The Anna McColl Mysteries Box Set 2

by Penny Kline

  ‘Tom died.’ Jill was speaking to me, but looking at Fay. ‘He used to raise money for the housing trust that owns the house where Clare lives. She was very upset about what happened. I think he meant a lot to her.’

  What was she trying to tell me? I had imagined the mothers dropped their children off at the day nursery at eight to eight-thirty, then collected them again around five o’clock. It surprised me that she seemed to know so much about Clare.

  ‘You must get to know some of the mothers quite well,’ I said.

  ‘Sorry?’ Jill pretended not to have heard, although she had been listening intently. ‘Yes, I suppose that’s right. If there’s a new problem it’s vital we hear about it — for the sake of the child.’

  Fay was looking a little uneasy and I wondered if Jill had mentioned Clare and Tom Luckham before and, if so, had she said something less than complimentary about Tom? Perhaps Jill had objected to my mentioning Clare, although talking about a particular mother whose child attended the nursery could hardly be seen as breaking a confidence, particularly since I had told her Clare had raised the subject herself.

  ‘That reminds me,’ said Fay suddenly, only what it was that had reminded her seemed a little obscure. ‘The missing schoolgirl, is there any news? Do the police have any idea what could have happened?’

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ I said. ‘They’re just hoping she’s still alive.’

  Some of Jill’s wine splashed onto the table. ‘Alive? Oh, I don’t think there’s much chance of that. My son’s at the same school, although not in the same year, of course, and from what he’s told me she was a quiet, sensible girl, not at all the type who’d have disappeared without telling anyone where she was going.’ She glared at me, then looked away. ‘Do you have any children?’

  Coming from someone who had only just met me, it was a reasonable question, but I was pretty certain she knew the answer already. What was she saying? That I might be well versed in all the theories but she was the one with hands-on experience of children and how they were likely to behave?

  Fay came to the rescue. ‘Anna’s done some fascinating research into why people confess to crimes they haven’t done,’ she said, filling up Jill’s glass, then leaning across to check mine.

  ‘Really!’ Jill sounded falsely interested.

  ‘That among other things,’ I said. ‘Now, tell me how your organize your nursery. How on earth do you manage, caring for tiny babies and energetic toddlers, all in the same place?’

  The rest of the evening went reasonably well. Fay’s food was good, if a little too bland for my taste, and she had certainly gone to a great deal of trouble. Now and again I tried raising the subject of Tom Luckham’s accident, but Jill always managed to move quickly on to another topic. Any mention of Clare Kilpatrick was met with the same response, although I had the feeling Jill knew something about her that could be important. Sensing a degree of tension between us, Fay kept raising more and more points of intellectual interest — how much of our intelligence is innate, how much a result of our early environment. Is most psychological research into the children of single parents distorted by the fact that such children are more likely to be economically disadvantaged? Jill always came up with politically correct opinions, which had the effect of making me take the opposing viewpoint, and, but for Fay, who insisted on calling each imminent row ‘a fascinating exchange of ideas’, the evening could have been a disaster. Both Fay and Jill came to the front door to see me off, then Fay offered to walk to where my car was parked.

  ‘This Tom Luckham,’ she said, ‘he was the diabetic you mentioned that time in the pub? Tell me it’s none of my business but is there some mystery surrounding his death?’

  ‘The police don’t think so.’

  ‘But you do.’

  I shrugged. ‘He seems to have been a person who had a strong effect on people. There are those who think the accident could have been investigated more thoroughly, but since the post-mortem provided no evidence of foul play it’s hard to know what the police were supposed to do.’

  ‘And you, Anna, what do you think?’

  ‘I’m trying to keep an open mind,’ I said. ‘Too many rumours floating around, too many people who may have axes to grind.’

  We had reached my car and I thought someone had scraped paint off the passenger door, but it turned out to be a trick of the light, a reflection from a flickering neon lamp.

  ‘I tell you what,’ said Fay conspiratorially, ‘if I get the chance I’ll ask around a little.’

