‘Bright, is he, this postman?’ said Gibbs. ‘Didn’t he make the connection between the car and the man he’d seen?’
‘He didn’t,’ said Kombothekra. ‘On the day he saw the killer, the car wasn’t there.’
‘Maybe our man decided to walk that day.’
‘Person,’ Harbard reminded them all. ‘Remember, the evidence points to a woman.’
Gibbs scowled at him. He’d made his point, why did he have to keep making it? What evidence was he talking about? Gibbs knew a man’s crime when he saw one.
‘So Encarna and Amy Oliva were murdered and buried while the Brethericks were in Florida,’ Proust concluded.
‘They were buried then,’ said Kombothekra. ‘We don’t know when they were killed, but it was after Friday the nineteenth of May last year. That was Amy’s last day at school and Encarna’s last day at work. Neither of them said a word about leaving to schoolmates or colleagues. The sudden move to Spain, with no notice, was a surprise to everyone.’ Kombothekra raised his eyebrows.
‘The headmistress of St Swithun’s, Mrs Fitzgerald, was informed by e-mail after the fact,’ said Sellers. ‘Apparently Encarna Oliva was apologetic about the lack of notice and enclosed a cheque for a term’s fees in lieu.’
Proust was making disgruntled noises. ‘When did the Brethericks fly to Florida?’ he asked crossly.
‘Sunday the twenty-first of May last year,’ Kombothekra told him.
‘All right, then, Sergeant. Encarna and Amy Oliva were murdered at some point between the evening of Friday the nineteenth of May and… Sunday the fourth of June, when the Brethericks returned from Florida. If you must split hairs.’
Kombothekra looked as if he might be thinking about standing up for himself. ‘Mark Bretherick was telling the truth,’ he said. ‘He spent the fortnight working at the National High Magnetic Field Laboratory in Tallahassee. I think we have to release him, keen though he is to hang around and tell me how wrong I am about everything.’
‘That law firm Geraldine phoned, asking for a divorce and custody lawyer,’ said Sellers. ‘What if it wasn’t Geraldine who phoned? It could have been another woman who didn’t want to give her real name.’
The door banged open and Simon Waterhouse appeared with Charlie Zailer behind him. ‘Has the full list come through yet from St Swithun’s, the owl sanctuary trip?’ he asked.
Gibbs closed his eyes. Shit. Barbara Fitzgerald’s e-mail. Amy Oliva’s message had been such a shock, he’d forgotten about the list. ‘I’ve got it on my e-mail,’ he said. ‘Didn’t get a chance to print it.’
‘Is there a Jones on it?’
‘Michelle Greenwood is now a Jones,’ Sellers told Waterhouse. ‘Lucy Bretherick’s babysitter-she’s just got married. She also worked part-time as a nanny for the Olivas.’
Waterhouse laughed and smacked the wall with the flat of his hand. ‘Of course,’ he said.
‘I’m going to count to five, Waterhouse…’ the Snowman began.
‘No time, sir. We need to find Sally Thorning.’
‘Who?’
‘And Esther Taylor.’ He turned to Charlie. ‘Can you do that?’
‘Unlikely, since I’ve no idea where she is.’
‘I have,’ said Waterhouse. ‘Pam Senior said she threatened to go to the police, didn’t she? She’s here. Maybe she’s got no further than reception, but she’s here. At the nick.’
15
Friday, 10 August 2007
When I hear the key in the lock, I pull the massage table towards me so that it stands between me and the door. He comes into the room, unsmiling, his face blank. In his left hand he holds the gun and in his right the syringe, which is full. ‘No,’ I say. ‘No. Please. It’s too soon after last time…’
‘Why aren’t you lying with your legs up against the wall like I told you to?’
‘It would be pointless,’ I tell him. ‘I didn’t want to say anything before because I was scared of making you angry, but… I can’t have any more children.’
‘What?’ His face twitches.
‘After Jake was born I had some problems.’ I know words, details, that would make this lie more plausible. I know the names of all kinds of gynaecological syndromes from the dozens of books I read when I was pregnant with Zoe. Why can’t I remember any of them? ‘I’m infertile. However long I lie with my legs up against the wall, I won’t get pregnant. I’m sorry. I should have told you straight away.’
He laughs. ‘Infertile. Not suffering from a rare genetic disorder, then, which any child you had would be likely to inherit? Of course, you couldn’t say that because of Zoe and Jake.’
‘I’m not lying, I swear on my life.’
‘Swear on your children’s lives.’
No. Not that.
‘No. I would never do that. I’m telling the truth, Mark.’
‘That isn’t my name.’
‘What is?’
He stares down at his arms, his head hanging low. ‘William Markes. You guessed right first time.’
He puts the syringe down on the massage bed and points the gun at my face, holding it with both hands. ‘We’re going to play Conscience Roulette,’ he says. ‘In a minute, I’m going to ask you if you’re infertile. If you are, and you tell the truth, I’ll let you go. You can go back home. I want and need a family, Sally. A happy family. If you can’t give me one, you’re not the woman for me. But if you aren’t infertile, you’ll stay here with me. And if you lie and say you are when you aren’t, I’ll kill you. Do you understand? I’ll know if you’re lying. I already know.’ The gun makes a clicking noise.
‘I’m not infertile,’ I blurt out before he asks. ‘I’m sorry. I won’t lie again.’
‘Why are you crying? I’m the one who should be crying.’ He exhales slowly. ‘Lie down on the massage bed.’
Gathering together all my energy, I say, ‘Please can I… do it myself?’ I point to the syringe.
‘You’d mess it up deliberately.’
‘I wouldn’t. I promise.’
‘If you do, I’ll use this.’ He waves the gun. ‘Not to kill you. I’d shoot you in the knee or the foot.’
‘I swear I’ll do it properly,’ I babble, desperate.
‘Good, because I’m going to be watching carefully. I’m not stupid. I’ll know if you’re trying to sabotage our family.’
‘No!’ Every nerve ending in my body is screaming a panic signal. I wish he had kept me unconscious for longer, for ever. He said he would kill me if I lied, so why didn’t I? Fear. Terror, not a desire to live, not like this. ‘Not with you watching. Please!’
‘No?’ He walks over to the window, turns his back on me. ‘You’re trying to take advantage of me. Everyone always does, because I’m soft. I never put my foot down. Do you think I don’t know that you’ve got all the power and I’ve got none? Do you think I might have missed that fact, so you have to rub my nose in it?’
‘I… I don’t know what you mean,’ I sob.
‘I need you more than you need me. Think how you’d feel in my position. You don’t need me at all, and you don’t want me. So I need a gun and a syringe, locks on all the doors. And now you’re asking me to leave the room, to entrust the most important thing in my world to you, when you’ve lied from the minute you got here. How is that fair? How is that right?’
‘If you let me do this, on my own, I’ll try harder to make it work. I promise. If you want me to help you, you have to start thinking about what I want and not just what you want.’
‘Why do you care so much?’ he snaps. ‘Why does this tiny detail matter so much? I’ve seen your body before, I’ve touched it, every inch of it.’