Suspicion Page 20

  ‘We need to meet,’ she said without any preamble.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘There’s something we want to discuss. You could come into the police station, but I thought you might prefer somewhere more discreet. Do you want to meet for a drink?’

  I hesitated. The last time we had seen each other, she hadn’t been able to get away from me quickly enough, and she had left telling me not to contact her again. She must have suggested meeting in the pub thinking I was more likely to be on my guard if they questioned me at the police station. I was intrigued, but she was wrong if she thought I would be less wary in a relaxed environment.

  ‘Okay. When? Where?’

  ‘Are you free this afternoon?’

  ‘Yes. All afternoon.’

  We arranged to meet at the same place as before, and this time I arrived early. I carried a glass of red wine carefully up the stairs and sat down at a table in the corner, facing into the room so that I would see the sergeant arrive. A couple of girls were seated on the far side of the room, talking in short bursts interspersed with long periods of silence. Their voices were so loud, I couldn’t help overhearing some of their brief exchanges.

  ‘She never!’ one of the girls said.

  ‘I’m telling you, she did!’ replied the other.

  There was a pause.

  ‘You’re kidding, aren’t you?’ the first girl asked.

  ‘She did.’

  ‘No, she never. Not Karen. She never.’

  ‘I’m telling you, she did,’ her companion repeated, as though it was the refrain in a duet.

  Before I could hear any more of their monotonous conversation, the sergeant arrived.

  She spoke so softly I had to lean across the table to hear her. ‘The search team found the missing phone you’ve been talking about.’

  ‘So Rosie did have a third phone. I thought so. Where was it?’

  ‘In her car. So you were right all along. The photos had been deleted, but we restored them.’

  ‘Can I see them?’ I asked, eager yet reluctant to look at them again.

  She shook her head. ‘I haven’t got the phone on me. It’s being held as evidence. But they were pretty much as you described them. The two of them standing together, side by side, then the two of them embracing – kissing – and finally the two of them in bed together.’

  ‘Was it definitely them in the final picture?’

  ‘The woman was definitely Sue. The man could have been him, but the images weren’t that clear. There’s no way of knowing for sure.’

  ‘I might be able to tell, if you let me see them. He is my husband.’

  She shook her head. ‘No, it was too blurred.’

  ‘Can’t your technical team tell whether they’re genuine or not?’

  ‘They were taken on an old phone,’ she said dismissively. My personal problems were not her problem. ‘But that’s not why I wanted to see you. I could have told you all this over the phone. The reason I wanted to see you was to tell you about something else the search team found at Rosie’s flat.’ With a horrible sensation in my stomach I waited, terrified that they had come across something I had left behind when I broke into Rosie’s flat.

  ‘Oh God, not another photo,’ I muttered. ‘What’s it of this time?’

  ‘No,’ she replied, ‘not another photo. But this may help to clear your name. The search team found a number of hairs in Rosie’s bed. Some of them belonged to her, but there were others, male, Caucasian.’ She nodded grimly. ‘So we have the DNA of a man who was in bed with her, and there are traces of semen on the sheet as well as evidence of sexual activity before she was killed. We don’t have a match. But we know a man was with her at her flat on the night she died.’

  Actually more than one person was there, I thought, but I didn’t tell the sergeant that. I could hardly say it had slipped my mind until now, and I certainly couldn’t explain what I had been doing there, hiding behind the sofa in the living room. A horrible thought struck me. Nick had been out that evening, and he hadn’t arrived home until eleven. What if the man I had heard in bed with Rosie had been my husband? I hadn’t recognised him at the time, but their voices had been muffled by the sofa, and I had seen only a brief glimpse of the back of his head, in the dark. In my panic, I could have seen my own sister in the room without recognising her. Desperately I tried to remember whether the police had ever taken a DNA sample from Nick.

