Leigh Russell, page 20
‘You sound very relaxed about it all.’
Geraldine shrugged. ‘I just make it up as I go along and hope for the best. So far we seem to have muddled along okay. He’s an easy baby and he doesn’t fuss much.’
As she spoke, Tom’s little lips puckered and he began to cry.
Celia laughed and picked him up. ‘I’m happy to make it up as I go along, but I think it might be best for Tom if I keep to his routine.’
Geraldine shrugged. ‘He’s very flexible.’ She didn’t like to add that she wasn’t altogether sure what Tom’s daily routine was during the week. ‘I just need someone I can trust absolutely, and who better than my own sister? I’m hoping to find a new childminder very soon, but now I really have to get to work. You can call me at any time. I’ll keep my phone on at all times and I won’t be far away.’
She wrote down her number and her doctor’s number and watched as Celia stored them both on her phone. Then she left with strict instructions that her sister was to call her if she had the slightest concern about Tom. In the hall, she reminded Celia yet again that she would never be far away and she would keep her phone on her at all times.
‘Don’t worry, he’s going to be fine,’ Celia said, smiling. With a shiver, Geraldine remembered Zoe had used the same words. ‘It’ll be lovely for the two cousins to spend some time together,’ Celia added.
‘Call me any time.’
‘Just go and stop fussing. And yes, of course, I’ll call you if I need to.’
With Celia’s reassurances ringing in her ears, Geraldine set off to question Serena’s ex-boyfriend. Barry was a dapper man in his thirties. His ginger hair was cut quite short, but still long enough to show his curls. Clean shaven, with an open expression on his youthful features, he looked like an oversized boy scout, but Geraldine knew only too well that a guileless appearance was no guarantee of innocence. She remained stony-faced in response to Barry’s tentative smile.
‘Can someone please tell me what I’m doing here?’ he enquired, with just a touch of asperity that made him look his age. ‘All I’ve been told is that I’ve been brought here for questioning, but no one’s actually told me what this is about. Why am I here?’
‘We’d like to talk to you about Serena Baxter.’
‘Serena?’ He shook his head. ‘I haven’t seen Serena for—’ He held out his hands in a gesture of helplessness. ‘At least six months. She dumped me,’ he added, with a faint grimace.
‘That must have upset you.’
‘Well, I wasn’t best pleased,’ he admitted with a rueful laugh. ‘She went off with some old rich guy. I could hardly believe she was so shallow. I mean, I’d thought we were happy together.’
‘You must have been very angry with her. It would be understandable.’
‘Angry? Not exactly. More disappointed. But at least I discovered what she was really like before it was too late.’
‘Too late?’
‘What I mean to say is, we weren’t married, nothing like that, and there were no kids to worry about. It was easy enough for both of us to walk away. We weren’t even living together. To be honest, I’ve not really thought about her lately. It all seems like a long time ago. I’ve moved on. I was very fond of her, but it’s all water under the bridge now. So what’s this about? If she’s in some sort of trouble and you’re looking for someone to give her a character reference, you’re asking the wrong person. I can’t say I feel inclined to help her out, although I can tell you she’s not one to go breaking the law. She’s honest, even if she did start seeing someone else behind my back. But that’s hardly a matter for the police. I’m surprised she’s got herself in trouble. What has she done?’
Barry looked genuinely shocked when he heard that Serena was dead.
‘Dead? What happened?’
‘We think you know.’
‘What do you mean? I told you, I haven’t seen or heard from Serena for months. What’s going on? Are you suggesting she was—’
‘Unlawfully killed, yes.’
‘Killed? Oh my God. I hope you’ve got the bastard who did it. Serena may have broken up with me but she was a sweet girl. Harmless. Why would he do that?’
‘Who are you talking about?’
‘The old guy, her new boyfriend, partner, whatever he is. The new man in her life. It was him, wasn’t it?’
‘It wasn’t him.’
