The Collared Collection (3 page)

As Callie walked back to her car – taking exaggerated care at each road she had to cross, no matter how traffic-free – she mulled over their conversation. She was mystified as to why such an attractive man would want to date her and her two-pregnancy baggy tummy. And the rest of her squat form lacked any trace of tone. Apart from that, she was unemployed – possibly unemployable – and on the verge of forty with two kids in tow.

Ginny, on the other hand, was tall with an exquisite figure, unencumbered by children, and had a high-powered job with the freedom to do as she pleased. She was also very experienced sexually and probably knew more seduction techniques than Mata Hari.

Chapter Four

By the time Saturday dawned, Callie hadn’t seen any sign of life chez Symonds for a day or so – no Giles, no Sarah, and no Thomas. Even the most persistent members of the press had given up calling, slithering off elsewhere in search of exclusives.

Police in uniform and others padding around in boiler suits had turned the house and garden upside down – their photographer recording every minute detail for posterity – looking for who knows what. Or perhaps they weren’t actually looking for anything in particular … whatever the case, swathes of stripy incident tape that forbade entry had been removed and if you didn’t know any better, you’d assume theirs was an unexceptional house, occupied by unexceptional folk – not that the bathroom had recently been given an abattoir makeover.

Alex learned via the grapevine that Sarah and Thomas weren’t expected back at school for some time, at least until after their mother’s funeral. In an atypically maternal moment, Callie worried that Thomas would perform badly in his imminent A level examinations and blow his chances of getting into university. He was a clever lad and up until recently had his future all mapped out, envisaging a BSc in Environmental Science, followed by a work placement in Africa. She hoped everyone close to him would do all in their power to keep him on track.

That was the first time it really hit home how selfish Dee had been in taking her own life; if she hadn’t bumbled round there with the chocolates when she did, it would most likely have been one of the children who discovered her body after school – what was she thinking? The experience had been ultra-traumatic for Callie as a fully grown and (supposedly) mature adult, with no emotional attachment to the deceased; just the opposite, in fact. If she, who if truth be told didn’t particularly care for the woman, had been so deeply disturbed by finding her dead, what effect would it have had upon one or both of her children?

It was all very perplexing, though she guessed that when one reached the depths of despair necessary to even consider suicide, everything else must cease to matter. But could that possibly stretch to maternal love and the fundamental instinct to protect one’s young? When she’d given her written statement detailing the timetable of events – at least to the best of her recollection – on the morning Dee died, she took care to add that when she’d spent time with the woman the previous evening, she seemed to be her perfectly normal self. Callie had picked up no hint or sign whatsoever that anything was amiss. And that niggled at her more and more.

Life goes on – the latest sleaze scandal to rock the incumbent government had taken pole position above Dee’s violent demise as favoured subject of gossip over the garden walls in the street, and she was reminded of Andy Warhol’s oft-quoted fifteen minutes of fame quip. If dying horribly was what it took to achieve that, she was more than happy to remain an anonymous also-ran.

As she nursed a tepid coffee at the kitchen table – her favourite spot for mulling things over – she became ever more convinced that all was not as straightforward as it seemed. She was tempted to give David a buzz to voice her growing discomfort, with what appeared to be a universal assumption that her very together neighbour had suddenly flipped her lid and decided to end it all by brutal means, for no apparent reason. What if that weren’t the case? She didn’t remember seeing a note lying around anywhere when she was in the house, but conceded she might have missed it – and perhaps Giles had been able to suggest legitimate motives for his wife’s actions …

Of course, if Dee hadn’t killed herself, there was the glaring question why anyone would want to do away with someone as inoffensive – a bit of a pain in the bum, yes, but fundamentally inoffensive – as her. It definitely wasn’t a burglary gone wrong – the place had been far too tidy for that to be the case. Callie’s knowledge of such things was gleaned strictly via television and the odd detective novel, but surely forensic science benchmarks were now set so high that any dastardly deed window-dressed to look like something more mundane would be instantly exposed?

