When the Dead Speak

by Sheila Bugler

  ‘This is not old,’ Eliza said, examining the coat. ‘And if it was ever your coat, Dee, it was a long time ago when you were a lot thinner than you are now.’

  ‘I used to be very slender, I’ll have you know,’ Dee said.

  ‘I can’t take this,’ Eliza said. ‘It’s too much.’

  ‘It’s too small for me,’ Dee said. ‘You said as much yourself. If you don’t take it, I’ll give it to a charity shop. Come on, Eliza. Try it on, at least.’

  Reluctantly, the girl slipped one arm inside the coat, and then the other. She buttoned it up, and when she was finished she was beaming like a little girl on Christmas morning.

  ‘It’s perfect,’ she said.

  ‘Good.’ Dee smiled. ‘So you’ll take it?’

  ‘You haven’t given me much choice,’ Eliza said. And then, in a gesture that Dee suspected surprised both of them, Eliza grabbed Dee in a hug and planted a big, slopping kiss on her cheek.

  * * *

  Louise switched off the engine but didn’t make any move to get out of her car. Through the windscreen, she could see the downstairs lights in her house were still on. Which meant Martin was still up. Waiting for her, no doubt. She couldn’t face seeing him yet. If she went in now, she wouldn’t be able to hide it from him. He would guess immediately where she’d been and what she’d been doing. Until a few months ago, Louise would have said she was an accomplished liar. Apart from Dee, other people seemed to believe the white lies she sometimes told to get what she wanted. And getting what she wanted was something Louise was exceptionally good at. Except now, she was starting to realise that always getting what you wanted had its drawbacks. Most significantly, it meant you had to lie over and over to people you should never lie to. Her husband, her children, her best friend.

  She looked at her reflection in the rear-view mirror, searching her face for the person she knew was in there. The faithful wife, the loving mother and the loyal friend. But all she could see was this new person she’d become: a deceitful, lying bitch. An old Eagles song started up inside her head. ‘Lyin’ Eyes’. She looked away from the mirror, sickened. She imagined she could still smell him, even though she’d showered afterwards. Spicy cologne and smoke from the single cigarette he allowed himself after sex.

  It had been exciting when he first started pursuing her. Exciting and dangerous. Two things she hadn’t much experience of. A naturally disciplined child, she’d grown up to have exactly the sort of life she’d planned for herself: a career, a husband, two beautiful children, and a big house in the most desirable part of town.

  She’d had everything she’d ever wanted. Then he’d come along and blown every smug conviction about her tidy little life to smithereens. For the first time, she’d realised just how conventional, provincial and plain boring her life really was. It had started as a bit of fun that rapidly turned into something deeper and more intoxicating than she could ever have imagined. She’d been reckless, impulsive, besotted.

  She couldn’t remember now how things had got so out of hand. A drunken mistake that had, somehow, turned into this out-of-control mess. He was a drug. A dangerous addiction. Louise didn’t know how she was going to break the addiction, but she knew she had to. If she didn’t, she risked losing everything.

  From the diary of Emma Reed

  4 October 1961

  Perhaps it was a mistake, but what else was I meant to do? Sit in my house like a good little wife and do nothing? If James had his way, that’s all I’d do each day. But James is out of touch with the modern world and doesn’t seem to grasp that women are capable of so much more than being mere housewives, waiting on their husbands as if they’re servants rather than life partners.

  I didn’t go to cause trouble. I simply wanted to tell her a few home truths. But some women are foolish when their heads have been turned by a man’s attention and Annabelle is clearly one of them.

  I lay in bed all night, tossing and turning and waiting for morning to come. Time dragged by as I prepared breakfast for James and Nicola and waved them out the door, one after the other. Nicola doesn’t want to go to school these mornings. I had to practically push her out of the house, and when she left, she walked so slowly it was all I could do not to run after her and take her in my arms and bring her here into the warm, safe home where no one can tease her or taunt her.

