Dead and Buried (28 page)

Rose watched as he got up, walked across to the window and looked down into the street. He had his back to her. She wondered what he was thinking.

‘Do you think he tried to set my dad up?’ he suddenly said.

Rose didn’t answer straight away. She pictured Munroe in his smart clothes, in his apartment by the river. She remembered how cold he had been in Newcastle. Then a week or so before he had hurt her hand and threatened her parents with an
ugly
end.

‘Deliberately make it look as though Dad killed her?’ Joshua went on, turning round to face her.

‘Why would he? He was his friend. They were involved in
The
Butterfly Project
together.’

‘He used Dad’s tie, though. He could have taken it off the girl’s hands afterwards, disposed of it but he left it there. And he buried Daisy in Dad’s garden. He could have waited until dark and taken her body away.’

‘Maybe he panicked?’

‘That grave took a long time to dig. There was no panic there.’

‘But why?’

‘So he could never get charged with it?’

‘And if the grave was found someone else would be suspected?’

Joshua swore gently, under his breath. ‘So Munroe gets away with Daisy’s murder as well as Skeggsie.’

‘No. He won’t get away with it. Let’s go and see him,’ Rose said. ‘I know he won’t get arrested for it but maybe we could get something out of this. Something that will help Mum and Brendan.’

But it won’t help Daisy
, Rose thought, but didn’t say it.

They took the Mini and drove to Surrey Quays and parked a couple of streets away from Munroe’s flat. They talked for a few moments going over the things they were going to say. Then they got out of the car and walked through the tiny square across to the building that had once been a primary school. It was the second primary school building that Rose had been in that day. She rang his bell. His voice came through the speaker, curt.

‘Yes?’

‘It’s Rose and Joshua. We need to speak to you.’

There was a sigh from Munroe.

‘I’m going out shortly. Can’t this wait until tomorrow?’

‘No.’

‘Well, my dear Rose, it will have to. I have an important engagement tonight . . .’

‘It’s about Daisy Lincoln,’ Rose said.

There was silence. Rose was about to repeat herself when the speaker clicked off and the wooden gate began to slide open. Rose and Joshua walked inside and headed up to Munroe’s apartment. When they got out of the lift Munroe was standing at his front door and stared sullenly at both of them as they walked along the passageway. When they got to his door he stepped back a fraction making them both squeeze past him.

There was music playing. It was low, classical. It was like something Anna would play while she was having breakfast. On the table Munroe’s things were laid out – cufflinks, rings, a coin purse, wallet, phone. There was a thick white card with gold embossed print. Over the back of one of the chairs were three ties. A jacket hung over another. Munroe hadn’t been lying when he said he was going out somewhere. Joshua picked up the white card and read it out loud.

‘The Metropolitan Police Senior Officers’ Reunion. An invitation to James Munroe. Please attend the Barnaby Suite at the Royal Swan Hotel, Hyde Park. Drinks at nine p.m. Lounge suits. This doesn’t start until nine. You have plenty of time.’

‘I have someone else to see beforehand,’ he said tersely.

‘We’re just wondering how you actually met Daisy Lincoln?’

‘What?’

‘The girl who you had an affair with.’

‘You are referring to the girl whose body was found?’

‘Let’s not waste time. I saw her get into your car. A green Saab. I didn’t know it was your car at the time . . .’

‘Is this a joke?’

‘I saw her.’

‘I am not the only person in London to have owned a green Saab . . .’

‘And a cottage in Stiffkey.’

‘The landlord of the Brewster Road house.’

‘A man with a tattoo of a butterfly. I’m assuming you have the tattoo!’

‘This is ridiculous.’

‘It’s true. Why don’t you just explain it to us? There’s no point in lying. It’s not like we can go to the police with the information. The
law
doesn’t apply here. You’ve told us that already. You know where Mum and Brendan are going. You hold their future in your hands. We’ve got nothing on you.’

‘Then why can’t you both leave things alone?’

Rose stared at Munroe. She suddenly thought of the day Margaret Spicer had come to her college. She’d sat in the silver SUV and heard her speak sadly about him.

‘Did Margaret Spicer find out about you and Daisy? Is that why she left you?’

Munroe’s expression cracked. He seemed upset.

‘She must have heard about the discovery of the body.’ Rose continued. ‘Maybe she saw a picture of the dead girl in the newspapers. She recognised her, didn’t she? From 2007? She’d seen you together.’

Munroe looked down at the ground. Then, seconds later, he seemed to straighten up. He picked up one of his cufflinks and began to put it on. He fiddled with it, pulling the cuffs together awkwardly.

‘Margaret knows, doesn’t she? That’s why she came to see me. She wanted me to know that
she
wasn’t involved in Skeggsie’s death.
She
never intended that Skeggsie should die. That’s what she wanted to tell me because she knew that what happened to Daisy was intended. That you meant to kill her. Margaret knew. As soon as Daisy’s body was discovered she knew you’d killed her.’

‘Why do you meddle!’ Munroe said, folding his cuff back and picking up the second cufflink. ‘The girl came for a job at Margaret’s security company. Margaret was out that day. I interviewed her. Sadly she was too young to work for us. I told her and she was disappointed. I saw her address and obviously it got us talking. She lived in the road where I owned a house. As she left the interview she said
If you’re in my street you could take me out for a drink . . .
She walked off but then came back moments later and gave me her mobile number on a piece of paper. This was a direct invitation to me and I took it up.’

‘She was eighteen.’

‘She did all the running, I can assure you. We spent some time together. I took her to Norfolk. I took her to a few London hotels but then she became tiresome. She said she was in love.’

