(2011) Only the Innocent (40 page)

‘I’m delighted to hear that Danika is safe,’ she said. ‘I was concerned when I heard the message, but I’m so far removed from the charity that I didn’t feel in a position to help. Danika came to see Hugo, but he wasn’t in thank goodness. He’d have been furious. Anyway, she told me that one of her friends was missing and I said I’d try to look into it for her.’

Tom felt that she was brushing this off far too easily.

‘Unfortunately, it wasn’t long after that that I became ill again, so I was never able to help her. That’s why I was so upset when I heard the message.’

‘Didn’t you ask Hugo to help?’

Tom noticed that once again, Laura couldn’t meet his eyes, a definite habit when she wanted to disguise her thoughts.

‘Yes, of course I did. He told me he would deal with it, and to keep my nose out of his charity affairs.’

‘And did you keep your nose out of it?’

Laura raised her chin defiantly, and looked Tom straight in the eye.

‘Of course I did.’

Tom didn’t believe her for one single moment.

Imogen couldn’t help feeling nervous as she was led into the interview room. Perhaps everybody, guilty or innocent, felt this way. She knew she had to disguise this emotion, though. It always seemed to indicate guilt, as far as she could see. She had refused a lawyer for two reasons. She hoped it would make her appear confident of her innocence, and more to the point, she didn’t want to have anybody else probing into her recent movements. She wished with all her heart that Will hadn’t been there. She hadn’t seen him for years, and then suddenly there he was. But within moments she’d had to suffer the indignity of being taken into police custody - or at least, taken away for questioning. All she wanted was to be where he was, just one more time.

Imogen had used the hour long car journey to decide on the approach she was going to take, and despite an empty and slightly nauseous feeling in her stomach, she was determined to appear self-assured. All they had was circumstantial evidence. And she was seriously worried about Laura. Tom Douglas had managed to get under her skin, and there were things that he mustn’t know.

She took her seat opposite DCS Sinclair and one of his officers and did her best to appear calm, while struggling to come to terms with the fact that she was being officially questioned in a murder investigation, and had even been cautioned. She looked at the deceptively kind face of the senior police officer, but wasn’t taken in for a moment by his apparent benevolence. It was so difficult to read his expression, anyway, as one half of his face seemed to frown whilst the other smiled. She decided she would focus on the frowning side to ensure that she didn’t get lulled into a feeling of false security.

‘Chief Superintendent, I do understand your point of view. If you say there was an Imogen Dubois on the Eurostar from Paris to London and then London to Paris, I can’t dispute that. But surely you can check credit card payments, or online bookings or whatever you do to get a ticket on Eurostar, and prove that it was a
different
Imogen Dubois?’

James Sinclair nodded sagely, as if this were a wise comment.

‘Mrs Kennedy, of course that’s the first thing we would have done. But as luck would have it, the tickets were purchased with cash, from the sales point on Regent Street. It’s quite unusual for people to pay in cash these days, you know. In fact, it’s
extremely
unusual. So unusual that it makes me wonder why somebody would do it.’

There was a slight note of sarcasm in his voice - something that Imogen had never encountered with Tom Douglas. She was going to have to take care.

‘Who knows, Chief Superintendent. Perhaps they’d just had a lucky win on the horses or something. And if you believe it was me, that rather suggests that I was in London at the time the tickets were bought, doesn’t it? I presume you’ve checked if that’s the case?’

Imogen was feeling pleased with herself, but the policeman changed the subject abruptly, throwing her slightly off balance again.

‘I understand that you have your laptop computer with you at the house in Oxfordshire. We would very much like to take a look at it, with your permission. Of course, we can go through the whole paperwork approach and get a warrant, but if you’ve got nothing to worry about, you won’t mind if we take a look, will you?’

Imogen tried hard to control the hard jerk of fear. From the slight narrowing of his eyes, she suspected the policeman hadn’t missed her reaction. She answered as calmly as possible.

‘Of course. It’s not a problem. If you could ask Laura to get it, it’s in my bedroom. She’ll know where to look.’

