Molly caught the Circle Line to Notting Hill Gate and walked the five minutes from there to Pembridge Square Gardens. She loved her home but always suffered a little envy when she visited Amelia’s beautiful apartment. No expense had been spared on renovations and interior design, the rooms were spacious and high-ceilinged, and the outlook over Pembroke Square was perfect.
Amelia opened the door in cream silk pyjamas, waving Molly in with a less-than-welcoming expression. ‘This isn’t really convenient, you know, darling.’
‘The police called this morning,’ Molly said without preliminaries. ‘They think I might be involved in a murder.’
Amelia laughed uncertainly, then stopped and reached two hands to grab Molly’s shoulders to hold her still. ‘You are joking, aren’t you?’
‘Unfortunately not,’ Molly said. ‘I’d better tell you the whole story.’
Dropping her hands, Amelia shook her head. ‘Wait, I need coffee first. Something tells me I’m going to need caffeine for this conversation.’
Once they were sitting with mugs in front of them, Molly told her story again. It wasn’t getting any easier to tell and she stuttered over the words.
When she’d finished Amelia looked at her in silence, a puzzled frown trying vainly to furrow her botoxed forehead. ‘You think this guy, this Oliver Vine, arrived on your doorstep with the intention of blackmailing you? Isn’t that a bit of a stretch? After all, as you say, nothing really happened apart from you being a tit.’
Molly smiled. ‘A tit? Thanks. It beats what I’ve been calling myself and you, at least, believe me. I’m afraid both the police and Jack think something more must have happened for him to turn up like that.’ She played with the handle of the mug. ‘I’ve no idea how he found out where I lived.’
‘Maybe he found out at the hotel. It’s the only one around, he may have guessed you were staying there.’
‘It’s what I thought too, but I rang them, they said it was absolutely against their policy to reveal information about guests to anyone.’ She shrugged. ‘Have to admit, I couldn’t imagine him walking in and asking staff who the woman running on the canal is, could you?’ Picking up the mug, she drained it, shaking her head when Amelia lifted the pot to offer more.
Molly stood restlessly, then sat again, pushing her hair behind her ears. ‘I had thought it was so romantic,’ she said, her voice calmer. ‘That this divinely sexy man found me attractive. From the first morning, I couldn’t get him out of my head. Remember I told you about him, and you said he was wasted on me, that I should have dragged him into the field. And later, you said I should try something new. I had been feeling old, you know, worn out and past it. Then suddenly there he was again, and I had a chance to prove I wasn’t, to feel that magic and excitement, to roll around in the grass in total abandon and feel like a teenager again.’
Amelia grinned, then she giggled. Molly looked at her blankly for a moment. Nothing about this story was the slightest bit funny. She remembered the young man’s shocked expression when she’d leaned in for a kiss. Okay, maybe it was a little funny. She chuckled and soon they were both laughing like a pair of hyenas.
‘Oh God,’ Molly said, wiping her eyes, ‘I suppose it does sound so ridiculous now.’ Her worried expression returning, she stood and paced the room again. ‘Not so ridiculous though when you think the poor guy was murdered. And, I’d still like to know how a stranger managed to get my address.’
‘It’s odd all right.’
Molly’s eyes narrowed. ‘I wondered if he could have followed me?’
‘You’d have noticed, wouldn’t you?’
‘I looked back once and didn’t see any sign of him. But I was thinking, you can see the canal from the hotel where they’ve cleared a bit of the shrubbery, maybe it worked the other way too, and he saw me crossing the garden to the hotel. I was wearing a bright pink T-shirt; it would have stood out.’
Amelia screwed up her nose. ‘He’d have to have been staring at that gap when you passed by. Anyway, you haven’t thought it through, if he knew the gap was there, then he already knew where you were staying, didn’t he?’
Molly shut her eyes. Of course, how stupid. Amelia was right. Molly’s shoulders slumped. It was a puzzle she wasn’t going to be able to solve. ‘It’s a mess,’ she said finally. ‘I don’t know how he found out my address, or why he was on my doorstep unless it was to blackmail me, and I certainly have no idea why he was murdered.’
Amelia looked at her, her expression troubled. ‘You aren’t serious about being a suspect, are you?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said wearily. ‘Jack says it’s nonsense to think so, but the man was murdered in Green Park and I happened to be nearby at the same time.’
‘You were always a little bit of an idiot, Molly, but you haven’t a cruel bone in your body. Anyway, you were hardly going to murder the poor fool for rejecting your advances, were you?’
