Pauline Rowson - In for the Kill

‘Did the police ever hint at her death being suspicious?’

‘No.’

Her small pointed face puckered up with a frown. I could see that she was wondering if I’d gone completely mad. Perhaps she thought I had developed a persecution complex. I persisted.

‘It’s important, Vanessa.’

She decided to humour me; probably thinking it would be quicker that way to get rid of me.

‘She called me a couple of times, before she died, asking for you. I tried to tell her that you weren’t here but she wasn’t listening, or couldn’t quite take it in. She was a little confused.’

‘What did she say?’

‘I can’t recall exactly. It was a long time ago now. She had a bee in her bonnet about things being moved, but I think she must have just mislaid them.’

‘What kind of things?’

‘Books, jewellery, ornaments.’

‘Did she mention if any strangers had called on her? Or if she thought someone had been in the house?’

‘Alex…’ Vanessa said exasperated.

‘Did she?’ I pressed.

Vanessa sighed heavily. ‘On a couple of occasions she thought she had burglars, but nothing was ever taken.’

‘How do you know? You weren’t there.’

‘No, and neither were you.’

‘I don’t think you need to remind me of that,’

I snapped.

‘Don’t make me feel any more guilty than I already do. I should have done more for Olivia.

I liked her.’

There was a brief fragile silence. ‘Did she report it to the police?’

‘She might have done. She didn’t say. I’m not sure she wanted to involve them after what happened.’

No, and I doubted whether they would have believed her anyway.

‘Why this interest, Alex?’

I told her what Ruby Kingston had said.

‘I remember her and her daughter, Scarlett. ‘Bit of a weird girl, dressed like a hippy and very surly.

I never did trust her.’

‘You knew her?’ I asked, unable to hide my surprise.

‘I thought she might be Olivia’s phantom mover of objects. I tackled her about it. She went right off the deep end.’

That sounded like my neighbour. ‘Why her?’

‘She was your mother’s cleaner.’

Now I was surprised. Why hadn’t Scarlett told me? Still we’d hardly had much of a conversation, and I knew she didn’t approve of me.

Vanessa continued, ‘I dismissed her as soon as Olivia died. Then I had the locks changed. Her father was a thief. Spent years in and out of prison.’

A pain stabbed at my heart with Vanessa’s cruel and thoughtless words. Now I was beginning to understand Scarlett’s hostility towards me. She probably blamed me for getting the sack.

Keeping my voice steady, I said, ‘Because her father was a thief then she must be a thief too, is that it?’

‘Of course not, I…’

‘Doesn’t bode well for our sons then,’ I said harshly.

‘I didn’t mean…’ She flushed, angrily and guiltily.

‘I’d have expected more generosity and open mindedness from you, Vanessa.’

‘Don’t give me that, Alex. It hasn’t been easy.’

My life hasn’t exactly been a picnic either, I thought of replying, but didn’t. Two things then happened, the telephone rang and the front door opened.

Vanessa snatched up the phone and, with a backward glance at me that said ‘stay’, she hurried out into the hall. I heard whispers. A few seconds later Gus Newberry walked into the kitchen. He wore a smile and a dark pin-striped suit. You could almost see your reflection in the shine of his shoes and even after a hard day at the office he still looked as if he’d just left home. He was shorter and broader than I had imagined and older, or perhaps he just looked older. His hair was straight, short, iron grey and wiry. He wore a pair of steel-rimmed glasses. I put him in his late forties.

I could see at a glance that he was an intelligent man who was sizing me up quickly and competently with sharp penetrating eyes between deep frown lines on a face too narrow to be classed as good-looking but nevertheless had a certain quality of attractiveness about it.

After a moment he said, ‘Beer?’

‘I don’t think I’m staying,’ I said surprised at his offer and jerked my head at the hall where Vanessa was talking into the telephone.

‘She’ll be a while yet. You’ve got time for one beer and then I’ll run you back to the station.’

‘Thanks,’ I muttered. I wanted to hate him but he was making it difficult for me to do so. There didn’t seem anything to hate about him. He looked and sounded like he would be a good father to my boys. Despite that, it should have been me, not him, raising my sons.

He crossed to the fridge, handed me a bottle of beer and waved me into a seat. He settled himself opposite. I expected him to at least remove his jacket and loosen his tie, like any other man would have done the moment he came in, but Gus seemed perfectly at home in formal attire in the immaculate kitchen.

‘Have you any idea why someone wanted to frame you?’ His voice was authoritative with a hint of warmth. ‘You were set up.’

‘Pity Vanessa didn’t believe that.’ He didn’t flinch at my icy tone.

‘You must look at it from her point of view: the case was investigated by officers at the highest level, a private detective and your lawyers could find nothing to contradict the evidence. What choice did she have? But her heart said you hadn’t done it.’

Then why divorce me I felt like saying?

Gus removed his spectacles and polished them.

‘I take it you’re trying to find out who set you up.’

It wasn’t so much a question as a statement. It was my turn to let my expression do the talking. I could hear Vanessa trying to end her conversation; it sounded as if she was talking to her mother who had always been impossible to get rid of.

Gus said, ‘What chance do you think you’ll have of succeeding?’

My head came up. I didn’t like his tone but his expression was neutral.

‘Alex, you are dealing with a very clever man. I suspect he knows your every move before you’ve even made it.’

I thought of Joe and my missing file, of Darren, and the aeroplane incident. I even thought of that woman in Brading Church and her veiled warning. Gus was right. It was as if someone could foretell what I was going to do.

Vanessa walked in. ‘You’re home early,’ she said to Gus, throwing me a nervous look.

‘I’ll take Alex to the station.’

At the door Vanessa said, ‘You won’t contact the boys, will you, Alex? I don’t want them upset.

They’ve got exams and…’

‘I won’t contact them, not yet.’ I didn’t mean it as a threat though I realised it must have sounded like one.

I glimpsed down at the hall table as Gus picked up his car keys. There was a message on a note pad for Gus to call someone called Rodney, an electric bill, a bank statement, and a renewal form for a pilot’s licence. That brought me up with a start. I didn’t know Gus could fly an aeroplane.

But then why should I? I hardly knew anything about the man Vanessa had married three months after our divorce.

We didn’t speak again until we arrived at the station when Gus offered his hand and said,

‘Good luck.’

On the train and the hovercraft home I went over my conversation with him; one phrase stuck in my mind .‘You are dealing with a very clever man.

I suspect he knows your every move before you’ve even made it.’ Was that a warning? I hadn’t thought so when he had said it, but now I wasn’t so sure. I couldn’t get that pilot’s licence out of my mind.

Where had Gus been when that aeroplane was dive-bombing me? I should find out. Not that I thought he was Andover. Vanessa hadn’t met him until after I’d been in prison for eight months.