Murder on the Hour (21 page)

“I don't know what to do,” said Bethan. “I don't know if I should tell her or not.”

“I think you should,” said Victoria. “If it were me, I'd want to know. Wouldn't you?”

Penny's heart missed a beat and then began to pound as the water stopped and the air hand dryer started up. “Well, you had that thing with a married man a while back,” said Bethan. “Italy, wasn't it?”

“Yes, but he was separated from his wife and the moment it looked like they were getting back together, I was out of there,” said Victoria. “But the thing is, she doesn't know he's married.”

No one spoke. The only sound was what Penny thought must be one of them riffling through her handbag, probably looking for a lipstick.

“What made you suspicious of him?” Victoria's question broke the silence.

“I wasn't suspicious, really. Just wanted to make sure he got his car back, that's all.”

“Of course you did. So what did you do?”

“I looked up his car on the compound record. It had been claimed, all right, but he wasn't the one who retrieved it. It was picked up by one Annabelle Quinn, of the same address.”

“His daughter maybe? Or sister?”

“No. Someone with identification showing the same address as the vehicle's owner is allowed to claim it, and the relationship with the owner is noted. She stated she was his wife. Everything was in order, so the vehicle was released to her.”

“Oh, God,” said Victoria. “Well, you've definitely got to tell Penny. She's been in agony because she hasn't heard from him and now we know why.”

Penny's stomach churned as she held a hand over her mouth. She didn't know whether to reveal herself or stay where she was. Realizing she was just too numb to move, she lowered herself slowly onto the edge of the toilet seat.

“Yes, I'll tell her. Not tonight, though, because I don't want to upset her and ruin the DCI's party.”

“Tomorrow,” said Victoria.

“Yes, I'll call her tomorrow.”

“She really liked him, you know,” said Victoria. “This is going to be hard for her.” The last few words were barely audible as the two moved toward the door and a moment later the sound of it opening and closing signaled they were gone.

Penny stayed where she was, her breathing heavy and difficult. Michael Quinn was married. No wonder his house looked so feminine. His wife lived there! She thought back to everything he'd said to her, and the things they'd done together. He had seemed so sincere, so relaxed, so into her. But of course he wasn't.

She could feel the heat starting to flush through her body. He'd been so smooth, so full of charm, he must have had lots of practice at this. The lies he must have told his wife.

She unlocked the door to the cubicle and head down, hurried to the lobby, hoping she wouldn't meet anyone on the way. But instead of returning to the retirement party, she made for the front entrance of the club. As she pushed open the glass door two important-looking men stepped out of a cab. She pushed past them, threw herself into the backseat, and gave the driver instructions to her cottage.

*   *   *

She tipped the driver and stumbled up the path to her front door. As her emotions ricocheted from anger to humiliation, from disbelief to embarrassment, she fumbled in her handbag for the key. She pushed the door open and tore off her jacket, tossing it onto the nearest chair. She rushed to the drinks tray and poured herself a large vodka, added a splash of tonic, and then dropped to the sofa. As if she were sorting through a pile of photographs she got out every memory she had of Michael Quinn and sifted through all of them. She tried to remember everything he'd said to her, searching for something that could have told her he was married. She couldn't remember anything that should have been a red flag. Not a word. And the cruel lie that his wife was dead! What kind of man says that about his wife?

The growing, tender feelings she'd had for him had evaporated, replaced by an overwhelming feeling of revulsion. His lies and dishonesty sickened her. And she hated the way her association with him made her feel about herself.

She drained her glass and was thinking about another one when the glare of headlights shining on the drawn curtain announced the arrival of a vehicle. She listened as it drove away and footsteps approached her front door, followed by knocking. She debated whether to open it, and thinking it would be Victoria, come to see what had happened to her, she sighed and opened the door.

When she saw who it was, she burst into tears.

 

Twenty-nine

“I came to see if you're okay, but I guess not,” said DCI Gareth Davies. Penny stood to one side so he could enter. He closed the door behind him, gazed at her for a moment, then held out his arms.

“Come here,” he said. She hesitated, then let his familiar warmth enfold her, resting her head on his chest. He embraced her for a moment, then gently released her.

“Better now?” She nodded and led the way into the sitting room.

“I just had a large vodka,” she said. “Want one?”

“Well, maybe a small one.” He steered her to the sofa. “I'll fix them.”

He handed her a drink, then sat beside her. She took a delicate sip then set the glass on the coffee table. This one didn't taste as welcome as the first one. This one just tasted like desperation.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. “Tell me what's upsetting you?”

“What have you heard?” she countered.

“Bethan and Victoria came back to the table, wondering where you'd got to. Dorothy said you'd just popped into the loo and they looked horrified. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

She shook her head. “Not really.”

“But something did happen?” he pressed her.

She nodded. “But really, I don't want to talk about it,” Penny said. “It was very good of you to come all the way out here to make sure I'm okay, but I'm fine. You should be at your retirement party. You'll be missed.”

“Oh, Alan can hold the fort. He was a very senior officer and very well respected in police circles so our guys will be more than happy to talk to him. I'll head back in a few minutes, but I'd like you to come with me, if you feel up to it.”

“What about Isla from the evidence room? Isn't she with you at the party?”

Davies looked confused. “With me? No. I barely knew who she was. She just sort of glommed on to me and came to sit at our table. I couldn't very well tell her she couldn't sit there, could I? I've got no idea what she's up to.”

Penny almost laughed. Smart men could sometimes be so naïve.

“Okay, well, I'm feeling a bit better, but I don't think I'll go back with you,” she said. “We've got a big wedding on tomorrow and I have to be up early for that. And anyway, I'm not sure I could face anyone right now. I think I'll just have an early night.”