  ‘Yes. Fine.’ I wondered who she was going to ask, but since she seemed to pride herself on her tact and diplomacy, she was unlikely to do any harm.

  ‘Jill’s a sweetie,’ she said, ‘but her marriage is going through a bit of a rough patch and to compensate she gets herself a little too involved with her mothers.’

  ‘You mean the mothers of the children at the nursery?’

  Fay nodded. ‘Don’t say anything. As if you would.' She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘Thank you so much for coming round and, as I say, if I hear anything I’ll be in touch.’

  *

  It was nearly half past eleven and the man from the video rental place was on the phone. It took me a moment to take in what he was talking about.

  ‘You’re telling me I took out a video and failed to return it?’

  ‘Had it three days, love. Tried to reach you before but you were unavailable.’

  Surely he could have left a message on the answering machine. ‘But I haven’t been to the shop for well over a month.’

  ‘On the computer, love. Have to pay for it, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Why should I pay when I haven’t …’ Then it dawned on me. The day my bag was taken my membership card had been stolen, along with all the other stuff. ‘Look, were you there when the video was taken out?’

  ‘Could’ve been. Couldn’t really say.’

  ‘Only my membership card was stolen. Yes, I know I should’ve told you but it never occurred to me … Listen, you can’t remember what the person —’

  ‘Sorry, love, I could ask Lorraine but she’s not here at the moment. Afraid you’ll have to pay the nine quid just the same.’

  ‘I know, but the thing is —’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, love, we’ll cancel the card, give you another.’

  ‘Yes. Thanks.’ No point in explaining the money was the least of my worries. ‘I’ll be back to talk to Lorraine. Will she be there tomorrow?’

  ‘Make it after six.’

  ‘Yes, all right. Anything she can remember, absolutely anything. It’s really important I find out who took out the video.’

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘We’re expecting the worst,’ said Howard. ‘Sally Luckham’s description was our only lead. Now she’s changed it so many times it’s virtually worthless.’

  ‘But you don’t even know if the two cases are linked.’ I had come to talk to him about Tom Luckham, but I was wasting my time. ‘This girl I mentioned,’ I said, ‘the one who says she saw someone in the passenger seat of Mr Luckham’s car.’

  ‘It was six months ago, Anna. If the girl thinks it’s so important why didn’t she come forward in January?’

  ‘I suppose she’s only just realized Tom Luckham’s death might not have been an accident.’

  Howard sighed. ‘And who put that idea into her head? Look, if you’d concentrated on Luckham’s daughter … I don’t want to cast doubts on your special techniques but I’m starting to wonder if a subtle psychological approach has any better effect than Ritsema’s heavy-handed tactics.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Yes, well … people breathing down my neck, a mass of conflicting reports. Ken Robson, the girl’s father, received an anonymous letter saying Geena was living in Glasgow.’

  ‘So that means there’s a chance she’s still alive, or was it like the silent phone calls Graham Whittle was telling me about?’

  ‘Since it was addressed to “The Pervert�
� it seems likely it was just another sick member of the public trying to insinuate Robson had something to do with his daughter’s disappearance.’

  ‘But you don’t think he’s involved.’

  Howard shook his head. ‘We’ve interviewed both parents several times. Unless they’re exceptionally good liars.’

  ‘Which they could be.’

  He sighed. ‘Your expertise includes spotting when someone’s making a good job of covering up the truth? We’re not too bad ourselves. For a time Ritsema had an idea one of Geena’s teachers knew more than she was letting on, but there’s not a scrap of hard evidence.’

  I stood up, ready to leave. ‘So you’re not interested in Tom Luckham?’

  ‘Can’t afford to be, Anna. The man’s been dead six months and unless you can bring me something more than a vague memory resurrected by a seventeen-year-old girl …’

  ‘I’m seeing Sally Luckham once more,’ I said. ‘No, don’t tell me it's a waste of time. There’s something going on in that family, something I don’t understand.’

  Howard opened a drawer, pulled out a pad and started writing. ‘This girl who thinks she saw someone in Luckham’s car, you say her name’s Kilpatrick?’

