A Suitable Lie (30 page)

I
dropped the boys off at Mum’s and headed back out. Jim said he didn’t do it, that she was still alive when he left the house, and I had to believe him.

My conscious mind was elsewhere but memory kept me on the right track as I drove and soon I was parked and walking up a familiar path. I knocked on the door. It opened quickly.

‘Andy, what are you doing…?’ Sheila Hunter asked. She was wearing black leggings and a tight pink t-shirt as if she was just about to go to the gym.

‘Are you heading out?’ I asked, taking a step back.

‘It’s all right,’ she said with a smile on her lips and a question in her eyes. ‘Come in. What’s up?’ She stepped to the side and I was greeted by her dog who wound himself in small circles, wagging his tail as he showed his pleasure in seeing me again. I reached down and patted his head then made my way into the kitchen.

‘I’ll just put the kettle on,’ Sheila said as she bustled in.

I sat at the small pine table, taking in the space around me, spotless save for a couple of dirty plates and mugs in the sink. A small radio was sitting on the window sill. An advert sounded out followed by the opening bars of a Michael Jackson song.

‘So you’re one of them?’ I asked with a smile. ‘One of the people who does actually listen to West Sound Radio.’

‘Shut it,’ she laughed. ‘It’s not that bad.’

‘Did you have a visitor last night?’ I asked, my gaze returning to the dishes in the sink. The words were out of my mouth before I could consider that the question might be impertinent.

‘Just one of the girls,’ she smiled and turned from me with the kettle in her hand. She filled it and put it on its cradle. ‘What’s up,
Andy?’ She looked at me as if it was the first time that morning. Concern at what she saw was clear on her face. Made me think that I must have looked like shit.

‘You said that you heard Anna was having an affair?’

Sheila sat down in the chair in front of me and studied my expression. ‘Why do you ask?’ Then, when the thought struck, her mouth opened a little.

‘You’ll have heard the gossip?’ I asked.

She made a small face of apology. ‘You don’t want to listen to…’

‘Jim didn’t kill Anna. If he didn’t, the only person I can think of … I mean, they say that most killers are known to their victim…’

‘And if it wasn’t Jim…’

‘It could be this mysterious guy who Anna had an affair with.’ I sat back in the chair and crossed my arms, struggling to keep the desperation out of my face and voice.

Sheila made a dismissive sound. ‘Office gossip. You know what folk are like at the bank. When would a woman with a house to run and two small boys to look after find the time to have an affair?’

‘You didn’t ever hear a name?’

Sheila shook her head, but her eyes slid from mine.

‘If you know anything, Sheila, please tell me.’

‘If I thought it was worth telling you I would, Andy.’ She reached across the table and held my hand. I felt the heat of her and took reassurance. Everyone else, it seemed, was running from me. I sent her a look of thanks.

But.

Maybe I was misreading her, but it felt like she was hiding something.

The dog pawed at the back door, stopping my train of thought. Sheila stood and opened it for him. In a flash of tail and yellow fur he was outside. I pushed myself off the chair and followed him outside.

There was a small patio area with red flagstones and varying sizes of plant pots at regular intervals around it, as if Sheila had wanted a low wall and this kind of planting was an affordable alternative.
The dog walked over to the fence that bordered the back lawn and cocked a leg.

I spotted a couple of cigarette stubs at the side of one of the pots.

‘Didn’t know you smoked, Sheila?’

She coloured and tried to hide that with a smile. ‘I don’t. My friend likes a puff now and again.

I looked away from her as I tried to work out why she was so uncomfortable. Did she have a new boyfriend and didn’t want me to know in case I was disappointed it wasn’t me? Normally, I would have let it pass, but that morning social niceties weren’t high on my list of behavioural skills.

‘If you’ve got a boyfriend, Sheila that’s fine. You don’t owe me anything.’

‘A new boyf…’ She tailed off and I mentally rewound her words. Heard the stress on the word ‘new’. Then I looked over again at the white stubs. They each held a twist of paper at the end as if they’d been self-made.

A memory swooped in and I was holding a cigarette stub in my back garden. I saw a shadow. Then a tall, lean man hunched over a bar. And my brain made a connection that was as unwelcome as it appeared to be unlikely.