  If Nick had been having an affair with Rosie, then everything else made sense. Rosie had discovered that he was also having an affair with Sue, and had contrived to take photos of them together to show to me, in revenge, or maybe hoping to force him to stop seeing Sue. Perhaps it was plausible that Rosie had killed Sue. Discovering what Rosie had done, Nick had killed her, either in anger or, what was more likely, to protect his position. He might even have killed both of his lovers, to keep his infidelity a secret. Even though I couldn’t bear the thought that anyone else might believe that of my husband, it made sense. And if I had worked out that scenario, the police were bound to come to the same conclusion.

  ‘You’re telling me a man was there, in her flat, on the night she died,’ I whispered, wondering fearfully who he might have been.

  ‘Exactly. She arrived at the flat in the company of a man, and we’re wondering whether this visitor could have killed her. We’ve been studying the security cameras in the block, and two people went there that night whom we’ve been unable to trace. We’ve checked with all the residents, but two other people entered the block on the evening Rosie was killed, two unknown people.’

  Forcing myself to sit still, I could feel my chest shudder every time I took a breath, and I felt like throwing up.

  ‘Are you all right?’ my companion asked me, and I nodded.

  ‘This is just all so awful.’

  ‘Shall I go on?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘Rosie entered her block at eight thirty-six, accompanied by a man. We don’t know who he was. He was carrying an umbrella which unfortunately shielded his upper half from the camera. It’s not a very sophisticated system, just a camera outside the entrance recording everyone who enters the building, and if you ring and look directly at it, people in the flats can see who’s calling. Otherwise, it just picks up that someone is there.’

  ‘What about when he left?’

  She shook her head. ‘The umbrella again. He was probably carrying it deliberately to hide his face. But we know she went inside with an unknown man.’

  ‘What about CCTV outside?’

  ‘We’re checking cars driving in the area at the time but it’s like the proverbial needle in a haystack because he could have caught a bus, parked a mile away, picked up a taxi at the station, ridden a bike, or walked there across the fields. We’re doing what we can, but all we know about him is his DNA and we can estimate his shoe size and a few other details from the CCTV image. He’s got particularly large feet. We’re also interested in a hooded figure who was in the building that we haven’t yet accounted for. He entered the building an hour before Rosie, and emerged shortly before her visitor left.’

  I listened with growing unease. I could have told her I already knew a man had gone there to have sex with her, and any attempt to trace the hooded figure was pointless. If I had known she was about to be killed, I might have been able to prevent it, but there was no way I could have predicted what was going to happen. Now I was facing another terrible prospect. The time of Rosie’s death was probably an estimate, which meant the man who had been in bed with Rosie on the night she had died, the man who might have killed her, could have been my husband. He had told me he was at a meeting, but he could have taken a detour on his way home.

  ‘What about the hooded man?’ I asked, in an attempt to lead her away from the truth; I knew that the hooded figure wasn’t a man.

  I hoped my curiosity wouldn’t arouse her interest. As the sergeant had already pointed out, it wasn’t a good idea to attract attention, especially f
rom the police.

  She frowned. ‘We haven’t managed to identify him yet. The face was impossible to view, but we’ve excluded all the residents by taking DNA samples from them. None of the residents saw anything unusual but it’s possible that this missing hooded man might have seen something. We need to find out not only who he was, but what he was doing there that night.’ The sergeant paused and then looked straight at me. ‘It looks as though Rosie knew the man who was in her flat on the night she died. Do you know where your husband was last Monday evening between eight and ten?’

  I hesitated, because Nick had arrived home about eleven that night. His car might have been picked up on CCTV so there was no point in lying.

  ‘Is that when Rosie was killed?’

  ‘Please, just answer my question,’ the sergeant snapped.

  I wondered if the police had really found photographs of Nick and Sue on a hidden phone, or whether the sergeant had deliberately reminded me of Nick’s suspected adultery, hoping to persuade me to incriminate him.

