Dead Silent (15 page)

Rachel sat up and smoothed back her hair so that it streamed over her grey suit jacket, her shirt bright blue, the front gaping open at the breast, revealing just the start of her cleavage. Laura felt dowdy in her polyester uniform and pulled herself straight, thrusting her fingers into her equipment belt; then, realising that she just looked awkward, she leaned against the door jamb.

‘What, like in a let’s-go-for-coffee-and-make-idle-talk kind of way?’ Rachel said.

Laura shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

Rachel shook her head. ‘No, you don’t mean that,’ she said, and then gestured towards a chair surrounded by boxes. ‘If you can find a space, sit down.’

Laura had to move some papers and when she looked again at Rachel, Laura saw that she was smiling at her.

‘What’s wrong?’ Laura asked.

‘I can read you,’ Rachel said.

‘I thought I was more enigmatic than that,’ Laura said, sarcasm in her voice.

‘Less than you think,’ Rachel replied.

‘So what do I want?’

Rachel’s eyes narrowed for a moment. ‘You want to find out what I know about whatever Jack’s doing,’ she said. ‘Jack’s visitor was just some woman until yesterday, but now you’re worried.’

‘You don’t have to be a genius to work that out,’ Laura said, her irritation showing. ‘You set up some vague threat to Jack and then wonder why I’m here.’

‘So just come out and ask me what we’re investigating.’

Laura folded her arms. ‘Okay,’ she said, rolling her eyes,
frustrated at having to play the game. ‘What are you investigating?’

‘The same as Jack.’

‘But I don’t know what Jack is up to.’

Rachel sat back. ‘Then if you want to know what I’m looking into, ask Jack. If you know nothing, you can’t help me.’

‘And you won’t tell, even though you think Jack might be in danger?’

Rachel just smiled.

Laura sighed, trying not to let Rachel’s smugness wind her up.

‘You need to drop the stand-by-your-man stuff,’ Rachel said. ‘Your first duty is to the job.’

Laura ground her teeth. ‘I know where my duties lie,’ she said.

Rachel stared at her. ‘We are still police officers, PC McGanity Be as loyal to Jack as you want, and I admire you for it, but as soon as you buzz your way in through those secure doors, you lock the rest of the world out. Sometimes we have to sacrifice things. It’s hard, I know that, but if we don’t do the job properly, it just makes it harder for everyone. You can’t expect to get involved with a reporter and then keep his secrets for him.’

‘I don’t need a career lesson from someone who was still flashing her knickers behind the bike sheds when I joined the job,’ Laura snapped.

Rachel’s smile was cold. ‘Be angry with Jack, not me,’ she said. ‘He shouldn’t have told you.’

‘He
hasn’t
told me.’

Rachel shook her head. ‘I don’t believe you, because I can see your struggle, in here,’ and she tapped the side of her head. ‘Between your uniform and your love life. Not everyone makes the right choice.’

‘And which is the right choice?’

‘The one that makes you happiest,’ Rachel said.

Laura nodded slowly and then stood to go. Just before she got to the door, she turned and said, ‘I don’t know anything about you, and I can see the confidence in your eyes, but I’ve been doing the job longer than you, and there’s more to being a good copper than a sharp suit and good hair. You need to be able to read people, tell when they are lying, and when they are speaking the truth, and you do it badly.’ Laura walked away, feeling angry with herself for losing her temper, but at least she had let Rachel know that she wasn’t to be cowed.

She took a deep breath and looked down as she heard the jangle of her equipment on her belt, saw how her thighs pressed against the cloth. Rachel had used Laura’s uniform against her, made her feel less of a police officer. Laura’s cheeks were burning with rage as she reached the stairs, determined that Rachel wouldn’t get away with that a second time.

‘So tell me your story,’ I said, my hand poised over my notebook.

Claude Gilbert looked at me, and then at my pen, and for a few moments he just stared at it, as if he knew that there was no going back once he started talking. Then he sat back in his chair and turned the stare towards me again, his eyes bright against the dull grey of his beard, which he stroked with his stubby fingers, the nails chewed down, feathers of loose skin alongside them. When he spoke, his voice was strong.

‘I am the victim of an unbelievable coincidence,’ he said slowly, clearly, and then added, ‘and my wife was not the woman you think she was.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ I asked, sceptical, surprised.

