Alex Gray - The Riverman

‘Thank you,’ he said as the boy handed them over with obvious reluctance. ‘Perhaps we need a cup of tea now?’ he added and Philip nodded and left the room once more.

Lorimer’s brow was furrowed as he read the contents of the two letters. Stuff like this often came to the attention of the police: usually it was the work of some spiteful malcontent getting something off their chest.

‘You believed this?’ He looked directly at the woman opposite as he held the two letters between his finger and thumb like pieces of garbage.

Her look of total misery was answer enough.

‘But why?’ Lorimer’s tone was gentler. ‘Had you any reason to think badly of your husband?’

Liz dropped her gaze, shaking her head and sniffling into her handkerchief. Then she looked up again. ‘It was just a feeling. He’d been hiding something from me and I thought-’

‘You thought he’d been unfaithful?’

‘No … I don’t know. I didn’t know what to think. Duncan and I, we’ve always been so close. He’d never looked at another woman.’

‘But you thought these letters might be true?’

She shook her head again in despair. ‘I don’t know. Really I don’t. I wanted to think he was always faithful. I want to remember him that way.’

‘You didn’t think to ask him?’ The look Elizabeth Forbes shot him was answer enough. Lorimer stifled a sigh. ‘So it was the letters that made you drive to the Crowne Plaza that night?’

‘Yes.’ She sighed deeply. ‘I wanted to see for myself if there was anyone else, if it was someone in his company. I was going to go in and pretend to be there to take him home, see who was there with him.’

‘And?’

‘I lost my nerve.’ She shivered suddenly. ‘I just couldn’t bear the thought that some woman in there might be laughing at me. So I just went home again.’

Lorimer believed her. It made perfect sense to him. And the woman’s grief had been so genuine that first time they’d met that he could not bring himself to think she had had a hand in her husband’s death. Still, the fact remained that she had been in the vicinity of the hotel.

‘Mum.’ Philip had returned with a huge tray full of tea things clinking together. Lorimer’s eyebrows rose at the sight of the delicate china tea service being laid on the table and the young man earnestly pouring tea into cups. This one was well trained in the niceties of refined living, he thought. After a spell in the African bush he’d have expected a few mugs of tea from the young graduate rather than the best Royal Doulton or whatever it was.

‘Is there anything else you want to tell us, Mrs Forbes?’ Lorimer asked, once the woman had taken a few tentative sips of the hot tea.

The cup and saucer rattled as Liz put them down. ‘I don’t think so, Chief Inspector. I’ve thought and thought every night and every day since that trip to the Crowne Plaza. If I’d gone in, if I hadn’t chickened out, would Duncan still be here?’

‘Mum!’ Philip protested. ‘It’s not your fault! You can’t blame yourself for not doing something.’ He gave her arm a little shake.

‘Oh, but I do, Phil,’ she replied, a tremble upon her lip. ‘I do,’ she repeated in a whisper that told of yet more weeping to come.

‘And you definitely didn’t see your husband that night?’ Lorimer asked, the question designed to focus the woman’s attention back to the matter in hand.

She gazed at him for a moment without speaking. ‘No. No, of course I didn’t. What are you suggesting?’ Her voice peaked in a note of disbelief.

Lorimer risked a glance at Niall Cameron. The detective constable’s face told him everything. Cursing inwardly, he ploughed on. ‘Somebody killed your husband that night. It’s our job to ensure that everyone who had a reason for being in the vicinity of the hotel can account for their actions.’ He paused. ‘While I am happy to accept your explanation about why you were there, you must see that your previous failure to tell us about it puts you in a compromising position.’

Beside him he could sense Cameron nodding in agreement. There were certain procedures that had to be followed and, whether he liked them or not, Lorimer was duty-bound to carry them out. ‘I’d be grateful if you would give a written statement of all that you’ve told us,’ he began, trying hard not to respond to the woman’s open-mouthed expression. ‘It would also be helpful if you could let us know where you were on the evening of April the twenty-first,’ he added quietly.

Liz Forbes turned towards her son as if for guidance, struck speechless by this last demand.

‘She’s been here ever since Dad died,’ Philip Forbes protested. ‘Can’t you see how shattered she is by all of this? Mum can’t even go out by herself to the shops, never mind anything else,’ he ended lamely.

‘Mrs Forbes?’

Liz shook her head, ‘Phil’s right. I’ve been here all the time, except when I had to go to the mortuary,’ her voice faltered.

‘What’s so special about that date anyway?’ the boy demanded.

Lorimer looked at them both, pity in his eyes. ‘That was the night Jennifer Hammond was found dead,’ he answered.

‘This is becoming absurd!’ Philip retorted. ‘Just because Mum’s been the victim of some poison-pen letters you start to think she’s had something to do with these …’ He stopped suddenly, unable to complete his sentence.

‘Murders, Mr Forbes,’ Lorimer finished for him. ‘We have to investigate all possibilities and eliminate any possible suspects from our inquiries,’ he added. ‘Surely that makes sense?’

Philip hung his head in embarrassment. ‘Yes, I suppose so.’

‘Chief Inspector, you don’t really think I did any of these things, do you?’ Liz Forbes appealed to him, a catch in her voice.

‘No, Mrs Forbes, I don’t think that for one minute, but I’m trying to investigate this case and I’ll have to demonstrate that you are the innocent party in all of this. You do see that, don’t you?’ he asked gently, turning to take in Philip and his detective constable in one sweeping gaze.

Cameron hesitated for a moment then looked away. Whatever his superior decided he would just have to follow, for now. But that didn’t stop him having ideas of his own.

‘Maggie?’

‘Hm?’ Her murmur from under the duvet was sleepy. Maybe he shouldn’t bother her but that interview with Elizabeth Forbes kept playing over and over in his mind.

‘You know the chap that drowned?’

The huge sigh that came from the other side of the bed told Lorimer he had his wife’s reluctant attention. ‘Well, we saw his widow today.’

There was a silence, but he could tell she was listening. ‘Seems the poor woman suspected her husband of having had an affair. Rotten poison-pen letters.’

Beside him Maggie sat up suddenly and Lorimer put his arm around her, sensing her shivers.

‘Can you imagine her anguish?’ Lorimer continued, ‘Never knowing if he strayed or not. I mean, why didn’t she just ask him? That’s the bit I can’t get my head around.’

Maggie did not answer, but her stifled yawn told him he was on his own as far as this was concerned. He let go of her shoulder and tucked the edge of the duvet around her body as she sank back down to sleep.

It wasn’t fair of him to disturb her like this, he scolded himself. She probably had loads on her mind too. Problem kids, parents’ nights, all sorts of stuff that kept deepening the lines on her pretty face. Lorimer lay back, feeling her warmth next to him. He was one lucky sod. She could still be out there in Florida.

Maggie lay as still as she could, trying to measure her breathing to simulate sleep. What a question! She felt her face hot against the cool pillow as she thought about that woman. Why hadn’t she asked her husband? That was something that the DCI’s wife could have answered herself. Elizabeth Forbes didn’t want to know if it was true. And neither did Maggie Lorimer.