‘Then who? Surely you don’t think I had anything to do with it?’ He gasped audibly as he realised the import of Geraldine’s questions.
Somehow Geraldine didn’t think he had killed Serena, but after her terrible blunder in placing her trust in Zoe, she no longer trusted her instincts about people. She needed to look into Barry’s movements at the time of Serena’s murder.
‘Where were you between nine in the evening and one in the morning last Tuesday night?’
Barry frowned. ‘Tuesday? I’ll need to check my calendar.’ He took out his phone and scrolled through the dates, frowning. ‘Okay,’ he replied after a moment. ‘I was out with a group of friends on Tuesday evening.’
‘What time did you meet?’
‘We met for drinks after work, at around seven, and had a table booked for eight thirty.’
‘And what time did you leave?’
‘I can’t remember exactly, but I’d say it was about one when we split up.’
‘So you were alone at one?’
‘No. One of my friends dropped me home.’
‘And after that you were alone?’
He shook his head. ‘No, after that I spent the night with my girlfriend. I was upset about losing Serena, but I wasn’t going to sit around moping for the rest of my life,’ he added, sounding a trifle defensive. ‘I told you, I’d moved on with my life.’
Geraldine asked Naomi to look for contact details of Barry’s girlfriend and the friends he claimed to have spent the evening with. She decided to leave him to wait, while she researched his history. She was half hoping that her instincts about Barry had been correct, even though it would be more helpful to establish him as a possible suspect. While she was waiting, she gazed around at her colleagues. Although Ian’s undercover work was never talked about and not even Geraldine knew where he had gone, many of her colleagues were aware that he had been temporarily posted to a different area. She felt uneasy, remembering that in her desperation she had suspected one of them had betrayed her when she had now remembered that she was the one who had told Zoe Ian was away. Before she had Tom, she had seemed to possess an almost infallible instinct about people. Now, it seemed she could trust no one, least of all herself.
Suppressing an unfamiliar stab of apprehension, she wished Ian would come home. She had never before realised how emotionally dependent on him she had become and the realisation frightened her. She wondered how he might react were they ever to split up, and how long he would sit around moping before finding a replacement for her. Shaking off her gloomy musing, she began to look into Barry’s history. There was no formal record of his being accused of any violent activity. He was apparently innocent of any wrongdoing, but she was determined to confirm his alibi before releasing him.
46
Naomi soon found details of Barry’s new girlfriend, which she passed on to Geraldine. Paula Johnson lived in the nearby village of Askham Bryan, and she worked in the offices of Knavesmire racecourse in York. The racecourse was only two miles from the police station, so instead of sending a constable to question Paula, Geraldine decided to go there and check on Barry’s alibi herself. With any luck, his girlfriend wouldn’t corroborate his story, and on hearing that his alibi had been discredited, he would crumble and confess to having killed Serena. But Geraldine knew that the case was unlikely to be resolved so easily. It was twenty to five, and she hoped to still find Barry’s girlfriend at work. Leaving him to fret at the police station, she set off. Driving along Fulford Road, she crossed the River Foss, then on to Skeldergate Bridge and over the Ouse along Bishopthorpe Road to York racecourse.
A steady drizzle had begun to fall, obscuring the grassy expanse of the racecourse in a fine mist. By the time she arrived at the administration building, the rain had become torrential. She decided not to wait in the car until the rain eased off in case she missed Paula. Yanking up her hood, she scurried for shelter, accidentally stepping in a deep puddle that splashed the bottom of her jeans. Ignoring the chilly dampness around her ankles, she hurried indoors and cursed under her breath as the rain let up just as she reached the door. At the entrance, she asked for Paula and was directed to an office at the end of the corridor on the top floor. It was nearly five o’clock and she walked quickly to the lift, keen to find the room she was looking for before Paula went home.
