Authors: Elena Forbes
‘Do you want to talk about the article?’ she asked. ‘If so, hadn’t you better read it?’
‘I’ll read it later. I want to talk about the lake and what happened there. That’s why I called you. You knew about the girl, didn’t you?’ She glanced away and took a sip of wine. ‘Didn’t you?’ he repeated.
‘Yes. Joe told me.’
‘Why didn’t you say anything?’
‘I didn’t think it was important.’
‘Jesus! Not important! How could you possibly think that?’
She met his gaze. ‘He told me it was a secret and he didn’t want it known. Is it important?’
He stood up. ‘Everything’s important, as you well know. Just cut the crap and tell me what happened.’
For a moment she said nothing. He could see her mind whirring through things, no doubt working out how much she should give away. Then she shrugged. ‘I don’t see why it’s important, but I’ll tell you anyway. It was the article I wrote about missing people that got him started. He’d kept it quiet all those years and I guess he just needed to talk to someone. I think he felt I’d understand, that I was on the same wave-length, a kindred spirit, if you like.’
Logan must have been a fool, he thought. ‘And what exactly did he tell you?’
‘About what happened when he was a student, like in the book.’
‘But it wasn’t like the book, was it?’
‘No. You know it wasn’t.’
‘I need to hear it from you.’
She gave an exasperated sigh. ‘If you know it all already, why are you asking me?’
‘Because I need to know exactly what Joe Logan said to you. As close as you can to his words, please.’
‘I still don’t see—’
‘Just tell me what he said. And don’t leave anything out.’
She sighed again. ‘OK. But will you stop hovering over me? You’re making me nervous.’
Reluctantly, he sat down again. ‘Better?’
She nodded. ‘He told me that there’d been a party at this place where he was living. The house was just like the one in the book. They went swimming in the lake and one of his friends came across a body. Can you imagine?’ She looked up at him with large eyes. ‘Apparently it was a dead girl.’
‘Was it someone he knew?’
‘No. He said he’d never seen her before, although he thought she must have been at the party.’
‘What did he think had happened to her?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I think he said it looked like she’d drowned.’
‘He was there at the time?’
‘No. I don’t think he went swimming. This other guy found her. He was a mate of Joe’s. Joe was somewhere else at the time and he only saw her later.’
‘So he didn’t actually see what went on?’
‘No.’
‘What happened after that?’
‘He and some others decided to get rid of her. They were worried about getting into trouble, so they decided to put her back in the lake. This was in the morning, when everyone woke up. Joe was there. He was one of the ones who rowed her out into the middle of the lake and dumped her. He said it really haunted him, that he’d never stopped thinking about her, the way she looked, wondering who she was – somebody’s daughter, sister, lover, who was missing her – that sort of stuff. It was why my article got to him. I really felt for him, you know?’
‘I’m sure he appreciated your sympathy,’ he said acidly. At least her account of what Logan had said tallied with that of the others. He put his feet up on the table and leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head gazing at her. He could see the outline of her breasts through the thin fabric of her dress.
A ghost of a smile lit up her features. ‘I suppose she’s still in the lake, isn’t she? Are you going to try and find her?’
Was it a lucky guess, or did she know what was going on at the lake at that moment? She was amazingly well informed about a lot of things, but it was impossible to gauge anything from her expression. ‘What else did he tell you?’ he asked, finding it difficult to take his eyes off her. ‘Did he have any idea who the girl was?’
She shook her head. ‘If he did, he didn’t say.’
‘And he really thought she’d drowned?’
She shrugged and took another sip of wine. ‘I asked him a couple of times. I mean, it’s not every day you find someone dead like that, is it? But he said that she’d probably had too much to drink or taken some stuff and then gone swimming, so drowning was the most likely explanation.’
‘Did he think his friend might have had anything to do with what happened to her?’
‘No. Nothing like that. Weird, isn’t it? I suppose we all watch too much crime stuff on TV, but I’d have been a bit more sceptical, wouldn’t you? I remember Joe saying that if you couldn’t trust your friends, who could you trust. He was like that. Straight up and down, that was Joe.’
From what he knew, Logan had been a lot more complex. According to Fleming, who knew him better than anyone, Logan had been pretty shrewd about other people, his friends included. Perhaps he had been naive where women were concerned, or at least a woman like Anna. He sat up and leaned towards her, clasping his hands. ‘Did he trust you?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Did Joe trust you. It’s simple.’
She sighed. ‘I suppose in the end, yes, I won his trust.’
