Sleep Tight (13 page)

‘Nic took the call and he said she sounded as if she was crying. She was really distressed. I’m not worried. I’m just wondering what on earth would make her cry. I guess I’d better find out.’

Becky sat down at her desk and consulted the message that Nic had given her. She picked up her phone and dialled. Tom took the seat opposite and listened to what Becky was saying, but it wasn’t very enlightening.

‘There’s no need to get upset, Mrs Evans. I’m sure you haven’t done anything wrong at all. No, really – it’s fine. Just tell me what happened and what was said.’

Becky’s side of the conversation was peppered with long pauses, but after a couple of minutes she looked up at Tom with wide open eyes.

‘You’ve done really well, Mrs Evans. Thank you for telling us, and don’t worry about a thing. Do you have a copy of the photograph?’

Photograph?
Could they finally be in luck and have a picture of these children?

‘Can you let me have the name of the person who sent it to you, then – and contact details if possible. That would be a huge help. Yes, I’ve got a pen. And something to write on.’ Becky looked at Tom and shook her head with a small smile. ‘Yes, I’ve got that, Mrs Evans. Don’t worry. No, you don’t need to repeat it. And if I’ve got any questions, I’ll call you back. Thank you, and please don’t upset yourself any more. You’ve done the right thing.’

Becky hung up, and Tom looked at her expectantly.

‘Just give me two minutes to brief somebody, and I’ll be with you,’ Becky said, pushing her seat back. ‘I need to pay Mr Brookes another visit. If you’re coming, I’ll tell you on the way.’ Becky walked quickly over to Ryan, who appeared to be the only person not on the phone, passed him the note and gave him some rapid instructions that Tom couldn’t hear.

‘Ready?’ she asked, picking up her bag and keys. Her movements were brisk and purposeful, and there was a determination about her that hadn’t been there before.

‘Ready,’ replied Tom. Whatever Mrs Evans had told Becky, her eyes were glinting with anger.

20

Becky had clearly decided she was driving, and marched towards her car without giving Tom a chance to express an opinion. He couldn’t avoid getting in her car forever though, and at least the roads were marginally less chaotic than the London streets in which he had first experienced her rather manic style of driving. As she drove, Becky repeated everything Mrs Evans had told her, punctuating each indignant comment by swerving round another car or slamming her foot hard on the brakes as she realised she was about to have a head-on collision with a vehicle coming the opposite way.

‘So, what do you think?’ she asked, when she had completed the story, totally unperturbed by the number of near misses.

Hanging on to the grab handle in an effort to maintain his balance, Tom hoped he had managed to absorb the key points.

‘Apart from the fact that Brookes is a bastard, I think it sounds highly suspicious. How do you want to play this?’

Becky chewed her bottom lip. ‘Well, I’m happy to question him, but actually I think he sees you as more of a threat than me. I’ve seen the way he looks at you – he doesn’t know what you’re thinking, but I’m just a dumb woman, unworthy of his concern. If you’re up for it, I think you should question him. I’ll watch and listen – see if there’s anything I can pick up on.’

Tom had been hoping she would say that, but didn’t want to bamboozle her. There was no time to discuss it further, though, as he realised with some relief that they had arrived at their destination. The car skidded to a standstill at the bottom of the Brookes’ drive.

‘I don’t think we should muddy the water with the information about the laptops or the passports just yet,’ Becky said. ‘I want to get a clear reaction from him when we tell him what Mrs Evans said to me.’

Tom nodded his agreement as they walked from the car to the top of the drive. There
was a sudden grating sound of metal scraping on something solid.

‘Christ – that noise went right through me. What the hell is it?’ Becky said, screwing up her face.

‘Sounds like the neighbour’s not quite got the measure of that digger he’s driving,’ Tom answered with a smile. No doubt the guy thought he could save money by doing a job himself that would be best left to the experts. A loud expletive came from next door as the sound of machinery came to an abrupt halt. The digger seemed to have cut out.

Robert opened the door within seconds of their knock, as if he’d been watching for somebody to arrive. He looked truly dreadful.

‘Do you have any news?’ he asked. His eyes looked dull and lifeless, and Tom couldn’t read their expression.

‘I’m not sure, sir. We haven’t found your wife and children, I’m afraid. But there have been some developments.’

