Bones Under The Beach Hut (19 page)

    'Did
you see him here at the beach hut?'

    'Yes.
The keen hutters tend to start using them at Easter. I always invite Gavin and
the children down for a week at Easter.'

    Invite?
I bet it's a three-line whip, thought Carole. And she noticed that Deborah
Wrigley's daughter- in-law Nell didn't even merit a mention.

    'Anyway,
I think Mark must've had some kind of breakdown - or mid-life crisis do they
call it these days? The generation who lived through the war didn't have time
for mid-life crises. He must have been potty, though, because he chucks a
perfectly good job, leaves a delightful and beautiful wife and sets up with
some young floozy. I've met her. Called Gillie or something.'

    'Philly.'

    'Whatever.
Insipid little thing, I thought. Not like Nuala. At least Nuala had something
about her.'

    Deborah
Wrigley's words made Carole think. First, the idea that Mark Dennis might have
had some kind of breakdown. It hadn't occurred to her before, but maybe it
wasn't such a silly idea. He'd certainly been under a lot of pressure at the
time of his disappearance. Maybe he had cracked up and been hospitalized. That
would explain the lack of contact Philly had had from him.

    The
other realization that Deborah Wrigley had prompted was that the only version
of Nuala Dennis that Carole and Jude had heard about had been Mark's views
passed on by Philly. And people from broken relationships don't always provide
the most balanced assessments of their ex-partners' characters. Maybe Nuala
wasn't the complete villainess that she had been painted.

    All
this went through Carole's mind in a flash before she asked, 'Do you know if
Nuala still works in the City?'

    'I
assume so. She and Mark didn't have children, I know that. Whether there was
some problem, or whether she just put her career first I've no idea. When I
last had contact with her she was working for PWC.' In response to Carole's
interrogative eyebrow, she spelled out, 'PricewaterhouseCoopers. But we're
talking some years ago. Goodness knows if she's still there. These City
high-flyers tend to move around a lot these days. Different in Ronald's time.
He was at NMB most of his career. Climbed his way up the management ladder. But
then that's how things worked in those days. People had a sense of loyalty to
their employers. Whereas today's young people don't even seem to understand
what the word "loyalty" means.'

    'So
you don't have any other means of contacting Nuala Dennis?'

    The
expression on Deborah Wrigley's face told Carole how odd her question must have
sounded. 'No,' came the reply. 'We are talking about someone I only met a few
times through my husband's work. And I can't imagine any reason why you might
want to contact her.'

    'No,
I'm sorry. I just... well, I've met Philly Rose ...'

    'Have
you?' The words were not enthusiastic.

    'Yes.
And I know how cut up she is about Mark's leaving, and I thought if he had gone
back to his wife, then contacting her might be a way of—'

    'I'm
sure if Mark Dennis has gone back to his wife - which I very much hope he has -
the last thing the two of them would wish for would be a call from his former
floozy.'

    'You're
probably right. Well, Gulliver and I had better be on our way.'

    'Yes,
perhaps you had.' Deborah Wrigley's smile of dismissal had all the warmth of a
low-energy light bulb.

    When Carole
got back to High Tor she rang Curt Holderness's mobile. Prompted to leave a
message, she asked if he could phone her back, though without great confidence
that he would. When they had parted on the Sunday in the Crown and Anchor, the
security officer hadn't shown much enthusiasm for the idea of their ever
speaking again.

    Since
it was not yet five o'clock, Carole - again without much optimism - thought she
might try PricewaterhouseCoopers to get a contact number for Nuala. Using her
laptop to check the number on their website, she rang through to the main
London office near Charing Cross. No, they did not have a Nuala Dennis working
for them. And no, they couldn't divulge details of former employees.

    As
she put the phone down, it struck Carole that a City go-getter like the Nuala
Deborah Wrigley had described would quite probably have worked under her maiden
rather than her married name. And trying to guess that would be a hopeless
task. She wondered whether Philly Rose might know. It didn't seem very likely.
Few women are interested in their lovers' wives' maiden names.

    Later
that evening, as they shared a bottle of Chilean Chardonnay in her cluttered
sitting room, Jude agreed that it was worth trying to get a bit more
information from Philly and rang through to Seashell Cottage. But no, the girl
had no idea what Nuala had been called before she married Mark.

    'So
you don't have any means of contacting her?'

    'Why
should I have?'

    'That
wasn't really the question I was asking, Philly.'

    'No.'
There was a silence from the Smalting end. Then, 'I do actually have a mobile
number for her.'

    'Oh?'

    'I
copied it from Mark's phone once when he was out. I don't know why. I think perhaps
I'd always been aware of the risk Nuala represented. But then when he left, I
didn't dare ring the number. I kept wanting to, but something stopped me.'

    'The
thought that Mark might actually be with her?' Jude suggested intuitively.

    'Yes,
just that. It was what I was afraid might have happened, and I suppose I was
equally afraid of having my fears confirmed.'

    'I
could ring her,' Jude proposed gently.

    'But
why should you?'

