Staverton (24 page)

I took two steps back away from him and bumped into the desk. I looked down at the floor, where Gwen had lain, murdered, blood oozing from her head.

I shuddered.

“Did you kill her?”

“You little – ”

Lawrence moved towards me, and I flinched, convinced he was going to hit me.

The door opened.

“What’s going on?” Michael asked. He walked towards me, stared at Lawrence’s hand on my elbow. “Dad?”

Lawrence let go of my arm. “Blackmail. She’s trying to blackmail me.”

“I’m not.” I caught hold of Michael’s shirt, trying to pull him around to face me. “Michael, I wouldn’t do that.”

He disentangled my hands from his shirt. “Dad?”

“She saw me and Gwen.” Lawrence sighed and crossed to the chair behind his desk. “Now she wants something in exchange for keeping quiet.”

I couldn’t believe this was happening. Somehow he distorted things to make me look like the bad guy.

“Now, hang on a minute. I don’t want a thing from you.” My voice was rising, but I couldn’t help it. “I am not the one who...”

My voice trailed off when both men turned to the doorway. I looked over my shoulder and saw Angela, Jake and Caroline standing in the hall.

Angela’s eyes fixed on me. “How could you? Didn’t we try to help you, after your parents passed away?”

“That hasn’t got anything to do with it. He...” I pointed at Lawrence. “He is the one in the wrong.”

“Enough!” Angela raised her hands.

“But if he was with Gwen that night,” I shouted. “How do you know he didn’t kill her?”

No one replied. They surrounded me. Lawrence glared, with blazing anger in his eyes. I could feel Michael’s hand in the small of my back, propelling me towards the door.

“I’d like you to leave, Lucy. Right now,” Angela said in a shaky voice.

I walked to the entrance hall, reeling at how quickly things had deteriorated. Michael walked beside me.

“I didn’t mean... I shouldn’t have said all that, but I got so angry when he accused me of blackmail, making me out to be the villain.”

“Have you packed?”

“Yes, my bags are upstairs.”

“I’ll get them.”

I watched him walk away, and then climb the curved staircase. How had it all gone wrong so quickly?

I needed to get out of here. I opened the front door, walked down the stone steps and sat on the bottom step, resting my head on my knees.

“How dare you? How bloody dare you?” Caroline shouted as she came clattering down the steps. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why couldn’t you leave it alone?”

“It was him. Your father was having an affair with Gwen.”

“You stupid –”

“All right Caroline, that’s enough,” Michael said as he carried my case down the steps.

Caroline ran back up the steps and into the house, slamming the door behind her.

Michael said nothing, he just stared down at me.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. And I was. Sorry it had turned out this way.

“What did you really see that night?”

“I saw Gwen, in the study, and a man... your father.”

“Then why all that nonsense about Jake?”

“He had his back to me, and they looked similar, both wearing evening dress.” I shrugged. “At first, I thought it was Jake, now, I know it was Lawrence, but I wasn’t trying to blackmail anyone.”

“Jake is bringing the car around, from the garage. He’ll give you a lift to the station.” Michael kept his back to me, staring down the driveway. His shoulders rose as he took a deep breath.

“I know you’re angry with me. I understand why,” I said.

He turned so quickly, I shifted back on the stone step. He didn’t look angry, but I couldn’t read his expression.

The low rumble of an engine caught our attention, and Jake pulled up at the front of the house.

I stood up and put a hand on Michael’s arm. “I’m sorry. I ruined it.”

Michael closed his eyes briefly, then moved forward to open the passenger door for me. He put my case in the boot of the car.

I climbed into the car, fastened my seatbelt and opened my window to say goodbye, but he turned away and walked back inside the house.

Jake drove in silence. The tight set of his jaw made me think it was better to keep quiet. I’d been stupid to blurt it all out like that. Who’d want to hear their father had been having an affair? I couldn’t blame them for being angry. But I hated how Lawrence managed to turn it around to make me look bad, when he was the one who’d had the affair.

We were almost at the train station when I spoke. “I’m sorry, Jake. No one wants to hear things like that about their father.” I looked down at my lap and ran my hands along my legs, smoothing out the creases in my trousers.

