardly said anything, just a brief mention.” Marnie knew it was tactless as soon as she had spoken. She tried to put it right. “There was nothing that would’ve incriminated you.”

  Mike’s shoulders sagged. He closed his eyes. “Clever women.” It was the same hoarse tone. “They think they can do what they like, say what they like. They think they can get away with murder.”

  He had become almost comatose, and Marnie was wondering how to bring this to an end. She took a sip from the brandy in the whisky tumbler that she had been holding throughout their conversation. Clever women, he had said, using the plural. Was he lumping her together with Barbara? Did he see them as two of a kind? The implication was only just dawning on her, so it came as a complete surprise when the attack came.

  With a groan that became a roar, Mike leapt from his casual position and flung himself across the cabin at her, his hands reaching out before him. Marnie had no time to react. She staggered back, bumped into a low chair and lost her balance. Falling backwards, she swung her arm up to defend herself, but knew it was hopeless. The pain was sudden, excruciating, but mercifully short-lived. The blackness overwhelmed her in a second and she was gone.

  Marnie knew she had to fight back. Someone was grappling with her, trying to strangle her. She could feel hands at her throat, and tried to open her eyes, but everything was an opaque grey and the pain hit her a second time. In desperation she pushed a hand in the direction of her attacker and it met flesh. She squeezed as hard as she could.

  “Ouch!” A familiar voice. “Marnie, that hurt. Lie still. I’m trying to undo your collar so you can breathe better.”

  “Anne?” she croaked.

  “Of course. Just take it easy for a minute.” There was a rustling sound, a hand lifting her head, something soft pushed under her. “There, that should make you more comfortable.”

  “Where’s –”

  “Don’t speak. Just rest. I’ve got to make a phone call.”

  Marnie took deep breaths. There was a pain enveloping her head and neck, as if a gorilla was gripping her tight. It was still impossible to open her eyes without great discomfort. She gave in and lay there trying to recall what had happened. Anne was pressing buttons on the mobile. Three buttons.

  “Oh yes,” Marnie heard her say, “ambulance, please, and police.”

  Anne waited to be connected. In the few seconds delay, she surveyed the scene in the cabin. There was blood on the new curtains and it was splattered on the new flooring. But Anne had other things on her mind than the damage to the boat’s decor. Another voice came on the phone, asking her to describe which services she needed and why.

  “There’s been an accident.” She gave precise details about Perfidia’s position. “Two people involved. One is conscious at the moment. I’ve tried to make her comfortable. And there’s another person, a man. His condition? I think he’s … I’m not sure.”

  The hospital was just around the corner, and Marnie for all her groggy state wanted to book a minicab. Anne persuaded her she would be seen more quickly if she was delivered by ambulance. Her only worry was that she might have to share with Mike Brent. He was now making low groaning sounds, but was not attempting to get up from the floor. Once he began showing signs of life, Anne inspected him cautiously and saw a monstrous lump turning dark red on his temple and blood oozing from the top of his head. His hair was matted and sticky with it. She gently pressed some paper tissues on the wound before the paramedics arrived.

  While they waited, Anne gave Marnie a few sips of water, lifting her head and supporting it from behind. There was a thick-bottomed whisky tumbler lying on the floor, but she thought it best not to touch it. The cabin sm
elled of brandy, and there was another odour that she thought was probably the blood. Anne had a dozen or more questions to ask, but she restrained her curiosity for later. Her main task for then was to stop Marnie trying to stand up.

  She was grateful when she heard a siren in the distance and knew that an ambulance was on its way.

  The paramedics had taken one look at the situation in the cabin and given their first attention to Mike Brent. Marnie insisted she could walk to the ambulance with help from Anne, who understood that Mike Brent’s injuries were more serious. She nonetheless shot indignant glances at the kneeling figures who were making more efforts to help the attacker than his victim.

  Marnie sat on the steps of the ambulance and rested her aching head on the door. “Phone Mrs Jolly, Anne,” she murmured. “Get her to ask Roger to come and take care of the boat, will you?”

  Roger arrived breathless at the same time as the police car. No doubt mention of a serious incident on the narrowboat Perfidia in Little Venice had spurred the local CID into action. A young officer who identified himself as DS Langton took in the scene, raced to look into the cabin through the side doors of the boat and saw the paramedics at work. After a quick exchange he turned to Marnie and was met by the solid shape of Roger Broadbent.

  “And you are, sir?”

  “This lady’s solicitor. We’ll talk to you as soon as she’s received treatment for her injuries.”

  “If it’s all the same –”

  “Have you spoken to Chief Inspector Bruere about this?”

  Langton looked wary. “DCI Bruere?”

  “I think you’ll find that if you inform him Marnie Walker is one of the injured parties, he’ll want to be involved.”

  DS Langton accompanied the ambulance to the hospital and questioned Anne in the waiting area. Roger sat with them and listened intently to Anne’s account of what she had seen. A nurse came out to let them know that Marnie had been sent for X-ray. An hour later another nurse came to tell them she had been admitted for an overnight stay. She was suffering from concussion and they wanted to keep her under observation.