    'For
the same reason you would - to find out if Mark's with her.'

    'Yes,
but how would you explain why you were doing it?'

    'I'd
be trying to contact Mark and say I'd been given that number.'

    'And
who would you claim to be - someone trying to sell him double glazing?'

    'If I
can't think of anything better, yes.'

    'Okay,
you try. And make sure you let me know if you find out anything about where he
is.'

    'Of
course I will. Could you give me the number?'

    After
Philly had done so, she said, 'And of course if you call you might also find
out whether anything's happened to Nuala.'

    Clearly
Philly's anxiety of that morning had not gone away. She was still worried that
Mark Dennis might have done away with his inconvenient ex-wife.

    'No
time like the present,' said Jude, and instantly she was keying in the number
that Philly Rose had given her.

    It
was answered almost immediately, but the voice was male. 'Hello?'

    'Good
evening. I was trying to contact Nuala Dennis.'

    'Oh,
were you?' The name didn't seem to prompt happy memories.

    'I'm
sorry. I was given this number as Nuala Dennis's mobile phone.'

    'Well,
it used to be hers. Now I reckon it's mine.'

    'Oh.
Erm, who am I speaking to?'

    'My
name's Cyrus Maxton. Who are you?'

    'Jude.'

    'A
friend of Nuala's?'

    'More
an acquaintance, really.'

    'And
what do you want with her?'

    It
was one of those moments when the truth might be as effective as any falsehood.
'I'm trying to track down her husband Mark.'

    'They've
separated.'

    'Yes,
I know that, but—'

    'Listen,
I know nothing about Nuala's bloody husband! All I know is that Nuala and I
were in a relationship for about three months and then the cow walked out on
me, having managed to take quite a lot of my money with her. So you might
understand that I don't welcome calls from her friends or acquaintances and I'm
damned if I'm going to—'

    'Why
have you got her mobile phone?'

    'She
left it here when she stormed out. I was about to upgrade mine, so I thought
I'd use hers. Get something out of three wasted months! And so far she still
seems to be paying the bill - which suits me fine!'

    'Have
you had any contact with Nuala since?'

    'Texts.
I've tried ringing her, but she won't talk.'

    'So
you do have a current mobile number for her?'

    'What
if I do?'

    'If
you could give me that number, I—'

    'Why
should I? After the way the bitch treated me, I don't feel particularly
inclined to help her maintain her social life with her girlfriends.'

    'I'm
not one of her girlfriends.' That was true, though what Jude said next wasn't.
'She stung me for a lot of money too. That's why I'm trying to contact her.'

    Cyrus
Maxton's manner changed immediately. Now that he appeared to be talking to
someone keen to make Nuala Dennis's life difficult, he was all cooperation. He
gave Jude the new mobile number. 'But I should warn you, you may not get
through.'

    'Oh?'

    'I've
been texting her regularly trying to get back some of the stuff she nicked from
my flat and I haven't been getting any replies.'

    'Well,
presumably when she recognizes your number she just doesn't text back.'

    'Sure.
But recently when I've tried I get a different response. Like the phone's
switched off. Or run out of juice.'

    'You
mean she hasn't been recharging it?'

    'That's
what I've been beginning to think. Okay, not taking my calls, not responding to
my texts, I can understand that. But switching the thing off? Nuala's mobile is
like an extra appendage of her body. She never switched it off - or at least
not for as long as this.'

    'You
said "recently". When was the last time you texted her phone when it
was switched on?'

    'Weekend
before last. I tried again . . . when? Let's think . . . Today's Monday ... it
would have been last Tuesday. Didn't get any response then and the phone's been
switched off since.'

    Last
Tuesday. The day in whose small hours Mark Dennis and a mystery woman were seen
by Curt Holderness walking down on to Smalting Beach. The day since Nuala
Dennis had perhaps not been able to recharge her mobile phone.

    After
she'd finished her call to Cyrus Maxton, Jude tried the new number he had given
her for Nuala. She was sent straight to voicemail. The phone was switched
off... or out of charge.

    Carole
Seddon woke the next morning feeling pressured by time. It was Tuesday and in
five days Gaby and Lily would be coming to stay in High Tor. Was it possible
that she and Jude could have found a solution to the mystery of the human
remains under
Quiet Harbour
by then? At their current rate of progress
the prospects were not promising.

    But
when she joined Jude later for coffee at Wood- side Cottage, they did have a
small breakthrough on the case. Without much optimism, Jude once again tried
the number Cyrus Maxton had given her. And this time it was answered.

    'Hello?'
The voice was hard, businesslike and unwelcoming, but there was a little trace
of Irish in it.

    'Good
morning. Is that Nuala Dennis?'

    'My
name's Nuala Cullan.'

    'But
is your married name Nuala Dennis?'

    'I
never use my married name.'

    'But
your married name is Nuala Dennis?'

    'It
was once.' Jude felt a little flutter of relief. At least she'd be able to
reassure Philly that Mark's wife was still alive, that he hadn't done away with
her.