Silent Voices (Vera Stanhope 4) (19 page)

‘Would you like tea?’ The man smiled at them. ‘I have camomile, peppermint . . .’

‘Just a few questions,’ Vera said. ‘We’ll not take up too much of your time.’

He smiled again and sat on the floor facing them. The movement was fluid, very graceful, and it came to Vera, unbidden, that he’d be very good at sex. The physical stuff. Was that part of his attraction? She felt a moment of panic, of the old regret that time was slipping past. Then something close to lust.

There was a silence. Ashworth and Morgan waited for her to speak. Morgan was looking at her as if he understood her discomfort, with compassionate blue eyes that held her attention.
Sod him! Did she need his pity? She might want his body, but that was something quite different.

‘Is it right that you’ve got that lass of yours pregnant?’

She felt that Ashworth relaxed as soon as she’d spoken. This was what he’d been expecting, a full-on attack.

‘I think we both had something to do with that. But, yes, Freya’s going to have a baby. We’re delighted.’ He gave a slow smile and though Vera despised his attitude, she still couldn’t take her eyes from his face.

‘But Mattie’s not, is she?’

‘What’s this about, Inspector? Why are you here?’ The tone was still easy.

Vera ignored the question. ‘What I don’t get, Mr Morgan, is what you saw in Mattie. I mean, she’s a bonnie lass, but not your intellectual equal, I’d say. Or was that part of the appeal? That she’d never answer back?’

Morgan frowned. ‘You’re right, of course. It was a mistake to get involved with Mattie. I’ll always regret it. She became fixated, obsessed. It really wasn’t something I encouraged. And I much prefer my women to have minds of their own.’ He gave a little smile, which was almost a challenge to Vera:
I’d much prefer someone like you.
But that was nonsense, of course. Nobody wanted her. Morgan turned away and said in a soft voice, ‘I’ll always feel guilty about Elias dying, that I should have foreseen it or done something to prevent it.’

‘So how did you hook up with Mattie?’ This was Ashworth, less aggressive, asking the question as one man to another.

‘I suppose I started off feeling sorry for her.’ Morgan leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, showing again how flexible his body was. Vera was aware of the shoulder muscles under the flimsy cotton shirt. ‘And it’s always flattering to be needed. I thought I could make a difference in her life. A terrible arrogance, I see now.’

‘Where did you meet?’

‘That was quite by chance. A cafe in Newcastle. She didn’t have quite enough money to pay for her coffee and I offered her a few pence. She was ridiculously grateful. I’d saved her the embarrassment of having to walk away.’ He looked up at them, very earnest, willing them to understand. ‘There was simplicity about her that I found awesome. A real inner beauty.’

‘Not quite the full shilling though, is she?’ Vera broke in. ‘I mean, what would you talk about, those long boring nights in her flat?’

He shook his head, despairing of her crassness. ‘She was desperate to learn,’ he said. ‘I’ve always thought that I might make a teacher – not in the conventional sense, of course – and in talking to her about my beliefs and ideals they became clearer to me.’

Self-centred prat.
Vera was pleased she no longer found him appealing. She saw the brown marks between his teeth, that there was a hair growing from a mole on his neck.

‘But you screwed Mattie up, didn’t you? Deprived her of the things that held her together: the telly, her friends in the street, the games she played with her lad. Was she always going to be an experiment? You never moved her in here, did you, like your classy new girlfriend? Basically she was just your bit of rough.’

Vera saw Morgan had been glad of the excuse to leave Mattie and move back to Tynemouth. He must have celebrated after Connie’s visit. It gave him an escape route and it made his desertion look like self-sacrifice:
I’m leaving for the sake of your son.

Vera thought Mattie would have done better to drown him than the boy.

Morgan continued in the same reasonable way. ‘I didn’t understand how disturbed she was. I never thought she’d kill Elias in the hope of getting me back.’

