Cat opened the curtains after Chloe left and stood at the window, looking out at Kensington Gardens. The warmth of the sun did little to thaw the chill that cramped in her belly. Something was very wrong. Trouble was brewing. No. Trouble had brewed. It had boiled over and made some sort of mysterious mess. Cat understood Chloe’s reasons for keeping her in the dark. She was to carry on, act natural, and know that things would unfold in their own time.
She shivered. She no longer cared what Benton thought or said. She had spent fifteen years married to him. Ten of those years were spent in a desperate cycle of waiting for him to come back to her, while trying to live as though she didn’t care that he preferred his mistress to her. If Benton accused her of drugging him, she would lie and tell him that he was being foolish. What possible reason would she have for drugging him? Hadn’t they had a civilised conversation, the first one in years? Hadn’t Cat capitulated to his refusal to get a divorce?
As these thoughts ran through her head, an undercurrent of joy came through. She didn’t care what Benton felt or thought. She didn’t need anything from him. She would go to Lydia’s for the time being. Once she was sure that the work for Chloe would continue, she would get a small flat. She and Annie would stay together. She would make it work. Without Benton. Without a farthing of Carlisle money.
She picked up the phone and ordered lunch and a pot of tea. While she waited, she packed her small bag and collected her thoughts. After she ate, she would take her suitcase down to Harry for safekeeping while she dashed out for a gift for her Aunt Lydia.
She walked along the high street on the lookout for anyone following her. That man reading the paper? That woman with a shopping bag? Cat paused to browse in a window, studying the display until she was sure all was well. She dashed in Derry and Toms and, using the precious funds that Reginald gave her, bought cashmere socks for Lydia – who had no fashion sense whatsoever, but enjoyed luxury socks – and a new hat for herself to replace the one she had lost when Marlena X attacked her.
On the way back to the hotel, she stopped at a wine shop in Kensington High Street and purchased a bottle of champagne. She wouldn’t broadcast that she was celebrating her freedom, although she suspected Lydia would take one look at her face and see the change in her. Lydia always knew what Cat was thinking, sometimes even before Cat did.
Once back at the hotel, she hailed a cab, loaded up her purchases and her suitcase, and set off for Bloomsbury.
Cat sat in the back seat and thought about the conversation she had with Chloe St James. What had gone wrong? She’d followed Chloe’s instructions – and Reginald’s before that – to the letter. Now, as the cab sped towards her aunt’s house, she wondered what disaster awaited her. She shook off the worry, rationalising that if Aunt Lydia or Annie were hurt, Chloe would have told her. They weren’t involved in the business with the switched documents, so there would be no reason for Chloe to keep that from Cat. That left Benton or Reginald. Was Reginald hurt? Dead? Is that why Chloe showed up at the park? Stop it. Worry will do you no good.
The taxi turned onto Lydia’s narrow street and pulled up to her house. The front window was open, but there was no sign of Lydia. She let the cab driver carry her bag, while she carried her purchases. Cat was just heading up the stoop when a tall man with intelligent brown eyes and a thatch of blond hair approached her, followed by a uniformed constable.
‘Mrs Carlisle?’
‘Yes,’ Cat said.
‘Mrs Catherine Carlisle?’
‘Yes. What’s wrong? What’s happened?’ Cat dropped her bags on the stoop and made to hurry up the stairs. ‘Where’s Lydia?’
‘Your aunt’s fine, Mrs Carlisle. I’m Detective Sergeant Perkins.’ The man nodded to the uniformed constable, who picked up the bags that Cat had dropped. ‘We’ll just step into your aunt’s house so we can talk in private.’
Lydia opened the door just as Cat, Sergeant Perkins, and the constable reached the front step. She stared at Cat with red-rimmed, puffy eyes, taking in her clothes, the shopping bag, and the bottle of champagne sticking out the top.
‘Oh, Cat. It’s so terrible.’
‘What’s happened?’ Cat said.
‘Come in, love. Prepare yourself for a shock.’ Aunt Lydia nodded at the sergeant. ‘You can use my studio. I’ll make tea.’
The constable put Cat’s suitcase and the shopping bags down in the entry hall. Cat followed him into Lydia’s studio. Sergeant Perkins placed a hand on her arm and led her to the sofa. The constable stood near the door. ‘Have a seat, Mrs Carlisle.’ He didn’t sit. He moved over to the window.
‘When did you last see your husband, Mrs Carlisle?’
‘Last night,’ Cat said. ‘I brought him a tray. We chatted for a while. And I left.’
‘He was found dead in his study this morning,’ Sergeant Perkins said.
‘Dead?’ Cat buried her face in her hands. I’ve killed him. She looked up at him, with a question in her eyes. ‘What happened? How did he die?’