  ‘Clare Kilpatrick.’

  ‘And she lives in Eastfield. Perhaps I should have her address.’

  I hesitated. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Nothing, for the time being, but I’ll read through the file if it’ll put your mind at rest.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ He smiled, and to my annoyance I found myself looking away, then fidgeting with a paper clip on the desk.

  ‘No news about your handbag, I’m afraid.’

  ‘No, well there wouldn’t be, would there? Someone nicked my membership card, took out a video and failed to return it. Now I’ll have to pay nine quid.’

  He opened his mouth, but I got in first. ‘Yes, I know I should have reported it missing, but would you have thought of it?’

  ‘Probably not.’

  I moved towards the door and Howard followed me, reaching out to turn the handle. I could feel his breath on my neck. He smelt of soap.

  ‘You cancelled all your credit cards,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Right, well if I get any more out of Sally I’ll be in touch.’

  ‘Good.’ He still had his head turned away. ‘Heard from Owen recently?’

  ‘Yesterday.’ I had the letter in my pocket, three sheets of airmail paper that provided little in the way of information and even less in the way of an expression of affection. ‘Seems to be enjoying himself, although the work he intended to carry out appears to have met with some kind of hitch.’

  ‘When’s he due back?’

  ‘In a month or so, depends on how much data he manages to collect.’ I started down the corridor, expecting Howard to accompany me, but when I turned, remembering how I had intended to ask him if he knew whether Erica Luckham had already been a heavy drinker at the time of her husband’s death, he had gone back into his room.

  *

  Ros and Livvy were sitting side by side in the waiting room, both reading magazines. As soon as Ros saw me she stood up and gave me a questioning look.

  ‘I could easily stay down here, but Livvy says she wants me to —’

  ‘No problem,’ I said, holding the door to let them pass. ‘If that’s what Livvy would prefer.’

  Livvy smiled faintly. She was looking better but still had the same wistful, martyred expression that had irritated me so much the first time we met. Once inside my room I rearranged the chairs so that the three of us were sitting roughly in a circle. I asked Livvy to describe how she was feeling.

  ‘Oh, you know.’ She lifted a hand to touch her hair and the long flowing sleeve of her Indian smock was displayed in all its shimmering glory. ‘I suppose I’d thought this room would be larger, and there’s no couch for people to lie on, or am I terribly out of date, is everything quite different these days?’

  I dug my nails into the palm of my hand. What was the point in agreeing to see the woman if I was incapable of controlling my dislike of her? Why had I agreed to the appointment? Because I was so bad at saying ‘no’, so easily seduced into thinking I was indispensable?

  ‘Let’s go back to last Tuesday,’ I said. ‘You were alone in the house?’

  Livvy was staring through the window, but Ros nodded. By her expression she had made it clear that she preferred not to join in verbally, but the occasional nod was permissible.

  ‘I suppose I must have been,’ said Livvy. ‘I’m so sorry, but do you think I could have a glass of water?’

  When I returned with the water I could hear whispering that stopped abruptly as I entered the room.

  ‘Thank you so much.’ There was a welcome edge to Livvy’s voice. Something Ros had said to her? Whatever it was that had brought about the change, it provided a faint hope that the real Livvy might be going to put in an appearance.

  Sitting up straight, she crossed one leg over the other, and started inspecting the sole of her sandal. ‘It was because of … I suppose I’d been thinking about …’

  Ros was breathing hard. Her fingers drummed on the arm of her chair. She caught my eye and pushed her hands into the pockets of her fawn cardigan.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Livvy, ‘only it’s so important to choose the right words.’

  ‘Yes, I understand.’

  ‘Oh, do you, I’m so glad. The doctor wanted me to see a psychiatrist, but when I told him I had an appointment with you … Grief, it’s a strange thing. No day is the same as the one before. I read a book about the four stages, I think there are four. Denial and disbelief, then anger. Why me? Then … I suppose the next part is the one everyone understands. Misery, a terrible feeling of loss. What’s the last stage?’

  ‘Acceptance,’ I said, then realizing I sounded a little hard, ‘which is not necessarily to say the feeling of sadness is any less.’