‘When did Jenny Lister come to visit?’ Vera asked. Soon Freya would be back, and she wanted to catch the girl before she had a chance to talk to Morgan. It was time to move things on.

For the first time he didn’t have an immediate answer.

‘She
did
come to visit you?’

‘She came here a few times,’ he said. ‘I heard about her murder. I’m so sorry she’s dead.’

‘Bit of a coincidence,’ Vera said. ‘Death following you around wherever you go. What did she want with you?’

‘To assess me.’ He gave a small smile. ‘That’s what she said.’

‘Was this before you took up with Freya or after?’ Vera found from somewhere a blast of anger.
He very nearly had me conned. He’s a clever bastard.

‘The first time was before Elias died. I think she wanted to make sure I no longer had any influence over the family. I convinced her of that.’

‘Jenny fell for your charms then, did she?’

‘She believed me. Charm didn’t come into it.’

‘When did you last see her?’

There was a pause. Outside in the street some young people were laughing and jeering, pulling Vera’s attention away from the room for a moment. In the distance she saw Freya approaching.

‘Well? It was recently, wasn’t it? Within the last two weeks. She’d found out from Mattie Jones that your young lassie was expecting a baby. She wanted to warn you from playing the same games with her as you did with Mattie.’

‘I don’t play games, Inspector.’

‘When did you last see her?’ Vera bellowed and the sound seemed to echo around the uncluttered room.

He gave a little nod. ‘You’re quite right. It was ten days ago, just a week before Jenny was murdered.’

‘And what did she want with you?’

‘She spoke to Freya, who confirmed that she was here under her own free will, that we love each other. But I’d guess love is a concept you don’t understand, Inspector.’

‘Did you have a relationship with Jenny Lister, Mr Morgan?’

He threw back his head and laughed.

Outside, the girl was almost at the door. Vera stood up suddenly, fury giving her the impetus to rise from the futon.

‘I want an answer!’

‘Of course there was no relationship, Inspector. Ms Lister was a rather beautiful woman. But not my type.’

Vera stamped out of the room, leaving Ashworth to follow.

Ashworth thought Vera had seriously messed up the interview with Morgan. Sometimes that happened to her: she let a witness get under her skin, play with her head. Then she completely lost focus. They should have taken time to prepare for this meeting, and now they were leaving with important questions left unanswered. After Vera had clattered down the wooden stairs to the street, Ashworth spent a few moments talking to Morgan, thanking him for his time. On the next occasion he’d come back here on his own. He thought the man still had information to give. Morgan was clearly a pervy bastard, but unlike Vera, Ashworth thought
he
was sufficiently professional not to let his personal opinion get in the way.

By the time he reached the pavement the two women were walking away from him towards the main street. The spring sun was very low now and he saw them as silhouettes, Vera’s bulk and the girl’s figure slender, willowy, reminding him suddenly of the iconic outlines of Laurel and Hardy at the end of their movies. Turning back towards the sea, he saw a dense, grey bank of fog on the horizon, and a huge tanker emerging from the mouth of the Tyne.

In the street, he kept his distance. The women were already in conversation and he didn’t want to interrupt. They turned into a new cafe bar, and there Ashworth joined them. It was the sort of place his wife might have enjoyed. Unpretentious, solid furniture: scrubbed kitchen tables and wooden chairs, on the wall blackboards showing the menus, mostly local food, fish and lamb. Maybe he’d bring Sarah here next time they were down the coast. There were a couple of highchairs in the corner so they obviously welcomed bairns.

‘This is Joe,’ Vera said. ‘My right-hand man.’

‘I should go back.’ The girl still seemed unsure, ill at ease. She hadn’t yet fallen under Vera’s spell. ‘Michael will be wondering where I am.’

‘No rush.’ Vera took a seat, set her enormous hands flat on the table. ‘He’ll be meditating. You said he wouldn’t want to be interrupted while he was in the middle of meditation.’ And of course Freya had no answer to that. ‘I’ll have a pint, Joe. They stock that ale they make in Allendale. And something to nibble on, because I’m feeling a bit peckish. What about you, love? I suppose you’re off the alcohol, with the baby on the way.’