‘Was Ken here?’ I asked.

‘It’s not what you think, Andy.’ She crossed her arms. The dog circled back to her and stood by her side as if he sensed something was wrong.

‘I don’t know what I think, Sheila.’

‘I had one of the girls over last night. Ken appeared at my door, all agitated. I dragged him out here. He had a cigarette or two. Spouted all kinds of crap and then left.’

I don’t know where the connection came from, but it was there, undeniable.

‘Was Ken having an affair with my wife?’ I asked.

‘If Ken was here last night, it’s none of your concern.’ Sheila looked at me. Defiant. ‘And as far as him having an affair with Anna…’

‘Why are you protecting him, Sheila?’

‘How dare you,’ she said, her face going pink. She turned away from me and walked back inside. I followed her and read the hurt in the stiff line of her shoulders and back.

‘I’m sorry, Sheila,’ I said. ‘I don’t mean to offend you.’

‘I offered my ex-husband an ear. That was all. And as far as…’

‘Did he kill Anna?’

‘He’s a troubled man,’ she replied. ‘But a killer?’ She shook her head.

‘That time I was round here with the woman from human resources, you were worried that was exactly what he was.’

I saw Sheila in memory. The fear in her voice as she recalled how Ken had treated her. And the certainty that she would no longer put up with it, and the fear that he would eventually kill her if she did.

But now, she was dissembling. I recognised the symptoms. I had them branded into habit.

He’d been round last night. Reminded her of his humanity. His vulnerable side. He was no longer the scary man from a nightmare, he was someone she used to love and he had appealed to the embers of that lost affection. She’d relented a little. Allowed a little warmth to build.

It was what I had done with Anna. Over and over again.

‘What do you know, Sheila?’ I pressed and stepped closer. ‘Was Anna having an affair with Ken?’

She looked away from me. I could see her throat move as she swallowed.

‘He told me he didn’t lay a finger on her.’ Her gaze returned to mine. ‘And I believe him.’

‘Really?’ I asked. ‘Ken? Your ex-husband? The man who regularly kicked shit out of you?’

‘Don’t, Andy,’ Sheila said and scratched at her right cheek. ‘He was different last night. Quieter. Less…’ she looked at me, her eyes imploring my belief in her words. ‘… less like himself.’

‘It wasn’t Jim,’ I said firmly. ‘And this boyfriend’s the only other person I can think of.’

‘A few minutes ago you were complaining about the gossips down the play park. You’re every bit as bad.’

‘Oh come on…’ I stopped myself from saying something hurtful. Sat down.

The radio played a jingle at the end of a track and as Sheila and I lapsed into an awkward silence a voice announced the latest news bulletin. I heard the announcer say something about the murder of local woman, Anna Boyd, and listened with rising disbelief to the rest of her words.

‘…Ayr detectives have released the name of the man they have in custody as local man, and brother-in-law of the deceased, James Boyd.’

W
hen I got back to Mum’s she was clearly fighting to retain some semblance of control. She didn’t want the boys to see exactly how worried she was.

‘Did you hear the news?’ Her voice was just above a whisper.

I nodded.

‘What are we going to do?’ she asked and stepped inside my reach, resting her head on my shoulder. She mumbled something. It sounded like she was saying her boy was not a murderer.

I stroked her head, not sure I had the strength and reassurance she was looking for. All I could think about on the way over was that the police had questioned us both, but arrested Jim. What had made the difference?

I thought about the deep scratches on his forearm.

I’d watched enough TV dramas to know that Jim’s skin tissue would have been underneath Anna’s nails. Was that what had sealed it for the police?

‘We’ll get him a lawyer, Mum. The best. And they’ll see there’s not enough evidence to convict him. He was outside the house? Big deal.’

I felt a hand tug at the right knee of my trousers.

‘Dad. What’s wrong with Ganny?’

I looked down at Ryan’s face. His eyes were huge and bright with tears.

‘She’s upset about Mummy,’ I answered, getting down into a crouch and as close to his eye level as I could. As I met his teary gaze, I wondered how I could ever tell him his much-loved uncle was in jail for the murder of his mother.

