Ann Cleeves - Silent Voices

‘Where did Danny Shaw come into it?’ Ashworth was suddenly getting impatient. Maybe there’d been a text from his wife, read surreptitiously under the table, asking where the hell he was.

Vera opened her eyes and sat forward. ‘Ah, Danny Shaw, wild boy and charmer. And thief. Never got on with boys of his own age, always wanted to knock around with older people. If I were some sort of social worker I’d maybe diagnose a conflict with his father, but luckily I don’t go in for all that crap.’ She paused and tried to put into words the friendship between Danny and Simon. ‘Simon was everything Danny wanted to be: he went to the posh school in town, his father was a successful businessman, and Simon had the girl Danny had fallen for. But that didn’t make Danny resent Simon. It just made the younger boy admire him. Weird.’

‘So?’ Ashworth demanded. ‘I still don’t see why he had to die.’

In the corner, the elderly couple got to their feet, and holding hands like teenagers they walked slowly out of the dining room.

‘That’s because you’re not very bright, pet. You don’t have a logical mind.’

‘Did Danny help Simon with the murder?’ Holly asked. ‘He was working there. He could get Simon through the turnstile and into the pool. He knew too much.’

‘Right!’ Vera gave Holly a little clap of approval because she knew it would wind up Ashworth.

‘But why would he do that?’ It was Ashworth, fighting back. ‘Why make himself an accessory to murder?’

‘Because he’s young and daft,’ Vera said. ‘Because he liked taking risks. Because his hero asked him to.’

And maybe because he still blamed Jenny Lister for

breaking up his relationship with Hannah. Or maybe at that point he didn’t even know Simon intended to kill the woman. Perhaps he thought it was a joke, a big game.

‘Talk us through that day,’ Charlie said. ‘Tell us what actually happened. No more psycho-babble.’ He slumped forward across the table.

‘Jenny came here a couple of times a week to use the pool before work. Not dead early, but before the cheap sessions started. Simon wanted to make sure she would be there that day, so he arranged to meet her for coffee before she went for her swim. Of course he didn’t show. He’d gone beyond the stage of deep and meaningful talking. She got changed as usual, leaving her clothes and bag in her locker, and went into the steam room as usual, but Simon was waiting for her.’

‘Danny had let him in,’ Holly said. ‘We know he’d stayed here overnight and was in the hotel that morning.’

‘Yes, Danny had let him in. Another anonymous swimmer. Who would notice? Simon’s a strong young man, a rower. He could strangle her and make no noise. There would always be a danger that someone would interrupt him, but I suspect Danny was keeping watch. Again, who takes notice of a cleaner? You see the mop, the bucket, even the overalls, but you don’t see the man. And nobody noticed Jenny’s body for more than an hour until I found her, which gave them both time to leave the hotel.’

Vera leaned back in her chair. Had the two young men considered the enormity of what they’d planned? Or had it been an intellectual challenge for them? Like some project set at university?

‘Simon went into the gents’ changing rooms to get dressed, but of course there was a problem. Jenny’s bag was in her locker in the ladies’. And in her bag was her diary, her notes. Probably some reference to her infatuation with Simon. The solution was easy.’ Vera looked up, became again their mentor and teacher. ‘Anyone?’

‘Danny,’ Holly said, jumping in ahead of Ashworth. ‘He had a pass key.’

‘Right! Simon cleared out of the hotel as soon as he could; he was too bright to be seen hanging around there. Not so concerned, you notice, about Danny. He left him to collect the bag and get rid of it, and to bring the notes back to him in Barnard Bridge. But Danny was curious. Who wouldn’t be?’

‘So he checked out what was in the bag before he dumped it?’

‘Of course. And he wasn’t as cool as he pretended either. He didn’t know Barnard Bridge and got lost on his way to the house. He’d thrown the bag into the weeds at Mallow Cottage before Connie saw him.’

Ryan Taylor came up to clear the table. By now all the waiting staff had left and they were the only guests remaining. ‘I’m sorry, pet,’ Vera said. ‘You’ll want to be away home. Just throw us out when you’re ready for us to go.’

‘No rush,’ he said. ‘I’m staying here tonight.’ He flicked a switch and dimmed all the other lights in the room so that they were spotlit by one dusty chandelier. Vera felt like an actress; she’d always enjoyed performing for an audience and looked around her to make sure she had their full attention. Perhaps when she retired she’d go in for amateur dramatics, though she didn’t see there’d be nearly as much fun in the made-up stuff.

The background music had been turned off now. Vera thought this was not so much like being on the stage, but in one corner of a huge film set, one of those big dusty hangars, where fantasies were created with bits of hardboard and scraps of velvet and silk.

‘So Danny Shaw? If the lads were such friends, why did Simon kill him?’ Ashworth leaned across the table and took Vera’s bottle, poured a large measure into his glass. Oh, Joey boy , Vera thought. What will the perfect wife make of you turning up pissed? You’ll be changing the mucky nappies for the next fortnight.

‘Danny started to think he deserved more than a thank-you for helping Simon commit murder,’ Vera said. ‘And maybe he didn’t even get that. If Simon hadn’t taken him for granted, I don’t think he’d have made demands. For him it had all been about friendship.’

He talked about friendship to Michael Morgan. Michael was preoccupied and not listening properly and, self-centred bastard that he is, he thought Danny was talking about him. Until I asked him about it again this morning.

‘So Danny started to blackmail Simon?’ Holly said. Even after a week with little sleep and a bucketful of alcohol, she still looked poised and lovely. Some things in life weren’t fair.

‘He was probably more subtle than that. But Bristol’s a university that attracts wealthy folks’ kids. His girlfriend’s parents were minted. He wanted enough cash to feel that he belonged.’ Vera paused. ‘I don’t think he ever would have gone public on Simon, he probably didn’t even threaten to, but Simon couldn’t risk it. That day he borrowed Jenny’s car. He told Hannah he was going to the supermarket and he must have gone shopping on the way home. Cool customer! More like his father than his mother. I’d guess Christopher could be pretty ruthless too, and Veronica just lost it at the end. Did she suspect her son had killed the social worker? Maybe she saw some of the notes he brought home. Maybe she heard the end of a phone conversation with Danny. That was her worst nightmare, that her son was a murderer. That’s why she suddenly became best buddy with Connie Masters. She wanted information, reassurance.’

‘Can we get back to Danny Shaw?’ Charlie was struggling to get the words out without slurring. ‘Don’t know about you guys, but I’m going to need my bed pretty soon.’

‘Simon strangled him and lit the bonfire with the files from Jenny’s bag. Taking out anything that might point to him first, of course. To implicate Danny in the first murder and just generally muddy the waters.’ Vera beamed to herself and realized how drunk she must look, but she didn’t care. Muddy waters. Good image.

‘Then things got to him and he lost all that composure, started to do the “what if” thing, and that’s always dangerous. What if Jenny had gone to interview Connie for her book? Simon hadn’t even realized she was living in the village until I told him. That must have really freaked him out. What if they’d been best mates and Jenny had confided in her about the relationship? The anxiety ate away at him. First he threatened Connie by phone, then he persuaded his mother to take them to the boathouse.’ Vera looked up at them. ‘But deep down he was just jealous of the care Connie gave to her daughter. This case was always about kids and their parents. Simon Eliot was like a little lad in a tantrum, smashing what he knew he could never have.’