  It started raining when I was less than halfway there, which meant I was dripping like a drowned rat by the time I reached the house and rang the doorbell. I assume the woman who opened the door was the housekeeper. She was very efficient and businesslike, and not at all friendly or welcoming. She knew who I was. I could see it in the way her lips curled when she looked at me, and the ice in her voice as she informed me that Miss Palmer was out and she didn’t know when she’d be back.

  I knew she was lying. I told her I wasn’t going anywhere and could she at least let me inside out of the pouring rain? We argued back and forth, neither of us giving ground. At one point, I tried to push past her but she grabbed me by the arms and shoved me back outside into the rain. We must have made a bit of a racket, because suddenly Annabelle appeared in the hallway behind the harridan, demanding to know what in heaven’s name all the noise was about.

  ‘I thought you were out,’ I said, glaring at the housekeeper. ‘I need to speak to you.’

  ‘So speak,’ she said. She told the housekeeper to leave and motioned for me to step into the hallway, out of the rain.

  ‘Richard Partridge is using you,’ I blurted out. It wasn’t the way I’d planned to tell her, but all that nonsense with the other woman had left me flustered. ‘He’s not in love with you, no matter what he tells you. He was in love with Mary, and he killed her because she didn’t love him back. He told you it was Graham, but he knows Graham wasn’t capable of something like that. Please, Annabelle. You’ve got to believe me. He’s evil and he’s using you.’

  I’m not sure if those were my exact words, but they’re close enough. I was speaking too fast, the words falling over each other, and when I ran out of breath, I had to stop altogether. I expected her to get angry. Instead, she threw her head back and laughed.

  ‘Look at you,’ she said breathlessly, between bouts of laughter. ‘Turning up here at this time, drunk already. You’ve lost your mind. You’d better leave now, before I call the police.’

  ‘I need to see George,’ I said. ‘He’ll believe me, even if you won’t.’

  She took a step towards me, and I felt a shiver of fear. She’s a small woman, but I got the sense she could hurt me if she put her mind to it.

  ‘George won’t see you,’ she said. ‘He won’t see anyone, especially not the mother of the man who killed his daughter. You raised a monster, Emma Reed. I’m glad he’s dead, and I’m not the only one. This town is better off without him.’

  I screamed that my son wasn’t a monster, but it was no good. She had already turned her back on me and was walking away from me. I started to charge after her, and I swear to God if I’d got hold of her I would have thrown her to the ground and punched her and kicked her until she cried and apologised for the things she’d said about Graham. But the housekeeper was back, and she had someone with her. A man as big and wide as a carthorse. He grabbed me and wrapped his arms around me and shoved me outside.

  I stumbled down the steps, weeping with rage and helplessness. The door slammed shut behind me. I banged on it with my fists, screaming at her to come back and talk to me, but it was pointless. The door stayed closed and after a while, I turned around and walked home, deflated and defeated.

  Twenty-seven

  Dee strode across the foyer of the Aldrington. There was a different girl at the reception desk this afternoon, someone she hadn’t seen before.

  ‘I’m here to see Derek French,’ she informed the girl.

  ‘Is he expecting you?’

  ‘Tell him Dee Doran’s here. And tell him I’m not leaving until he sees me. I’ll be in the bar.’

  She walked away
without another word. In the bar, she ordered a sparkling water, took a seat and waited. She’d only been there a few minutes when Derek joined her, settling himself into the chair opposite.

  ‘Scotch on the rocks, Jim,’ he said to the waiter hovering nearby. ‘And this lady’s drink is on the house, okay?’

  ‘I’m happy to pay for my own drinks,’ Dee told him as Jim slipped away to get Derek’s drink.

  ‘I’m glad you dropped by,’ Derek said. ‘I’ve been meaning to apologise for the other day. I was bang out of order, and I’m sorry.’

  ‘Why did your wife come around to my house yesterday?’ Dee asked.

  ‘Karen?’ He shook his head. ‘I didn’t know she had.’

  ‘She tried to convince me Nigel wasn’t Lauren’s real father.’