‘Come on and watch TV, Ryan.’

I turned to see Pat by the door. His frame was rigid with the
determination that he would do his part in our family drama. It was as if, even at his young age, he could sense the adults needed the space to deal with the big stuff and he should try and keep his brother distracted, regardless of his own feelings in the matter. ‘Aang is about to come on.’

I sent him a silent note of thanks over his brother’s head and cringed at the effort Pat was making on our behalf; worried at the eventual cost. This was not something a child his age should have to contend with.

‘Okay,’ Ryan said, his voice subdued, not yet ready to be swayed into forgetting how upset his gran had been.

‘Oh, Aang the Avatar,’ Mum said, somehow managing to inject energy into her voice. She clapped her hands. ‘I love that cartoon.’ She reached down and took Ryan’s hand and marched into the living room. As she reached the door she turned and spoke.

‘The boys are running out of clothes and stuff. You need to see if you can get into the house for their things.’

I nodded. ‘But it’s still probably a crime scene. Not sure they’ll let me in.’

‘Ask the question,’ she replied. And gave me a look. It said: do something.

I walked into the hall and picked up the phone. It was avocado green, sitting on a doily, beside a potted red-flowering plant and a small photograph of the boys in a gilded frame. All of this, like a display for visitors, on top of a half-oval table with slender legs.

And right there, in this microcosm was the story of my mother’s existence. Her affection for craft and plants, her need to keep in touch with the outside world, and her family.

My regret at the worry and pain I’d brought into her carefully constructed life almost had me buckling at the knee.

I pulled my wallet out of my pocket. Selected a card and reading the number, dialled it.

‘Karen McPherson, please?’ I asked, praying that she would be at work on a Saturday morning.

I heard her voice moments later and almost sagged with relief. I explained about Jim, and that he needed her help. And that I needed to get back into the house for clothes and toys for the boys.

‘Let me look into it and get back to you,’ she said before hanging up.

I replaced the phone on its cradle and leaned against the wall. From there I allowed myself to slide down until I was in a seated position.

Anna was dead.

Jim had been arrested for her murder.

If this didn’t have the sense of the surreal, I wasn’t sure my mind could contain the breadth and weight of it all.

Get a grip, Boyd, I told myself.

I had no idea how long I’d been sitting there when the phone rang.

I jumped up and answered. It was Karen calling back.

‘You can visit the house for the boys’ stuff. Can you be there in an hour? The police will need to chaperone you as they’re not yet finished processing the scene.’

I nodded. Then realised I needed to speak. ‘Yes. Right,’ I replied. ‘What about Jim? Have you arranged to see him?’

‘I have,’ she said. ‘And you need to prepare yourself for some bad news here, Andy.’

‘I do?’ My chest tightened. Bad news? Wasn’t there enough of that going round already.

‘Afraid so,’ she replied. ‘Your brother confessed, Andy. He told the police that he killed Anna.’

D
etectives Holton and Bairden were waiting for us outside my house. My lawyer, Karen, was sitting beside me in my car. She had insisted that she accompany me to the house in case the cops tried to wrong-step me into saying something incriminating.

From habit I parked in my drive, and then worried about how this might be perceived by the detectives.

‘My head’s full of mince,’ I said. ‘I don’t know how to behave here.’

When I saw the officers climb out of their car, solid and sober with purpose, I couldn’t have been more grateful for Karen’s presence. I turned to her in the passenger seat and sent her a smile of thanks.

‘Shouldn’t it just be some uniformed officers?’ I asked

‘They want to rattle you, Mr Boyd.’

‘It’s working.’ I exhaled. Felt a sharp twist low in my abdomen. ‘Jim confessed? What the hell’s he playing at?’

‘You know him better than I do, Mr Boyd. Could he do it?’

‘I can’t even…’ I shook my head. Looked over at my house. Saw nothing but shadow and threat.

Karen clicked open her seatbelt and looked over at me.

‘Ready for this?’ she asked.

I nodded.

‘We’ll stick to the living room and the bedrooms, okay?’