  Tears were running down her face and, for the first time I felt some genuine sympathy. This was real pain. She found a tissue in the purse that was hanging round her neck on a plaited rope. ‘Tom helped me so much. He was a saint. No, I really mean it. He worked for the Samaritans, then it came to him that he wanted to do more, to devote the rest of his life to helping people.’

  ‘How did you meet him? You’d known him for quite a long time, had you?’

  ‘Sorry? Oh, Tom, how long had I known him? I used to live in a flat overlooking the Downs. I attended Stephen’s church. I mean, I’d started attending it long before Stephen became the vicar.’

  ‘And that’s where you met Tom?’

  ‘He could have been a great artist, but he gave it all up to live a genuinely Christian life.’ She picked up the glass of water which, until that moment, had remained untouched. ‘If we all helped each other, took more trouble, stopped leading such selfish lives and …’

  Ros could contain her frustration no longer. ‘Tom was a failed artist, you know that, Livvy. After the bottom fell out of the prints market he had to find another way to make himself feel important in the world.’

  Livvy swung round, still holding a tissue to her nose. ‘No! How can you say that? I don’t understand.’

  ‘Yes, you do, you just don’t want to face the truth. It’s easier to idealize people — some people are wonderful, some people are no good at all — but if we’re honest with ourselves it’s very rarely that simple.’

  The passive expression on Livvy’s face had disappeared, along with the breathy voice. ‘Just because you were jealous of him and Stephen,’ she said, speaking almost without opening her mouth. Then she suddenly relented. ‘No, I didn’t mean … I’m sorry, Ros, it’s just, hearing you talking about Tom like that. I suppose when someone has such a strong personality … Am I right, Dr McColl? If a person is so well loved there are bound to be people who resent it. Oh, I’m putting it awfully badly. What I meant
to say …’

  Her eyes were fixed on the opposite wall and she seemed to be waiting for me to make some comment. Was it true that Ros had resented Stephen’s relationship with Tom? I remembered Stephen’s remark about how Ros felt Tom had influenced his decision to leave the Church. Had Tom encouraged Stephen in his feeling that he was unsuited to being a parish priest? Although Ros preferred to concentrate on Livvy’s problems it was clear that her own life had been turned upside down. She had no home of her own, no job, no children: the parish had been her life. Where had she been at the time of Tom’s accident? According to Stephen’s account of that day, she would have been alone in the vicarage while he was up in London, using his day off to visit some specialist bookshops …

  ‘Right,’ I said, ‘you’re both feeling upset, but perhaps that’s not such a bad thing. I suppose what I need to ask you now, Livvy, is do you want Ros to stay for the rest of the session or would you prefer —’

  ‘Yes, of course she can stay.’

  Ros was half out of her chair. She sat down again, but only on the edge. ‘I think it might be better if I waited downstairs.’

  ‘No. Please.’ Livvy wailed. ‘I’m sorry, it was just what you said about Tom, only I know you didn’t really mean it.’

  ‘No, of course not.’ For reasons of her own, probably because she disliked the fact that I had witnessed her anger, Ros had decided to return to her usual survival tactic: humouring Livvy, treating her like a small child. Had Livvy been in love with Tom? Love, infatuation, obsession, what was the difference? But if she believed Tom had felt the same way …

  The rest of the session consisted in my attempting to draw Livvy out, and persuading her to talk more freely, with Livvy countering all my efforts with meaningless remarks about the cleverness of psychologists and how she might even study psychology herself, with the help of the Open University. After that she insisted on running through a list of the people whose lives Tom Luckham had managed to turn around. A man with multiple sclerosis who was desperately lonely until Tom found him a female companion who had lost her husband and needed someone to fill the gap. A married couple who were going to split up until Tom persuaded the wife that her husband and children were more important than her career. When the last ‘case’ was mentioned, Ros glanced at me and pressed her lips together and I wondered if she was thinking that some of Tom’s attempts to ‘do good’ had meant imposing his own values on people with very different ideas about how they should run their lives.