Bones Under The Beach Hut (20 page)

    'Who
is this calling?' asked Nuala, even less welcoming.

    'My
name's Jude.'

    'Jude
who?'

    The
question was ignored. 'I'm calling about your husband, Mark Dennis.'

    'Look,
if it's some financial trouble Mark's got himself into, you're calling the
wrong person. I have no responsibility for what he's done. We're separated. And
you are calling me at work and I do have a very busy day ahead of me, so—'

    'I'm
interested in Mark's whereabouts.'

    'So
am I.'

    'You
mean you don't know where he is?'

    'No.
Why, do you?' For the first time there was a flicker of interest in the
Irishwoman's voice.

    'I
might do,' Jude lied.

    'Tell
me what you know.'

    'I'd
rather we met up and talked about it.'

    'Look,
who are you? Are you Mark's latest woman? I heard he'd left his little girl at
the seaside. Is he shacked up with you now?'

    'No.
I can assure you he isn't.'

    'Then
what's your interest in this?'

    'I'll
tell you when we meet.'

    
'If
we meet.'

    'You
want to find out where Mark is, don't you?'

    There
was a silence from the other end. Then a reluctant, 'Yes. The bastard owes me
money, apart from anything else.'

    'Well,
when could we meet?'

    'I've
got a hell of a schedule today, but I could probably finish early and meet you
round seven.'

    Seven?
Finishing early? Jude realized she was definitely dealing with someone from the
City.

    'That'd
be fine. Where do you work?'

    'NMB.'

    'Neuchatel
Mutual Bank. Where Mark used to work?'

    'Yes.
Not many people have heard of it.' There was a hint of grudging respect in
Nuala's voice.

    'Okay.
Seven o'clock. At NMB?'

    'No,
better somewhere else.' Whether this was because Nuala feared eavesdroppers at
work, Jude could only guess. 'There's a wine bar called Sec. Just off Milk
Street.'

    'We'll
find it.'

    '"We"?'

    'Yes,
I'll have a friend with me.'

    'Look,
I'm not sure that I—'

    'You
do want to find out where Mark is, don't you?' Jude interrupted forcibly.

    Nuala
conceded that she did.

    'Right,
we'll be at Sec at seven o'clock this evening.'

    'How
will I recognize you?'

    'I'm
blond and plump, my friend Carole is thin and grey-haired with glasses. You'll
recognize us. We'll rather stand out in a City wine bar. We're in our fifties.'

    To
their surprise, Carole and Jude did not stand out in Sec as much as they had
expected to. The time of year and its relative proximity to St Paul's, the Bank
of England and other London sights, meant that the wine bar had more than its
fair share of tourists that June evening. And though there were a few young,
lean besuited slickers quaffing champagne, there were at least as many men and
women of ample American proportions. And in fact Carole and Jude identified
Nuala Cullan, rather than the other way round.

    It
wasn't difficult. They remembered Philly Rose's description and when, shortly
after seven, a tall slender woman in a pinstriped trouser suit and pointy black
shoes entered, they knew it had to be her. She was beautifully groomed, and the
long black hair contrasted with the piercing blue of her eyes. But for the
sharpness of her features and a slight discontent in her expression, Nuala
Cullan would have been beautiful.

    Jude
crossed the bar and introduced herself, asking what Nuala would like to drink.
She and Carole, straying from their usual Chilean Chardonnay, were on the
Sauvignon Blanc.

    'I'll
just have a mineral water, thank you.' So much for the hard-drinking image that
Philly had put across. 'I'm on antibiotics,' continued Nuala, explaining her
abstinence.

    'This
is my friend Carole.'

    'Oh?'
Nuala Cullan stretched out a long cool hand and shook Carole's.

    'Grab
a seat and I'll get your drink.'

    Nuala
subsided elegantly into a chair and gave the woman opposite her a hard,
appraising look. 'So you know Mark too, do you?'

    Carole
was flustered. She wished she and Jude had discussed a cover story to answer
such a question, but her neighbour was never very keen on preparation for this
kind of encounter. She always felt confident the right words would come when
required. Well, they might, to Jude. Carole couldn't think of anything very
convincing to say.

    'I
haven't actually met him, but I've heard a lot about him from Philly.'

    'Ah,
so you've only had her version. In which he no doubt appears like a cross
between Mother Theresa and the Angel Gabriel.'

    'Well—'

    'Do you
know where he is at this minute? Do you have an address for him?'

    'Well

    Carole's
discomfiture was fortunately then reprieved by a bleep from Nuala Cullan's
handbag. She pulled out an iPhone and deftly answered a text message. By the
time she had finished Jude was back from the bar with Nuala's mineral water.

    'Right,
what is all this?' Nuala asked peremptorily.

    'Have
the police been in touch with you?' asked Jude.

    'What
the hell should the police be in touch with me about?'

    'You
heard about the discovery of human remains on Smalting Beach?'

    'There
was something in the news, yes, and I remember thinking, "Well, there you
go - Mark's moved out of the wicked City and into his seaside love nest and
suddenly it's down there that all the crimes are happening.'"