  Jim had reappeared with their drinks. Derek waited for him to set them on the table in front of them before he spoke.

  ‘Karen gets some funny ideas, sometimes. That business about Nigel not being Lauren’s dad, she’s been banging on about that for years. She claims Maxine said something to her one night after she’d had a few too many. Maybe she did, who knows? The thing is, Karen’s convinced Nigel killed Lauren and she’s frustrated because no one’s taking her seriously.’

  ‘Why is she so certain it was Nigel?’

  ‘You ever met the bloke?’ Derek said.

  Dee shook her head.

  ‘Well, if you had then you’d understand,’ Derek said. ‘He looks down his nose at people like us. Hard-working, honest to goodness folk who’ve had to work hard to make something of themselves. Thinks because his wealth was handed to him on a silver platter it makes him better than the rest of us.’

  He took a sip of his drink.

  ‘Macallan single malt. Heaven in a glass. Would you like me to order you one?’

  Dee shook her head.

  ‘My car was set on fire last night.’

  ‘I’m very sorry to hear that,’ Derek said. ‘Hope you were insured?’

  ‘Insurance won’t cover arson,’ Dee said.

  ‘You’re sure that’s what it was?’

  ‘Police found evidence at the scene.’ A lie, but he didn’t need to know that.

  ‘Well, let’s hope they catch whoever did it. Crime is a growing problem in this town. It’s all those gangs moving out of London, apparently.’

  ‘I’m pretty sure this had nothing to do with any London gangs.’

  ‘Whoever they are,’ Derek said, ‘I’m sorry it’s happened. It must have been a terrible shock.’

  He sounded sincere, but good liars always did, Dee thought.

  She stood up.

  ‘I’ll leave you to enjoy the rest of your whisky in peace.’

  She turned to go, but he called her back.

  ‘Was that it?’ he said. ‘Hardly seems worth coming all the way into town simply to tell me Karen went to see you. Especially now you haven’t got a car.’

  ‘I didn’t come here to tell you about Karen,’ Dee said. ‘I came here to watch your reaction when I told you what had happened to my car. Goodbye, Derek.’

  She left before he could say anything else. Outside, she stood for a minute, waiting for the rush of adrenaline to die down. She hadn’t been able to tell if he’d had anything to do with her car being set on fire. But by God, it had felt good to rattle his cage a little.

  She was walking towards the taxi rank when Philip Flint called.

  ‘I got your email,’ he said. ‘You said you had some further questions for me.’

  With everything else that had happened, Dee had forgotten about the email she’d sent him last night. She’d spent the previous evening reading through the notes Philip had given her. There was one person in particular Dee was interested in – the man rumoured to have been seeing Annabelle Palmer at the time of Mary’s murder. His name was Richard Partridge.

  Using Philip’s notes, and information she’d found on the internet, Dee had learned as much as she could about him. Richard Partridge had grown up in Eastbourne but spent most of his adult life in London. He had died three years ago, leaving a wife and three children. His family were wealthy. Richard had made his money as the head of a successful engineering firm called Mackie & Partridge Electrics, based in north-west London. The firm was now run by Richard’s son, Conor. Dee tried to find out who the Mackie was in the company name, but that information wasn’t available on the company website or anywhere else.

  ‘I wanted to ask you about Richard Partridge,’ she said.

  ‘Ah yes. The young man who may, or may not, have been in a relationship with Annabelle. What do you want to know about him?’

  ‘Did you try to interview him for your book?’ Dee asked.

  ‘For all the good it did. The man denied there’d ever been anything between them. He claimed he barely knew Annabelle. And he was adamant Graham Reed was guilty.’

  ‘What was he like?’ Dee asked.

  ‘Arrogant, bordering on rude. The sort of man with more money than manners. He had a younger brother, David, who died eight or ten years after Mary’s murder. Richard’s widow is still alive, but I doubt she’d be willing to speak with you.’

  ‘I can be very persuasive when I want to be,’ Dee said.

  ‘I believe that,’ Philip said. ‘But there’s someone else you may want to speak to as well. Miriam Anderson.’