Munroe straightened his cuffs and walked along the table to the chair that held the ties. He picked one up and held it under the light. He put it back on the chair and then took another. He lifted his collar up and draped the tie around his neck.

‘That summer was difficult,’ he said, finally turning back to look at them. ‘There was a lot going on. There was the fallout from the Baranski judgement. In July there was the Michael McCall judgement. A quick case, dealt with by Frank. I had to keep a cool head, had to arrange things for him and for your mother and father. New passports do not come easy. Strings have to be pulled, people have to be paid and every time I had a free moment there was a text on my phone from this girl. And then Margaret saw us together. I swore to Margaret that it was over. But the girl kept on calling. I gave in. I agreed to meet her at the house in Brewster Road. We met there three times.’

‘You gave her my mother’s pendant.’

‘No, she took it. She stole it. It was one of the reasons that I got so angry with her. She was . . . unstable. The last time we met I knew I had to put a stop to it. I never intended to kill her. Things just got out of hand.’

Joshua made a snorting sound. ‘You never mean to kill anyone. You didn’t mean to kill Skeggsie either . . .’

‘I’m tired of you and your whining. You’ve heard what you came to hear. Now leave me alone.’

‘You tied her hands with Brendan’s tie. You were trying to make it seem as though he’d killed her.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I picked up the first thing that came to hand.’

‘That’s not true. You used his tie so that it would look like he’d done it. Just in case my dad ever got to be a problem for you. It was a perfect crime to fit him up for.’

‘This is nonsense. What does it matter what I used? It happened. I intended to frighten her. But she said things . . . that I couldn’t allow. She spoke about telling Margaret . . .’

‘And you buried her in our garden.’

‘Strictly speaking, Rose, it was my garden. Now, if you don’t mind, I have somewhere to go.’

‘Let’s get out of here, Rose.’

‘Yes, please go.’

Joshua walked off. Rose heard him at the front door.

‘How can you be so unfeeling about Daisy?’

‘Don’t think I did not suffer after what happened to Daisy,’ Munroe said, looking drawn. ‘I did suffer. I saw my role as an avenger of crime. Not a perpetrator. Maybe it’s why I’ve been so determined to carry out the judgements. To rid the world of people who commit murder without a whiff of conscience.’

‘But aren’t you just like them?’

‘A world of difference. You should go now. And remember what I said about your parents. After tonight they can have a very nice life in British Columbia. As long as you both keep your mouths shut.’

‘What about Margaret? Aren’t you worried that she will go to the police?

‘Margaret will never betray me.’

‘Come on, Rose,’ Joshua called.

She watched Munroe putting his rings on. The music came to an end and the apartment seemed unnaturally quiet. She closed the door without a sound.

Joshua drove. After a few minutes he pulled over to the side. They were far enough away from Munroe’s apartment. He turned off the ignition and they sat for a moment. He undid his seat belt. Rose was nervous.

‘Do you think it worked?’

‘Hope so,’ he said.

He turned on the inside light and pulled Skeggsie’s tiny recording machine from his pocket. He fiddled with the buttons and then held it out.

‘“. . . Strings have to be pulled, people have to be paid and every time I had a free moment there was a text on my phone from this girl. And then Margaret saw us together. I swore to Margaret that it was over. But the girl kept on calling. I gave in. I agreed to meet her at the house in Brewster Road. We met there three times.”

“You gave her my mother’s pendant.”

“No, she took it. She stole it. It was one of the reasons that I got so angry with her. She was . . . unstable. The last time we met I knew I had to put a stop to it. I never intended to kill her. Things just got out of hand.”’

Joshua smiled at Rose.

‘Let’s see what Dad and Kathy think of Munroe now.’

TWENTY-EIGHT

The Lord Buckingham Hotel was busy. A coach of tourists had arrived and their cases were clogging up the reception area. Rose went round them and headed for the stairs. Joshua followed her. The staff were occupied and no one seemed to notice them or question why they were going up to the rooms. Rose had no idea if her mother would still be here or whether she would have already left for Tate Modern.

When her mother’s room door opened she was surprised to see Brendan standing there. He was wearing a smart dark suit.

‘What are you doing here?’ he said, holding the door ajar.

‘We’ve come to see you. There’s something important you have to hear.’

Rose pushed at the door but Brendan seemed to be blocking it.

‘Let us in, Dad.’

Brendan stood back. When Rose walked in she saw her mother sitting on the bed, her face red and puffy from crying. She was wearing a dressing gown and had a bunched handkerchief at her nose.

‘Mum,’ she said, alarmed.

‘Your mother always gets like this before a judgement. I shouldn’t really be here but she called me . . .’

Her mother was patting her face and sniffing. She straightened her back and seemed as though she was trying to pull herself together.

‘You can’t do this. You can’t go and kill in this cold-blooded way. It’s not right.’

‘We can’t have this conversation, Rose. Not again. We have a job to do.’

Her mother’s clothes were on a hanger hooked to the outside of a wardrobe – a dark skirt, jacket and white shirt. Black and white. These were the colours that Rose insisted on wearing. She looked at them now with a feeling of dread. An executioner’s uniform.

‘Dad, your group, this project, whatever you want to call it, you all feel that everything you’ve done has been for completely
just
reasons?’

‘Of course. Everything we’ve done has been shaped by principles, by rules. We are not some bunch of renegades. We are police officers carrying out justice. Tonight will be the very same. We have rules, guidelines. It is planned to the letter.’

Brendan pointed to a zip-up bag that was sitting on the bed. It was small, a bag that might carry a camera and a tourist guide. Instantly she knew it held the gun, the American hardware that Munroe had provided for the killing.