‘She must have seen that the relationship wasn’t going anywhere. I suppose she wanted all the things her friends had – a shared home, real companionship, a family eventually. She was very fond of children. I’d never have been able to give her that.’
It sounded very plausible. But Lily Marsh hadn’t been like her friends.
‘Why do you think she turned up to look at the cottage? If your relationship had ended amicably, it seems an odd thing to do.’
‘Perhaps she was struck by the coincidence of having James in her class and came to look at the cottage for old times’ sake. She might even have seen it as a weird kind of practical joke. She’d expect Felicity to tell me she’d been.’
‘Was it coincidence, having James in her class?’
‘Of course. What else would it have been?’
She arranged it, Vera thought. She was obsessed by you in the same way as she was obsessed by Ben Craven. She found out where James went to school and she asked Annie Slater for a placement in Hepworth. She got to know the boy, orchestrated the visit to look at the cottage. Why? To put pressure on him? A form of blackmail? They sat for a moment in silence. Calvert seemed preoccupied, but not anxious. Was he so arrogant that he believed he could get away with murder? In the end he broke the silence.
‘You are looking for the same person for both murders?’
‘That’s the theory we’re working on just now.’ She wasn’t going to commit herself further than that. They’d kept the details of the Armstrong crime scene out of the press, but word got out. Friends and family talked. Police and CSIs were only human. A good story was for sharing. She couldn’t rule out the possibility that Lily’s death had been a copy-cat killing. Someone wanted her dead and had used the details of Luke’s murder to muddy the water. The phrase stuck in her head. Muddy the water. She supposed it was apt.
‘I couldn’t have killed the boy. I was looking at the notes on my book. I made a phone call on Wednesday night. Ten-thirty. A detail I needed to check with a friend. There’ll be a record, I presume, on my phone bill. It was a long call to a mobile.’
Vera didn’t answer immediately and Holly spoke for the first time. ‘That’s very convenient, Dr Calvert. What a shame you didn’t mention it before. We’ll need to talk to your friend, of course. Otherwise the call could have been made by anyone in your house.’
The response irritated him. He struggled to keep his composure. He smiled again at Holly. He probably thought he was good with young women. ‘I understand that I made a huge mistake not telling you about Lily. I’d expect you to check. But please believe me, I’m not keeping anything else back from you.’
‘What will you tell your wife about the affair?’ Holly again. She even gave him a grin. Cheeky, almost complicit. What else do you get up to? What else have you got away with?
‘The truth. She deserves that. She knows me well enough to realize I’d never kill.’
‘We found a card among her belongings,’ Vera said. ‘Made of pressed flowers. Did you send it to Lily?’
He paused. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t go in for sentimental gestures, Inspector.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure. It’s not something I’d forget.’
So who did send it? And why was Lily’s card marked with kisses while Luke’s was blank?
‘You were very close to Lily? I mean, you had a physical relationship, but you talked? You felt you knew her well?’
The question made him uncomfortable for the first time. He struggled to find appropriate words. At last he answered very simply. ‘I was infatuated. I thought I loved her. For a while, at least. No, it wasn’t just about the sex.’
‘Did she tell you anything which might give a clue to her killer? Was she troubled, scared, anxious?’
‘She didn’t talk much about herself.’
She’ll not have had the chance, Vera thought.
‘Just before we separated, she said she’d met up with an old friend. Someone she’d known from the village where she’d grown up. It seemed to be a big thing for her. She was a loner. She didn’t have many real friends.’
‘Man or woman?’ Ben Craven?
‘A woman.’ He paused. ‘If you give me a moment I’ll remember her name. Her first name, at least. She worked as a nurse at the RVI. Kath.’
It took Vera a moment to make the link. Kath Armstrong. Wife of Geoff. Stepmother to Luke.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Vera caught up with Kath Armstrong at the hospital. Her shift had just started and she was in a meeting with the day staff. Vera waited by the nurses’ station and heard muttered voices coming from the sister’s office, an occasional stifled laugh. Visiting was over and the ward was peaceful. The women in the side rooms were plugged into their televisions or reading. There was a little desultory chat. Further down the corridor the tea trolley was being wheeled away. On the window sill funereal bunches of flowers drooped in the heat. Vera had never been in hospital and knew she’d hate it. Not the illness or the pain. Not even the dreadful food and going without alcohol. But giving up control. Being at the mercy of people who knew more about her body than she did.
The meeting broke up and Kath came out. She was still chatting to a colleague, didn’t notice Vera sitting in the orange chairs where patients waited to be discharged. ‘I’d like a word,’ Vera said. ‘Sorry to bother you here, but something’s come up.’
‘Nothing’s wrong, is it?’ A moment of panic. Vera knew she was thinking about her little girl.
‘No, nothing like that. Is there anywhere we can talk?’
Kath turned away to whisper to a motherly middle-aged woman in a sister’s uniform. ‘Maggie says we can use her office.’
They sat where the nurses had been huddled in their meeting. There was a photo on the desk of two small boys leaning against a farm gate next to a bearded man in specs. The ward sister’s husband and kids. A child’s drawing was pinned to the wall. More happy families.
‘What’s this about? Have you found out who killed Luke?’
Vera ignored the question. ‘You didn’t tell us you knew Lily Marsh.’
‘You didn’t ask.’
‘She wasn’t dead when I spoke to you, pet. You’ll realize it’s just a bit important. Two murders within a week and you knew both victims.’
‘I didn’t know her well. I mean, I just thought: What a weird coincidence. I couldn’t contribute anything to your enquiry.’
She seemed genuinely puzzled. Vera wondered if she spent too much of her life investigating crimes, making connections which were insignificant, seeing motives which didn’t exist. A sort of strange paranoia, which didn’t allow for coincidence at all.
‘How did you know her?’
‘We grew up together. I mean, I’m quite a bit older than her, but we lived in the same village. My mam was good friends with Phyllis Marsh. You know how it is in a place like that. They’d been to school together, they met up at the church, the WI. Lily and I were both only children. I ended up looking after her when we were younger. We were close in a way. She loved coming to visit. You know what children are like with older kids. Especially girls. And maybe I’ve always had this maternal thing. We lost touch when I moved into town and started working here.’
‘But you met up again more recently.’
‘Yes.’
‘How did you meet?’
‘She came into the hospital as an outpatient. She thought she was pregnant. She’d missed a couple of periods, but her home pregnancy test had come up negative. She wanted to check. I bumped into her in the lift when she was on her way out.’