The Arsenic Labyrinth (23 page)

Terri must be pissed off if she was taking Marc’s side. She’d always maintained that any man who spent his life surrounded by damp and smelly books must be pretty sad. Her preference was for hunks, although with her track record of matrimonial disasters, maybe she wasn’t ideally qualified to advise on preserving a relationship. Then again, hers was the voice of bitter experience.

‘I’ll pop in for a quick drink later on, OK?’

A sulky sniff. ‘I suppose that’ll have to do.’

‘Terri, I didn’t mean to mess you about.’

‘It’s just that … as a matter of fact, I’ve got a bit of news for you. I wanted to tell you face to face, but …’

‘What is it?’

‘Actually, you’ll never believe this.’

Hannah waited, watching a lonely gull circle above the lake. Terri enjoyed building suspense. A lifetime of TV soap operas had taught her all the tricks of the trade.

‘Go on.’

‘Well, have you got your ears pinned back? My date last night just happens to be a millionaire!’

Already the sulkiness had disappeared from her voice and she sounded full of herself. She was never downcast for more than five minutes, it was one of the things Hannah loved about her. She was a make-up artist with her own beauty salon and her moods changed as rapidly as her appearance.

‘Wow. Tell me more.’

‘Well, he built up a successful business selling artificial limbs and now he’s sold out, he wants to enjoy life. He was telling me all about this wonderful house of his up near Blencathra. He’s created a brand new garden from scratch. Pergolas and fountains and rare azaleas, blah, blah, blah. It’s his way of getting up close and personal with Mother Nature, after too many years in the rat race.’

‘I’m sure you’ll help him get closer to nature.’

A whoop of laughter exploded in Hannah’s ear. ‘You bet! Thank God I had the presence of mind to put on my shortest skirt. Not that I misbehaved, I’ll have you know. Other than flashing a glimpse of stocking-top as I climbed into my taxi at the end of the evening. All Denzil got from me was a peck on the cheek and I made it clear that I was otherwise engaged tonight. Of course I didn’t mention that I’ve already lined up four more blokes through the
website! Might as well see what’s around, eh? Besides, it doesn’t do to let a man get too many ideas too soon.’

Hannah laughed. ‘Wonderful. So he’s hooked?’

‘I think so,’ Terri said complacently. ‘Who knows where it might lead? He told me it was a great sadness that his ex-wife hadn’t been able to have children. I felt really sorry for him. He’d make a wonderful father, he has a very gentle way with him.’

Terri had once famously declared that she’d rather have all her teeth pulled out than endure the indignity of childbirth, but Hannah knew better than to remind her.

‘And would you …?’

‘Look, I know what you’re thinking. But the fact is, I’ve never met the right bloke before. It would be irresponsible to bring a baby into the world when your marriage was on the rocks. I may have been too hasty in what I said. The more time passes, I can’t help thinking, it might be quite nice, to have a couple of little kids running around the place. I mean, the clock keeps ticking. I don’t want to grow into a frumpy old maid.’

‘No danger of that.’

‘You know what I’m saying.’ Uncharacteristically, Terri paused. ‘When you told me about your miscarriage, it set me thinking. I always saw you as a career cop, I never pictured you as a wife and mother. But I could tell how much it meant to you. That sense of loss.’

Typical Terri. She had a scary genius for saying exactly what was in her mind. Hannah gazed out across the grey expanse of water. Sometimes all she wanted was to empty
her mind of everything. All the memories, all the frustrated hopes and desires. She didn’t speak.

‘Anyway, I started to wonder how I might feel if I fell pregnant. And I wasn’t as horrified by the idea as I’d expected … are you still there?’

‘Let’s talk some more tonight.’

‘Come by taxi, so you don’t have to worry about how much you drink, OK? I’ll make sure they put the Chablis on ice.’

‘It’s a deal.’

‘And I can tell you all about Denzil. I only hope he doesn’t think I’m a pushover. If so, he’ll be sorely disappointed. I’m going to make him sweat for his rewards, just you wait and see. One thing I’ve learned about men, they never value anything if you give it to them on a plate.’

Jeremy Erskine was seldom lost for words, but as Hannah described Edith’s confession to the murder of her husband, his eyes widened like a child’s on seeing a sci-fi monster on TV. Edith’s journal belonged to the Association and there was no point in keeping quiet about the involvement of Betty or Alban. As she answered his questions, she could almost see cogs turning in Jeremy’s brain. A pamphlet describing the decline and fall of the Inchmore empire would cement his reputation as a local historian.

