The rain continued to batter against the large arched window in the living room as they settled down to tea and the McVitie’s chocolate digestives Francine had laid out on a plate. Annie took one, but Gerry and Dennis didn’t.
‘We’re sorry to bring up memories that might still be painful for you,’ Annie said, ‘but we need to talk to you about Marnie. Is that short for Marjorie, by the way?’
‘It is,’ said Francine. ‘Her name is Marjorie, but she couldn’t pronounce it when she was young. It came out as Marnie, and it just kind of stuck. Especially when she got older and thought Marjorie sounded too old-fashioned.’
‘Nothing to do with the movie then?’ said Gerry.
Francine frowned. ‘What movie?’
‘Never mind.’
Annie gave Gerry a sharp glance and went on. ‘We were wondering how long Marnie had been home until she... you know...’
‘Committed suicide?’ said Dennis. ‘I know you’re not supposed to say that these days. It’s no longer PC, though Lord knows why, but that’s what happened. How long was it, dear? Not long.’
‘She came down at the beginning of May,’ said Francine. ‘I can’t remember the exact date. The third or fourth, I think. But she was only home for a couple of weeks or so before she died.’
‘And during that time how did her behaviour seem?’
‘There was something wrong. She wouldn’t tell us what it was, and we couldn’t guess, but we knew things weren’t right with her. She shut herself up in her room a lot, missed meals because she said she wasn’t hungry. And mood swings. She had mood swings. We were starting to think we should try to persuade her to see a doctor when... it happened.’
‘Did Marnie have any eating disorders? Anorexia? Bulimia?’
‘No, never. She’d always had a healthy appetite, that’s why it seemed so strange.’
‘She wasn’t drinking or taking drugs as far as you know?’
‘No,’ said Dennis. ‘I’m not saying she might not have experimented while she was at uni or living up north, but not while she was here. I’ve done a drug awareness course, and I think I would have known the signs.’
‘What kind of work do you do?’
‘I’m a teacher. Local comprehensive. And Francie here works in human resources at the hospital. I started my summer break early, and Francie is still on medical leave. Her nerves are bad.’
‘Sorry to hear it,’ Annie mumbled. ‘We’ll try not to take up too much of your time.’
‘There’s no point pussyfooting around us,’ Dennis said. Even though his wife looked alarmed, he went on, ‘We know that Marnie was pregnant when she jumped.’
‘Dennis!’
‘Sorry, love.’ Dennis leaned over and patted his wife’s hand. ‘But it’s the truth.’
‘We know,’ said Annie.
‘What we’d like to know,’ Dennis went on, ‘is why the police are coming around now, over a month after our Marnie killed herself. And why the North Yorkshire police?’
‘Marnie lived in York,’ said Gerry. ‘That’s not technically North Yorkshire — they’re very much a nation of their own — but we think Marnie is connected with an incident that took place between Harrogate and Ripon.’
‘What sort of incident?’ asked Francine.
Gerry glanced at Annie, who gave her a slight nod. ‘It was a rape,’ Gerry said. ‘At a party.’
‘I told you,’ said Mr. Sedgwick to his wife. ‘I told you Marnie wasn’t the sort of girl to get herself into trouble.’
‘But, Dennis,’ she said. ‘She was raped. Our Marnie was raped. Oh, God.’ She wielded a handkerchief from beneath her cushions and started to cry.
Annie thought it was true that Dennis Sedgwick had made rape sound preferable to getting pregnant through consensual sex, but she didn’t think he had intended it to come out that way. It had been a thoughtless statement, but not a cruel or brutal one. She distracted herself with her tea and a biscuit while the Sedgwicks settled themselves back down again, and said, ‘It’s more than likely she had no idea what was happening to her. It looks as if someone slipped something in her drink. Rohypnol, something like that.’
‘She was drugged?’ said Dennis.
‘It appears that way.’
‘Where was this party?’
‘At the home of a man called Connor Clive Blaydon. Have either of you ever heard of him?’
They both shook their heads.
‘What was she doing there?’ Francine asked.
‘She was working,’ Gerry said.
‘But I thought she worked at Pizza Express?’
‘She did,’ Gerry explained. ‘But she had another job — part-time — working for an events organiser.’
‘Doing what?’ asked Francine.
‘Backroom stuff. Mostly in the kitchen. Helping the caterers. Organising.’
‘Then how did she become a victim?’
‘We don’t know. One of the guests must have had his eye on her and managed to get her alone. He might have persuaded her to have a drink he had drugged.’
‘She was always too trusting,’ Dennis said. ‘Even when she was a little girl.’
‘We can’t know for certain,’ Annie said, ‘because we haven’t yet found any witnesses willing to speak to us, or anyone who admits to knowing anything.’
‘Why not?’ asked Dennis.
‘Mr. Blaydon, the host, was murdered about a month after the party. The 22nd May, to be precise.’
‘And you think these events are connected? Marnie’s rape and Blaydon’s murder.’
‘Not necessarily,’ said Annie. ‘We’re just keeping an open mind. As you can no doubt work out, this was after Marnie’s suicide.’
‘Well, at least you’re not trying to accuse her of murder.’
‘No,’ said Annie. ‘But as I’m sure you understand, with both a rape and a murder occurring so closely together, on the same premises, we can’t leave any corner unexamined. This Blaydon was involved with some pretty shady characters, and we think our best bet is that he was killed by a member of the Albanian Mafia.’
‘Mafia?’ gasped Francine. ‘What was our Marnie doing with the Mafia?’
‘Nothing,’ said Annie. ‘She was helping to organise the party, that’s all. She had nothing to do with the guests. I doubt she even knew there were such dangerous characters around.’
‘Until it was too late,’ said Dennis.
‘Yes.’
‘Who was she working for?’
‘A woman called Charlotte Westlake. She was Mr. Blaydon’s personal assistant, and her background is in events organising.’
‘How did Marnie come to be working for her?’
‘It seemed she just wanted another job. Needed the money. Mrs. Westlake told us that most people who apply to her for jobs do so via word of mouth, so clearly someone who already worked for her, or had worked for her, suggested Marnie try it.’
‘Who was this?’
‘We don’t know. We have a list of present and previous employees, so it’s something we can find out if we need to. But it probably doesn’t matter. The fact is that she was working at this party at Mr. Blaydon’s house when someone drugged and raped her. She didn’t tell anyone.’
‘Then how do you know?’
‘There was a recording,’ Gerry said. ‘A very poor one — the cam wasn’t working properly — but we managed to re-create an image of her face. Mrs. Westlake’s secretary had met her when she came for a job interview and identified her from that image as Marnie.’
‘A camera?’ said Francine. ‘My God, are you saying someone recorded all this? Are you sure? Couldn’t there be some mistake?’
‘There could be,’ said Annie, ‘but we don’t think so. As I said, we know that she was working at the house the night the attack occurred. Would you like to see the picture?’