For Christopher’s sake? Hannah told herself not to sit in judgement. Motherhood was special, there was something mystical about the bond between a woman and her child. Maybe it was time to admit to herself what she’d tried so hard to ignore. Not a day passed when she didn’t think about the baby she’d lost.
‘What did Koenig do?’ Linz asked.
‘He phoned her on the basis Francis and I wanted him to represent our interests. At first Emma refused to meet him, but eventually she gave in. It was never easy to say no to Guy. They arranged to meet in a remote part of the fells above the village, where no one else could see them together or overhear their conversation. He loved a touch of melodrama, and Emma did, too. When I suggested he visit her at home instead, pretend to prying neighbours that he was a client in need of a reflexologist, he wouldn’t hear of it. He was supremely confident, he assured me he would talk her round. It would cost, he said, but who cared if Emma left us alone?’
‘Did you discuss Guy’s proposal with your husband?’
‘Naturally. There should never be secrets between husband and wife, that’s my motto.’
You’re crazy, everyone has secrets, and sometimes secrets keep us safe from harm. Hannah took a deep breath. Was she simply rationalising the way she kept secrets from Marc? Already he’d pushed the miscarriage out of his mind. For him, it was just one of those things. A narrow escape, frankly.
‘But it all went wrong?’
Vanessa squeezed her eyes shut, her face folding with the pain of memory. ‘Francis took Guy’s call. I was feeding Christopher at the time. Guy was pretty incoherent, but he explained that Emma had fallen and hit her head. A freak accident, but fatal. When he realised she was dead, he panicked and shoved the body down an old mine shaft. He said he didn’t want to get us into trouble, he was afraid the truth would come out and our life with our baby boy would be ruined. He was thinking of us, not himself.’
Hannah bit back a sarcastic retort. From what she’d heard, Koenig never had an unselfish impulse in his life. If he was naive, so were those who had asked him to negotiate with Emma, their mutinous surrogate mother. She was sure the truth about Emma’s death differed from Koenig’s account, but she was equally sure that she would never know precisely what took place that February day ten years ago.
‘Did you pay him?’
‘Every penny we’d promised, plus the extra money we’d set aside to buy Emma off. We hadn’t wanted her to die, it was a terrible misfortune. But at least it meant that we had Christopher to ourselves. Nobody would ever take him away from us.’
So that’s all right, then. Hannah exchanged a look with Linz. Sorrowful scorn was written all over her DC’s pretty face. Linz was young and free; no need to fret about that ticking clock, kids and responsibilities were years away. For her, Vanessa was a sad old cow with an obsession about a baby that wasn’t even hers.
‘And Koenig?’
‘Francis handled everything. I had my hands full with the baby, he didn’t want me upset. He made Guy promise to leave the Lake District and go abroad. In prison, he’d often talked about wanting to travel. When Francis explained the deal he’d struck, I thought it was for the best. Guy would do well with money behind him for the first time in his life. Francis gave him a chance.’
‘But Guy couldn’t keep away forever.’
Vanessa swallowed. ‘That wretched journalist. If only he hadn’t …’
‘We believe Koenig tipped him off that Emma was buried up on Mispickel Scar. Why would he do that, do you think?’
‘Heaven only knows. Guy told me once he believed in living by instinct. I’m afraid it was an excuse for muddled thinking. Of course, we were worried by the publicity, even more by the news that two bodies had been found. Two dead, not one, though we heard rumours that the other corpse is fifty years old, is that right?’
Hannah nodded.
‘So, nothing to do with Guy.’ Vanessa rubbed tired eyes. ‘We didn’t have any idea he was back in Coniston until he rang Francis after Emma was discovered. He was in a state, not making much sense. The police presence had spooked him, Francis said, and he wanted money to get away.’
‘He blackmailed you,’ Hannah said flatly.
‘No!’ Vanessa rapped the table. ‘You don’t understand. Guy wasn’t like that. I still believed in him, I felt we owed him something. Thanks to Guy, we’ve had ten wonderful years with Christopher, and no amount of money can buy that happiness. Francis said he would sort it out. All Guy wanted was to get away from here, but he was broke. He wanted a loan. Francis arranged to meet Guy to hand over some cash. He intended it as a gift, no nonsense about interest or paying us back.’
‘That’s what he said he meant to do?’
Vanessa nodded. ‘Absolutely.’
‘You had no idea that Francis took a couple of bricks with him to Monk Coniston, hoping to weight down the body? Or a torch, to hit Guy with?’
‘I don’t believe it, Francis would never hurt a fly. As for the torch, of course he needed it to find his way through the trees.’
‘What did Francis tell you about his encounter with Guy?’
Vanessa sipped from a glass of water. ‘When he came home that evening, he was in a state of shock. He’d asked Guy to promise never to return to Coniston and for some reason Guy argued. There was a scuffle — Guy started it. But Guy fell over and hit his head on a boulder. Francis checked and found he had no pulse. He was terrified. After all we’d been through, we might still lose Christopher as a result of Guy’s death. So he threw the body in the lake. It wasn’t nice and he hated doing it. My husband’s spent a lifetime caring for others, Chief Inspector, he’s an utterly decent man.’
‘So it was all an unfortunate mistake?’ Hannah strove to keep the cynicism out of her voice.
‘I begged him to speak to you, make a clean breast of things. He wouldn’t hear of it, didn’t want to expose his wife and child to shame. Christopher and I were all he cared about, he didn’t want to ruin our lives.’ Her voice trembled and she gulped more water. ‘I dreaded his doing something — drastic. When the policeman came round to ask if we’d seen anyone heading towards Monk Coniston on the night of the murder, we realised it was only a question of time before you caught up with him.’
She breathed out. ‘I must be strong, for Christopher’s sake. Are you done with me, Chief Inspector? My son and I really must get back to the hospital. We need to be by his side.’
Hannah nodded and stood up. Chances were, she was done with Vanessa Goddard. Her husband might never speak again and Vanessa needed time and space to grieve for what she had lost, as well as summoning the strength to keep caring for the child who meant so much to her. As for her story, if her readers’ group were discussing it, they’d be bound to say that it hung together. A prosecutor would say it tallied with the evidence. And Francis Goddard had been her own pet suspect, ten years ago, when everyone else was pissing in the wind, not even sure if Emma was dead. She’d been vindicated, no one now doubted that Francis Goddard was a murderer.
So why couldn’t she bring herself to believe it?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
‘Your father used to moan that I was never satisfied,’ Hannah said. ‘He told me all detectives need to learn that every case leaves unanswered questions. You do as much as you can, then move on.’
Daniel laughed. ‘I remember him scolding me for being too curious for my own good. Even as a boy, I obsessed about history. I had this crazy idea you could discover everything about the past. He told me there are things it’s better not to know. Now I wonder if he was afraid I might find out about his affair with Cheryl.’