She inhaled deeply and realised she was wasting a lovely morning on idle speculation – not a cloud to be seen in an azure sky and it was already sizzling hot, so she decided to get out and deadhead some roses in the front garden. She foraged for the secateurs and thorn-proof gloves in a kitchen drawer, and took an ice-cold bottle of mineral water from the fridge.

Once outside, she fell into a routine – snip, snip, slurp, snip, snip, slurp – she imagined each stalk as the neck of someone who had recently pissed her off and found she was spoiled for choice, with Nic the Prick way up the list. But very soon she felt the sun singeing the back of her neck and shoulder blades, which were exposed by an unsuitably flimsy, spaghetti-strapped T-shirt. Having burned her fair skin to a crisp on too many occasions, she thought she’d massacre just one more bush before she went in to grab on a more sensible cover-up shirt. It was then she felt the creepiest sensation that someone was standing behind her. Despite the heat she suddenly went cold and a violent shiver shook through her entire body. She had to steel herself to slowly turn around, secateurs gripped in both hands – she had no idea who or what she expected to see, but knew it could only be a malevolent presence. She felt terminally stupid – not to mention relieved – when she spun one hundred and eighty degrees only to find she was quite alone.

Callie snipped a few more stems, grumbling abuse at herself for letting her imagination run amok and hoping her heartbeat would return to normal soon-ish. As she threw her head back to glug from the bottle, she thought she saw a silhouette appear very briefly at the Symonds’ bedroom window, where she’d used the telephone to summon an ambulance. She stared some more, cupping a hand to shield her eyes from the sun’s glare. Nothing … although the curtain did seem to twitch a fraction at one stage … or she thought it did. She convinced herself, however, that it was most likely Giles, or one of the children, come back to collect some stuff … either that, or the sun had boiled away the few brain cells she’d managed to hang onto through years of being a housewife and drudge, and she was hallucinating.

Not so. Upstairs in her own bedroom a few minutes later, she glanced out of the window and most definitely saw a figure – male, she thought, though she couldn’t swear to it – leave by the Symonds’ front door and run up the road. She might not have found that particularly intriguing, were they not dressed from top to toe in black, including a balaclava.

With shaky fingers, she dialled David’s number.

Chapter Five

‘That was quick!’ Callie exclaimed when David ambled in through the side gate, looking rather dapper in cream chinos and a chocolate brown linen shirt. He colour-co-ordinated quite nicely with the terracotta pots planted with flame dahlias, strategically placed along the path that divided the postage-stamp sized garden.

‘I was on my way here when you rang.’ The skin around his eyes crinkled when he smiled – he looked utterly gorgeous and even though he was sweaty, he made her feel like a bag lady.

‘Can I get you something to drink?’

‘Iced water would be great, if you don’t mind – it was like a sauna in the car.’

‘Coming right up – would you like a slice of lime?’

He nodded. ‘Please.’

They took their frosted glasses and sat on a wooden bench in the shade.

‘So, what can I do for you, Callie?’ He smirked – this time it oozed suggestion.

‘This is strictly business – you’ll probably just think I’m daft, but for a while I’ve been thinking that there’s a lot about Dee’s supposed suicide that doesn’t add up …’

He raised one eyebrow a millimetre, remaining silent.

‘What I wanted to tell you first was I saw someone next door not long ago. Initially, I thought it was one of the family come back to get clean underwear – but later I saw this person leave, dressed all in black and wearing a balaclava.’

He almost spat out a mouthful of water. ‘A balaclava? You can’t be serious … in this heat? And it’s hardly what you’d call inconspicuous!’

‘I saw it with my own two eyes – first of all, I was deadheading some flowers in the front and caught sight of a shadowy silhouette up in the bedroom. Actually, I wasn’t really sure if I saw that, it was so quick. I thought I saw the curtains move too, but I could have imagined that as well …’

‘The heat does strange things to peoples’ perceptions.’

She couldn’t quite work out if he was winding her up or not. ‘But I absolutely, definitely saw this person, balaclava and all. A man, I think, though I can’t be sure …’ He asked the obvious question with an incline of his head and a twitch of his cheek. ‘No, I didn’t look at their crotch – whoever it was left by the front door, bold as brass, then scarpered up the road.’