“Everyone's going to want to know you're okay so I'll just tell them you're feeling better but decided to call it a night, shall I? I'm surprised no one's rung you.”

“My phone's switched off,” Penny said. “Look, say good-bye to Dorothy and Alan for me, will you? Tell them I'm sorry and that I'll be in touch soon.”

After he had gone she went upstairs and patted her puffy eyes with a wash cloth dipped in cold water to minimize the after effects of crying, although since she was home with just Harrison her cat, she wasn't too worried about her appearance. It just made her feel better. She changed into lounging pyjamas and settled on the sofa. She checked her phone for missed calls. Two from Victoria. None from Michael. She'd lost track of how many days since she'd heard from him, but now that she knew the truth, it didn't matter.

She was just thinking about going up to bed when once again headlights announced the arrival of a car. Who is it this time, she wondered. The headlights dimmed as they were switched off and then the car's motor was silenced.

She opened the door to a breathless Victoria.

“Oh, Penny,” she said. “I'm so, so sorry. Bethan and I felt just terrible when we realized you must have overheard our conversation in the loo. And then you disappeared. We were just working out what to tell you.”

“Well, you told me, didn't you? But honestly, it's all right. I'd rather know than not know. I just feel like such an idiot. How could I not have realized? Did you know?”

Victoria winced. “To be honest, I thought something wasn't right and wondered if he might be married. Either that or he's just what they used to call a cad. I don't know what they call them now. A man who uses women. But look, it wasn't your fault, and I bet a lot of smart women have fallen for his Irish charm.”

“It's that Irish accent. I was so taken in. I just hope Mrs. Lloyd doesn't get to hear about this.”

“No, he'd better hope Mrs. Lloyd doesn't get to hear about this. You know she would be supportive of you one hundred percent. Look, I know you feel really awful right now, and you'll think it's easy for me to say this, but the thing is, you will get over this very quickly. You'll soon see that he isn't worth one more minute of your time or one more tear.”

“You're probably right.”

“'Course I am! Aren't I always?” She sat down. “Anyway, listen, there've been developments you'll want to know about.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“No, I've got to drive home, so I'd better not have any more to drink. I'm probably a bit over the limit as it is.”

“All right. But tell me what happened.”

“Well, when Gareth got back, his superior officer, I don't know his rank or what he's called, but anyway he made a little speech and presented Gareth with a watch in a really nice box. By then the party was in full swing. And then Bethan got a phone call and spoke to Gareth and then the two of them spoke to Gareth's boss, who was just getting ready to leave, I think.

“Anyway, Bethan's father's had a heart attack and he lives on his own, so she's gone off to Abergele to look after him and you'll never guess!”

“Oh, I can guess. Gareth's been reassigned to the Catrin Bellis case?”

“That's right! He's got about three weeks to go until his retirement is official, and they want it wrapped up by then but he can stay on a bit longer if he has to.”

“Oh. How did he feel about that?”

“Well, he took it in his stride. I think he liked the idea of getting back in the old murder investigation harness. He's not really happy being desk bound, doing whatever it is he's been doing. Writing up crime statistics reports, I think he said.”

She started to laugh. “Oh, and this bit was really funny. By the time he got back after seeing you, Isla'd had a bit too much to drink and was all over him like a rash.”

Penny wasn't laughing.

 

Thirty

There's a reason brides choose to be married in June, Penny thought as she, Eirlys, and Victoria drove to the Hughes's farm the next morning. There's a softness about it as spring fades into the bright, early days of summer. Lush, vibrant fields in a thousand shades of green, enclosed by grey stone walls, stretched for miles around them under an atmospheric sky filled with wispy clouds.

They turned down the narrow tarmac road that led to the Hughes's farm and parked in the same spot as they had on their earlier visit. The garden that flanked the front door was now filled with white roses, fresh and beautiful in the morning light.

“Hiya,” said a young woman in a pair of black jeans and a white blouse as she opened the door. Her tousled hair was piled on top of her head and held with a large red clip.

“I'm Jessica, the bride. We're supposed to go up to my room and get me ready.” Heather Hughes bustled into the foyer and stood beside her daughter, one hand resting lightly on her arm.

“Eirlys here will do Jessica's manicure and then makeup,” said Victoria, “and Alberto, our hairdresser, will be here in about an hour to do everyone's hair.”

The bride wasn't much older than Eirlys, who had started working at the Spa a couple of years ago right out of school. The two young women, already deep in conversation, disappeared up the stairs.

“We'll take them up a cup of tea in a few minutes,” said Heather. “In the meantime, may I get you anything?”

“A coffee would be wonderful,” said a slightly hung over Victoria, as Penny murmured agreement.

“Come through, then.”

They found themselves once again in the stunning dream kitchen. Two women, wearing large white aprons, looked up as the group entered, and then returned to their food preparation tasks.

“We're having the wedding in the garden and the reception there, too, under the marquee,” said Heather. “Thank God the weather is good. Of course, we're prepared for rain, but sun is much better.”

“Who is Jessica marrying?” asked Penny as Heather handed her a coffee and turned back to the machine to make Victoria's. She took a few moments to reply as if considering what she should say.

“She's marrying a farmer called Jones from just down the road,” Heather said in a low voice with a glance at the women slicing vegetables. “We think he's a bit old for her, but she insists this is what she wants. Well, of course it is. He breeds some of the finest horses in Wales. Jessica's been competing for years. Trying now for a spot on the national equestrian team, with a view to the Olympics.”

“But that's wonderful!” exclaimed Victoria.

“Yes, I suppose in a way it is,” said Heather. “But it's not what her father and I would have chosen for her. We wanted her to go to university.”

She handed Victoria her coffee.

“Well, I suppose we'd best get started,” she said. “I thought you could do my nails in the library. It's quiet there and we won't be disturbed.”