He nodded. ‘He told you his biggest, darkest secret. Did you have to sleep with him?’
‘I didn’t have to do anything. He just told me.’
‘But did you sleep with him anyway?’ he insisted, wondering how he could feel even remotely jealous of a dead man.
She shook her head wearily. ‘Why does it have to be about sex?’
‘Because it usually is.’
‘That’s not entirely true. I mean, you and I are having a perfectly normal conversation, aren’t we?’
The disingenuousness of the remark brought a smile to his face. Did she think he was born yesterday? Maybe he had been a bit slow at the start, for a change. He’d had other things on his mind. Because of the case, because of what they had been talking about, he had been ignoring the signals. It was crystal clear now why she had come, but he still wasn’t sure what he wanted to do about it. She was too closely entangled in the case and, more than anything, he didn’t like the feeling that he was being manipulated. He frowned. ‘You haven’t answered the question.’
‘Well, it’s personal. I don’t like talking about such things and you’re not exactly making me feel very relaxed.’ She dangled her empty glass in the air. ‘I’m also not sure it’s any of your business.’
‘Everything to do with Joe Logan’s my business.’
Frustrated, he got up and poured her some more wine, topping up his own before he sat down again. Whatever she told him, he felt he would never really get to the bottom of things with her. Like one of those Russian dolls, there would always be another layer. Perhaps he should tell her to go, so that he could get some sleep. It would be the sensible thing to do.
‘I’ll have a cigarette too, if it’s not too much bother,’ she added, with a fleeting glance at the box on the coffee table.
‘You smoke?’
‘Again, from time to time. I haven’t had a Red in years, but I feel like one now.’
‘They’re strong,’ he said, getting up and offering the pack. ‘Are you sure?’
‘They usually give me a lovely high, but at least it’s legal, I suppose.’
Wondering whether she meant it literally, he bent down to give her a light. She slowly uncrossed her legs, leaned forwards and cupped his hand with hers. As she did so, she looked up into his eyes. It was a little thing, yet it jolted him. Without doubt she had used Logan, just as she was probably using him now, but it didn’t matter any more. He could see from her expression that she was aware of the effect she was having on him and was enjoying it. He knew he was on the verge of doing something stupid, but as he held her gaze, so close that he could almost feel her breath on his face, he decided he didn’t care.
‘Tell me, just so I can tick the box. Did you sleep with Joe Logan?’
She smiled. She was still touching his hand as she threw back her head and blew out a plume of smoke. ‘No. I didn’t want to. That’s the honest truth. Now I’ve come clean, you can give me something in return. It’s about my article . . .’
‘Later,’ he said, tired of talking. He took hold of her hand and pulled her up towards him. ‘There’s something I need to do first.’
27
A tear dribbled down Alex’s cheek as he stared up at the ceiling of the narrow-boat. Unable to sleep, he lay rigid, listening to the sound of Maggie’s soft, rhythmic breathing. Exhausted, yet wired, he had gone to see her as suggested after he had finished his shift at the restaurant. They’d had several drinks up on deck, gazing at the moon and the stars while he tried to explain what was wrong. He told her about the police, about Paul, about Ashleigh Grange and the party. He also told her about finding the girl’s body in the lake. It was more or less the same version he had given the police earlier. She had been warmly sympathetic and reassuring, but however much he wanted to, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her what he had done to the girl. The words just wouldn’t come. What woman would want him after knowing that? It was at the back of his mind as he described what had happened and he had broken down again, just as he had done at the police station. It was all still so vivid. He might as well have been guilty of holding the girl under the water with his bare hands. Maybe he had actually killed her and, if not, he was guilty of something almost as bad.
Maggie had comforted him, anaesthetised him with more alcohol, then taken him downstairs to her bed. For a short while he had managed to blot out the image of the girl, but when he closed his eyes, he saw her again. He remembered the taste of her, the touch, the cold, gritty wateriness of her. The vision stopped him dead in his tracks and he couldn’t go on after that. Maggie had put her arms around him and said that it didn’t matter. He would get over it, she reassured him. Time was a great healer. But he wasn’t so sure.
He heard the strange, rasping bark of a fox somewhere outside in the street. It was pointless trying to force things any longer. Sleep just wouldn’t come. He sat up and carefully swung his legs onto the floor. As he did so, Maggie stirred beside him and he felt her hand reach out and caress the small of his back.
‘Don’t go yet, Alex,’ she said drowsily. ‘Please stay.’
‘I can’t sleep. I need to stretch my legs, but I won’t be long.’
