Apportionment of Blame (35 page)

Breakfast could wait. I made coffee and took it back to bed with my notebook, which I rescued from a still very wet jacket pocket. There was little more to do and I decided not to call Gemma or her parents, but to wait in the hope that they would call me. They could hardly leave things as they were, knowing what I suspected, especially after what had happened down at the coast.

My mobile rang. It was Joyce.

“Where are you? I was worried about you.”

“I'm in bed and there's no need to worry. It's all over now.”

“What's all over? Where have you been? Why are you still in bed?”

“I'm supposed to ask all the questions.” I smiled to myself. I would have to get used to someone caring about me so much. “I'm in bed because I'm exhausted and I got soaked again last night. It's a long story, but I'll tell you everything very soon.”

“You weren't out in that storm?”

“Just a bit. Listen, I'm waiting for a call.” I hoped the call I was waiting for would materialise soon. “I'll come over and see you later on. Will you be there?”

“Of course I'll be here, waiting for you.”

“OK. See you soon.”

I closed the phone and let my head fall back against the pillow. What a change. A fortnight ago I was alone and trying to find things to do to earn a living as a detective. Here I was, with the woman of my dreams telling me she loves me, and my first, difficult case apparently solved. I could get quite used to success, I thought, and returned to drink my coffee.

It was Mrs Hughes who called and woke me up again, just before noon.

“We would like to talk to you.” she said. There was little more she needed to say.

“When would be convenient?”

“Now, if you can. Gemma is here and her father.”

“Give me half an hour,” I said.

In fact I reached the house twenty minutes later. I only had to shave and throw some clothes on.

Before I left the car I took a deep breath, hoping this would be the end of the trail.

Mrs Hughes opened the door and asked me in. Gemma and her father were already sitting in the living room.

“Would you like any coffee?”

“No thanks. I've already had my share this morning.”

“Sit down,” Mr Hughes said.

His tone had softened considerably and he was less sure of himself, but he seemed to be putting a brave face on all that was happening.

“Gemma has something she wants to tell you.”

He said it looking at Gemma rather than me, and his voice carried a measure of encouragement. But I knew she wasn't going to find it easy.

I could see she wasn't going to look at me, but I just waited as she struggled to face what she had to do.

“It was me, at the railway, with Helen,” she said quietly. “I didn't want to hurt her, and Monty was only trying to protect me because she was cross with me.”

There was no reason for me to say anything.

“It all happened like you said. I took Monty for a walk, out through the gate, and there she was. I couldn't believe it. She was standing right by the track. It was as if she had come to find me. But, of course, she had no idea where I lived. I realise that now.

“Even though it was dark I knew it was her. I knew every line of her face. I had sat and watched her for so long at work, willing her to like me, to want me, but it did no good. So I went up to her and just said her name, and she jumped.

“Where did you come from? she said, and I told her I lived here. And she said: Oh God. Go away. I don't want to see you, and all the time she was raising her voice. Monty didn't like that and he jumped up at her. I suppose I should have had him on his lead. He started barking. Helen fell back and suddenly the train was there and there was nothing I could do. She was on the track, scrambling to get up. The train was braking, but I knew it wasn't going to stop in time.”

“It's strange,” I said, “that the people in the crossing house didn't report hearing the dog bark.”

“Don't you believe me?”

“Yes. I believe you. I suppose the sound of the train was all they heard. Sometimes people only hear what they expect to hear.”

“So what happens now?” Gemma's father said.

“What do you think should happen?”

“It wasn't Gemma's fault. You can't blame her for what happened.”

“But don't you think it would be fair to Helen's family to tell them what actually happened. It would help them come to terms with losing their daughter.”

He was looking at me, desperate to find a way out for his daughter.

“Do we have to tell the police?” he asked.

I replied to Gemma.

“The police already know my suspicions to some extent, but I haven't mentioned you to them by name, because I wasn't completely certain. It's likely they will reopen their enquiries. You could save them a lot of time and effort by coming forward and telling them.”

“Will I get into trouble?”

“That's not for me to say. You left the scene of a serious accident, and they might think that you hampered police enquiries by not coming forward or telling your parents what had happened. As a result they weren't able to help the police when they called. Or when I called, for that matter.”

“Oh God. What a mess! I've been so stupid.”

“What you decide to do is up to you. I can't sit back now and do nothing. Helen's parents have asked me to investigate and I am duty bound to tell them what I know. Even if I didn't choose to go to the police, they might well insist that I tell them. I think it's likely that the police would look more favourably if you go to tell them what happened, rather than leaving them to come looking for you. But I can't speak for them.”

“Dad,” she pleaded, but I could see from his expression that he could see no way out of what needed to be done.

“Will I lose my job?”

“That's up to Mr Jordan. If you like, I'll go and talk to him.”

“That would be very kind of you,” her mother said.

“He seems to me to be a reasonable man. He lost a good PA in Helen. He won't want to lose someone else who does her job well.”

“Why are you being nice to me?” Gemma asked.

“I'm only doing what I think is right. That's all any of us can do.”

Gemma's father reached a decision and stood up without taking his eyes off his daughter.

