(2011) Only the Innocent (51 page)

She suddenly felt panic rising in her chest. She had always thought that Will would understand. She had relied on him to be the one person who would have done the same. She had to tell him how it really was.

‘He had to die, Will. If he didn’t die, he was going to eventually kill me anyway. He
told
me. I had to comply - or die. He’d have used some drug or other and said it was an overdose. Given the apparent state of my mental health, it wouldn’t have been difficult for people to believe. The problem was, I didn’t have the first idea how to commit murder.

‘I thought about so many methods. Stabbing was the favourite, but I didn’t think I could do that, although I would have done if it had come to it - that’s what the knife was for. I wanted something that looked as if it had been done by some lover or other, but at the same time it had to be something that Hugo would go along with.

‘I knew he had other women, and I was sure they were Allium girls. He wouldn’t have risked an affair if there was any danger of it being made public. When he came to visit me in the home during my second stay his words to me were chilling. He said he had normal appetites and that over the years, finding “suitable participants” had become expensive. It was costing him over ten thousand pounds a month. We know what that was now - he was paying the girls. He said he’d found an alternative solution, but anything he’d done was due to my “dereliction of duty” and the culpability lay at my door. I went over and over that conversation, wondering what he could have meant. But it all makes sense now. It must have been after he had started to murder them, although I honestly didn’t know that.’

Will whistled.

‘Why was he telling you this?’

‘Because he wanted to issue the ultimate threat. He said that he would arrange for me to be released from the home, but he needed me to resume my marital duties. He knew I hated his idea of sex - as did the girls that he took, it would seem. We had agreed after my first time in the home that I could be excused. But he’d never found anybody that enjoyed it - and with good reason. So he wanted me back in his bed - on his terms. I hated sex with him, but the more I hated it, the more he loved it. It was power, you see. He said that it wouldn’t be for long, because as I knew a preferable option was just around the corner.’

‘What on earth did that mean?’

Laura walked over to Will and knelt on the floor - not quite close enough to touch him, but so that he would find it difficult to avoid looking at her. He needed to see her face now. He needed to see the passion and the hatred. He needed to understand her.

‘I’ll get to that. Anyway, he told me that the only person who could stop or delay the inevitable was me. He said that I had to stop playing the vestal virgin and get back into my role as his whore. I knew what the alternative was, although he never again said specifically that he would kill me. I asked him for time. The thought of having sex with him repulsed me beyond belief, but the consequences of not doing were more than I could contemplate.

‘I promised to think about it. I put it off for as long as I could. Finally he gave me an ultimatum. I would do as he asked, or I - and others - would pay the price. He played right into my hands. If he hadn’t issued that ultimatum I would have had to offer myself to him - and that would have been far less credible. I said I needed to go to Italy for a few days to prepare myself, but that I wasn’t happy to have sex with him here at Ashbury Park. It had to be at the apartment - a place that didn’t hold such awful memories for me.’

Will was now leaning forward in his seat, his hands clasped tightly between his knees. He had demanded the truth, but finally he appeared to be struggling to witness his sister’s agony.

‘I led Hugo to believe that I might not come. I couldn’t seem too eager - and it really excited him to think that I was doing this under duress. All Imogen had to do in Italy was give me an alibi, even though she thought it was for something else entirely. On the Saturday, she phoned Hugo using a tape recording that I’d made earlier. I knew there wouldn’t be anybody here, so it was a safe bet that she could just play the tape into the answering machine. We obviously couldn’t phone him on his mobile, in case he answered. He still had it at the time.’

Will looked at her with a mixture of admiration and horror.

‘When Hugo arrived, I behaved the way he wanted me to. He genuinely believed that he had triumphed,’ Laura paused. She fixed her eyes on Will’s.

‘Then I killed him.’

Will didn’t speak. He picked up his drink and swallowed a large mouthful, but he didn’t say a word. Laura felt compelled to continue.

‘I’d taken the precaution of putting on the coverall so that I wouldn’t leave any trace of me, and I kept gloves on all the time. I bought the syringe in Italy - they sell them in the supermarkets there. I made the liquid nicotine myself.’

