In for the Kill (8 page)

I finished my coffee and headed for the Directory of Directors on the assumption that Westnam might have got another directorship. I spent the next hour trawling my way online through that and various other directories trying to locate Westnam. He wasn’t listed as a company director anywhere. That didn’t mean to say he didn’t have his own business, it just wasn’t a limited company. He could, of course, be operating as a sole trader or partner. He could have gone abroad to live and work.

With irritation I left the library and went to sit in Victoria Park for a few minutes. The breeze was a little on the fresh side but the shining sun, and the luxury of freedom, more than compensated for that. The trees were unfurling tiny fresh green leaves, and the tulips were splendid in their bright yellow and soldier redcoats. How could I find Westnam? I was convinced he could give me the key to all this.

Yet if I discovered why Andover had blackmailed him how would that help me? Oh, I could tell the police, but if Westnam didn’t know who Andover was, the police would only think that Andover was me, so back to square one. No, I was looking at this the wrong way round. Why had Andover chosen me? That was the question that needed answering.

I could hear the trains screeching across the bridge into Portsmouth station. What if Andover’s vendetta against me
had
been personal though? I thought of my mother and Ruby’s words. Had my mother known Andover? Was he a friend of the family, a relative even? There was someone who might know.

I glanced at my watch. It was 4.15pm. Before I could change my mind I was heading for the railway station. The London Waterloo train was just pulling in as I stepped onto the platform.

Without hesitation I climbed on board and twenty-eight minutes later I was alighting at Petersfield. A brisk walk through the small, but rapidly developing Hampshire market town and I was crossing the park, skirting the lake.

Opposite me now was a large detached modern house set back from the road. I stood for some time gazing up at it trying to stifle the resentment inside me. I didn’t succeed. I squared my shoulders and sallied forth.

‘ What do you want, Alex?’ Vanessa’s shock at seeing me on her doorstep swiftly gave way to wariness.

She had hardly changed in three years. If anything she looked more attractive, more self-assured than I remembered. I could still see her face during those long days and weeks of my trial as her concern had begun to turn to suspicion.

Her expression would haunt and hurt me forever. Then at my mother’s funeral she had looked pale and tired. Now her dark curtain of hair was sleek and shining, framing an elfin face as yet unsullied by lines even though she was approaching forty-three. She was slender and I’d forgotten quite how small she was. Always a tidy dresser I could tell her stylish trousers and blouse were expensive. Her appearance and this house confirmed my view that Gus Newberry, her new husband, was doing all right for himself, though at what, I had no idea.

‘I want to talk,’ I said I hoped evenly, though my stomach was churning. I didn’t think I still loved her, but there was something tugging at my heart.

‘I’m not sure we’ve got anything to say to each other.’

‘On the contrary we’ve got a great deal to say.

How are
my
sons?’ I hadn’t intended demanding to see them, but as the train had sped through the countryside, my heart had beat faster at the thought that I might do so. Vanessa’s rather frosty reception was only serving to make me more bloody-minded.

‘You can’t see them. You know what the court said.’

My stomach clenched. Damn Andover to hell and back.

‘Besides they’re not here,’ she quickly added, after seeing my angry expression. ‘David is at his fencing class and Philip’s at football practice. I’ll need to pick them up soon.’ She dashed a glance at her watch.

I tried to hide my disappointment. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me in or is only the doorstep good enough for a man you once said you loved.’

I saw a flash of anger in her hazel eyes. Then she shrugged and turned away leaving me to close the door and follow her down the hall into a spacious kitchen enlarged by a beautifully designed glass extension. I felt envy and bitterness.

There were schoolbooks on the table including Shakespeare’s
Othello
. I recalled my English studies at university – what had the great man said about losing one’s reputation? Something about it making a man bestial. Maybe he was right because I wanted to smash this fucking perfect room to pieces except for the studio photograph of David and Philip on the wall beside a huge framed genealogy chart, bearing Gus Newberry’s name. I felt so sad and sick with regret that I could hardly breathe. My heart was heavy and my arms ached to hold my sons. I would get the bastard who had stitched me up and nail his balls to the wall. I’d find a way to make him suffer as I had suffered, and if I died doing it then so be it. Yes, Shakespeare was right, losing your reputation did make you bestial.

‘Have you told them I’m out of prison?’

‘Alex. I…’ She pushed her hand through her hair, her expression reflecting her anguish. ‘You do understand. I need to prepare them.’

‘For what? The demon father, the ex-convict. I suppose you and Gus have made me out to be a cross between the Kray brothers and Ronnie Biggs.’

‘There’s no need to be so bitter.’

‘Isn’t there? How would you like to have almost four years of your life taken from you?

To lose everything you valued, including the people you loved.’

‘I’ve suffered too.’

‘Oh, yes, it looks like it. Vanessa, have you any idea of what it’s like to be locked in a room you can’t break out of? To experience the complete loss of control over your own destiny, knowing there is no escape and that you just have to wait. And all that time you know that you shouldn’t be there, that you are innocent. Only no one believes you.’

‘What do you want, Alex?’ she demanded.

I guessed her guilt was making her angry, because she hadn’t and probably still didn’t believe in my innocence. I watched her gather up the exercise books and place them on top of a cabinet at the side of the room. I took a deep breath and told myself to get a grip. I needed information and this wasn’t the way to get it. In prison I had dreamt of the day when I would see her again, rehearsing what I would say; it would veer from pleading with her to believe in my innocence, to berating her for her callousness in deserting me, now all those words were useless.

‘I haven’t come here to argue with you, or score points,’ I begun.

‘No!’ She spun round her cheeks flushed with anger. Her eyes flashing.

‘I’ve come for information.’ And the hope of seeing my sons, I said to myself.

Her anger gave way to bafflement, then suspicion. ‘About what?’

I guessed she thought I was going to ask about Gus. ‘About my mother.’

‘Oh!’

‘Was there any indication that she might have been pushed down the stairs?’

She looked surprised. ‘No. Why, should there be? There was a loose stair rod, the carpet had come away, her slipper caught it and she fell.’

‘Did she ever say anything to you before she died, about being worried or frightened?’ I could see my question confused her.

‘What is this, Alex?’

‘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.