Jeremy made a characteristic pay-attention throat-clearing noise. ‘So, Chief Inspector, what progress with your investigation? I asked DC Eyre here if the murder of this fellow a couple of days after Emma’s body was discovered was simply a coincidence and she refused to be drawn.’
Maggie was sitting in the corner, squashed between the drinks trolley and the portable TV. Her lips were pressed tight together, giving nothing away. But under his sardonic gaze, her fair cheeks coloured, as though she’d failed to come up with a good excuse for not doing her homework on time.
Jeremy smirked at Hannah and said after a theatrical pause, ‘So — naturally I deduce there is a link?’
Answer a question with a question. ‘You didn’t know Guy Koenig?’
‘Good heavens, no. There’s talk in the village that he was a petty criminal. Spent years in and out of prison. Karen and I are hardly likely to socialise with someone like that.’
‘He was a smooth talker, by all accounts. Well read, plausible. You wouldn’t necessarily have taken him for a rogue.’
‘Even so. We really don’t mix in those circles. You could have a word with Vanessa, if you like. She may have come across him.’
Hannah blinked. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘She worked with prison libraries for a couple of years. After we separated, she threw herself into outreach work. Vanessa is a thoroughly decent woman, she always likes to think she is doing good. She believes in rehabilitating offenders, though I have to say that in my book, she’s naive. You’ll never persuade a young thug to walk the straight and narrow simply by introducing him to Charles Dickens or Thomas Hardy. Let alone Martin Amis or …’
‘Which prisons?’
Jeremy freed his arm from Karen’s shoulder as he gave the question thought. ‘That place at Millom, of course, it’s pretty much on the doorstep. Haverigg, isn’t that the name? And I seem to recall her mentioning a project at Preston. Did this man Koenig ever serve a sentence there?’
Through the panes, Hannah saw the Erskine children, engrossed in what they were watching. Neat, well-turned out youngsters, with their mother’s blonde hair and the long Erskine jaw. Apples of their parents’ eyes.
‘How long were you married to Vanessa, Mr Erskine?’
Karen frowned, curled herself up into a ball, wrapping her arms around her upper body, as if for protection. Maggie wrinkled her brow, trying to work out where all this was leading.
Jeremy flushed and said, ‘Eight years, nine? Possibly less, I can’t recall. It was a very long time ago and as a wise man once said, the past is another country. My life is with Karen and the children, that’s all I care about. I’m afraid I can’t see why you should ask about my previous marriage, it can only cause distress.’
‘I don’t mean to be intrusive,’ Hannah said. ‘But something puzzles me. You are obviously a caring father, Mr Erskine. And Mrs Goddard is devoted to her own boy.’
‘She dotes on him,’ Karen snapped. ‘I don’t think it’s healthy.’
Jeremy put a restraining hand on her knee. ‘What’s your point, Chief Inspector?’
‘I wondered why you and your first wife never had children.’
‘I’m not sure it’s any of your business.’ Jeremy’s face had turned lobster-pink. ‘How can this have any bearing on Emma’s death? Frankly, your question strikes me as prurient.’
Hannah said, ‘Did Vanessa have problems, trying to conceive?’
Jeremy cast an anxious glance at his wife. ‘If — if you must know, she did. It was a nightmare for us both. We had been anxious to start a family. I can assure you, I was delighted when it turned out that Vanessa was able to have a baby after all. I knew how much it meant to her.’
‘But you’d thought it was impossible for her to have children?’ Hannah persisted.
‘So the doctors told us. We tried IVF, all kinds of alternative stuff, one minute our hopes were raised, next they were dashed. Nothing seemed to work. Nothing.’ Jeremy’s voice had become hoarse. He swallowed hard. ‘When Karen told me she was pregnant, it was the happiest moment of my life. Even though I knew it meant my marriage was finished, even though it crucified me to hurt Vanessa, to treat her so cruelly. She deserved better and I thank God that in the end she got it. Now — does that satisfy your curiosity, Chief Inspector?’
Slowly, Hannah nodded.
‘Fern’s line is still busy,’ Maggie said.
‘Keep trying.’
They were in the car, racing along past the dark gift shops and tea rooms in the direction of Thurston Water House. Hannah almost hit an unlit van as she swung round a corner. Her mind should have been on the road, but was travelling through the years to the time of Emma Bestwick’s murder. Her stomach was tight. At last she understood.
‘This is about Emma,’ she said, almost to herself, ‘about the kind of woman she was.’
‘I’m not with you.’ Maggie was good at what she did, but one gift she lacked. Ben Kind always said that the best detectives had imagination, they looked beyond what they could see and hear and smell.
They turned into the road that led to the lake and the car jolted on a speed bump. Hannah swore and slammed her foot on the brake. ‘She never settled to anything. All her life she spent searching for fulfilment, but she never found it. She fancied becoming a reflexologist, but that required money and she didn’t have two pennies to rub together. Luckily, the people she lodged with were willing to fund her. On condition that she gave them a baby.’
‘So — she was the mother of the Goddards’ child?’
‘A surrogacy deal. Conducted in secret because it’s illegal to pay the surrogate mother anything more than expenses. Once she realised how desperate the Goddards were, Emma must have driven a hard bargain. Vanessa and Francis belonged to a small community. They wanted everyone to regard Christopher as theirs — and theirs alone. It must have seemed a perfect plan. Emma lived with them and Francis, as a nurse, could take good care of her. They hid her away to make sure that nothing went wrong and nobody had any idea that it was she, rather than Vanessa, who was pregnant.’
In her head, she heard Vanessa, speaking with passion. If you ask me, the idea that blood is thicker than water is rubbish. A curious remark for a devoted mother, she should have paid it closer heed.
‘She wasn’t stressed out after breaking up with Alex, was she?’
‘No, she just couldn’t be allowed out once her bump became visible.’
‘So what went wrong?’
The dour bulk of Thurston Water House loomed up in the headlights. Hannah swerved off the road and into the driveway, shuddering to a halt in front of the up-and-over garage door. The Goddards were at home. Lights shone behind the curtained windows on the ground and first floors. Somewhere inside, the boy was doubtless lounging around or watching TV. Young Christopher Goddard, innocent cause of death and disaster.
‘Remember the last conversation Emma had with Jeremy? She’d changed her mind. After her child was born, she found it impossible to let go. Alex said she was possessive, mentioned her mood swings. The Goddards didn’t realise the risk they were running.’
They strode up to the front door and Hannah rang the bell long and hard. A full minute dragged by before anyone answered, although as they shifted impatiently on the step, they could hear hurried movements inside the house. At last the door inched open on a security chain. Vanessa Goddard peered out at them. She looked as nervous as if she thought a pair of ghosts had come calling.
Perhaps that was it, Hannah said to herself. The woman was frightened of a ghost.
‘Oh, Chief Inspector, it’s you. I wasn’t … I mean, on dark nights like this, you can’t be too careful.’