‘Why…’

‘You won’t want to go into the kitchen,’ she said and I heard the warning in her voice.

‘Right.’

Anna died there. And my mind filled with an image of her prostrate body, limbs pointing at the various compass points. I pushed
the picture from my head, released my seatbelt, tried to quell the roil and surge of nerves in my gut, and climbed out of the car.

The detectives met us at the front door. They both looked at Karen with surprise.

‘Nothing better to do on a Saturday?’ asked Holton. His tone was going for jocular, but his eyes were dismissive. As if he was questioning why she would be with a low-life like me.

She ignored his question. ‘My Boyd will need to get a suitcase out of the loft, and then gain access to both bedrooms.’

‘Understood,’ said Bairden as he looked at me. His gaze was calm and accepting of the situation, but underlying it I could sense a quiet simmer of anger.

I was desperate to ask if they had forced a confession out of Jim. What evidence did they have against him? More than anything I wanted to know how Jim was. If I could visit him and ask him what the hell had he done.

Instead I remained silent, uncertain how my questions might be viewed. Worried that my behaviour might indicate guilt or innocence, I studied the ground.

Then I gave myself a mental ticking off. An innocent man shouldn’t need to question how he acts.

‘When can I bring my boys home?’ I asked, looking at the three officials in turn.

‘It’s still a crime scene, Mr Boyd,’ Karen answered. ‘It will be released to you as soon as the investigation allows.’ Her smile was reassuring and I thanked whatever god had put her in my path. ‘In the meantime, let’s get your stuff and get you back to those wee boys of yours.’

I walked into the house, half expecting Anna to be standing in the hallway, hands on her hips. I made my way upstairs and to the loft. As I climbed the stairs I kept my focus ahead of me. I didn’t, couldn’t, allow my eyes to stray in case I saw something that I didn’t want to see.

In my mind’s eye I saw a large-blue suitcase in the far corner of
the loft and when I climbed up, it was exactly where I thought it might be.

Down in the bedrooms, I packed several changes of clothes for the boys and for myself. As I threw items into the case, Karen and Detective Holton stood by the door. One a silent support, the other a scowl in a brown suit.

‘Right. Got a DVD for Ryan,’ I said to no one in particular. ‘Just need to get Pat’s dinosaur.’ I scanned the room but it was nowhere to be seen.

I looked at the walls and there, pride of place above Ryan’s bed, was a poster of Spongebob Squarepants. And memories of happier times. This time last year, complete with buckets and small nets on the end of a two foot long bamboo pole we’d gone jelly-fishing. Pat explained it all to the grown-ups patiently. We go fishing for jellyfish, he said. Put them in the bucket, count them, guess how many might be on the beach and then release them back into the sea.

Anna had been terrified that one of us would be stung. And then grew disgusted, to the boys’ delight, when I said that if anyone did, we all had to pee on them.

I noted the feeling of sadness and tried to rid my head of the memory. I had to focus on the here and now.

‘Might it be in the living room?’ asked Karen and from the seriousness of her tone I guessed that she was a mother and well knew how disastrous it might be if I arrived at my mother’s without the requested toy.

‘There’s no toys in the living room,’ said Holton. ‘In fact, the whole house is spotless. Like a show home.’ He looked at me, studying me for a reaction. ‘Apart from where the body was…’ he tailed off.

I looked around and considered his words. Right enough, the house was spotless. I tried to remember if it had been like that when I’d come round to see the boys that night. Came up short. All I could see was their sleep-tousled faces as I bundled them into the car.

Both boys’ beds were both made. In memory, they were dressed in different sheets. Had Anna also changed their bedding? Ryan’s
had the faint impression of a body on the surface of his quilt as if someone had lain there briefly. I couldn’t imagine one of the crime of scene officers would have done so. That left Anna.

Did she lie there after I took the boys away?

Did she clean after I took the boys away?

She did keep a clean house, but was relaxed with untidy. I often heard her say that messy home was a happy one. Had she gone through the house, cleaned and put everything back in its place after I left? Why would she do that? I walked to the top of the stairs and looked around as if the place no longer belonged to me. The appearance of the place held the feel of ceremony.