“Will you come with us to the police?” he asked me.

“Of course, if you want me to,” I said.

There was a different desk sergeant, but the procedure was exactly the same as before and we were asked to wait to see the same person I had seen earlier.

“Do you need me in there with them?” I asked him.

“Will they tell me all we need to know?”

“Oh, I think so,” I said. “I'll wait here until you've finished, if you like,” and I sat back on my chair in the waiting area.

Gemma looked at me before she followed the detective through the door and her father held out his hand, so I stood again and shook it. It was as firm as I would have expected and I got the impression that everything would be all right, at least within the family.

When the detective sergeant returned, a little while later, he told me there was no need for me to stay. They would be in touch again if they needed any clarification, he told me, and he thanked me for what I had done.

Buoyed by his comments, and particularly his thanks, I went home and pondered all that had happened and the changes which had occurred in people's lives as a result.

My thoughts were interrupted by my ringing phone.

“Is that Greg?” It was Sarah from Colbox.

“Yes.”

“Mr Jordan thought you would like to know that Gemma didn't come into work this morning. She hasn't called in sick so we don't know what's wrong.”

“Ah. Thanks for the call. Would it be possible to speak to Mr Jordan?”

“I'll see. Just a minute.”

There was only the briefest of pauses.

“Greg.” The same brisk, business like voice. I could picture him in his favourite chair behind the desk.

“Frank. Gemma won't be in today. I'm afraid she's at the police station with her father. I just left them there.”

“Oh God! Is she in serious trouble?”

“I don't know how serious it will prove to be. That's up to the police. I do know she was there when Helen died, although what happened was not directly her fault.”

“So why is she with the police?”

“She's telling them exactly what happened. At least I hope she is. Look, I'm not sure how much I should tell you in detail. It will all come out soon enough, but don't expect to see Gemma today, or perhaps for a few days. No doubt she will be in touch with you in due course.”

“Right.” He paused. “And thanks, Greg. It seems you were right to be suspicious.”

“Listen,” I said after a moment's thought, “for what it's worth, I think Gemma's suffered enough for what happened. I've no idea what the police will do, and what you do, if anything, is entirely up to you. But, in a sense, all she did was allow her heart to rule her head. Helen's death was an accident of chance and circumstance. Gemma will have to live with what happened for the rest of her life. And don't forget, Gemma loved her, and that will make dealing with everything even worse for her.”

I paused, but I'd said enough.

“Thanks for your help. If you ever need a detective, give me a call.”

I couldn't stop myself making such a stupid remark. It hardly sounded professional, I told myself. But I could almost hear the smile in his voice when he replied. “I will,” and the phone went dead.

As my car stopped on Joyce's parents' drive an hour or two later, I sat for a minute looking at the house. Oliver must have bought it to share with his new wife, I thought. She would have been already pregnant with Helen, so this is the only home Helen would have known.

They must have been so full of hope and expectation when they moved in. Pam would be trying to put an unhappy past behind her, and Oliver would be busy with his bank job, buzzing to and from the Far East from time to time. A prosperous, happy family.

Then Joyce arrived to round off the perfect set of two children per couple. Everything must have been rosy and happy for a long time, then it all began to collapse.

Joyce lost her job and her career. Soon afterwards Oliver was made redundant. Then Annie died and the inheritance went to someone unknown. And as if all that wasn't bad enough, Helen was killed in an accident, and I realised now that it was an accident. Nothing was intentional.

Gemma was frustrated and angry, but not murderous. Monty only did what dogs do and protected his mistress. It was hard to blame either of them, yet without the two of them Helen would never had died.

And Doug saw it happen and did nothing. Had he alerted the authorities and told them what he knew and what he saw, the coroner's verdict would have been quite different, the police would have continued their enquiries and Pam and Oliver would not have had to suffer a prolonged period of not knowing.

I considered again the question of Helen falling backwards and how the body was situated when the police arrived. It must have been turned somehow as she fell, I concluded. Surely no police pathologist would consider that someone threw themselves backwards in front of a train.

It was easy to think that for everything that happens, someone is responsible. Some people do good in the world and others do harm. I recalled Oliver's rant about Hitler, and that if there had been no war, none of this would have happened. That would mean no Ilse, no grudge held by Doug, and perhaps a direct inheritance by Helen from Annie. But it would not have changed Gemma. It was her infatuation with Helen which ultimately caused her death, if anything did.

And yet, with no Ilse, Helen would not have been by the railway line to be pushed over by a dog. So, in a sense, Oliver was right. Perhaps it was not possible to apportion blame for all that had happened, not to Gemma, or Monty, or Doug, or anyone else. It was a combination of factors, originating with the war.

Joyce came out of the front door and called something to me. I opened the door to hear.

“I heard you arrive,” she repeated. “Are you going to sit there all day?”

I forced a smile. After all that had happened, I didn't feel like smiling very much. But I got out of the car and went into the house which I knew now was going to become part of my future.

“How are you getting on?” Oliver greeted me.

“It's all done. I know what happened.”

“Really?” Pam asked from behind him. “Oh dear. Do I want to hear this?”

“I think you might feel better for knowing. Come and sit down.”