In a room at the end of the corridor, four women were working on computers in a large office furnished with enough terminals for twice as many people. Through a window that reached right across the wall opposite the door, there was a wide view of the racecourse. Three of the women continued working in silence when she entered the room, but a stout middle-aged woman who appeared to be in charge looked up and asked her what she wanted. At the sound of her voice, the other women looked up from their screens.
‘I’m sorry, we’re just about to pack up for the day,’ the woman who seemed to be in charge added. She didn’t sound very apologetic.
When Geraldine explained what she wanted, a slim blonde-haired girl rose to her feet, shuffling a few documents on her desk as she stood up.
‘That’s me. My name’s Paula Johnson,’ she said softly.
At first glance, the blonde girl’s resemblance to Serena was striking; closer scrutiny revealed that her beauty was less showy. She looked as though she wasn’t wearing make-up and, unlike Serena, her hair colour looked natural. While Serena’s slightly brassy good looks would have attracted attention wherever she went, Paula seemed self-effacing. She was dressed in a light grey jumper and black jeans. Quietly, Geraldine introduced herself and enquired whether there was somewhere they could talk privately. With a quick nod, Paula led the way out of the room and along a corridor, her heels tapping lightly on the polished wooden floor. She took Geraldine to a small office that was empty.
‘I suppose we can use this,’ she said. ‘No one’s going to be coming in here at this time.’
Paula didn’t seem curious about her visitor until Geraldine explained the purpose of her visit.
‘You’re asking about last Tuesday? Last week? Yes, I remember,’ Paula replied without any hesitation. ‘Barry was out last Tuesday evening.’
Geraldine hoped Barry’s alibi wouldn’t hold.
‘What time did he come home?’
‘Around one. He goes out with his friends every Tuesday. One of them dropped him home last week. They take it in turns not to drink,’ she added quickly, ‘and it wasn’t Barry’s turn to drive. Not that he drinks much anyway. It was probably after one by the time he got in. After that, we went straight to bed because it was late. There was nothing out of the ordinary, as far as I can remember. But what’s this about, please? Is he suspected of robbing a bank or something?’ She gave a tentative laugh, but Geraldine could see she was scared. ‘Has something happened? I’m sure it wasn’t Barry’s fault. They might get a bit rowdy, him and his friends, but they’d never break the law, nothing like that. They just like to have a bit of fun. It’s harmless, really. Has someone complained?’
Without answering the question, Geraldine took her leave, satisfied that Paula was telling the truth and her story confirmed what Barry had already told them. But as she drove away, she felt a flicker of unease that had become all too familiar over the past couple of days. For years she had believed she could tell when someone was lying, but since her disastrous experience with Zoe, she was no longer sure she could trust her own judgement. Until Barry’s friends had confirmed his alibi, she had to admit it was possible he was lying and his girlfriend was covering up for him. Naomi had taken contact details and arranged for them to be questioned. There was nothing more Geraldine could do.
Resolved to put the case out of her mind and enjoy a pleasant evening with Celia, she went home. Celia insisted on preparing supper for them, since Geraldine had been at work.
‘You’ve been working too,’ Geraldine protested. ‘Looking after a baby and a toddler can’t be easy, and you’re not even in your own home. They must be far harder work than questioning adults.’
‘Oh, they’re no trouble,’ Celia replied, laughing. ‘We’ve had fun. Now, why don’t you go and put your feet up while I make us something to eat?’
Geraldine was relieved that Celia looked so well and seemed to be enjoying herself, and was only too pleased to go and sit in the living room and close her eyes, and before long she dozed off. Celia woke her gently and for a moment Geraldine felt slightly confused.
‘Celia? What are you doing here?’ Waking up, she laughed apologetically. ‘Sorry, I was fast asleep.’
Over a plate of pasta and a glass of chilled white wine, Celia asked Geraldine about her day, and she answered in as much detail as she could. Much of her police work was confidential, but she was happy to share with Celia whatever the media had already discovered and reported. Celia’s eyes grew wide with alternating excitement and alarm as Geraldine recounted what had happened to Martin and Serena, and she leaned forward in her chair, her hands clasped, when Geraldine told her about Dorothy’s confession.
