The Backs (2013) (27 page)

Instead the shuddering began as she dried herself. Her hands started to shake as she pulled her pyjamas over damp skin, fighting with the legs as they clung to her thighs. She put on a sweatshirt over the top, then bundled herself on to her bed, folding the duvet around her body and then up round her ears. Knowing the room was actually warm didn’t help her stop shivering; the coldness ran to her core.

She reached out from her cocoon and flicked through channels on the television until she found the right level of bland. Snooker today. She didn’t even know the rules. The placid green rectangle of baize, hushed audience and the tapping of cue and balls played out meaninglessly. Bit by bit the warmth returned and the panic died away.

Andie closed her eyes, still listening to the comforting rhythm of the frames being played. Those sounds eventually drifted into the background as she visualized tomorrow’s trip to Burleigh Street, mentally walking herself along the route and promising herself that she could do it. A week ago that idea would have felt hopeless, but possibilities were gradually appearing, and budding gently where four weeks earlier everything has been razed.

She lost herself in these thoughts, drifting between them for a while, until she jolted back into the moment. As the interruption came loud and hard, she reorientated herself, then realized – someone was knocking at her door.

Carmel Marshall wasn’t impressed.

She hadn’t even been impressed when Gully had rung to inform her that Marks himself planned to visit. Gully had explained that she’d be accompanying him, as it was ‘protocol for a female officer to be present in certain situations’. Carmel Marshall’s mood had darkened further.

‘If there’s someone else you’d like to have with you, that’s fine, Mrs Marshall.’

‘Like a friend you mean?’

‘Or a colleague.’ As she’d said it, Gully remembered that Carmel didn’t work. ‘Or relative,’ she had added.

‘But you’re coming with the policeman because of the sensitive nature of the conversation we’ll be having?’

‘There are some questions he’ll be asking . . .’

‘I get it and, no, I don’t want someone else there. I’m not at all impressed that you think you can just turn up and demand to see me just like that.’ She’d snapped out the words, then the receiver had rattled angrily back on to its rest.

And when she’d opened the front door to them she’d made it clear again. Even if she’d opened the door smiling, and claiming to be keen to help, Gully doubted she’d have warmed to her. Carmel Marshall looked like the kind of woman who didn’t pick ’n’ mix her own outfits, but shopped by purchasing the mannequin’s whole look. Attractive but unimaginative.

They’d followed Mrs Marshall into the sitting room, where she pointed them towards the settee. She positioned herself on the armchair furthest away before reciting another couple of reasons why they’d failed to impress her. ‘If you are going to call me at no notice and just expect me to make myself available to you, then I’m not really being given the chance to get my head straight, am I?’

Marks had switched immediately to his diplomatic but firm tone. ‘Any investigation of this kind is protracted and, by nature, will involve elements that we can’t plan for, or inform you of, ahead of time. I’m sorry but these are questions I am forced to ask.’

‘I don’t have anything to say.’

Marks spent several more minutes going over the situation, and barely seemed to notice Carmel Marshall’s complaints bouncing back at him. He’d probably see her tetchiness as a natural reaction to the stress she was under. Of course, he’d be right to at least give her the benefit of that doubt. Gully reminded herself that she was there to support, not judge. She stood up, produced her best attempt at a serene expression and offered to make hot drinks.

‘I don’t want you in my kitchen,’ Carmel snapped.

‘I’m only looking for a way we can break the ice here. Would you prefer to make some tea? I can keep you company while you do.’

Carmel remained stony-faced, and Marks then cut in.

‘There are two of us here for a reason, but part of our training is to understand that you may find it hard to begin to talk to me with a third person in the room. And PC Gully is trying to give the dialogue a chance to get rolling.’

Carmel leant back in her seat, folded her arms and glared. ‘Make your drinks, then.’

Gully disappeared into the kitchen, filled the kettle and hoped it would be slow to boil.
Unlike me
, she thought, reflecting that her own suggestion of coming out here while Carmel made drinks had filled her with dread.

The colour scheme in the kitchen and adjoining dining area had come from the same ‘natural’ palette as she’d already seen in the hall and living room. It looked to her like several shades of cardboard.

What was her problem with this woman? So what if the furnishings and décor in this room had been bought with the same mindset as her clothes. Gully would not have been surprised to open a ‘kitchen and dining’ page in last year’s
Next Directory
and discover that this room had been an item A – P replication of their show model. She guessed that her inability to imagine herself in any kind of home-making role might be at the core of this feeling. It wasn’t therefore a reason to disrespect the woman.

But equally, what was Carmel’s problem with them?

Gully still had no answer by the time the kettle had finished boiling, and she now substituted those two questions for a single, simpler one.

What would Goodhew say?

She poured water into the mugs and took her time mashing the tea bags while she tried to think of the answer.

In the end she sent him a text:
‘What are you doing?’

‘Walking.’

‘Got a minute?
’

‘Two minutes for you!’

‘She’s got my back up. I need a strategy?’

‘You never did like the liars, even when they’re OK people.’

‘What does that mean,’ she muttered to herself. ‘
????
’ she texted.

The phone vibrated silently and he then spoke without preamble. ‘The house, marriage, car, clothes, topped-up tan, regular pedicures and a couple of weeks to somewhere sunny each year. Somehow they’re irritating you, right?’

‘Yes, but why should they? It’s none of my business.’

‘Well, it’s just a façade. Obvious to you, me and Marks, but that’s what’s got your back up. And the fact she’s a liar, even if only to herself. It’s only your cut-the-crap instinct butting in.’

‘Carmel will have to face up to the reality of the situation?’

‘Exactly. But in the meantime she’s clinging on to a lifestyle that, to be frank, vaguely repulses you. You wish she would just snap out of it, so we can make some decent progress with the case.’ Goodhew paused, and Gully said nothing. ‘Am I right?’