  ‘My husband was at a meeting at school. He would have been with a number of his colleagues all evening,’ I answered coldly. ‘I’m sure he’ll tell you the same, and any details he gives you about his movements will be corroborated by the senior management team at the school.’

  ‘He is being questioned, and his alibi will be checked.’ She glanced at her phone. ‘They should be finished by now.’

  The police had made sure Nick and I would have no way of communicating while he was being questioned, so they could see if our stories matched.

  ‘You were keeping me out of the way just now,’ I said.

  ‘We don’t trust anyone,’ she replied, adding gravely. ‘You would be wise to do the same.’

  It wasn’t clear if she was checking up on me or Nick. If he had been out of the house until eleven, I might also have no alibi for the time of Rosie’s murder.

  Chapter 40

  The afternoon had become overcast by the time we left the pub. I was tempted not to go home at all, but drive straight to the station where I could catch a train across London and retreat to my sister’s house and play truant from my life, like a child avoiding school. I imagined my sister welcoming me without question, telling me she was delighted by my unexpected arrival and inviting me to stay with her for as long as I liked. But that was never going to happen.

  Besides, I wanted to see Nick and tell him that I still loved him, whatever he had done. Just as he had said to me, when we had both believed I was going mad, we would get through this together. In spite of my determination to stand by him, I was afraid to confess that I knew about his affairs. The man waiting for me at home was not the man I had married. My husband had changed into someone else, entirely other, a stranger to me. He was a cheat and a liar. It seemed I was clinging to a reality that had never existed outside of my own imagination, a fantasy of a man who had never been real. The sergeant had been right to warn me to trust no one.

  There was a boom of distant thunder and it began to rain heavily. My windscreen wipers were poorly adjusted, making it difficult to see the unlit road. Angered by the thought of Nick in another woman’s arms and in her bed, I put my foot down. Unable to see clearly ahead, I was too late to notice a shape dart across the road right in front of me. There was a sudden loud thud and the car juddered before skidding on the wet road as I slammed on the brakes. Shocked at the collision, I reversed and felt the car jolt as the tyres moved backwards over a bump in the road. Shaking, I stopped the car and climbed out to see what had happened. The light from my headlamps fell across a fox lying in the road. It wasn’t moving. I froze, reluctant to move closer to see whether it was still alive and suffering.

  All the shock and upset of recent events overwhelmed me and I stood in the road weeping, my tears washed away by the rain. The life of a fox was so random, yet so complex a creation. The matted fur on its body had grown with the sole purpose of protecting it, but despite centuries of evolution designed to ensure its survival, nothing could have saved it from the impact of a vehicle travelling at forty miles an hour along a wet and winding road. I had been driving irresponsibly.

  ‘It’s just a fox,’ I told myself.

  If a dead cyclist had been lying in the road, I would have been prosecuted for dangerous driving, but manslaughter was just what the name stated, the slaughter of man, a crime that didn’t extend to other living creatures. The wanton killing of a feral animal didn’t matter. All I had to do was get back in the car and go home, leaving one less fox prowling the fields for its prey.

  I wanted to feel guilty but, as I sped away from the fox, my overriding feeling was relief that no one would ever find out what I had done. A few other motorists would notice the cadaver lying in the road as they drove past, before scavengers disposed of the rotting corpse and it disappeared, as though it had never existed. My remorse converted to anger; after my own death I would join the fox in eternal oblivion.

  ‘Hello, love. How’s your day been?’ Nick asked me when I reached home. He looked up. ‘You’re drenched.’

  ‘I got caught in the rain. I need to change out of these wet things.’

  After a hot shower and a cup of cocoa, I felt a lot better, and was trying to decide whether to raise the subject that had been nagging at me, or tell Nick about the dead fox. While I was dithering, he told me the police had been to the house again.

  ‘What did they want?’

  ‘They had some questions about my meeting with the governors, and they wanted me to give them a DNA sample. They explained it was routine elimination.’

