by Linda Coles
Chapter Forty-Six
Saturday
Ruth loved the weekends – who didn’t? She worked hard during the week, keeping unsociable hours sometimes, but that was because she enjoyed it, and when Amanda was busy with her own work, she figured she might as well take the opportunity to catch up. But Saturday and Sunday? They were for play. Even if Amanda was working, Ruth would catch up on some of her chores or grocery shopping. It seemed only fair and part of what they did for each other, even though they still lived separately. But today they had the whole day together. She turned over to face her. Amanda was still asleep, her blond hair sticking up all over the place like a wild woman’s. Ruth smiled; she could be pretty wild sometimes, and last night she’d stayed over after they’d shared a cold bottle on the patio and feasted on fish and chips in the park. Boy, was she wild.
But Ruth knew Amanda was bothered about something more than simply a hard day at work. She had alluded to it out in the garden – their relationship together and meeting her family. The problem, if you could call it that, was that Ruth’s family didn’t know she was gay. In fact, no one other than Amanda and a few casual hook-ups knew she was gay. It had never come up, and she’d never spelled it out. Not her work colleagues, no one. They all thought she was a busy, driven businesswoman who didn’t have time for a male friend, but the truth was she preferred female friends, and her favourite and the love of her life was Amanda.
The bedside clock said it was just coming up to 7 am, which was much later than her usual get-out-of-bed time, so she gently pushed the covers back and slid out, trying not to wake her lover. Amanda whimpered slightly at the movement but didn’t open her eyes; she pulled the covers back up to her chin. Ruth dressed in her running gear, grabbed some cash, which she stuffed into the hidden pocket in her shorts, and set off with Sam Smith crooning in her ears. Not exactly upbeat running material, but then she didn’t feel the need this morning. Today, she wanted to think.
The sun was up and the day promised to be another beauty. It felt good warming her face and shoulders as she got into her stride, headed out towards the park and a few laps round. The monotony of laps gave her the space to churn things over in her head without worrying about traffic turning at junctions, cars reversing out of driveways, kids on tricycles and wheelie bins on pavements, things that turned a straightforward run into an obstacle course. The park was fairly empty; 7 am was too early for the weekday commuters who took the opportunity for a slower start to their days when they could. Apart from a couple of other runners and the odd dog walker, she was on her own, just as she liked it. She picked up the pace and sweat started to bead across her forehead and on her chest, something she always found motivating when it came to working out, and egged her on even more. The more she sweated, the harder she pushed. Sam was reaching the end of the first track of Ruth’s ‘thinking running’ playlist, and as she had it on shuffle, she had no idea what was coming up next. Life was an adventure sometimes, and Adele filled the gap with her haunting rendition of ‘Hello.’ She thought of the music video, in which Adele stood by the river, her gorgeous hair billowing around her in the wind, looking serious and sounding incredibly emotional. It reminded her of Amanda last night. But she’d come out running to think, not re-live music videos, and she swept the images of Adele away and replaced them with Amanda.
How could she tell her that she’d still not come out yet, that her family didn’t know, that no one knew? Amanda would assume it was because she was ashamed or something, and that simply wasn’t the case: Ruth had just hadn’t felt the need. And, more to the point, what if they didn’t approve? Ruth wasn’t sure she could bear that. But she knew that Amanda wanted to meet her family, and she wouldn’t be able to put it off for much longer without it becoming an issue. Although maybe it already was. Deep down, she knew what she had to do. But how should she do it?
After ten laps she’d worked up a fair sweat, rivulets running down her chest and back, soaking her shirt through and making it stick to her skin. She’d had enough of running and thinking, but still wasn’t sure she had the answer. As a cooldown, she jogged lightly back towards Richmond Road and to the little coffee shop just past it, where she ordered two lattes to go. Amanda would be awake by now.
“I’ve got a quick errand to run for work first off.” Amanda was up now and ready for the day. “Won’t take me longer than an hour, and then let’s go out for the whole day. It’s not often we get a day together.”