The Chief Superintendent signalled the policeman standing by the door, who immediately left the room. This time when he smiled, both sides of his face lifted. He was one smooth customer.

‘I hope you don’t mind, but we’ll ask Sergeant Robinson to get it for us. Saves any doubts about contamination of evidence. You know the sort of thing, I’m sure. Now, what I really need to know - and remember that you have been cautioned - is when did you last see Hugo Fletcher?’

‘It was December 1998. I can probably tell you the exact date and time, if pushed.’

‘And why was it so memorable, Mrs Kennedy?’

‘Because at the end of the visit, Laura and I argued, and I was never invited back to the house.’

James Sinclair thrust his head forward, and looked straight into Imogen’s eyes.

‘Why did you argue? Did you fancy your chances with Laura’s husband? Did you have a relationship with him?’

Imogen didn’t even try to hide her revulsion at the very thought.

‘I had no relationship with him at all. I didn’t find him remotely attractive, and apart from anything else, he was Laura’s husband.’

‘Ah, but did he find
you
attractive? Was that the problem? Did he pester you, put you in a difficult position with your friend and your husband?’

‘No.
No
.’

She hated the way he was questioning her, his large head looming across the table. She wanted to move her chair back - as far away from him as possible. She didn’t believe that any criminal would have a chance in front of James Sinclair. Then he backed away slightly, and she felt a flutter of relief. The questions were still coming, but he wasn’t in her face anymore.

‘So tell me, Mrs Kennedy. When did you last see Lady Fletcher, prior to the night of her husband’s death?’

This was her moment. Imogen knew it. If she got this right, she would be fine. If she got it wrong - well, she couldn’t even begin to think of the consequences. She sighed dramatically and for effect, hoping she hadn’t overdone it.

‘Okay, we haven’t been entirely honest about this. Force of habit, I think. After the argument, I wasn’t in touch with her until her second stay in hospital. We worked out a way that I could see her whenever I was in England without anybody knowing. Hugo would never have allowed it. We kept in touch when she returned home.’

James Sinclair was slowly shaking his head, with raised eyebrows.

‘That doesn’t quite answer my question, does it Mrs Kennedy. When did you
last
see her, prior to the night of Hugo’s death?’

Imogen needed to think. What would Laura say if asked the same question? They had to be consistent. She didn’t think that he’d missed her pause, but surely it was understandable that she had to think - to mentally check her diary?

‘It would have been in the summer. Laura was in Italy, and Hugo never went with her, so it was completely safe as long as I didn’t answer the telephone or anything stupid like that. I went to stay with her for a couple of days.’

‘And you’ve not seen her since?’

‘No.’

What do they say about people when they lie? Something about their eyes, looking down to the left? She couldn’t remember, so she tried to look him straight in the eye without wavering.

‘So why, exactly, was Lady Fletcher so appalled when you appeared on the doorstep? She looked as if she would like to murder
you
, let alone anybody else.’

‘Force of habit, I think. She was probably in another world, and when I appeared she no doubt expected Hugo to suddenly materialise from his study and strike her down. I don’t know - it was a bit much, but she’s over it now.’

She forced herself to continue to look him in the eye. She could see that he didn’t believe her.

‘One more question, Mrs Kennedy, and then we’ll take a break. Why did Lady Fletcher say ‘You have absolutely no idea what Hugo was capable of. This was the least of his crimes’ and ‘I am so very glad that Hugo is dead’?’

Imogen was stunned into silence for a few seconds. How in God’s name did they know about that?

‘I don’t know how you can possibly be aware that she uttered those exact words, Chief Superintendent, but out of context it’s a little difficult to say.’

Sinclair clamped his lips together and shook his head again, making her feel like a child caught out in a silly lie.

‘Cut the crap, please. You know very well what she meant, and you’re going to tell me.’

‘Fine. First of all, I think you should ask her, because I would only be guessing. More importantly I didn’t like Hugo - so anything I say is inevitably going to be coloured. In my view he was a difficult, unpleasant and manipulative man. Laura was
not
ill, but he made her seem so. I suspect she’s glad he’s dead because of the control he exercised over her life. But that can be nothing more than supposition, can it, Chief Superintendent, and therefore probably worthless.’