The climate in the conservatory was Mediterranean. The Erskines’ home was smart and secure, this room sealed off from the world outside. At barely four o’clock, already the sky was midnight black. Through the sliding
PVC doors, Hannah could see the children, squatting on the carpet in the sitting room beyond, glued to a
Buffy
DVD, hear their muffled shrieks of merriment. Family tableaux didn’t come cosier. She felt a stirring of emotion and hoped it wasn’t jealousy.

Jeremy was wearing an open-neck sports shirt, slacks with a razor sharp crease and spotless loafers. A man at ease with himself. Hannah yearned to grab him by the arm and shake the smugness out of him. As he listened, he reached out and draped his arm over Karen’s tanned shoulder. She was dressed as though for midsummer in a skimpy top and skirt and nestled closer at her husband’s touch. If the flimsiness of their alibis for the night of Koenig’s murder worried them, Hannah saw no sign of it. Trying to prise the truth out of a happy couple would be a nightmare. To save each other, they would lie through their expensively whitened teeth.

Jeremy made a characteristic
pay-attention
throat-clearing
noise. ‘So, Chief Inspector, what progress with your investigation? I asked DC Eyre here if the murder of this fellow a couple of days after Emma’s body was discovered was simply a coincidence and she refused to be drawn.’

Maggie was sitting in the corner, squashed between the drinks trolley and the portable TV. Her lips were pressed tight together, giving nothing away. But under his sardonic gaze, her fair cheeks coloured, as though she’d failed to come up with a good excuse for not doing her homework on time.

Jeremy smirked at Hannah and said after a theatrical pause, ‘So – naturally I deduce there is a link?’

Answer a question with a question. ‘You didn’t know Guy Koenig?’

‘Good heavens, no. There’s talk in the village that he was a petty criminal. Spent years in and out of prison. Karen and I are hardly likely to socialise with someone like that.’

‘He was a smooth talker, by all accounts. Well read, plausible. You wouldn’t necessarily have taken him for a rogue.’

‘Even so. We really don’t mix in those circles. You could have a word with Vanessa, if you like. She may have come across him.’

Hannah blinked. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘She worked with prison libraries for a couple of years. After we separated, she threw herself into outreach work. Vanessa is a thoroughly decent woman, she always likes to think she is doing good. She believes in rehabilitating offenders, though I have to say that in my book, she’s naïve. You’ll never persuade a young thug to walk the straight and narrow simply by introducing him to Charles Dickens or Thomas Hardy. Let alone Martin Amis or …’

‘Which prisons?’

Jeremy freed his arm from Karen’s shoulder as he gave the question thought. ‘That place at Millom, of course, it’s pretty much on the doorstep. Haverigg, isn’t that the name? And I seem to recall her mentioning a project
at Preston. Did this man Koenig ever serve a sentence there?’

Through the panes, Hannah saw the Erskine children, engrossed in what they were watching. Neat, well-turned out youngsters, with their mother’s blonde hair and the long Erskine jaw. Apples of their parents’ eyes.

‘How long were you married to Vanessa, Mr Erskine?’

Karen frowned, curled herself up into a ball, wrapping her arms around her upper body, as if for protection. Maggie wrinkled her brow, trying to work out where all this was leading.

Jeremy flushed and said, ‘Eight years, nine? Possibly less, I can’t recall. It was a very long time ago and as a wise man once said, the past is another country. My life is with Karen and the children, that’s all I care about. I’m afraid I can’t see why you should ask about my previous marriage, it can only cause distress.’

‘I don’t mean to be intrusive,’ Hannah said. ‘But something puzzles me. You are obviously a caring father, Mr Erskine. And Mrs Goddard is devoted to her own boy.’

‘She dotes on him,’ Karen snapped. ‘I don’t think it’s healthy.’

Jeremy put a restraining hand on her knee. ‘What’s your point, Chief Inspector?’

‘I wondered why you and your first wife never had children.’

‘I’m not sure it’s any of your business.’ Jeremy’s face
had turned lobster-pink. ‘How can this have any bearing on Emma’s death? Frankly, your question strikes me as prurient.’

Hannah said, ‘Did Vanessa have problems, trying to conceive?’

