The Sixth Window

by Rachel Abbott

  ‘It’s decided. Please don’t make this any harder than it needs to be, Ed. I’ve given my tenants notice, and I can pick up the rest of our things as soon as we have somewhere to put them. But if anything’s in your way, I can arrange to have it put in storage.’

  ‘Natalie, you’ve got the wrong end of the stick about everything. I know you don’t believe me, but you’re wrong. There’s stuff I’ve been keeping from you to protect you, but maybe that was the wrong decision.’ There was a brief pause that Natalie didn’t know how to fill. She was about to ask him what he meant when he said, ‘Have the police been in touch with you yet?’

  The quick change of subject threw her for a moment. She hadn’t told Ed who had called when she was in his house, but if he knew about the police, did that mean they were talking to him too?

  ‘I saw a detective this morning. Scarlett did too. They had me down as living with you. So I had to tell them that had changed.’

  ‘Did they ask you why?’ Ed sounded worried, and Natalie knew that he was wondering if she had told them about the website.

  ‘They queried the fact that it had been such a short-lived arrangement, so I said it hadn’t worked out. Have you seen them?’

  ‘Yes, although as a policeman myself I know their interview techniques and I can see what they’re really after, rather than what they say they’re after.’

  Natalie had no idea what this meant, and asked the question.

  ‘I suspect they were trying to establish how long we’ve had feelings for each other. Basically, Nat, they wanted to know if I was in love with you when Bernie was alive.’

  ‘What relevance has that to anything?’

  She heard a mocking laugh from Ed. ‘Come on. You must know what they were getting at. If you and I were having an affair it would have given me, or you for that matter, a motive for his murder.’

  Natalie gasped. That had never occurred to her. ‘So what did you tell them?’

  ‘I told them the truth, of course. That as far as I am aware you were happily married, but that I’ve been in love with you since you were seventeen years old.’

  *

  After Ed’s declaration, Natalie had been lost for words and had drawn the conversation to a swift end. She needed to think, and the sounds of the office around her were intruding. The more she tried to focus on her thoughts, the more the buzz of people talking on phones interspersed with the odd burst of laughter distracted her.

  She had to get away from everybody, to focus on what Ed had told her. What did he mean about trying to protect her? From what? And had he really been in love with her for all these years?

  The conference room that ran along one wall of the open-plan office was unlit and empty. Natalie picked up her laptop to at least suggest that she was working and walked across the office into the darkened room. She closed the blinds on the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out into the main office and didn’t bother to put any lights on.

  Resting her elbows on the table and her chin on her cupped hands, she stared blankly at the mind map someone had drawn on the whiteboard during a previous meeting.

  Was Ed telling the truth about his feelings? Had Bernie known? Had anyone known? Megan, perhaps?

  The memory of a night out when she had had a rare argument with Bernie sprang into her head. Ed had flown to her defence, and Bernie had told him to piss off and mind his own business, but Ed had said that she and Bernie were his business, and he wasn’t prepared to stand by and watch them tear each other to shreds.

  That had happened about three months before Bernie’s death. Her husband hadn’t been himself for weeks – months, maybe. Scarlett was right about that, although Natalie had never understood what the problem was and hoped it would blow over. He had withdrawn from her, becoming irritable when she tried to talk to him, and had seemed constantly tired. She knew he hadn’t been sleeping well, and when she turned towards him in bed, he just rolled over, presenting her with his back. They had rarely made love in those last few months, and Natalie was convinced that on the few occasions she had persevered until she managed to arouse some interest, it had been more of a duty than a pleasure for Bernie.

  It was easier to look back on that time now. After he died she had focused only on how happy they had been rather than how things were towards the end of his life. She had believed it was a phase – something in his life that was causing him to be unhappy, but not anything fundamentally wrong with their marriage.

  But now that she was forcing herself to be honest, she wanted to know why Bernie had been so withdrawn, why he had been unhappy, and what had been worrying him so much that he couldn’t confide in her. Was this what Ed had been trying to protect her from?