“Doesn’t stop it being true, though,” Jake said.

I turned to Jake. “You knew he was having an affair with Gwen?”

Jake pulled into the station car park. “He’s been cheating on Mum for years.”

He reversed into a parking spot near the entrance and switched the engine off. He unfastened his seatbelt and turned around in his seat to look at me. “We all knew about it.”

“But?”

“No one likes their dirty linen aired in public.” He gave a crooked smile. “Isn’t that the expression?”

“So you all knew he was having an affair with Gwen, but did anyone tell the police?”

Jake gave a tight smile. “I think it would be better if you would move on, Lucy. It was five years ago.”

“But what about Malcolm? He says he didn’t kill her, and he thinks she had an affair with you!”

Jake shook his head. “Look, Lucy. There is no way my father would have killed Gwen. Think about it. Isn’t it far more likely Malcolm found out about the affair and got jealous? Jealous enough to kill her.”

I didn’t know. I couldn’t imagine either of them actually killing her.

“And how do we know Gwen wasn’t seeing other men on the side?” Jake said.

“I don’t really think your father killed her, but...”

“He might be a cheat, but Dad’s not a killer.”

I made a show of looking at my watch. “I’d better get going. Thanks for the lift.”

We got out of the car, and Jake pulled my case from the boot.

I entered the station and waited a few minutes, until I was sure Jake would have driven off. Then I left the station, heading into the small town, wheeling the case behind me.

If I remembered correctly, and it hadn’t been moved, there was a police station at the far end of the high street.

Chapter 36

As soon as I entered the police station, I realised my mistake.

A harassed sergeant stood at the front desk. In front of him, an irate middle-aged man threw his arms about and shouted about the disgraceful behaviour of traffic-wardens. While the sergeant tried to appease the stressed man, I looked around the waiting area.

There was a row of four plastic seats behind a coffee table covered with leaflets offering advice on home security. A small, old lady sat, hunched over, on one of the seats, clasping her handbag to her chest. I sat down next to her.

And waited.

After half an hour, the middle-aged man still hadn’t shut up. The sergeant only managed to get out a few words before he was cut off in another tirade. I glanced at the clock. This tiny village police station was hardly likely to contain a murder squad. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the desk sergeant was the only police officer on duty.

I sighed. Perhaps I should have phoned instead, or tried to track down an officer who worked on the original investigation.

I turned to the old woman next to me. “Have you been waiting long?”

The old woman hugged her bag closer to her chest and looked me up and down. “And what’s it got to do with you?”

“Oh, well, I...nothing, I suppose.”

The old lady gave me a scathing look and moved along two seats, so she was no longer sitting beside me. So much for the idea that small towns are friendly, I thought.

The desk sergeant handed the man in front of him a pile of forms. “There you go, fill those in.”

The angry man grabbed up the forms, walked over to the waiting area and sat down heavily.

The desk sergeant caught my eye. “Can I help you?”

“Um.” I stood up and crossed to the desk. “Actually, I think the other lady was waiting before me.”

The desk sergeant peered over my shoulder. “Oh, don’t worry about Doris. She’s here most mornings.”

“Oh?”

The sergeant leaned forward and lowered his voice. “She forgets how to get home. I’ll drive her home after my shift.”

I turned to look at Doris, who was now holding her bag even tighter.

“What are you gawping at?” Doris snapped.

I turned back to the desk. “I need to talk to someone about an old case.”

“I see, and which case would that be?”

“It concerns the murder of Gwen Rutherford. I have information that could be relevant to the investigation.”

The desk sergeant paused, and thoughtfully chewed the end of his pen. “I remember that case. It happened just up the road at Staverton house.”

“Yes. I was there. The thing is – ”

“Hang on. That case was solved. Her husband was charged and sentenced.”

“Yes, I know, but you see, she was having an affair, and I don’t think anyone informed the police at the time.”

The sergeant held up his hands. “All right. I’ll get you a form.”

“A form?”

“Yes, you fill it in, and someone will get back to you and make an appointment to talk to you about it.”