Finally, Will spoke.

‘Weren’t you worried that it might not be the right strength or something? You could hardly try it first!’

‘That was another reason for the coverall. If it hadn’t worked I really wouldn’t have had a choice. I took the knife with me into the bedroom, and if he hadn’t died quickly, I would have had to stab him. Thank God it didn’t come to that. But I forgot to put the knife back in the kitchen.

‘His mobile went into one of the marked plastic bags for dumping, and the SIM card in another. Plus all the other paraphernalia - coverall, clothes, wig. Some went into bins in London, some in Paris. The phone had to go because I knew he’d been taking calls - I assumed from one of the girls. I thought once he was dead they would be safe, and I didn’t want all of this to come out because of the impact on Alexa. That’s why the phone had to disappear. Nobody wants the world to know that their father was a monster.’ Laura knew that now, of course, Alexa was going to have to be told, and she felt an intense, piercing sorrow at the thought of the child’s suffering.

She could see that Will was still struggling to understand, and she knew that - soon - she was going to have to add the final detail to the image she had painted of Hugo. The one thing that would make sense of it all.

‘Weren’t you worried that one of you would get stopped because your face didn’t match your passport? You two don’t look even slightly alike!’

‘Oh Will, we’re women! Look, when you came into the bathroom yesterday you thought Imogen was me, didn’t you? That’s because I’ve been wearing my hair scraped back off my face for years in an effort to divert Hugo’s attention by looking as plain as possible. We’re the same age, and pretty close in height and weight. When you come into the country, you hardly get a glance as long as your passport tallies, particularly if it’s a UK passport. We simply did things to our appearance that minimised the difference. That was the easy part, honestly.’

‘It got a bit tricky for Imogen on the flight when Laura Fletcher was asked to make herself known to the crew. But she just ignored it. That’s why I’d been taking cheap flights with no seat numbers - I had to stick to a recognised pattern, and anonymity was everything.’

‘So why the hell did Imogen come here? What a bloody ridiculous thing to do!’ Will said, reaching once more for the whisky bottle - as if it could dull the pain of everything he was hearing.

‘I know, and I was furious with her. But she knew something was wrong. Why else would my name have been called on the flight? And when we met at Heathrow, I refused to talk. I said I was too stressed and I’d explain everything as soon as she was back in Canada. And anyway, there wasn’t time. I knew the police wouldn’t be far behind me, and I needed to get back here before them. Then she heard that Hugo was dead, and she didn’t know what to think. All she could think of was me.

‘Hugo wasn’t supposed to be found so soon. I was going to report him missing - probably late Sunday or even Monday morning. I thought I would have some time to compose myself. But Beryl went back for her purse - less than an hour after I’d left! God, what a disaster
that
could have been. And when the police came here, I was completely
beside
myself - the stress, the fear - it nearly swamped me. All I could think was how easily it could all have gone wrong. And the horror of what I’d done. And now the police suspect Imogen. I’m so ashamed of the fact that I involved her. But I couldn’t think of any other way.’

Will was quiet. He was studying his clasped hands between his knees. After what seemed like hours, but was probably less than a minute, he looked up.

‘I still can’t believe this was your only option. I would have helped you. But
murder
? Why didn’t you ask me?’

‘I couldn’t. He wouldn’t have let me go. I told you, he was adamant that he would have killed me first. And if I’d involved you, he would have done something else to ruin your life. Let’s face it, he’s already been fairly successful in that regard.’

Will looked at her with a puzzled expression on his face. He still didn’t get it.

‘So is that why you murdered him, then? Because you thought he was going to kill you, or because he was making your life a misery? Or was it that you thought he was abducting these prostitutes? Which was it?’

‘It was none of those, Will. I didn’t kill him for any of those reasons.’

‘So
why
, for God’s sake?

‘I killed him for Alexa.’

Will stared at his sister. And it wasn’t until much later that he realised somewhere in the house a door had closed quietly.