‘Did they get into a car?’

‘Not that I saw.’

‘And you can’t give any further description, other than most likely male, dressed all in black, with cutting-edge head gear?’

She screwed up her eyes. ‘Well, I assumed it was a man because they were tall – I could tell that against the height of the front door. And slim hips most women would die for but never achieve. Actually, he was probably more or less your height and build.’

He aimed visual daggers at her forehead, offended by the unintentional inference. They sipped in silence and Callie was determined it would be him who spoke first. Jasper – Sam’s pesky cat – jumped up onto her lap and she spilled some of her water. As she removed him, Jasper shot her a look redolent with feline disdain, as if to say, ‘Serves you right for having my balls cut off’.

‘Why on earth would he keep something like that on, when it’s sure to attract attention?’ David mumbled at last.

Even though she thought he might be talking to himself, she joined in. ‘Exactly – but if people round here might recognise his face and question what he was doing, that could explain it … Actually, that’s the only reasonable theory I can come up with.’

‘Mm …’ He tapped a stubbly cheek with the tip of an index finger. ‘Perhaps he needed to conceal his identity generally, nothing to do with being recognised around here specifically. Have you noticed anything else strange, since it happened? Dee’s death, I mean.’

‘Err … no. Nothing comes to mind.’

He shifted in his seat, and sighed. ‘OK, well, thanks for letting me know.’

She didn’t want him to leave, which was annoying – even so, she quickly added, ‘Actually, there’s so much that doesn’t make sense; the more I think about it, the more doubtful I am that Dee did kill herself.’

He arched the expressive eyebrow. ‘So, Miss Marple, are you going to share these snippets of observational wisdom with me?’

‘Only if you start taking me seriously.’

‘Sorry.’ He didn’t look it, she felt; there was an unmistakeable glint of amusement in his eyes.

‘Well, I saw Dee at the school on Monday night – I told you there was a parents’ evening …’

He nodded slowly, grinning.

‘I can honestly say she was perfectly normal – normal for her, that is. She is … or I should say she
was
one of those terribly organising people, a bit jolly hockey sticks, I suppose – but the sort of go-getter good egg that no parents’ committee can thrive without. I saw her at various times during the evening, chatting away to all and sundry, getting them to part with their money. She was just as she always is – sorry, was. There was absolutely no hint of what she must have been planning to do, if her death was self-inflicted.’

‘You’d be surprised how many suicides can fool others into thinking everything in the garden is rosy. The first hint friends and associates get that there’s a problem is when the body turns up on the railway lines, so to speak. Anything else you want to tell me?’

‘Well, yes, actually. Dee was a tremendously good mother – she lives … Shit! I must stop doing that! Dee lived for her kids. She left me standing in the maternal stakes, which I have to admit isn’t all that difficult. My point is, she died after Sarah and Thomas left for school – and in normal circumstances, it would probably have been one of them who found her, when they came home. She had no way of knowing I’d be coming round. I simply can’t believe she would risk them witnessing a horrific scene like that, no matter how round the bend she may have been feeling.’

‘You didn’t like her much, did you?’

A little thrown by his spot-on instinct, she deliberated on whether to tell the truth. ‘No, I didn’t really like her … well, maybe that’s a bit strong – I just found her irritating. She was so into good works, terribly houseproud, always well-groomed, had a perfect husband, perfect children – I suppose she made me feel inadequate.’

‘You shouldn’t.’

‘I’m hardly a great success story, am I? My husband felt the need to shack up with someone still in nappies, I’m too fat because I have no self-discipline, so none of my clothes fit properly – and I couldn’t even land a job filling shelves in Tesco.’

‘Their loss – and I like your body.’

She ignored his valiant attempt to boost her flagging ego. Her throat felt parched because she was talking too much and the sun had moved so that they were no longer sitting in the shade. She took several long sips of water. David did the same and got up to stroll around, stretching his legs.

Callie’s thoughts returned to Dee. ‘Was there a note? I didn’t see one, but I wasn’t my most observant self at the time.’