“Actually, I was hoping to speak to someone today.”

“Today?” He looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.

“Yes. I have to get back to Edinburgh.”

He sighed and picked up the phone on his desk. “I’ll see what I can do.” He thrust a form at me. “Fill that in while you’re waiting.”

I took the form back across to the seating area and sat down, taking care to leave a one seat gap between me and Doris. Glancing up at the clock, I realised I had already waited for forty minutes.

I pulled a pen from my bag and began filling in the boxes for my name and address.

An hour later and two further forms completed, I was still waiting. I picked up my bag to look for my mobile phone. I wanted to check the times for later trains to Scotland as the one I’d planned to catch had long since departed.

My phone wasn’t in the side pocket of my bag. I rummaged through every section, but it wasn’t there. I removed every item from my bag and set it on the small table in front of me, but I still couldn’t find my phone. I didn’t have it. I must have left it at Staverton. Brilliant.

I was about to tell the desk sergeant to forget the whole thing, when a woman walked into the station. She exchanged glances with the sergeant, who nodded at me.

The woman walked forward and offered her hand. “Lucy Carter?”

“Yes.” I shook the woman’s hand.

“I’m DC Green, would you like to follow me, please?”

DC Green led me over to an internal door, tapped a security code into the panel beside it and yanked it open. We walked down a narrow corridor and entered a small interview room.

“Please, take a seat.” DC Green nodded at one of the orange plastic chairs in front of the desk.

I sat and waited while DC Green took her jacket off, then I tried to explain why I was there.

DC Green stayed quiet while I talked. The detectives pale eyes gave nothing away.

When I finished talking, DC Green leaned forward and said, “What is your relationship with Malcolm Rutherford?”

“Relationship? We don’t have a relationship. I only met him a few times.”

“But you visited him in prison?”

“Just once. He asked me to go.”

“I see.”

I frowned at the detective. What did she see?

“Look, I thought it was important the police knew about Gwen’s affair with Lawrence Harrington. In case, well just in case it changes things.”

“Changes things?”

“Yes. Perhaps it sheds new light on the case.”

“But the case is closed.”

I stared at the detective. “I know that.”

There was a knock at the door, and the desk sergeant poked his head in. “Are you nearly done? I’m going to take my lunch-break and take Doris home.”

DC Green picked up her jacket. “Yes, I think we’re just about done here.” She nodded at me. “Thank you for coming in.”

I stood up. “Is that it?”

DC Green moved across to the door. “We have your details. We’ll be in touch.”

Chapter 37

The desk sergeant had at least called me a taxi. I climbed into the back and asked the driver to take me to Staverton. I needed to get my mobile, before heading back to Edinburgh.

I hadn’t expected the police to be overwhelmed with gratitude when I told them about Gwen’s affair, but still they could have shown a small amount of interest.

At least I had done what I could for Malcolm.

As the taxi crawled up the driveway, with the gravel crunching under its tyres, I swallowed. My mouth felt dry. Perhaps coming back wasn’t a good idea, perhaps I should have asked them to send me the phone.

I saw a car parked up in front of the house.

“That’ll be eight pounds,” the taxi driver said.

I counted out the money. “Could you wait, please? I’ll only be a minute, then I need to get to the train station.”

The driver nodded, and I got out of the car and walked briskly to the front door. As I climbed the steps, Michael appeared in the doorway, carrying a canvas.

Something flickered behind his dark eyes, and I had to look away.

“I forgot my phone,” I said.

“Right.” He set the canvas down and tilted it back to lean against the wall. “I was about to take this to the gallery.” He nodded at the painting. “Do you know where it is?”

“The gallery?”

He smiled. “No. Your phone.”

“I think I left it in the bedroom.”

“I’ll get it,” he said and disappeared into the house.

I looked down the driveway, making sure my taxi was still waiting. Then I took a deep breath as my eyes took in Staverton, one last time. I didn’t imagine I’d be invited back, or that I would want to come back anyway.

I looked down at the canvas. He had leaned the front of the painting towards the wall. I was very tempted to bend down and take a peek, but I heard footsteps and turned away.