Martin Edwards - The Arsenic Labyrinth

Hannah could imagine Les Bryant’s scepticism. Yeah, that Guy Koenig certainly made a difference to people’s lives.

‘Guy was a member of my very first group. He took to Victorian literature like a duck to water. Gaskell, Hardy, you name it. Charles Dickens, his favourite. Guy was a charmer, I saw that with a bit of luck he could make something worthwhile of his life. I became very fond of him, we talked a lot. But prisons have rules. You’re not supposed to get too close.’

‘You came across him a second time, we discovered.’

Vanessa sighed. ‘In another prison reading group, eighteen months later. He’d been convicted again. A minor offence of deception, but his record was bad and the courts don’t understand why most sentences are better served in the community. Guy wanted to go straight, I was sure of it. But he was weak, impatient, that was his downfall. He could never resist the temptation to pretend, he used to say it was because he didn’t have a clue who he really was. His mother was on the game, he never knew his father. I tried to explain, it doesn’t matter where you come from, what counts is where you’re going to. With his gift for persuasion, he could have become a salesman or a spin doctor.’

Sounds like he had you eating out of his palm. ‘He was released for the last time a few weeks before Emma disappeared. You remained in touch?’

‘Of course it was against the rules, but I wanted him to make something of his life.’ For the first time, a hint of colour came to her disfigured face. ‘I’d told him, along with everyone else, all about my pregnancy. He was thrilled for me, he even bought a little gift for the baby.’

‘Your supposed pregnancy,’ Hannah said gently.

‘Yes.’ Vanessa swallowed. ‘When he realised I was stressed out, he thought I was suffering from post-natal depression. I was very low and he was very kind. We met for coffee in the village once or twice. It was all open and above board, please don’t misunderstand. Francis knew all about our little get-togethers, there was never anything between Guy and me of that sort. But one afternoon, I started to weep and, before I knew what I was doing, I was telling Guy about the disaster that had befallen us. About Emma and how she wanted Christopher for herself. He was appalled by her behaviour, of course.’

As Vanessa examined her short, neat nails, Hannah glanced at Linz Waller, who arched her elegant eyebrows. If you were going to confide your darkest secret, a flaky drifter wasn’t the wisest choice of confidant. But then, who didn’t make mistakes?

For some reason, Hannah found herself thinking about Marc and, in a confused way, about Daniel Kind. Oh God. This would never do. Must concentrate on Vanessa’s tale of woe.

‘Did you ask him to help?’ Linz murmured.

Vanessa shook her head. ‘He volunteered to have a word with her. Of course, I was bowled over by his kindness. I promised to help him financially, but he said he simply wanted to repay me for all my generosity. He wasn’t interested in my money.’

Hannah suppressed a groan. I bet .

‘Of course, I brushed that aside. I was willing to give him anything, if only he could make Emma see sense. If she didn’t have enough put by, we could sort that out somehow. Francis and I aren’t rich, but we’re comfortable, thanks to family inheritance. It would be better if she left the Lakes for good, so I told Guy that we’d make it worth her while if she promised never to contact us again. This was for Christopher’s sake, you understand. What she was proposing was wicked. He was my child, not hers. We’d reached an agreement.’

For Christopher’s sake? Hannah told herself not to sit in judgement. Motherhood was special, there was something mystical about the bond between a woman and her child. Maybe it was time to admit to herself what she’d tried so hard to ignore. Not a day passed when she didn’t think about the baby she’d lost.

‘What did Koenig do?’ Linz asked.

‘He phoned her on the basis Francis and I wanted him to represent our interests. At first Emma refused to meet him, but eventually she gave in. It was never easy to say no to Guy. They arranged to meet in a remote part of the fells above the village, where no one else could see them together or overhear their conversation. He loved a touch of melodrama, and Emma did, too. When I suggested he visit her at home instead, pretend to prying neighbours that he was a client in need of a reflexologist, he wouldn’t hear of it. He was supremely confident, he assured me he would talk her round. It would cost, he said, but who cared if Emma left us alone?’

‘Did you discuss Guy’s proposal with your husband?’

‘Naturally. There should never be secrets between husband and wife, that’s my motto.’

You’re crazy, everyone has secrets, and sometimes secrets keep us safe from harm . Hannah took a deep breath. Was she simply rationalising the way she kept secrets from Marc? Already he’d pushed the miscarriage out of his mind. For him, it was just one of those things. A narrow escape, frankly.

‘But it all went wrong?’

Vanessa squeezed her eyes shut, her face folding with the pain of memory. ‘Francis took Guy’s call. I was feeding Christopher at the time. Guy was pretty incoherent, but he explained that Emma had fallen and hit her head. A freak accident, but fatal. When he realised she was dead, he panicked and shoved the body down an old mine shaft. He said he didn’t want to get us into trouble, he was afraid the truth would come out and our life with our baby boy would be ruined. He was thinking of us, not himself.’

Hannah bit back a sarcastic retort. From what she’d heard, Koenig never had an unselfish impulse in his life. If he was naive, so were those who had asked him to negotiate with Emma, their mutinous surrogate mother. She was sure the truth about Emma’s death differed from Koenig’s account, but she was equally sure that she would never know precisely what took place that February day ten years ago.

‘Did you pay him?’

‘Every penny we’d promised, plus the extra money we’d set aside to buy Emma off. We hadn’t wanted her to die, it was a terrible misfortune. But at least it meant that we had Christopher to ourselves. Nobody would ever take him away from us.’

So that’s all right, then . Hannah exchanged a look with Linz. Sorrowful scorn was written all over her DC’s pretty face. Linz was young and free; no need to fret about that ticking clock, kids and responsibilities were years away. For her, Vanessa was a sad old cow with an obsession about a baby that wasn’t even hers.

‘And Koenig?’

‘Francis handled everything. I had my hands full with the baby, he didn’t want me upset. He made Guy promise to leave the Lake District and go abroad. In prison, he’d often talked about wanting to travel. When Francis explained the deal he’d struck, I thought it was for the best. Guy would do well with money behind him for the first time in his life. Francis gave him a chance.’

‘But Guy couldn’t keep away forever.’

Vanessa swallowed. ‘That wretched journalist. If only he hadn’t …’

‘We believe Koenig tipped him off that Emma was buried up on Mispickel Scar. Why would he do that, do you think?’

‘Heaven only knows. Guy told me once he believed in living by instinct. I’m afraid it was an excuse for muddled thinking. Of course, we were worried by the publicity, even more by the news that two bodies had been found. Two dead, not one, though we heard rumours that the other corpse is fifty years old, is that right?’

Hannah nodded.

‘So, nothing to do with Guy.’ Vanessa rubbed tired eyes. ‘We didn’t have any idea he was back in Coniston until he rang Francis after Emma was discovered. He was in a state, not making much sense. The police presence had spooked him, Francis said, and he wanted money to get away.’