Robert opened the door fully, and indicated that they should come in. His face had returned to what Tom now recognised as a fairly habitual scowl with his chin lowered towards his chest. When looking at Tom, he just raised his eyes, and there was something slightly eerie about the expression.

Robert stood in the centre of the hallway, not suggesting that they come in or sit down, only closing the door fully when the digger started up again.

‘Well?’ he said.

‘Earlier this morning, you went to see Mrs Evans at the guest house in Anglesey,’ Tom stated.

Robert pushed his hands into his trouser pockets and leaned casually against the wall. ‘You already knew that. We’ve spoken since then.’

‘I know, Mr Brookes. But could you tell us what you said to Mrs Evans, please?’

Tom could see a slight stiffening of Robert’s body. He must have guessed they knew more than they did earlier.

‘I wanted to find out why she’d said I’d visited Olivia ten days ago when I knew for a fact that I hadn’t. She confirmed that she’d never seen me before.’

‘But she didn’t see
who
the visitor was. She was never introduced.’

‘She may not have been introduced, Chief Inspector, but she’s a seaside landlady. She saw exactly who visited – and she knows it wasn’t me.’

‘Really. And what else did she tell you?’

‘What do you mean?’ Robert tried to look confused, but failed.

‘Come on, Mr Brookes. Stop playing games. She told you that whoever was
claiming
to be Robert Brookes stayed the night in your wife’s room. She told you that, didn’t she? It wasn’t a visitor for some other guest. It was a visitor for your wife.’

Robert’s mouth settled into a hard line, his casual stance replaced with a defiant pose – legs apart, arms folded.

‘And did you expect me to repeat it? Did you expect me to admit that another man had apparently slept with my wife?’

‘If it’s true, then frankly, yes,’ Tom answered. ‘You claim you want your wife and children found, so don’t you think it was quite a vital piece of information?’

Robert didn’t answer.

‘Not only did you avoid telling us this, but you also asked Mrs Evans not to tell us. In fact, from what she’s said to us, you threatened her.’

Robert scoffed. ‘Hardly a threat, Chief Inspector. I asked her to say nothing. I wanted to protect Olivia’s reputation.’

‘You threatened Mrs Evans’ livelihood. Physical violence isn’t the only form of intimidation, Mr Brookes, and saying you would slam her business on every review website, which is where most of her customers find her, and call it a “house of ill-repute”, which I am sure are her words, not yours, was a dirty trick.’

Robert’s eyes darted from Tom to Becky and back. But he didn’t speak.

‘How long have you known your wife was having an affair? And just how mad did it make you?’

‘She wasn’t having an affair. She wouldn’t…’ Robert stopped mid sentence.

‘Were you about to say, “She wouldn’t dare,” Mr Brookes?’ Tom asked.

Robert lifted his hand and scratched his head. Tom knew he was rattled. He opened the file in his hand and took out a photograph, but held it face side down for the moment.

‘You may have got Mrs Evans to tell us that she made a mistake. You may even have managed to convince yourself that she really
did
get it wrong, and the visitor was to another guest room. But there’s one thing you
were
right about. She did sneak a look at who was going up her staircase. She told us something she didn’t dare tell you – that the man who slept in your wife’s room was of a non-white ethnic origin. She wasn’t quite sure where he was from – either Middle Eastern or maybe mixed race were her best guesses. Does that mean something to you? Does it suggest to you who it might be?’

Robert shook his head. ‘Of course not. I think she’s making this up as she goes along.’

Tom turned over the photograph that Becky had provided en route.

‘Do you recognise this person, Mr Brookes?’ he asked.

Robert looked at the photo, and his lips narrowed into a thin line.

‘Yes.’

‘Could you please identify who you believe this to be?’

Robert paused, and when he spoke it seemed to be with great difficulty.

‘It’s Danush Jahander.’ He looked at Tom with cold flat eyes. ‘Why are you showing me a picture of him?’

‘How well did you know Danush Jahander,’ Tom asked.

Robert shook his head.

‘Never met the guy. I’ve seen his photo, though. When I first met Olivia, the flat was full of pictures of him. Like a shrine, it was.’

‘You bought that flat from your wife – that’s right, isn’t it?’ Tom asked.

‘Yes, it’s how we met.’

‘But it seems that all three of you went to Manchester University – that’s certainly where your wife met Mr Jahander. Did you not know them there?’