‘Michael and I don’t drink anyway.’ Freya sat primly, her hands in her lap.

‘Good for you. Orange juice then. Or would you rather have an ice cream?’

The girl regarded Vera suspiciously. Joe thought his boss should cut out the flip remarks, but Freya answered anyway. ‘Orange juice would be fine.’

When Joe returned from the bar, they were still sitting in an uncomfortable silence.

‘Did you know that Mrs Lister had been murdered?’ Vera asked. She’d stopped being playful and her voice was serious and low.

‘Mrs Lister?’ Freya seemed genuinely confused.

‘The social worker that came to talk to you about your relationship with Michael.’

‘Oh her! I think I only knew her first name.’

‘Michael was on first-name terms with her, was he?’

Ashworth thought this was Vera back to her surefooted best, but the girl didn’t answer. The waiter brought their drinks, a basket of bread, a bowl of olives.

‘Had you heard that Jenny Lister was dead?’ Vera asked again.

‘No.’ It was impossible to tell from the flat response whether or not Freya was telling the truth. She reached out, took a piece of bread and spread it with butter, but left it uneaten on her plate.

‘That’s why we’re here, talking to you and Michael.’ It seemed now that Vera was the most patient woman in the world. ‘You both saw her soon before she died.’

‘So, we’re like witnesses.’ Freya’s face lit up, the last reaction Ashworth would have expected. But people often had a voyeur’s excitement when they were close to a violent death, as if it conferred a degree of celebrity on them. He hoped she had friends she could phone or text about her part in this drama. A mam she could call on when she went into labour. He hated to think of her alone in the flat with that man.

‘Exactly,’ Vera said. ‘You’re witnesses. So you don’t mind answering a few questions?’

‘Of course not. I thought you were just here to have a go at me about Michael. Because he’s a bit older than I am.’

Vera shot a look at Ashworth, but let that go. ‘How often did you meet Jenny Lister?’

‘Only once,’ the girl said. ‘Though Michael had seen her before. He’d gone out with that terrible woman who killed her son, and social services had been involved then.’

‘He told you about that?’

‘Of course he did,’ Freya said. ‘Michael and I don’t have any secrets. It sounded dreadful. Michael really loved the kid. He was devastated about what had happened. Then there were all the rumours, people thinking he was involved in some way.’

‘Bad for business.’

Ashworth thought Vera had gone too far, but Freya took the comment at face value. ‘Yeah, really bad! His regulars stuck by him of course, but he’s only just starting to pick up new clients.’

‘It didn’t put you off? The fact that he was linked to the Elias Jones case.’

‘No! If you really love someone, you stand by them, don’t you?’ She looked at them, demanding their agreement, but neither could quite meet her eye.

‘If we could go back to Jenny Lister,’ Vera said gently. ‘You met her about a week ago?’

‘Yes, something like that.’

‘Where did you talk to her?’

‘She came to the flat,’ Freya said. ‘I think she must have phoned to make an appointment because Michael knew she was coming. He asked me to get back from college early so I’d be in.’

‘Where are you studying?’ Ashworth couldn’t help interrupting. He was glad Freya still had a life of her own. Lectures and gossip. He wanted to pack her up into his car and take her home to her parents.

‘Newcastle College. I’m doing drama and English A levels. Acting’s my thing.’ She smiled self-consciously. ‘I’ve already got an agent, actually.’

‘Won’t the baby get in the way of all that?’ Vera was glaring at Ashworth, cross that he’d disrupted the flow of the conversation. He gave a little shrug of apology. ‘I assume it is Michael’s baby?’

‘Of course! What do you think I’m like?’

‘Didn’t you consider a termination?’

Great, Vera,
Ashworth thought.
Dead tactful. Let’s talk about her getting rid of her baby in a public place, where anyone could walk past and listen in.