She’d been called a tit and a cow this morning, ignoring the bit of an idiot tag was easy. ‘I told you, the police think we did more than kiss. Stupidly, I didn’t help my case, I told them that he must have come to blackmail me because why else would he have come? And, yes, I probably would have paid him to go away if he’d threatened to tell Jack what happened.’ She pushed a hand through her hair. ‘Jack and I are shaky at the moment, Amelia, I wouldn’t have wanted him to know that I’d made a play for someone else.’
Amelia reached across, took her hand and squeezed it. ‘The police will look into it all but you’re only a little bit of an idiot, Molly, you’d have known they’d find his phone and trace the text from you. If you’d murdered him, you’d have taken it with you, wouldn’t you?’
‘I’ve watched enough crime series, I guess I wouldn’t have been that stupid.’
‘The police will come to the same conclusion when they’ve done some investigating. And hopefully, when they dig around in this poor man’s life, they’ll find someone else with a much stronger motive.’ Amelia filled her mug and picked it up. ‘Did he really have turquoise eyes?’
A slight smile appeared on Molly’s lips and her eyes softened. ‘I know you said people don’t really have turquoise eyes, but I swear he did, plus high cheekbones, perfectly sculpted lips and an amazing chiselled jaw. He wore a leather jacket over a white T-shirt and jeans – very young Marlon Brando. In short,’ Molly said, ‘he was sex on legs. And his voice was hypnotic. The second time we met, he was going on and on about the workings of the canal, leaning down to look into that gloomy lock chamber. But he could have been talking about anything, it didn’t matter. I would have listened to him forever.’
Her smile dimmed. ‘He was young, only a couple of years older than Remi and now he’s dead and somewhere, some mother and father, maybe siblings, are mourning.’ She felt a deep sense of sadness for the loss of this man she’d admired and lusted after but never known.
Amelia squeezed her hand again. ‘He was probably involved with some shady characters, wait, you’ll see; just because he looked good, doesn’t mean he was.’
Molly was about to agree when her phone rang, her heart beating faster when she saw who it was. ‘It’s Jack,’ she said, reaching to answer it.
‘Where the fuck are you?’ Jack said, before she’d a chance to say hello.
‘I’m with Amelia.’
There was a moment’s silence. ‘Are you completely out of your mind? The police called around to the house. When they didn’t find you there, they went to your office and when you weren’t there, they came here. Here! I suppose I should be grateful they weren’t in uniform and driving a damn squad car!’
Molly didn’t have a chance to speak, she let him rant on until his ire ran out. ‘I needed to speak to Amelia about what happened,’ she said into the first moment of silence.
‘Seems pretty clear to me.’ His voice arctic cold, each word filled with anger.
Molly gulped back the tears. ‘I was trying to find out how he knew where to find me.’
‘And did you, detective?’
Ignoring his sarcasm, she fought to keep her voice calm. ‘No, I didn’t, I’ve still no idea.’
‘Well, you’d better get your ass back home. They want to ask you more questions.’ And without waiting for a reply, he hung up.
Hurt, Molly dropped the phone on the table. ‘Jack’s pissed.’
When it rang again, seconds later, she gave Amelia a weak smile and felt a shiver of relief. He’d be ringing to apologise, to say he forgave her and that he’d stand by her through the mess she’d got herself embroiled in. Her relief was short-lived. It wasn’t Jack; the number displayed on her phone wasn’t familiar. She hesitated, her heart thumping, before picking it up to answer. ‘Hello?’
‘Mrs Chatwell, it’s DI Fanshawe. We did ask you to keep yourself available for further questions, but it seems nobody, including your husband, knows where you are.’
They could only have got the phone number from Jack; he’d neglected to tell her he’d given it to them. She bit back the feeling of abandonment and instilled some strength in her voice. ‘I’m in Pembridge Square Gardens with a friend.’ She didn’t think there was any point in adding she’d come to discuss her situation.
But Fanshawe wasn’t a fool. ‘Your friend? The one you went to Semington House with when you ran into Oliver Vine?’
She was tempted to point out that she had more than one friend, but she didn’t think the detective would appreciate the sarcasm. ‘Yes,’ she said without elaborating. Let him think what he wanted. He would anyway. Would he think there was some kind of conspiracy? That she and Amelia had plotted together to kill Oliver Vine? Molly looked across at her friend, who was regarding her with concern, and managed a smile. ‘She is offering me some support. Jack said you had more questions for me. I’m happy to answer any you might have.’
There were muffled voices in the background. She guessed he was speaking to someone else, his large hand covering the phone. ‘Okay,’ he said, his voice suddenly loud and clear. ‘Here at West End Central Station at two, if you please.’
In the police station, not at home. She swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘Perfect,’ she said, her voice cool, and hung up.
She put the phone gently down on the table with a shaking hand. ‘It was the police, they want to see me today, at the station.’