SIX MONTHS LATER

Laura sat alone in the drawing room, a room that was hard to recognise as the drab and dreary place of just six months ago. Comfortable cream sofas provided a perfect contrast to the restored dark wood panelling, and the beautiful green Aubusson rug that had previously decorated the hallway had been lifted and moved into this room, showing the newly cleaned pale stone floor to maximum effect.

She was waiting for the doorbell to ring. She forced herself to take some deep breaths and lean back, trying to relax her tense limbs, unable to decide whether it was fear or excitement that was causing the strange sensation in her chest. She hadn’t seen him now for such a long time, but she’d thought about him often. With no idea how she would react when he arrived, she fought to compose herself. Wearing a simple but elegant combination of charcoal trousers and a dove grey silk shirt, she looked neither too smart nor too casual - or at least, that was the intention. Her hair was now back to its natural brunette colour, and hung loose to her shoulders.

Finally she heard the familiar chime of the bell, and rose quickly from the sofa, trying to slow her steps as she walked across the hallway to let him in. His dark blond hair was a little longer, and she felt sure that he too had dressed with care. Not the business-like suits of a working day, but a black polo shirt and the leather jacket that she was sure he had been wearing the first time she met him. The air of sadness about him seemed even more defined, though, and there was a tightness to his smile that hadn’t been there before.

‘Hello, Laura. How’ve you been?

‘Tom. It’s good to see you. I’ve been fine, thanks. What about you?’

‘Missing Lucy, but dealing with it. You’ve done wonders with this place. I couldn’t believe it was the same house when I came up the drive.’

‘I’m sorry. I’m keeping you talking on the doorstep. Please - come in.’

As Tom stepped into the hallway from the bright sunlight, he looked at Laura again, and she could see the surprise in his kind eyes.

‘Laura, you look great!’ he said. ‘Becky said I needed to prepare myself, but you really do look wonderful.’

Laura smiled her thanks, but couldn’t think of a thing to say as she led the way into the drawing room. She took a seat and clasped her hands together in an attempt to hide the trembling, and hoped Tom wouldn’t notice. Instead of sitting on the sofa opposite her though, he walked over to the French windows, open to let in the spring air, and stood with his back to her, apparently looking out at the late daffodils and early tulips blooming in the garden beyond. She’d never felt uncomfortable with him before - even when he was questioning her - but this afternoon was different. Tom was the first to break the silence.

‘I’ve come to tell you that we’re reducing the team investigating Hugo’s murder. We’ve failed to make any real progress over the last six months, as I’m sure you know. We’re not closing the case, but I’ve asked to be transferred onto other jobs.’ Tom still had his back to her.

‘I can understand that, Tom. I expect you want something with a little more action. This case must be getting a bit dull for you.’

‘Oh, it’s certainly dull. It’s been dull for the past six months, actually. It’s difficult interviewing suspects when you know before you start that they’re innocent, and sifting through evidence that you know won’t reveal anything.’ Tom spun round to face her, appearing almost angry.

She could see from his expression that he knew the truth, and that Will had been right. Somebody
had
been listening to their conversation. But she didn’t flinch from his gaze. She was almost relieved. In some way it explained his absence over the previous few months, which she’d found unaccountably hurtful.

‘I’m sorry, Tom. If you knew all that, you
did
have another option, didn’t you?’

‘Not really. Let’s cut the crap, Laura.’

She had always suspected that he’d heard them talking, but couldn’t understand why he hadn’t arrested her. Or at least talked to her about it. But then, of course, he would have had to act. It was such a terrible mess. Every night, Laura dreamt of the day she killed Hugo, and every morning she awoke feeling sick. She hadn’t known just how evil he was, but she had known enough. And she knew without a doubt that she would do it again. In an instant.

Only the sound of the early spring birdsong penetrated the silence of the room. A happy sound in a room full of tension. After a few moments, their eyes met. The atmosphere was charged.

‘I need to ask you again, Tom. Why didn’t you do anything about it?’

Tom sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair. His anger seemed to have been replaced by frustration, and she felt deeply sorry that she had caused this man so much stress.