  41

  Up to now Tom hadn’t involved himself in the investigation into Bernie Gray’s death – he had left it to Keith, overseen by Becky. But seeing Keith’s sheets of paper stuck to his whiteboard with different-coloured magnetic discs, which Tom was sure had some significance to Keith if not to anyone else, he realised that more details must have come to light since the initial investigation. Kieran O’Connor, the guy who had stolen the car in the first place, now claimed he had an alibi, and if it was corroborated this changed the game. They would no longer be checking details to close any loopholes in the man’s defence, but looking for a far more sinister explanation for Bernie Gray’s death, and it seemed Keith had already started exploring potential motives.

  ‘Talk me through it,’ Tom said to him. ‘Just give me the background on the names on the board.’

  Keith stood tall, knees locked, back straight, his telescopic pen extended to its full length so that he could stand to the side of the board and tap on the relevant pieces of paper.

  ‘Natalie Gray was Bernard Gray’s wife. Married for fifteen years, and we were led to believe in the initial enquiries that the marriage was happy. But it seems that may not have been the case.’

  ‘On whose say-so?’ Tom asked.

  ‘If I may, sir, I’ll get to that,’ Keith said.

  Tom saw Becky glance at him with raised eyebrows, but he gave a barely perceptible shake of the head. Keith had his way of doing things, and getting irritated wasn’t going to help anyone, or at least that’s what he told himself.

  ‘When we interviewed Mrs Gray she said that in the months before his death her husband had been working very hard, putting in lots of overtime. He had also recently joined a gym. She said that now she’s in a better position to be rational, she had to admit that there had been some distance between them, although nothing she saw as serious. She clearly had no idea that her marriage may not have been as perfect as she thought.’

  Tom glanced at Becky.

  ‘Natalie Gray didn’t mention the overtime or the gym during the first interviews,’ she said. ‘She probably thought they were irrelevant. Trouble is, Sergeant Gray hardly did any overtime at all in the last three months of his life, and we’ve checked with his gym. They monitor usage by clients’ swipe cards. He was a member all right, but he only went twice after he joined.’

  ‘Ah.’ Tom knew what was coming. ‘Carry on, Keith.’

  ‘Scarlett Gray believes that her father may have been having an affair. She discovered a romantic text from an unknown source and initially believed that it had come from a lady called Alison Morgan, but she is now much less sure.’

  ‘And how does Alison Morgan know Bernie Gray?’

  ‘She’s Natalie Gray’s best friend.’

  ‘Nice,’ said Tom, curling his top lip. ‘Are you going to interview her, then?’

  ‘Given the sensitivity of the subject, DI Robinson will conduct the interview with me. We’re seeing her later today.’

  Tom nodded, and Keith tapped his telescopic pen back and forth on the next two names.

  ‘Mrs Gray recently moved in with Edward Cooper, but after a matter of weeks she has now moved out and is in temporary accommodation in Manchester. Mr Cooper – or should I say Sergeant Cooper – lives here.’
Keith used his pointer to tap a photo of a house. ‘I was interested in how he had managed to afford such a large property, given his current rank within the police. He says some investments have paid off. We’ll check those out, of course.’

  Tom made another note.

  ‘Megan Jenkins. Other than saying she thought Sergeant Gray was an excellent policeman and a good friend, she had nothing of interest to add.’

  Tom tuned out slightly as Keith went through the list of people they had talked to, each of whom apparently had nothing worthwhile to say, so quite why they were on the board at all Tom didn’t know.

  Thoughts of Jennifer Bale kept intruding, and the sensation that he was missing something in the investigation into the death of Bernie Gray was thrust to the back of his mind.

  *

  Becky sensed that they had lost Tom somewhere. He had seemed quiet for the last couple of days and hadn’t mentioned Louisa. Becky hadn’t liked to ask, because she knew she had already pushed the boundaries of their relationship.