    'But
the police haven't been in touch with you about it?'

    'No.'
She looked faintly nauseated by the idea. 'Why on earth should they be?'

    'The
beach hut under which the remains were found was rented by Mark and Philly.'

    'Was
it?' This seemed to amuse her. 'Sounds like their life was even further away
from the perfect country idyll.'

    'And,'
Jude went on, 'we were wondering whether the police might have been in touch
with you as they tried to track down Mark.'

    'Well,
I suppose they might have been.' She shrugged. 'But they haven't. So it seems
like everyone's looking for Mark, doesn't it?' A sudden thought shocked her.
'You're not suggesting the remains are of Mark, are you?'

    'No,
no, there's no suggestion of that,' replied Carole. 'When did you last see him,
Nuala?'

    'I
don't know. Some time in May, I suppose.'

    'After
he'd walked out on Philly?'

    'What?'
Nuala's fine brow wrinkled in puzzlement. 'He's walked out on her?'

    'Didn't
you know?'

    'Of
course I didn't.' But as she took in the idea she started to chuckle. 'So
domestic bliss in Smalting didn't work out, did it?'

    Jude
looked at the cool, self-possessed executive in front of her and wondered for a
moment whether this could also be the vengeful hysteric, the emotional
blackmailer whom Philly had described. And her knowledge of human nature told
her that it all too easily could.

    'Mark
walked out on Philly at the beginning of May,' said Carole, 'and she hasn't
seen him since.'

    'Oh,
well, I have the advantage of Little Miss Perfect then, don't I?'

    'Philly
thought he might have moved back in with you.'

    'Did
she?' This seemed to Nuala another funny idea. She laughed openly as she said,
'I'm not sure that I could cope with that.'

    'I
believe,' Carole went on, 'that Mark had made some kind of financial
arrangement with you . . . that he paid you a monthly amount to let him get on
with his life?'

    'Well,
don't make it sound so shabby. I am his wife, you know, still his wife. And
that does give me some rights. Bloody Mark can't just abandon me and start
spending all his money on some other woman.'

    'I
understand he hasn't got much money now.'

    'That's
not my problem, is it? Look, if my husband wants to act like he's divorced,
then I ought to get something from him, something like I would get if we were
actually divorced.'

    'Do
you want a divorce?'

    Nuala
Cullan smiled slyly. 'I might think about it. But I am a Catholic, you know,
and however lax I have been in observing Catholic rules of behaviour, my Church
still does not approve of divorce. So I'm in no hurry to make Mark's life any
easier for him.'

    Carole
and Jude both now realized exactly how manipulative the woman in front of them
could be. She would never let Mark Dennis go, never let him find real freedom.
Nuala Cullan was trouble. They could understand how readily Philly Rose had
entertained the idea that Mark might have murdered her. And from the way he
spoke on the phone, Cyrus Maxton sounded as if he wouldn't have minded topping
her as well.

    'Have
you had any money from Mark recently?'

    'No.'
She pouted with annoyance. 'That's why I want to find out where the bastard is.
Last payment I had from him was in May. When I do track him down, he's going to
be paying interest on those arrears.'

    'So
when exactly did you last see him?' asked Carole.

    'May.
I said.'

    'When
in May?'

    Her
forehead wrinkled as she tried to remember. The tracery of lines on her face
showed through the expert make-up. She wasn't as young as she had first
appeared. Well over forty. Getting to an age when she might not be able to rely
on her looks quite as much as she used to, to get what she wanted. Getting to
an age when she might well be wanting to safeguard her future.

    'I
think it was the eighth,' Nuala replied eventually. 'Mark said he wanted to
meet up and talk. He took me to the Oxo Tower, one of our regular haunts ... in
happier times.'

    'And
he didn't mention that he'd left Philly?'

    'I've
told you, this evening is the first I've heard of it. He just told me that he
couldn't afford to continue paying anything to me.'

    'He
told you this at the Oxo Tower?'

    'I'd
booked the venue.' She smiled at the memory of another small triumph over her
husband. 'And I told him, no way, Jose. I told him he could take the idea of
stopping payments to me and put it where the sun don't shine.'

    'But
surely,' said Carole, 'if he chose to stop paying you, there was nothing you
could have done about it.'

    'I
could have sued him.'

    'You
mean it was more than a verbal agreement?'

    'You
bet it was. I'm not stupid. I got a schedule of payments drawn up by my
lawyer.'

    'And
Mark signed it?'

    'Of course
he did. All neatly tied up with pink ribbon it was. So when I said he owed me
arrears, I meant just that. He is legally in default of those payments.'

    'But
why did he sign it?' asked Jude.

    'I
don't know.' Nuala smiled a smile of mock innocence. 'Maybe he thought I was
capable of causing a lot of trouble in his relationship with Little Miss
Perfect. Though why he should think that,' she continued, maintaining the
wide-eyed pose, 'I cannot imagine.'

    Jude
exchanged a momentary look with Carole. They were beginning to realize just how
destructive Nuala could be if she set her mind to it.

    'How
did he seem that evening at the Oxo Tower?' asked Jude. 'Just like you remember
him?'