Jeremy cast an anxious glance at his wife. ‘If – if you must know, she did. It was a nightmare for us both. We had been anxious to start a family. I can assure you, I was delighted when it turned out that Vanessa was able to have a baby after all. I knew how much it meant to her.’

‘But you’d thought it was impossible for her to have children?’ Hannah persisted.

‘So the doctors told us. We tried IVF, all kinds of alternative stuff, one minute our hopes were raised, next they were dashed. Nothing seemed to work. Nothing.’ Jeremy’s voice had become hoarse. He swallowed hard. ‘When Karen told me she was pregnant, it was the happiest moment of my life. Even though I knew it meant my marriage was finished, even though it crucified me to hurt Vanessa, to treat her so cruelly. She deserved better and I thank God that in the end she got it. Now – does that satisfy your curiosity, Chief Inspector?’

Slowly, Hannah nodded.

‘Fern’s line is still busy,’ Maggie said.

‘Keep trying.’

They were in the car, racing along past the dark gift shops and tea rooms in the direction of Thurston Water House. Hannah almost hit an unlit van as she swung
round a corner. Her mind should have been on the road, but was travelling through the years to the time of Emma Bestwick’s murder. Her stomach was tight. At last she understood.

‘This is about Emma,’ she said, almost to herself, ‘about the kind of woman she was.’

‘I’m not with you.’ Maggie was good at what she did, but one gift she lacked. Ben Kind always said that the best detectives had imagination, they looked beyond what they could see and hear and smell.

They turned into the road that led to the lake and the car jolted on a speed bump. Hannah swore and slammed her foot on the brake. ‘She never settled to anything. All her life she spent searching for fulfilment, but she never found it. She fancied becoming a reflexologist, but that required money and she didn’t have two pennies to rub together. Luckily, the people she lodged with were willing to fund her. On condition that she gave them a baby.’

‘So – she was the mother of the Goddards’ child?’

‘A surrogacy deal. Conducted in secret because it’s illegal to pay the surrogate mother anything more than expenses. Once she realised how desperate the Goddards were, Emma must have driven a hard bargain. Vanessa and Francis belonged to a small community. They wanted everyone to regard Christopher as theirs – and theirs alone. It must have seemed a perfect plan. Emma lived with them and Francis, as a nurse, could take good care of her. They hid her away to make sure that nothing went wrong and
nobody had any idea that it was she, rather than Vanessa, who was pregnant.’

In her head, she heard Vanessa, speaking with passion.
If you ask me, the idea that blood is thicker than water is rubbish
. A curious remark for a devoted mother, she should have paid it closer heed.

‘She wasn’t stressed out after breaking up with Alex, was she?’

‘No, she just couldn’t be allowed out once her bump became visible.’

‘So what went wrong?’

The dour bulk of Thurston Water House loomed up in the headlights. Hannah swerved off the road and into the driveway, shuddering to a halt in front of the up-and-over garage door. The Goddards were at home. Lights shone behind the curtained windows on the ground and first floors. Somewhere inside, the boy was doubtless lounging around or watching TV. Young Christopher Goddard, innocent cause of death and disaster.

‘Remember the last conversation Emma had with Jeremy? She’d changed her mind. After her child was born, she found it impossible to let go. Alex said she was possessive, mentioned her mood swings. The Goddards didn’t realise the risk they were running.’

They strode up to the front door and Hannah rang the bell long and hard. A full minute dragged by before anyone answered, although as they shifted impatiently on the step, they could hear hurried movements inside the house. At last the door inched open on a security
chain. Vanessa Goddard peered out at them. She looked as nervous as if she thought a pair of ghosts had come calling.

Perhaps that was it, Hannah said to herself. The woman was frightened of a ghost.

‘Oh, Chief Inspector, it’s you. I wasn’t … I mean, on dark nights like this, you can’t be too careful.’

‘May we come in?’

Vanessa screwed her face into an anxious frown. ‘We’ve already had a young policeman here. Wanting to know where Francis and I were the night that poor man was thrown in the lake.’

She showed no sign of releasing the chain. Why was she playing for time? Hannah said, ‘If you wouldn’t mind allowing us to come into the house, Mrs Goddard?’

‘Oh, I’m sorry. Of course.’

Vanessa fumbled with the chain and finally pulled the door wide open. But when she shooed her visitors into the front room, her haste contrasted with her hesitation before letting them inside her home.