  Fear gripped me suddenly, twisting my throat until it seemed to close up, yet my voice sounded surprisingly normal as I asked, ‘Did you give it to them?’

  ‘Of course,’ he replied, looking surprised but not afraid. ‘They explained it was just for the purpose of elimination. They’re hoping to get samples from every man who has met Rosie White.’ He laughed. ‘I wished them luck with that. She must have spoken to hundreds of thousands of men in her job.’

  I remembered him claiming that he was an expert liar, but if he had been in Rosie’s bed that night, his present bravado was positively breathtaking, when he must realise the police would soon return to arrest him for murder. I was not sure what to make of his boldness. Assuming he was doing everything he could to conceal his guilt from me, not to mention his terror, I offered him an opening.

  ‘I thought we were going away this summer, not for work but for a proper holiday,’ I ventured, hoping he would understand my meaning.

  ‘I want to, but you know I’ve been busy with interviews. As soon as I can get away, we’ll go. Give it a few more days.’

  ‘Don’t you think now might be a good time to make our escape?’ I pressed on, choosing my words with care yet trying not to place too obvious an emphasis on the last word in my question.

  I steered as closely as possible to what was on my mind, without actually coming out and saying that we might need to get away, leaving the country if we possibly could before it was too late. But instead of seizing the opportunity to avoid arrest, Nick laughed. Hearing the familiar sound, I wondered whether he was the crazy one in our relationship.

  ‘It’s not that bad here, is it?’ he said. ‘Listen, Lou, as soon as I’ve sorted out the staffing situation, we’ll take a few days off, I promise, a week if we can, and we’ll go anywhere you like, just the two of us. But I’m afraid it’ll have to wait. And we can’t go for long. You know I need to be here when the results arrive.’

  I nodded. Afraid that Nick was guilty, I couldn’t believe he was thinking of nothing but his staff appointments and the examination results which were due in towards the end of the month.

  ‘But we should be able to fit in at least one long weekend before term starts,’ he went on. ‘And next year, I promise we’ll nip off the day after the summer term ends.’

  Going away as soon as term ended had been our plan this year, only outside events had prevented us. Listening t
o him talking about staff and holidays and the future, a tiny flame of hope flickered in my darkness. A man worried about being arrested for murder was unlikely to be talking so cheerfully about plans for the following year’s holiday. The police had taken a sample of his DNA and he was completely at ease.

  Wondering whether I might have been mistaken about him, I was glad I hadn’t accused him outright of murdering Rosie. Perhaps, after all, I had been wrong about him. The more time passed without the police knocking at our door, the more convinced I became that Nick might not be guilty after all. Now it was the thought that I might have unjustly accused him of murder which made me shudder.

  That afternoon I met Angela for our weekly game of tennis. She was encouraging as usual, even telling me my game had improved which, given everything that was going on, would have been little short of a miracle. I didn’t believe her but was too anxious to laugh at her unwarranted praise.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ I replied. ‘I’m playing like a wally today.’

  As if to illustrate my point, I hit an easy ball straight into the net.

  ‘Let’s play that point again,’ she said kindly.

  Had she not approached our games with such generosity, she would have won every point, but playing tennis, she told me, was not solely about winning. It was as much about improving skills as about gaining points. It was, ostensibly, a really lovely way to spend an afternoon, playing tennis with a congenial partner in a beautiful setting on a lovely summer’s day. But my mind wasn’t on the game.

  I was thinking that when I got home Nick might not be there. If he were, I still needed to tackle him about his alleged affair with Sue, and about Rosie as well. We had to be completely honest with each other. I didn’t know what to think or who to believe but I knew I couldn’t continue much longer in this blithering uncertainty. Even if he had committed no crime, he might still have been unfaithful, and if he was apprehended on a murder charge, we might not have much time left together before the police came looking for him. The fact that they hadn’t arrested him yet might not mean anything. The sergeant had warned me to trust no one. I didn’t even know whether to trust my own judgement about my own husband.