‘Just that,’ he said. ‘I’ve always been the villain, the rogue, the womaniser. That’s what the papers said, that Nancy was the devoted wife, pregnant and loyal. And that picture they sometimes use, you know, the one taken at some garden party, where she’s laughing as she tries to hold on to a straw hat, caught by the wind,’ he scoffed. ‘A real English rose, don’t you think?’

‘There’s a problem,’ I countered, and I nodded towards Susie, who looked at the floor, embarrassed. ‘You
were
a womaniser.’

He took a deep breath and sat up in his chair. He pointed his finger at me, the tip crooked. ‘That does not make me a murderer,’ he said, stressing every word. Then he sat back with a slump and exhaled loudly. He looked at the ceiling as he spoke, his voice quieter now. ‘I’ve had plenty of time to reflect, Mr Garrett. Twenty-two years, so I know how I behaved, and I don’t care what you think. Yes, I was selfish, a drunk and a flirt, had affairs, but, despite what you think of me, I loved my wife dearly.’

‘And Susie?’ I asked. ‘Did she mean so little to you?’

He looked towards her and smiled, his beard creasing. ‘It’s not about Susie, any of this,’ he said. ‘Back then, Susie was just a good time I once had. I know that sounds cruel, but it wasn’t meant to turn out like this. We’ve talked about it, and things are different now.’

As he turned back to me, I raised my eyebrows.

‘Don’t judge me,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘It is possible to hurt someone you love. And I know I was hurting Nancy, because when I went home and looked into her eyes, I saw a woman I still loved dearly, who was beautiful and who was fun, and who still loved me back.’

‘And what do you think she saw in your eyes?’ I said. ‘Betrayal?’

He slammed his hand on the chair, sending up a small dust cloud and making me jump, a deeper flush to his cheeks now. I didn’t say anything. I let the silence hang there, wanting to hear things his way. He took a few deep breaths, and then he held up his hand in apology. ‘Nothing you can say will change anything. I was in the wrong and so I don’t blame Nancy. I was never there. I was either working or drinking, and when I was at home, I was always too tired to be a proper husband, if you know what I mean.’

‘And gambling?’

He nodded. ‘That too,’ he said, and then he broke into a smile. ‘I was in a lean spell, and so I had to keep on working to earn the stake money.’

‘And while you were watching the cards turn at the casino, Nancy was home alone, in that big house?’

Gilbert nodded, his eyes filled with regret. ‘She was a passionate woman, and she had needs, I realise that now. And because I wasn’t around to fulfil them, she went looking elsewhere.’

That surprised me. ‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

‘What do you think I mean?’ he said, and he leant forward again, his arm resting on his knee, his eyes boring into mine. ‘Nancy was pregnant when she died, everyone knows that,’ he said. ‘It’s what has kept me in the papers, that I buried my pregnant wife alive. But I am going to tell you something that has not appeared in any newspaper I’ve read, so listen well, because
this
will make your story unique.’

I looked over at Susie, who was watching intently, her bag perched on her knees. I nodded to let him know that I was ready.

He spoke clearly, slowly, just to make sure that I understood. ‘The baby was not mine.’

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Gilbert nodded, a look of triumph on his face. ‘You heard me right,’ and he pointed at my notepad. ‘Write it down: she was pregnant with another man’s child.’ He became more animated. ‘You haven’t seen that in the papers, have you?’ he said, his finger jabbing at me.

I shook my head slowly. ‘How can you be sure?’

He laughed, but it was bitter and short. ‘Shall we just say, Mr Garrett, that we weren’t straining the bedsprings too often back then? Oh, there were moments, when Nancy felt needy, or after too much wine, but they were weeks apart.
I remember that I was surprised that we could have conceived, but still, it was life-changing, or so I thought. My child, my heir. Why would I think that it was another man’s child?’ He shook his head. ‘It was the scan that made me suspicious, that the expected date of the birth didn’t seem right, didn’t fit in with when we had last been in bed together. And then Nancy changed. She became more withdrawn, cold. I don’t know what her plan had been, whether she had always known that it wasn’t mine, or whether she was just unsure, but then one day she sat me down and told me the news, that the baby couldn’t be mine, that she was carrying another man’s child.’ He licked his lips again. ‘Can you imagine how I felt?’

‘Angry,’ I said, before I had the sense to stop the words. His eyes narrowed and he scowled at me. ‘So whose baby was it?’ I asked.