Ruth had her head in her morning crossword; the record time to beat was long past and 11 across was giving her grief. “I hate it when I can’t do it straight off,” she said crossly, and pushed the folded newspaper to the side in a huff. Sulking wasn’t what she did usually, but 11 across was irking her. She’d go back to it later. She turned her attention to Amanda now. “Sounds like a good idea. Anywhere in mind?” She was up for a day out with Amanda; it might give her a chance to say something if the time was right. After Amanda’s hint last night, the topic of meeting her family was sure to come up again soon, and a weekend day was probably the best time to do it. She knew Amanda too well.
“Let’s get some brunch in town, sip some coffee, flex the credit card for some new gear, and if we really want to push the boat out, we could catch an early show with a late supper. Go the whole hog. Be edgy.” Amanda was grinning from ear to ear.
Ruth grinned right back. “That sounds like a nice plan. I’m up for that. How long do you need to get back and ready?” Ruth looked down at her own faded jeans and thought she’d better change, even though she’d dressed not long ago.
“Just got to pay someone a visit, so give me an hour? Then I’ll be back and I’m all yours.” Amanda’s eyes glinted as she said ‘all yours,’ and Ruth stood to peck her on the cheek as she passed her on the way upstairs to change.
“Perfect,” she called over her shoulder. “Don’t be any longer now I’ve got the idea of brunch in my mind. Not had bacon for ages.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Madeline stood in the hallway, thinking quickly, as Detective Amanda Lacey knocked on the door, more loudly this time. Madeline had seen her arrive and was ready for her. She’d wondered how long it would be before they’d figured she’d been at James’s place on the night he’d died. She knew the police had got in touch with all of the others, one by one, and it seemed she was the last, probably because she’d been actively avoiding them for obvious reasons. She’d never meant for it to turn out so badly for James; she’d just wanted to teach him a lesson, but it had all gone wrong. How the hell was she to know about his damned heart problem? And now Amanda had finally caught up and had come knocking on this otherwise lovely Saturday morning.
Taking a deep breath, Madeline pasted a smile on her face and opened the door wide.
“So we meet again,” Detective Lacey opened, a smirk on her face.
Act surprised, Madeline, and be pleasant.
“Detective Lacey, how nice to see you again. Come on in.” She hoped she wasn’t overdoing it with her enthusiasm. Her plan was the same one she’d used with the landscaper’s ‘disappearance,’ – tell the truth, and don’t go into too much detail. The guilty can often do that, she knew – overcompensate, add too much detail – and detectives tend to notice these things. Madeline wasn’t about to be caught out.
“I assume this is about poor old James’s death?” She shook her head solemnly. “How sad, and what a shock.” Leading Detective Lacey back into the lounge, a place she was now becoming quite used to, unfortunately, she asked, “Can I get you some tea?”
“Yes, please. That would be nice, thanks.”
Huh. Not the answer Madeline had been looking for. She left the detective in the lounge while she went out back to the kitchen. She gathered cups and a plate of biscuits, something she figured a murderer wouldn’t do, and waited for the kettle to boil. It was raining now; the clear morning had turned wet and the view out of the kitchen window looked sad and dismal. The Great Orange Machine was still s
tanding in the corner of the garden, with Dexter in the cab, dry, looking over towards the house. Madeline felt Amanda before she heard her.
“Miserable day, isn’t it? Though we do need some rain.” Amanda was going with the idle chit-chat opening before leading to the real questions. Loosen her up a little, get her talking. Madeline knew the moves: too much CSI.
“Yes, but you’re quite right, we do need it, though I believe it will be bright again later.”
Dexter, at the sight of them both in the kitchen window, took it as a sign he was needed, and they watched him jump down from the digger and trot across to the back door of the house. The cat flap clicked as he entered, a single meow informing them he had indeed arrived. He took no time in introducing himself to Amanda’s legs. She bent down to scratch him. Ginger hairs gathered on her trousers and fingers, transferred from his damp coat.
