Tilly Bagshawe - Sidney Sheldon’s The Silent Widow

‘Maybe she should have been?’ said Gretchen. ‘Well, if it wasn’t Willie, who do you think did it?’

Nikki looked at her old friend for a moment with a strangely intent expression. ‘I have no idea,’ she said eventually. ‘Why does everyone seem to think I would know who killed Lisa Flannagan?’

Gretchen shrugged. ‘You were her therapist.’

‘Patients don’t tell us everything, you know. I’m sure one of the detectives investigating the case thinks I’m hiding something from him.’

Gretchen frowned. ‘Why would he think that?’

‘Who knows?’ said Nikki, thanking the waiter as he placed her poached eggs in front of her. ‘He’s an odd little man, full of testosterone and rage. He obviously hates me. He hasn’t said it in so many words, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he had me down as a suspect.’

‘Don’t be so ridiculous!’ said Gretchen.

‘Is it ridiculous, though?’ asked Nikki absently. ‘I was the last person to have seen her alive.’

‘Well, yes, but—’

‘And we all have our dark sides. Don’t forget I spent last night pushing my beloved husband off a cliff to his death. And I liked it .’ Nikki paused, then broke into a broad grin.

Gretchen exhaled.

OK. That was a joke. She’s joking.

Black humor was a well-known coping mechanism for grief. Gretchen might not be a therapist, but even she knew that. Still, she found Nikki worryingly difficult to read these days. Joke or no joke, something was off about her, and that something seemed to be getting worse, not better.

This murder, coming on top of everything else, had clearly added to the stress she was under. One more blow and Gretchen worried Nikki might unravel completely.

The sooner they caught the maniac that did it, the better.

It was five o’clock by the time Haddon Defoe arrived at the hospital. Taking the elevator to the fifth floor, past the Addiction Recovery Clinic where he worked a couple of days a week, he hurried down the corridor, praying he wasn’t too late. But when the nurses directed him to the Family Counseling Suite his heart sank. That could only mean one thing.

Marsha Raymond’s tear-stained face instantly confirmed Haddon’s worst suspicions.

‘He’s gone, Dr Defoe.’ Trey’s mother shook her head, her lower lip trembling. ‘’Bout fifteen minutes ago. I was sitting in there with him, holding his hand, and all of a sudden his heart jus’ stops beating. He never said one mo’ word after those police left this morning. They should never’ve been here, that’s what the doctor said.’

Instinctively, Haddon pulled the grieving woman into his arms and held her. His own mind was racing wildly. It was all too much to take in. Only an hour and a half had gone by since Marsha had called him, giving him a garbled story about Trey being kidnapped and knifed and in the hospital, and begging him to come. He’d driven to Cedars as fast as he could, his mind jumping between thoughts of Trey and what the hell could have happened, and his old friend Doug Roberts, who had loved the boy like a son. What would Doug have made of all of this? And now Haddon was here but he was too late. Trey Raymond was dead. But not before the police had been here, quizzing him, defying his doctor’s orders. The whole thing was a mess.

‘He was cut, more than fifty times !’ Marsha wailed, extricating herself at last from Haddon’s embrace and sinking into an armchair. ‘They stabbed him in the heart, stripped him, and dumped him by the road. They musta thought he was dead.’

Yes, thought Haddon. They must have.

‘Who would do that, Doc Defoe? Who would do that to my baby?’

‘I don’t know, Marsha,’ Haddon said quietly. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘I don’t want sorry .’ The small woman’s head shot up, her eyes alive with anger. ‘I want to know WHY. I want to know WHO. My Trey never hurt nobody, Doc. He made his mistakes in the past, we all know that. But he was clean. He was a good boy. He had a new life, everything ahead of him! Dr Roberts …’ Her voice broke, and the tears came again in a great flood, leaving the thought unfinished.

‘Have the police said anything to you?’ Haddon asked gently.

Marsha shook her head, still distraught.

‘Does Nik— Dr Roberts know?’

Another shake. ‘Nobody knows. Only you. You the first. He’s not even cold, Doc!’

A family liaison nurse appeared at the door as the sobbing began again, but Haddon waved her away. ‘I’m a family friend, Nurse. I’ll handle this.’

He turned back to Marsha. ‘Would you like me to talk to the police? And to let Nikki know what’s happened?’

Marsha Raymond dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief and nodded. ‘Thank you,’ she sniffed. ‘I’d appreciate that. I need to get back to my mother. She’s waiting at home for news. And then, I guess … arrangements …?’

‘Don’t worry about any of that,’ Haddon said smoothly. ‘Let me handle it. I’ll speak to the police and we can take it from there. You just focus on Coretta. I truly am so sorry, Marsha. He was a very special young man.’

Trey Raymond’s mother smiled gratefully through her tears.

‘You’re a good man, Dr Defoe. Thank you for coming.’

‘No problem.’ Haddon hugged her again. ‘Call me if you need anything.’

Nikki had no sooner stepped out of the shower than she heard the doorbell. Wrapping her wet hair in a towel, turban style, and slipping on Doug’s over-sized toweling robe that she still wore in moments she needed to feel close to him, she raced downstairs.

‘Haddon! What a nice surprise.’

She was taken aback to see Doug’s old friend and former partner here. Although they kept in touch and met up for coffee every once in a while, Haddon Defoe hadn’t been up to the house since the day of Doug’s funeral. Perhaps it was Nikki’s imagination, but she always sensed a certain tension when she ran into Haddon, as though Doug’s absence made him embarrassed to be around her. Today, though, it was clear from his strained expression that something more than the usual awkwardness was on his mind.

‘Hello, Nikki.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Can I come in?’

‘Of course.’ She led him through to the kitchen, disturbed by the odd formality of his manner. ‘Is everything all right, Haddon? You don’t look well.’

‘I’m afraid I have some pretty terrible news,’ he said grimly. ‘I wanted you to hear it from me before the police contact you, as I suspect they will. Nikki, I’m afraid Trey Raymond is dead.’

Nikki was silent. Reaching out a hand, she leaned on the kitchen island for support, then eased herself down gently onto a barstool. She felt faint.

This couldn’t be happening. Not Trey too?

‘What happened?’ she asked at last, her voice raspy and dry.

‘Well …’ Haddon avoided her gaze, looking down at the floor, out of the windows, anywhere but at Nikki. ‘I don’t know all the details. I literally drove here straight from the hospital. But I’m afraid it appears he was murdered. Stabbed, multiple times, with a fatal wound to the heart.’

Nikki shook her head. No. There must be some mistake.

‘He was found naked, by the side of the freeway. Very close to where—’

‘Don’t say it,’ Nikki cut him off, shaking her head as if to dispel the awful truth. ‘Please, I can’t. It can’t be. Not again.’

Haddon moved towards her. Secretly, he’d always found Doug’s wife powerfully alluring; it was that rare combination of strength and vulnerability that drew him, her ambition combined with a sort of intense neediness. Naturally, it was Doug that Nikki had always needed, not Haddon. Doug, who’d never really realized what a jewel he had. But Doug was gone now and Haddon was here, and so was Nikki, her skin still wet from the shower, her dark eyes welling with tears like two great pools of loss …