He sat back, a sour expression in his eyes. ‘A cheap little man, an insurance broker of all things. He did the neighbourhood rounds in his nasty double-breasted suit. This was before internet payments, when the insurance man would call at the house. He must have caught Nancy in a weak moment.’

‘Or a lonely one,’ I said. ‘Or do you prefer your competitors to be as well educated as you?’

‘She was no Lady Chatterley,’ he quipped back. ‘Mike Dobson was his name.’

I scribbled it down and then asked, ‘So what did you do when you found out?’

He stroked his beard again, some of his anger dissipating. ‘I did what all weak men do,’ he said. ‘I ran away. I knew someone with a small lodge in the Lake District, and so I spent a few days there. I did some walking, the clear air did me good, and I drained a few whisky bottles, which didn’t. I just didn’t know what to do. People are different now. Men
are different. They weep at everything, from football matches to princesses they have never met, and we have become a nation that pins flowers to road signs.’ He grimaced. ‘Back then, I felt like I had lost everything. I couldn’t face my friends, didn’t know what to do. I was angry and, yes, I wanted to hurt Nancy, but not physically, you understand, just emotionally. So I struck at her in a way that made sense to me.’

‘You made her poor?’ I guessed.

He nodded and smiled. ‘You have me worked out already, don’t you, Mr Garrett? I went to my bank, withdrew all my money and headed for France.’

Susie took hold of his hand, cradling it gently in her palm.

‘I almost jumped, you know, when I was on the ferry,’ he said quietly, looking at Susie. ‘France was getting nearer and I didn’t know what I was going to do when I got there. So I stepped onto a railing, and I was ready to go, but I was even too cowardly for that. I climbed down and slunk off into France. I caught the train south and rented a small house just outside Carcassonne.’

‘What were your plans?’ I asked.

He looked back to me and dropped Susie’s hand. ‘I didn’t have any. For a week, I drank wine and took long walks, and after a while things didn’t look so bad. It’s a beautiful part of the world, and it seemed a long way from Blackley. Our careers suck us in, make us feel that nothing else matters, but I felt like I had stepped away from it, and it was glorious. I had cash, I had sunshine, and I thought I had got some sweet revenge on Nancy—she couldn’t pay the mortgage without me. I thought about roaming Europe for a while, maybe even going to Monte Carlo and blowing all I had in the casino, and then I could drink wine as her life fell apart. Let her bring up her little bastard in some rented hovel
somewhere.’ His eyes looked distant again. ‘Then, one day, I caught sight of a newspaper, and my face was on the front. My French wasn’t brilliant, but I knew enough to get the gist, that Nancy was dead, and that I was the chief suspect. That’s when my life changed.’

‘So why didn’t you hand yourself in?’ I said.

‘Because I was in a mess,’ he said. ‘I had to deal with the shock of Nancy’s death and how she died, and then when I thought about it, I knew how it looked. Wife found buried in the garden, a husband who emptied the accounts and ran? I knew the system, and anyone that does wouldn’t trust it to save them. I would go to prison, I knew that, and I knew what sort of men were in there. A good advocate can convince a jury of almost anything, and I would have been a high-profile catch.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘At the time, it made sense to keep on running.’

I glanced at Susie, and saw that she was staring at him, as if his story caused her personal pain. Perhaps she felt some guilt that she had encouraged his lifestyle, as if she were complicit in some way.

‘Where did you go next?’ I asked. ‘Where does all of this Josif Petrovic stuff come from, this human quantum energy thing?’

‘Serbia,’ he replied. ‘It was 1988 when Nancy died. The Iron Curtain wasn’t even ruffled back then, and so I headed east and hid behind it. It was the perfect place for a runaway Englishman, because the authorities weren’t too keen on helping out the Brits. I had some Yugoslavian contacts from university and so I was able to build a life over there. I was working in a tyre factory until the Berlin Wall came down, and when the Balkan Wars started, I had to go running again. I came back to England and reinvented myself as an expert in alternative therapies. There’s always someone willing to
buy a crystal or self-help tape, provided you package it correctly.’

‘And human quantum energy?’

He looked at me carefully, as if he knew I was testing him.

‘We all have a quantum energy field, like an electric field in our bodies,’ he said. ‘It is what drives the electrons around our bodies, makes us feel good or bad. If you feel bad, you can overcome it by correcting the human quantum energy, taking it to a higher orbit. It fights stress and disease.’