He quickly put on his trousers and shirt, slipped on his shoes and went upstairs. Out on deck, the air was fresh and heavy with damp, permeated with a faint rotting smell from the canal. He shivered and held his breath for a moment, but the taste in his mouth was sour. His glass was where he had left it on the deck beside a large pot of pink geraniums. It was still half full and he picked it up and took a gulp. The ice had melted and the tonic was flat, but the vodka still had a bit of a kick. Everything was quiet. The boats and houses along the canal were dark, curtains and blinds tightly closed. Although the streetlamps were still on, it would be light in another hour or so. Taking his glass, he stepped onto the towpath and walked along until he came to Joe’s boat. He climbed over the police tape strung across the entrance and sat down at the small table where he and Joe had last had a drink. If anybody saw him, he was past caring. He put his feet up on the edge of the boat, jammed his hands in his pockets for warmth and stared unfocused down the line of boats into the distance, as he thought again about what had happened at the lake. He thought back to the conversation he had had there with Joe the other evening, trying to pin down in his mind exactly what Joe had said.
‘Where were you that night?’ he had asked Joe.
‘I was well out of it, don’t you remember?’
Alex nodded. At least that bit was clear. He’d seen him sitting under one of the trees, getting stoned with a couple of mates, although he couldn’t remember who they were.
‘What about Paul and Danny?’
‘Off somewhere shagging for Britain, no doubt,’ Joe had said, with a sideways glance and a little ironic smile. ‘You and I were always crap at pulling. That’s why I hated those effing parties, they made me feel so bloody useless.’
Me too, Alex thought, wondering again if Paul had got lucky with the little first year, although she looked barely out of school. After all those years it was amazing how it still niggled. ‘What about the girl in the lake?’ he had asked Joe. ‘Do you remember her?’
‘No, but then I was pretty wasted.’ Us both, Alex thought. ‘I’ll bet she was with Paul or Danny at some point,’ Joe had said thoughtfully. ‘One of them must have asked her.’
‘But they said they didn’t know her.’
Joe had shaken his head. ‘C’mon Alex. Call me cynical, but sometimes you’re just too bloody naive for words. They couldn’t get enough of the girls, particularly Paul. I told you, it’s an addiction thing. He needs therapy, although he won’t admit it. Anyway, they’d both lie like hell to save their skins.’
‘Whose idea was it to get rid of her? Do you remember?’
‘Good question, Alex. I know it wasn’t me or you. We just listened to the others. I could barely speak, I was so shattered. You didn’t say much either, I remember. You were in a right state, in shock, I guess. You just kept staring at her, as though she’d landed from Mars, and I made you sit down on the grass while the others took a look. I can still hear them bickering about what to do. In the end, maybe it was Tim who took charge and worked things out as he always did. But whoever initially suggested putting her back in the lake, Paul was pretty quick to run with it, like she was something dirty that should be swept quickly under the carpet. He went on and on about his effing uncle not finding out, like that was the worst thing that could happen.’
You were right, Joe, Alex thought, sipping some more of the diluted vodka. Memory was a funny thing and he’d forgotten some of the details until now. God, how he wished Joe was still sitting there with him. Questions multiplied in his head and he felt so alone. How could she have been there that evening and not one of them even noticed her? It was inconceivable. Why had she left her clothes in the boathouse? How had she got into the lake? She was naked, so she must have been swimming, but surely she wouldn’t have gone there alone in the dark. And Tim . . . Where had Tim been? Safely with Milly somewhere, he supposed. The two of them were inseparable.
Try as he might to force them, the answers wouldn’t come and he shook his head. The detective had made him doubt his own recall, such as it was, but at least he had stirred things up. Maybe when everything settled again, the fragments perhaps falling into a new and different pattern, Alex would be able finally to make sense of it all. He was sure he had missed something important that night, something that was probably staring him in the face if only he could see it.
He drained his glass and was still sitting, half nodding off as it all swilled pointlessly around in his head, when he heard someone softly call his name. He looked up and saw Maggie walking along the towpath towards him. She was barefoot, a blue silk dressing gown wrapped around her.
She smiled. ‘I thought I’d find you here. Why don’t you come back to bed? You need some sleep, you know. Don’t think about things now.’
He nodded, then yawned, and suddenly realised how tired he was. He struggled to his feet, but as he tried to climb over the tape, he stumbled. She caught his arm and helped him over.
‘It will all be fine in the morning, you’ll see,’ she said, linking her arm through his and slowly walking him back along the towpath towards her boat.