‘She was in love with her boss all along,’ Celia murmured when Geraldine had finished. ‘She served him faithfully for twenty years and at the end of it he just threw her over for a younger woman, after she had given him the best years of her life.’
Geraldine hesitated, seeing Celia’s eyes glistening with tears. ‘Are you all right?’ she ventured, recalling that Celia and her husband had gone through a rocky patch in their marriage before Celia had fallen pregnant with their son.
‘What? Yes, of course. I’m fine.’ Celia wiped her eyes on the back of her hand, laughing apologetically. ‘It’s really sad, that’s all. I suppose you get used to hearing stories like that. People must confide all sorts of things to you, while you just keep everything to yourself and won’t admit anything to anyone, like where Ian’s disappeared to.’
On the point of explaining that she couldn’t tell Celia where Ian had gone, she was overwhelmed by relief at the realisation that no one at the police station could have informed Zoe of Ian’s whereabouts.
‘Geraldine? Are you all right?’ she heard Celia ask.
‘I’m fine,’ she replied, more fervently than she had intended. ‘I just realised something.’ She broke off, unable to explain. ‘It’s complicated,’ she added lamely.
‘Are you sure you and Ian are okay?’ Celia enquired earnestly. ‘You can tell me.’
‘We’re fine,’ Geraldine assured her. ‘It’s just work.’
‘It always is with you,’ Celia replied, with a tolerant smile. ‘I know, I know, someone has to protect us from the criminals roaming the streets and keep us safe. I just don’t know why it always has to be you.’
‘Because I’m good at my job,’ Geraldine replied without thinking.
Having uttered her thought aloud, she realised she hadn’t lost faith in her abilities after all. Admittedly, her confidence had taken a knock, but it had been a temporary setback, that was all. She was ready to take on the task of tracking down Serena’s killer and she wouldn’t fail.
47
Nigel came home for an early lunch as he always did on weekdays. He glanced in the kitchen. The oven wasn’t on and the table hadn’t been laid. He looked around, but there was no sign Carol had prepared anything, which was strange. He checked his watch to see if he was home for what he thought was an early lunch and saw that he was on time. Puzzled but not yet alarmed, he wondered if she was feeling unwell, and went upstairs to look for her. She wasn’t resting in the bedroom. He found her sprawled comfortably on a sofa in the lounge, engrossed in studying travel brochures. She looked up with a lazy smile when he entered the room.
‘I didn’t hear you come in,’ she said.
‘You know what time it is?’ he asked irritably, taking a seat opposite her.
He didn’t add that she bloody well ought to know, having recently splashed out and bought herself an expensive watch. It had cost her housekeeping allowance for at least a month and he had been forced to give her extra that month. He often wondered how she managed to get through so much money. She never did anything, other than spend a fortune on clothes and make-up and facials and hairdos, although she never looked any different for all the pampering. Thanks to his extravagant wife, he had ended up supporting a local beauty salon without ever setting foot across its threshold.
‘What’s all this?’ he asked, gesturing at the pile of brochures lying on the coffee table and suppressing his irritation that she had forgotten to prepare his lunch.
‘I’m looking at holidays,’ she replied breezily.
‘Holidays? Really?’ He forced a smile to conceal his rising anger, telling himself it did no harm to look. She knew perfectly well he was not prepared to waste money on pointless jaunts. But that didn’t explain why she had forgotten to make lunch.
‘What about something to eat before I go back to the office?’
‘It was going to be a surprise,’ she added, with a little laugh. Ignoring his question, she picked up one of the glossy brochures.
Nigel’s smile faded. ‘A surprise? What are you talking about?’ He perched on an armchair and stared at her. ‘What’s going to be a surprise? What’s going on?’