Robert‘s mouth curled up at one side in a sneer.

‘Do you have any idea how many students there are at Manchester University, Chief Inspector? I was a nerd – obsessed by computers. I didn’t really become human until I started work and realised I would actually have to communicate if I wanted to achieve anything in this life. Then I met Olivia, and she turned me into the family man I am now. Why are you asking me about Jahander, anyway? He’s long gone.’

‘Would you be surprised if I told you that Danush Jahander may have been the man visiting your wife in Anglesey?’

The tension in Robert’s face appeared to evaporate and Tom saw something akin to amusement in his eyes.

‘Is that funny, sir?’

Robert looked down.

‘Not funny at all. No. But he disappeared years ago. He’s never been heard of since, as far as I’m aware. He’s hardly likely to have turned up in Anglesey of all places, is he?’

‘He hadn’t disappeared altogether. It seems his brother has had some contact with him.’

Robert’s head shot up. This was clearly news he was not expecting at all. His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

‘There’s something else we’d like to discuss with you. Do you think we could sit down?’ Tom asked.

Robert shook his head. ‘No need. I’m fine standing up. Just tell me.’

‘Okay – tell me about your trips to Anglesey. How many times have you been, and where did you stay?’

Robert blew out a long breath through pursed lips, as if he thought the question irrelevant.

‘We’ve been going for years. We used to stay at a guest house in Moelfre. Sometimes I went, and other times Olivia went alone with the children if I was working. It was a safe place for her. The landlady knew us well.’

‘Tell me again why you changed to the guest house in Cemaes Bay?’

‘I’m sure I’ve told you all this – when Olivia tried to book last October, after our summer holiday, she got an answerphone message to say that the B&B was closed for the foreseeable future due to illness. She passed me the phone so I could hear it for myself. It was a voice we didn’t recognise, so we guessed it was the landlady who was ill. Olivia did some scouting round and found the new place. I checked it out online, and I was due to go with them in the summer.’

‘So Olivia has visited there three times without you – October, Easter and last week – and you had never been there until the early hours of Saturday morning? Is that correct?’

‘Yes. I’ve told you all of this.’

‘Was Oak Cottage the guest house in Moelfre?’ Tom asked.

‘I don’t remember telling you that, but yes, it was.’

‘You didn’t tell us, Mr Brookes. We had the local police check out the various options, and they confirmed it.’

‘So why are you asking me then?’

‘Would it surprise you to hear that the guest house is open for business, and the landlady was disappointed when your wife cancelled the bookings for this year? She hasn’t been ill at all, and appears as hearty as ever.’

Robert’s brows knitted together.

‘Perhaps she changed her mind about taking bookings – it’s a possibility, isn’t it?’

‘Or perhaps your wife needed to change guest houses so she could entertain her lover. If the landlady had met you before, that wouldn’t have been possible.’

‘That’s a ridiculous idea,’ Robert scoffed.

‘Is it? We also understand from Mrs Evans that she had a picture of your wife, and you took it. You are fully aware that we haven’t got any photos of your wife or children, and that we’ve been very keen to find something we can issue to the press. Why did you keep the photo from us?’

Robert was looking increasingly uncomfortable, and didn’t appear to have an answer. He looked down at the floor.

‘Could you get the photograph for us now, please. We’d like to take it with us and have copies made. We’ll return it to you as soon as possible.’

Tom was shocked by the expression on Robert’s face when he looked up. His eyes were narrowed and his mouth had tightened further. Robert’s voice was quiet, but harsh.

‘I don’t have the photograph. I tore it up.’

21

Robert thought the police would never go. He’d kept them standing in the hall, but it hadn’t made any difference. The Chief Inspector had found it difficult to contain his anger when Robert told him he had destroyed the photo, and that DI Robinson seemed to be studying him as if he were something on a petri dish.

He grabbed the keys from the kitchen table and went into his study, booting the computer up on his way past and making his way over to the bookcase while he waited for the operating system to spring into life. He didn’t think he’d got much time. Shifting a load of books to one side, he prised open the bookcase’s false back and retrieved the leather covered document case from where it had been hidden since the day they had moved into this house. He hammered the plywood back into place with the heel of his hand, then put the books back. He stuck the document case into a bag, and picked up the phone.