  As Keith wound up his presentation, Tom stood up and thanked him, then made his way back towards his office.

  ‘Well done, Keith,’ Becky said, keen to ensure that the sergeant didn’t feel deflated by Tom’s unusual lack of enthusiasm. ‘You’ve done some good work.’

  She stood up from her desk and followed Tom to his office. He looked up from his notepad as she walked through the open door.

  ‘I’m going to interview the possible mistress in a few minutes, Tom, and then I’ll be off. I guess you don’t want me to come in over the weekend?’

  ‘No, I don’t think there’s any need. Before you go, do we know why Mrs Gray moved out of her love nest with Edward Cooper?’

  ‘I was there when Natalie Gray was interviewed, and she flushed and wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Said it was irreconcilable differences. Pretty much what Cooper said too.’

  Tom frowned. ‘That suggests they’re either hiding something or it’s sex-related and too difficult to talk about. We need to know which. We’re also going to have to ask Mrs Gray if she thought her husband was having an affair, without dropping the daughter in it if we can help it. Plenty of possible motives to unpack from either the lover or the lover’s husband – if they exist – or even Mrs Gray herself. A woman scorned, and all that.’

  Tom leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. He was deep in thought.

  Sensing that she had lost him again, Becky stood up to leave. She wanted to ask Tom what the problem was but knew he wouldn’t tell her. As she reached the door, Tom sat forward and dropped his hands to the desk.

  ‘Oh. There was one other thing, Becky. Keith mentioned that Edward Cooper had made his money through investments. Do we know what kind of investments we’re talking about here?’

  ‘Yes. Property. He started with two-up two-down houses, but more recently he’s switched to apartments in central Manchester. It seems it’s been quite lucrative for him. I think he’s worth a bob or two.’

  42

  It was late when Tom arrived home, almost midnight. He had enjoyed an evening with friends despite still feeling some lingering regret that things hadn’t progressed with Louisa, and on the drive home he had concluded that, disappointing as it was, he obviously hadn’t fulfilled her expectations. He wasn’t sure exactly what had gone wrong, but all he had invested was a bit of hope.

  He had just stripped off for a shower before bed when the peal of the doorbell pierced the silence of the house. A caller this late at night usually suggested something was horribly wrong, so with a feeling of apprehension Tom grabbed a towel, fastened it around his waist and ran down to answer the door. He pulled back the bolts and switched on the porch lights to reveal the last person he was expecting to see.

  ‘Louisa!’

  ‘Tom, I’m so sorry to call round at this time of night.’ He saw her take in the fact that he was naked apart from a towel. She flushed slightly.

  Tom said nothing. He waited. This didn’t make sense after several days of silence.

  ‘Look,’ she said. ‘I can see you’re about to go to bed – or perhaps you were already in bed. I just wanted to say I’m really sorry I didn’t respond to your text, and I didn’t want to wait any longer to tell you. I did warn you the other night that I’m impulsive.’ She pulled a guilty face.

  Tom didn’t know what to make of this, but he stood back and opened the door wide. ‘You’d better come in.’

  Louisa came into the hall, but Tom didn’t invite her further into the house. He didn’t understand what was going on here, but he didn’t want to stand on the doorstep with only a small towel covering him from waist to mid-thigh.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Louisa said again. ‘You must think I’m terrible. I engineered a meeting with you, we had a lovely evening, and then I didn’t respond to you for days. But it’s not what it seems.’

  Tom didn’t want to use a platitude like it’s okay because it wasn’t. He had just managed to convince himself that it wasn’t the end of the world, and now here she was.

  Louisa looked up into his eyes, but he didn’t want her to see how he felt. He looked away.

  ‘Please, let me explain,’ she said. ‘Your text came in when I was in theatre. Being a doctor is every bit as antisocial as being a policeman, and on this occasion it was a hugely complex case. By the time I’d finished and read your message it was too late to text you back. I didn’t want to wake you, and I bet you have your phone switched on all the time, don’t you? So I went into the on-call room for a sleep because I needed to keep an eye on the patient and check on him regularly during the night.’