She spoke with spirit. She didn’t want to appear rattled, but how did they
know
all this? A quick knock came on the door, which opened to reveal a young Asian man in the doorway, beckoning the DCS, who excused himself and left the interview room.

Imogen breathed a sigh of relief. She thought she had done okay, but only time would tell.

*

In the corridor, James Sinclair was faced with a beaming detective. Whatever he’d found, he was certainly excited by it.

‘What is it, Ajay?’

‘We’ve just had another call from the bodyguard company. One of the guys who looked after Sir Hugo is on holiday. He was contacted at the start to answer some questions, but he was probably too busy enjoying himself to give much thought to it, and apparently he phoned back today with a bit more information. There was one incident that he thought we might be interested in. He was driving Hugo from Oxford into London one night a couple of years ago when he realised they were being followed. They hadn’t quite reached the motorway, so he turned down a quiet road in the middle of nowhere. He said the guy following was pretty rubbish. So with Hugo’s blessing he pulled a stunt. He raced ahead, shut off his lights, and did a one eighty - fancies himself a bit, I think - then when the other guy came round the corner he shone his lights straight into him, and he swerved onto the side of the road.

‘The bodyguard was out of the car in a flash, and had the guy by the scruff of the neck within seconds. I didn’t ask how they got him to talk, but they did. He said he’d been paid to follow Sir Hugo, night and day. They asked who was paying him.’

Ajay paused, and James knew that he was waiting for him to ask.

‘And did he answer?’

‘He most certainly did. It was the wife. It was Laura Fletcher.’

Tom’s ‘informal chat’ with Laura had been interrupted more than once, with a mix of good news and bad.

The first interruption was Kate. He wouldn’t normally have taken a personal call, but this was too important. Tom had heeded Laura’s words of wisdom, and much as he loved his daughter he really couldn’t see himself living with her mother again. Last night they’d had an emotional discussion on the subject, but he had been resolute. Kate was calling to say she was going back to Manchester at the weekend ‘to think’. He would have to wait and see what happened next.

He wished he could talk to Laura about it - but he knew he’d already overstepped the mark. And then James Sinclair had phoned, so he’d stepped out into the hall to take the call. He was now certain Laura knew far more than she was revealing, and he couldn’t prevent a feeling of regret that he was going to have to ask her some difficult questions.

But it was the third call that really excited him.

*

Laura could tell by Tom’s face when he returned to the drawing room that there had been some news, and she was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. She was struggling to remain in control, and increasingly she didn’t want to lie to this man. He had shown her nothing but compassion and consideration, and she could tell he wasn’t happy himself. She’d watched his face when he was talking to Kate, and the only thought that came to her mind was why does there have to be so much grief in the world?

Tom sat down in his usual position opposite her.

‘Laura, do you want anybody with you while I ask you some more questions?’

‘No, I’m fine. Just ask whatever you need to,’ she answered, hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible.

‘We talked earlier about your illness, and you described what caused your first stay in hospital. But we have been led to believe that the second stay was different. Some sort of delusional disorder was reported in the papers, although of course that could be wrong. We also know that one of our own Chief Constables - Theo Hodder - was involved in some way, and we are trying to track him down to understand his involvement. But I’d really rather it came from you.’

Laura had been dreading this. She knew that her answer had to be plausible, but since Tom had raised this when he last saw her, she had been practising. She would give him the facts, but try to keep emotions in check. Nevertheless, she could hear that her voice shook slightly.

‘When I returned from my first stay in hospital, things were a little more stable between Hugo and me, although I could sense that things were subtly different. I assumed he had a mistress, and perhaps that was understandable as I’d been away for a couple of years. Then Danika came to see me about her missing friend Alina, and I got it into my head that something might be happening to the girls. I believed that Hugo could be involved. I dreamt up this whole conspiracy thing. I thought he might be enticing them away. Perhaps for sex, or maybe to just sell them on again. I don’t know what I was thinking.’