‘Any ideas about this dinosaur then?’ asked Karen.

I chewed on that for a moment. ‘The garden,’ I replied. Both boys often took toys with them when they played out in the back green.

‘You’ll need to go round the outside of the house,’ Holton interrupted. ‘You can’t use the back door.’

‘Right,’ I acknowledged and walked down the stairs.

In the hallway, Holton got Bairden up to speed and the four of us stepped out of the front door, round the side to the back garden.

There was a spit of rain in the air and I looked up at the gathering mass of cloud in the near distance to assess if it might dump its load while we were outside.

Detective Bairden was walking alongside me.

‘I meet men like you all the time, Boyd. They’ve got no place for their anger so they take it out on the person they’re supposed to love the most. It’s fucking depressing.’ The heat of his irritation rose in his neck and coloured his face.

‘Get out of my face, Detective,’ I replied and lengthened my stride.

Karen caught up with me, a question in her eyes.

‘S’all right,’ I answered and shoved my hands in my pockets to hide the tremble.

The four of us stood in a line on the patio, house at our backs, facing the back fence.

‘Anybody see a dinosaur,’ asked Holton, his tone light as the realisation of the strange nature of his question hit.

‘No, but I can see a man getting away with murder,’ answered Bairden.

‘Detective, that is out of line.’ Karen was robust in her response.

So, the police weren’t buying Jim’s admission of guilt, or they thought I might also be involved somehow.

Feeling a weakness in my thighs I walked over to Ryan’s swing thinking I could scan the grass from that central point. I was also keen to show them that I didn’t care what they thought. Karen walked alongside me as if to protect me from the thoughts and scrutiny of the detectives.

‘Did Anna smoke?’ asked Karen, as she bent at the waist to study something lying between the blades of grass.

‘No,’ I replied and followed her gaze.

‘Do you?’

I shook my head.

‘Jim?’

‘Nope.’

‘Detectives?’ Karen looked at Holton and Bairden. ‘To your knowledge have any of the team come out of the house for a cigarette?’

‘They know better,’ said Bairden as if he was offended at my lawyer having the temerity to even ask the question.

‘In that case you should get an evidence bag and bring it over here.’ She looked around herself. ‘There’s another,’ she pointed and said. ‘And another.’

‘A bird could have dropped them,’ said Bairden.

‘Three? In almost the same spot?’ Karen scoffed.

I followed her eyes and spotted them. Three white stubs. Each of them with that distinct shape of the self-made.

‘Whoever it was must have been standing here for some time.’ She looked back up at the house as if imagining the thoughts of the smoker.

‘Means nothing,’ said Bairden.

‘We won’t know what it means until we analyse any DNA found on them,’ Karen replied. She gave both men a smile of challenge. ‘But I shouldn’t need to tell you gentlemen how to do your job.’

‘Ken Hunter,’ I heard myself say.

‘What?’ Holton looked at me.

‘He was married to Sheila from my work. He beat her badly. I was round at hers this morning. She had a collection of cigarette stubs just like that in her back garden.’

‘So what?’ asked Bairden.

‘He’s got a history of violence. Don’t you guys do the DNA thing? Match those cigarettes with these. That puts Hunter at this house. There’s no telling what that guy is capable of.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ said Bairden. ‘Save us from the TV crime addict.’

‘Sounds like a desperate attempt to deflect our investigation,’ said Holton. The detectives shared a look that showed they gave my theory no credence whatsoever.

‘And weren’t you getting a wee bit too cosy with this Sheila? What exactly is going on here, Mr Boyd?’ asked Bairden, taking a step closer to me.

‘Mr Boyd?’ Karen held a hand out, pointing towards the path round the side of the house. ‘We should go.’ She raised her eyebrows.

Bairden walked by my side as we made our way round to the front door.

‘We know your brother didn’t act on his own, Boyd.’

My mind was full of the implications of the cigarette stubs, thinking about the ones in Sheila’s back garden, so I didn’t respond.

Disappointed, Bairden moved closer to me, almost nudging me with his shoulder, his lips a thin line of loathing. ‘We think big brother says jump and the other asks, sure, which window?’