  Tom looked down at Louisa. She looked beyond tired; she looked exhausted. He felt guilty for keeping her standing in the hall.

  ‘Give me a minute to get some clothes on, then we can talk. Go into the kitchen – I’ll just be a moment, then I’ll make you a drink.’

  Louisa held out a hand and rested it on the soft fair hairs on Tom’s chest.

  ‘No, don’t go. I want to explain first. I was woken at about 4.30 that night – or morning. There’s been a huge multi-department exercise recently that I’m sure you know about – the major emergency training programme? You do know about that, don’t you?’

  Tom nodded, and Louisa continued, her hand still on his chest, but now she was moving it slowly, softly, up and down his skin.

  ‘I applied for it but wasn’t accepted for the first round. Then the anaesthetist for this exercise called in sick, and they came for me at the crack of dawn. I stumbled out of bed after two hours’ sleep, and I forgot my phone. Not that I would have had the chance to call you, to be honest. It’s been chaos. I got back half an hour ago, and I haven’t even been to the hospital to pick up my phone, so I don’t know if you tried again or just gave up. I wouldn’t blame you. More than anything I wanted to get to you to explain. You need to know that even if I’d hated you after that evening I would have called.’

  Tom looked down into her eyes and could see the distress there.

  ‘And did you?’

  Louisa gave him a gentle smile. ‘What, hate you? What do you think?’

  Her eyes were giving him messages that he couldn’t fail to read, but after the disappointment of the last few days he wanted to make sure he was on solid ground before he made a wrong assumption, so he changed the subject.

  ‘And the training? How did that go?’

  ‘The training was amazing. The only thing is that it brings home how vulnerable we are. The fact that we even have to train for a major incident is scary.’

  She looked up at him again, and now her other hand came up to join the first on his chest, both of them moving up to lightly rest on his shoulders. Her cool skin felt good on his warm flesh.

  ‘Are you furious with me? I really am so sorry. Your text couldn’t have come at a worse time.’

  Tom felt himself relax. He hadn’t been wrong. There was a connection between them.

  ‘I’m not
furious, but you look shattered,’ he said. ‘I’d ask you to come in so you can tell me all about it, but you really look as if you need to rest. It’s fine – honestly. Go home, and we’ll talk tomorrow.’

  ‘I don’t want to go home, Tom.’

  He looked at her. ‘Are you sure?’

  Louisa raised her eyes to his and no words were necessary, but he couldn’t afford to risk making the wrong move.

  ‘Give me a minute to get some clothes on and then I’ll get you a drink and something to eat if you like.’

  ‘Tom, I don’t want anything to eat or drink.’ She stepped closer. Her hands dropped to his waist and she gently pulled him towards her. He lifted his arms and wrapped them around her as she spoke. ‘You can forget about the clothes too, if you like.’

  43

  Natalie had spent the entire weekend with Scarlett, and had done her best to push thoughts of Ed and all he had said to the back of her mind. She wanted her daughter to have her undivided attention, so they went to the cinema and had a meal afterwards, although she was fairly certain that, if asked, neither of them would have been able to say what the film had been about.

  Inevitably they’d had to do some shopping for groceries, but Natalie’s head was all over the place, and it was only as she was preparing the evening meal on Sunday that she realised she had forgotten to buy olive oil to make the salad dressing.

  ‘It’s okay, Mum,’ Scarlett said. ‘I’ll go, if you like.’

  Natalie glanced out of the window. It was still light outside and only six o’clock. Surely it was safe for Scarlett to go out on her own?

  ‘Mum, I can see your worried frown from here. I know what you’re thinking.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I still keep thinking about Cliff.’

  Earlier that day they had met one of their neighbours for the first time. She had known Cliff for a couple of years and had been checking on his progress. He was still in a coma and the police had no idea who had mugged him.