  The name was familiar and, after a moment, Dee remembered reading about Miriam in Philip’s notes.

  ‘Emma’s friend,’ she said. ‘You interviewed her several times, I think.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Philip said. ‘A lovely woman. Miriam knew more about the family than anyone else I spoke to. I still see her from time to time. Unfortunately, she hasn’t been very well. Her family moved her into a nursing home at the end of last summer.’

  ‘Do you think she’d talk to me?’

  ‘I’m sure she would,’ Philip said. ‘Assuming she’s well enough, of course. Would it help if I give her your name and telephone number and ask her to contact you?’

  ‘That would be wonderful,’ Dee said. ‘Thank you so much.’

  She said goodbye to Philip and hung up. Then, before she could change her mind, she called Ed.

  ‘It’s me,’ she said. ‘Do you fancy coming over this evening? I’ll make some dinner and we can have a proper catch-up?’

  Twenty-eight

  As Ed hung up, he caught a glimpse of his face in the rear-view mirror. Grinning like an idiot, just because things with Dee seemed to be back on track. Luckily, she hadn’t asked him where he was, or he’d have been forced to tell her another white lie.

  He was in his car, parked outside the Frenches’ big, ugly house in the Harbour. Kyle hadn’t returned any of his texts or phone messages and Ed was running out of patience. So he’d driven over here earlier, determined to make Kyle speak to him.

  Putting his phone back, he got out of the car, approached the front door, rang the bell and waited. And waited. He rang it twice more, and still nothing. Yet when he stood back and looked through the downstairs windows, he was sure he could see the shadow of someone moving around in there.

  He pressed his finger down on the doorbell again, and this time he got a response.

  ‘What do you want, Ed?’ Karen had opened the door a fraction, her face peering out at Ed through the gap.

  ‘I want to see Kyle.’

  ‘Well he doesn’t want to see you. He doesn’t want to see anyone. Don’t you think you and your girlfriend have caused enough trouble?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know,’ Karen said. ‘She’s practically accused Derek of having an affair with Lauren. As if he’d do that to Kyle.’

  ‘I didn’t know anything about that,’ Ed said.

  He ran back over everything he and Dee had talked about recently. She hadn’t mentioned anything about Derek and Lauren.

  ‘I knew it was a bad idea the first time she turned up here,’ Karen continued. ‘But when she said
you’d sent her, I thought maybe she could help us. But all she’s done is cause us trouble. Why did you send her, Ed?’

  For a moment, he didn’t trust himself to speak. How could Dee do that? Didn’t she realise how much was at stake here? But that was the problem with Dee – she went headlong into things without thinking through the consequences. In this instance, she’d seen the potential for a story and that had blinded her to everything else. He’d seen her like this before. He hadn’t liked it then, and he didn’t like it now either.

  ‘I’m really sorry if Dee’s upset you,’ he said. ‘But you can hardly blame me for that.’

  ‘She’s your girlfriend, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, but that doesn’t mean I control what she does.’

  Under different circumstances, the idea that he had any sort of control over Dee’s actions was laughable. Except right now he was too angry with her to find anything funny about this situation. She’d used his name – and their relationship – to her own advantage. Following up some cock and bull idea she had that Lauren was killed because she knew something about Joana Helinski’s disappearance.

  ‘Maybe you should choose your girlfriends a bit more carefully,’ Karen said.

  He should have told her that who he dated was none of her business. Instead, he got to the real reason he was here.

  ‘I need to see Kyle.’

  ‘He’s not here. And even if he was, I don’t think he’d want to see you. Dee really upset him, you know. As if he hasn’t got enough to deal with right now.’

  ‘I’ve already apologised for that,’ Ed said. ‘And I’m happy to apologise to Kyle too, if you’ll just let me see him. Please, Karen, this is really important.’

  ‘You shouldn’t even be here,’ Karen said. ‘We all know about your uncle and what he did.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Did you know that’s what Lauren was writing about? Is that why you’re not part of the investigation?’