“This is Dexter,” Madeline said by way of introduction. “Sorry about his hairs. He always seems to be shedding, and brushing him doesn’t seem to keep them at bay. But you didn’t come here to talk about Dexter this time, I know, so how can I help you?” Madeline hoped that, with the sight of the Great Orange Machine, Amanda wasn’t going to bring that particular subject up again.
“You were at the book club on the night of his death along with the others. We don’t have all the results from the tests back as yet, but can you tell me what happened from your experience?”
“Of course, though there isn’t much to tell, really. We all turned up as normal, had wine and crackers, and he said he needed to finish earlier than usual, though he didn’t really say why. It was such a hot night, had been all week, and I just put it down to needing an early night. I don’t think many of us had slept well with the heat, and he must have been feeling it more – being a bit older, I mean. We left a little earlier than usual, probably more like eight thirty rather than our usual nine pm. That’s it. The first I heard about it was a text from Derek the following day. Shocking.”
“Did James say anything before you all left, other than about finishing early?”
“No. He said he was hot, though, and that he would sit out the back and try and cool off. He got himself some water. Do you think it was the heat that upset him? I’ve heard of heat stroke before.”
“We don’t know as yet. Just checking with you all what happened.”
Madeline poured tea into two cups and offered Amanda one along with a chocolate biscuit.
“Thanks,” she said. “Did you know James well?”
“Only through book club. He was our self-appointed leader, if you like, and we went to his place every fortnight, shared a bottle of wine or two and talked books. He ran a business in town and was a widower. That’s about it.”
“How long have you been going to book club?”
“Gosh, quite some time. Must be a good couple of years.” Thinking for a moment, she continued, “Yes, must be about two years. I think we’ve all been going at least that long. Derek, Pam and Annabel were some of the originals, and I joined through Lorna. She introduced me.”
“And how would you say your relationship with James was? I believe he could be a bit difficult at times.”
“Well, he was our leader, so yes, he got a bit annoyed if we hadn’t managed to read what we were supposed to be reading, but that was just part of his way. I got on fine with him, to answer your question. We all did, otherwise we wouldn’t have gone. A small group like ours, you’ve got to like each other to make it work.” And that was the truth: you did. Amanda seemed to be letting this sink in and Madeline didn’t offer anymore.
Don’t fill the gaps with unnecessary details or lies.
“Did he have a regular partner in his life that you know of? I know he was a widower, but was he seeing someone? Did he ever mention anyone?”
“Not that I knew of, and I’ve never heard the others mention anything so I’m guessing no. He liked his own company; he’d been on his own for so many years. Maybe he’d become used to that way of life, didn’t need anyone. I’m guessing, of course.” She fell silent for a moment, thinking of her next move. “He was a popular man, well known in the area and very generous. Such a shame he’s now gone.”
Shut up, Madeline.
Madeline was staring out at the wet garden again, not looking at anything in particular, but knowing what she’d done to two men made her feel a little emotional. It wasn’t unexpected, really, given the hormones buzzing about inside her, and so she wasn’t surprised to feel a tear trickling down her cheek. It was perfect timing, so she turned to Amanda to let her see it. “Yes, such a shame.” She bowed her head a little. Hopefully that was the end of her questions, for now.
It worked like a charm. Detective Lacey thanked her and got to her feet. There wasn’t much else she could have asked anyway, because nothing suspicious had taken place: it was just a man with a dodgy heart found dead in his home, with no evidence of anyone else involved.
“Like I said, we’ll get the rest of the test results back soon enough and will know more then,” the detective said. “If you think of anything in the meantime, you have my card. Just let us know. I’ll see myself out.”
“Of course.” But there was no way Madeline was going to let her show herself out, so she followed her back to the front door at a distance, just to make sure she didn’t divert into another room or something.
Too much CSI making me nervous.