He was spot on, but he wasn’t going to hear that from her. ‘So I should give her a break?’ she concluded.

She finished the call and, not for the first time since arriving at Parkside, pondered why she was of any benefit to Marks at all. She was supposed to provide support, an open mind and comfort whenever required. She didn’t understand how he didn’t recognize her cynical streak. Almost any other female officer in the building would have been a better choice.

She carried the three mugs back through and delivered the drinks.

They both wore the same expressions as when she’d left. ‘I didn’t even ask how you like it, but this is white, no sugar,’ she said to Carmel.

‘That’s fine.’

Gully manoeuvred a second armchair round so that she could sit closer to her, as Marks continued. ‘I’ve already explained the search of the boat to Mrs Marshall, and touched on some of the evidence found there. Now that Sue’s returned, I’ll carry on.’

Carmel’s chest rose visibly as she drew a deep breath. She now held it as she waited for the body blow.

‘Are you aware of the purpose for which your husband used that boat?’

She seemed frozen suddenly, and even her mouth barely moved. ‘No.’ She drew a small top-up of air into her lungs.

‘But you have been a visitor to the boat?’

Her face twitched from side to side, in something less than a shake of the head.

‘We have discovered evidence that you were present on your husband’s cabin cruiser on at least one occasion.’

‘No.’ Finally her lungs deflated, and she stopped trying to suppress her words. ‘No, you’re wrong.’

Marks stroked the bridge of his nose as he perused the notes. ‘The thing is, Mrs Marshall, we have recovered some of your blood from the scene. It came from a nosebleed – one which required medical attention.’

Carmel pressed her right hand against her cheek, the third and fourth fingers pressing against one side of her nose. Her left hand held the mug, and for the first time Gully noticed there was an indent around her third finger where a wedding ring had once been.

‘We believe that at least two other women were subjected to serious sexual assault on that same boat. It you refuse to help us, you may be charged as an accessory to those crimes.’

The gravity of the threat startled Gully; her attention darted from Carmel to Marks and back again. He had returned to reading through his notes, apparently unconcerned by the desperate thoughts his words had unleashed.

Carmel fumbled with the mug, and Gully reached out and caught it before it fell. ‘It’s OK,’ she assured her. ‘We can sort this out.’

‘There’s nothing to sort,’ the woman began, but there was no conviction in her voice and her words dried.

Over the years Gully had heard plenty of sayings regarding the philosophy of life. One sprang to mind now and she paraphrased it in her head: Carmel hadn’t ever steered the plough that cut the furrow of her own existence.

‘Carmel?’ Gully spoke softly so the words seemed just between the two of them. ‘You may have put it out of your mind, but we know most of what happened. Tell us the rest, because there are at least two other women out there needing help.’

‘They’re prostitutes,’ Carmel muttered.

‘Do you know what he did to them?’

Carmel bit her lip, silently shaking her head.

‘But you knew about them?’

A further shake, then a nod. Gully could see that Carmel’s breathing was becoming uneven.

‘You must have thought . . .’

‘Just sex. That’s all it was.’

‘And that was OK with you?’

She shook her head and swallowed hard before she replied. ‘Of course it wasn’t OK. And I didn’t actually know, I just guessed.’

‘How often?’

‘I don’t know. We still did it ourselves, whenever he wanted it. But I don’t see why . . .’ Her voice trembled, poised between shouting and crying. ‘I don’t know why he needed to.’

‘Could he have wanted something else?’

Carmel pressed her face into her hands, then finally she nodded. ‘All right, I’ll tell you.’

Marks had left Gully to lead the interview, and he now sat at the edge of their field of vision.

‘Paul and I had a good sex life.’ Carmel concentrated as she thought back. ‘Well, I thought we did, but there are always little signs, I suppose. I thought I was open-minded, and initially it didn’t bother me that he’d always be pushing things further.’

‘Can you give an example?’

‘Yes, many. Funny things at first, like dares that gave us a thrill. Just games. One day I met him in town, naked apart from my shoes and my coat, and he took me for lunch in this posh restaurant at Grantchester. Several times the waiter offered to hang my coat in the cloakroom. “Let him take your coat,” he kept telling me. It was embarrassing but funny, and we went outside afterwards and had sex down by the river. We all do it, right, when we’re first with someone?’

Er, no.
Somehow Gully managed not to blush. ‘Go on.’

‘Every time he persuaded me to do something new, I felt kind of excited and humiliated at the same time. I got myself sucked into his way of thinking:
how did I know I wouldn’t like it unless I tried it?
And he was hard to say no to.’

She paused and shot a wary glance at Marks.

‘I know what you’re both thinking. And, you’re right, I could have walked away.’

‘That wasn’t what we were thinking at all,’ Marks answered, ‘but we do have specialist counsellors available if you become uncomfortable speaking to us.’

She turned her head sharply to focus hard on Gully, who used this opportunity to speak. ‘Did you lose track of your friends, too?’

Carmel’s mouth curled into a bitter smile. ‘Actually, I did. At first he made me feel superior to them, and I believed him. So I hung around less with them and relied more on his company. I was a supply teacher at a primary school, but I’d started helping out with the jobsheets and sending out invoices for him, too. I didn’t seem to have time for anything outside work except him. I’ve been thinking about it a lot since he died, and I don’t know whether I should really complain, considering I have all this.’ She made a point of scanning the room slowly, as if admiring the mushroom-toned walls. ‘Some things are very hard to walk away from.’

Gully hoped that the woman’s sweeping ‘all this’ statement had included the couple’s two daughters. ‘You were telling me about the early part of your relationship with your husband,’ she said, steering Carmel back to her account. ‘You’d describe it as intense, then?’