Grace grinned, then winced. ‘I’m with you on that one! Bell me tomorrow, when you’re on your way.’
‘You’re right about one thing, though, Roy.’
‘What?’
‘Lyon — it’s a nice city.’
‘Enjoy!’
‘Huh.’
As Roy Grace drove out of the short-term car park he felt drained.
‘Thank you,’ Cleo said.
‘For what?’
‘For taking me with you. I know it was hard.’
‘Listen, it was hard for both of us. Not something we thought was going to be coming into our lives.’
She shrugged. ‘From what you said on the plane, that conversation must have been really hard for you both. It really shook you seeing her, didn’t it?’
‘It did. Even more than I’d expected. The irony is that I still don’t really know anything. For all this time I’d hoped one day to have answers. Now finally I find her and get to talk to her and she’s told me little I didn’t already know, and still no explanation as to why she left.’
‘She’ll tell you one day, Roy. The important thing is you’ve had contact finally, she’s alive. She sounds really stressed. You’ll get a chance to ask again.’
‘I hope so. I really do need to know. I have to know. So many questions.’
‘At least she’s not been found dead somewhere, abducted and murdered.’
Grace fell silent, looking at the satnav screen, then at the road signs. Rain was falling. The wipers clunked, the sky above them was dark and gloomy.
‘Thank you for coming,’ he said. ‘You were brave.’
She shook her head. ‘No. That wasn’t about being brave. I needed to know.’
‘To know what?’
‘About you. I lost the last man I loved, to God.’
Grace nodded. He knew the whole story, she’d told him before. Richard, the barrister she’d dated for three years, who’d joined a charismatic church.
‘I needed to know I wasn’t losing you too, to a ghost.’
He stared at her bleakly. ‘Sandy put me through ten years of hell. I didn’t believe it would ever be possible to be happy again. You’ve made me happier than ever, and you know I love you more than I knew was possible. Nothing could change that.’
She leaned over and kissed him. ‘I believe you.’
He shot a glance at her. ‘For years I wondered how I would feel if she turned up on my doorstep. I would have taken her back, I guess. But not now. Not any more.’ He sniffed, blinking away tears. ‘You won’t lose me. Not to a ghost. Not to anything.’
As he focused on the road ahead, out of the corner of his eye he saw Cleo looking at him, And he felt deep in his heart the intensity of her love. One thing he knew now for sure was where his future lay.
Even if Sandy did make a full recovery, it would change nothing.
75
Tuesday 10 March
Jodie had been flat out since arriving home. Her first priority had been the creatures in her reptile room. Checking their automated water and food supplies and cleaning their vivariums. And checking the excretions.
She checked one snake in particular, her nine-foot boa constrictor. So far, nothing. It could be days yet.
Then she turned her focus to coping with the formalities of her deceased husband, about whom she knew so very little, other than the important stuff, to her, such as where he lived and how to get in. She’d visited his beachfront house, but she could find hardly any documentation there, other than a few banking details in his study, but she did locate his address book and took that home with her. She’d also made a very thorough inspection of his antiques and paintings, photographing some to see if she could find them on the internet to see what they were worth. Back home she also checked on Zoopla for the current value of the property.
Whilst in India she had informed Rowley’s eldest daughter of his unfortunate demise, explaining, to his daughter’s shock and dismay, about their marriage a few days earlier, and asked her to inform the rest of the family.
She found the name of Rowley’s family solicitor in the address book, and called him. He told her that he had already been informed, and had been asked by the Daily Telegraph to write his obituary. The man had sounded genuinely sad, as if he had lost not just a client but a dear and treasured friend. He’d told Jodie they should arrange to meet, and asked if in the meantime she could send him a copy of the death certificate. He added that their marriage had revoked the previous will and that her husband had actually died intestate. He explained what that meant to her and told her he would get back to her with more information. Then, in finishing, he told Jodie that whilst Rowley Carmichael was a very wealthy man, he had a decade ago made over a substantial part of his assets to his children and grandchildren, to mitigate inheritance tax and death duties.
She was still confident she would inherit a reasonable amount from Rowley, but it was unlikely to be anywhere near enough to fulfil her dreams. As she was still contemplating this, a lady, who introduced herself as Michelle Websdale, the Coroner’s Officer, had called her on the mobile number she had given the Goan police, to ask a series of questions.
So far, she felt, she had acquitted herself well as the suddenly bereaved newly-wed. In the past twenty-four hours she’d shed more tears than she could remember.
She had engaged a firm of funeral directors, whom she was going to meet later today to discuss the details of Rowley Carmichael’s funeral. His eldest daughter, a very frosty and haughty woman, said that her father had a fear of crematoriums, and wanted to be buried. Jodie had decided to ignore that. She’d read enough around the subject to know that buried bodies could be exhumed, sometimes years after burial. Cremation would be a much safer option. So, without informing any of the family in advance, she told the funeral directors that her husband’s express wish was to be cremated.
Screw his last wishes. She was going to have enough of a fight on her hands as it was. And hey, dead men didn’t complain, did they?
76
Tuesday 10 March
Grace dropped Cleo home, played with Noah for a few minutes, then headed into Brighton. He was glad of the time alone in his car to reflect on the past twenty-four hours.
Sandy had looked so fragile and vulnerable. When they were together she had always been strong and positive. She’d made the decision to walk out on him. Now, finally, his life was back together, and he was at a crucial point in his career, with a boss who would seize on any weakness he showed. He owed it to Cleo, to Noah and to himself to put the past behind him and focus on the present and the future.
But he was determined to get answers to all his questions out of Sandy.
Ten minutes later he pulled into the parking bay marked head of major crime in front of Sussex House, and hurried in, just in time for the 6.30 p.m. briefing of Operation Spider. He dashed into his office, grabbed his policy book and notes, prepared by his assistant Lesley, along with a copy of the Argus, which she had placed there with a Post-it note beside a photograph on page five of a woman in an evening dress and a man in a dinner jacket, then headed through into the Major Crime suite.
As he walked along the corridor towards the conference room, his phone rang and he answered without stopping. It was a very apologetic Kelly Nicholls, the financial investigator.
‘So sorry, sir, I’ve been in court all day. You asked me if I could find anything on a Jodie Bentley, also using other names.’
‘Yes, Kelly. What do you have?’ He leaned his notebook against a wall and pulled out his pen.
‘Well, it’s taken a while, and as you can understand it’s a huge process. DS Billin and I wanted to be sure, and we are now. We’ve found credit cards in three names: Jodie Bentley, Jemma Smith and Judith Forshaw. We’ve obtained copies of all the original credit card application forms and there are a number of similarities, which we are now investigating further. She is currently using cards in all three names, with the balance paid off in full, monthly, via direct debit.’