When Detective Lacey had finally gone through the door and was safely ensconced in her car, Madeline once again let out the breath she’d been holding. Her shoulders sagged back to their normal position and she mentally patted herself on the back for holding it together. Fingers crossed that was the end of it. But would it be?
Chapter Forty-Eight
“So how the hell can I tie the two ends together?” Amanda asked herself as she drove away from Madeline’s house. She knew there just had to be a connection between the two incidents. Either that or Madeline Simpson was bloody unlucky and it was a coincidence – and she had to admit that stranger things had happened. Some years ago, she’d been involved in an investigation into the sudden death of the husband of a wealthy woman. He had died in the same circumstances as her first husband had – in another county. She and Jack had followed the evidence trail and looked into the old case, but everything had stacked up nicely. In the end, it had pointed squarely to bad luck, and neither the wife nor anyone else was ever charged with any wrongdoing. Gut instinct is not hard evidence, of course, and certainly doesn’t stack up in a court of law. Back in the eighteenth century the courts would convict a person if they merely had a ‘look’ about them; there had been no need for solid evidence. Amanda thought this could have come in handy on some more recent cases she could mention. Maybe this one even. But those days were gone, and she knew she needed to come up with some solid evidence, somehow. She asked Siri to dial Jack on his mobile, and the ringing of his phone boomed out of her car’s speakers.
“Yeah? What’s up?”
“Jack, I’ve just left questioning Mrs. Simpson, again.” She knew what he’d be thinking so she let him.
“I thought we’d agreed to stay clear – the ‘nothing to see, move along’ scenario.”
“Yes, but that was before I realised she was also at James Peterson’s place the night before he died. She’s a book club member.”
“What? Tell me more.” That got him listening.
“Well, that’s just it again. Nothing to tell. That night, she went as usual, like she had for the past couple of years. Said he wanted to close early, and they all left together and went home. Shortly after… well, you know the rest.” She paused. “I know there has to be a connection, but what?” She could almost hear him twiddling his moustache as the car filled with silence. She let it carry on a while, waiting for him to say something.
“So what’s next?” he said finally. “What are you thinking? Because as it stands, I can’t see a link apart from one woman.”
“Well I’ll be damn
ed if it’s a coincidence,” she said. “So I’m going to go through it all again, take another look at what we have, see if anything shakes a clue free. That missing landscaper has never surfaced, and he’s never been seen since, but if she had something to do with that, god only knows how she got rid of his body, because apart from a few cat hairs, there was no other evidence to look at.” She glanced down at her own trouser legs, which were still covered with ginger hair; that more or less explained how Dexter’s hairs had ended up in Des’s van – they stuck to anything and everything. That tidied up the only ‘lead’ they had, just as Jack had said earlier. “But one missing and one dead and one person who knew them both needs another look, in my view.”
“Let’s look again on Monday, then,” agreed Jack. “No rush now, and I’ve got a golf game in thirty so I’ll give it some thought. Remember, we still don’t know if there is even a crime with the landscaper, and the book club man just seems to be a good night gone wrong, as the doc confirmed. I’ll give it some thought, but now I’m off to enjoy some weekend. Why don’t you do the same?” Without waiting for her reply, Jack disconnected.
Amanda drove back to Ruth’s searching the back of her brain for any possible reason why Madeline Simpson would be involved in both cases. What was her possible motive? And how could she physically do it? A missing person and an explained death that was down to a heart condition? She had virtually nothing to go on. Was there even a case, or cases, to be solved?
Chapter Forty-Nine
Later that Saturday morning, Ruth and Amanda climbed into the car together and headed off into Croydon for something to eat before heading into the far richer shopping experience of the west end of London. Amanda found parking easily, and they walked arm in arm to ‘their’ coffee shop. Opening the door for Ruth, Amanda stood aside to let her enter and they headed to a side table, ‘their’ table, just a little way down from the front window. No mean feat on a Saturday morning.