‘Someone attacked him in his study. He suffered a fatal head injury. He may have hit his head on his desk. We don’t know yet. Your maid, Annie, found him in his study this morning. She’s suffered a hell of a shock.’
‘I didn’t –’ Cat buried her face in her hands once again, a feeble effort to disguise the relief that washed over her. Benton’s dead, but I didn’t kill him. She wished she could cry. But the tears didn’t come. Cat felt nothing. She was utterly numb.
Lydia came in with the tea tray. She set it down and handed Cat a handkerchief. Cat took it, but she didn’t need it. Her eyes were dry as bones.
‘Such a shock. Here, love, have some tea.’ Lydia handed Cat a mug.
‘I shouldn’t have left Annie there. I shouldn’t have trusted –’ She stopped herself.
‘The detective brought Annie here an hour or so ago. He told me what happened. They thought you were here. I didn’t know what to tell them.’
‘Where is Annie?’ Cat asked.
‘She’s asleep.’
Cat was aware that Sergeant Perkins was watching Cat and Lydia’s interaction, gauging Cat’s response to the news of her husband’s death.
‘Where did you go last night, Cat? We didn’t know where you were,’ Lydia asked.
‘Excuse me, Miss Paxton, but I’ll ask the questions, if you don’t mind,’ Sergeant Perkins said. ‘You can stay with your niece, but you’ll need to keep quiet. If you can’t do that, I’ll take her down to Scotland Yard and question her there. Mrs Carlisle, please tell me what you and your husband discussed when you saw him last night.’
Cat didn’t hesitate. ‘We talked about separating.’
Lydia shook her head.
‘I’m not going to lie. It’s the truth. We didn’t love each other. Benton wouldn’t give me a divorce, but I couldn’t stay in that house any longer. He acknowledged that we were both miserable. We agreed to part. He was going to give me an allowance.’
‘So where did you go after your conversation?’ Sergeant Perkins asked.
He doesn’t believe me. He thinks I’ve killed my husband.
‘I went to a hotel. I wanted to be alone, to think things through.’ Cat cast a glance at Lydia.
‘Do you know anyone who would want to harm your husband, Mrs Carlisle?’
‘You know about his work? His company is working on a classified project for the Air Ministry. It’s very hush-hush.’ Cat fidgeted, calculating in her mind just how much she should say. ‘I found something in his safe when I retrieved my passport and some of my jewellery, an IOU from one of Benton’s friends, Freddy Sykes. It was for rather a lot of money: two thousand pounds. Freddy has a gambling problem. His grandmother, who’s been paying his debts these past years, has refused to help him further.’
‘You and your husband didn’t argue? Have words? A disagreement?’
‘No.’ Cat shook her head. ‘Last night was the first civil conversation we’ve had in years.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Carlisle. I don’t need to tell you not to leave town.’
‘Am I a suspect?’ Cat asked. ‘My marriage to Benton has been over for a long time. I admit that. But I didn’t kill him. I had no reason to.’
‘Your husband was a very wealthy man. Do you know who inherits under his will?’
‘No, but I imagine he left his money to his sister, Isobel. They were very close.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Carlisle,’ Sergeant Perkins said.
‘I’ll see you out,’ Lydia said.
She sat for a long time after the police left, waiting for the inevitable waves of grief. All she felt was the emptiness of the dark, yawning chasm that had opened up around her heart. Benton was dead. Murdered. And Cat didn’t feel a thing. What would Sergeant Perkins make of that?
She wondered about the goings-on at the Carlisle house. Who was passing documents to the Germans? Blackie? Had poor feeble Blackie killed Benton? What about Freddy Sykes? Cat always thought of Freddy as a rather bumbling idiot, but his altercation with Annie revealed a dark side to his personality that had taken Cat by surprise. He was a rapist. He was a gambler. Was Freddy capable of murder? Would he kill to retrieve the IOU? Had Benton – who had an undeniable cruel streak, despite his outward charm – used his hold over Freddy? The questions went round and round in Cat’s head. She had to do something. She just didn’t know what. She had to trust someone. She just didn’t know who.
‘It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?’ Lydia said.
‘I don’t know what to think. I feel nothing. I’m numb.’
‘You’re in shock, love. What you need is a good rest,’ Lydia said.
‘Is Annie okay?’
‘She’s got a belly full of food and now she’s sleeping. She’s a lovely child. Offered to do the cooking.’ Lydia shook her head. ‘What are you going to do about her? What are you going to do about you? Of course, you can stay here as long as you want – you know that.’
‘Thank you. And I’m going to keep Annie with me. She’s had a horrible time of late.’
‘So have you,’ Lydia said. She put the unlit cigarette back in her mouth.
‘I need to make a phone call,’ Cat said.
‘Of course.’ Lydia stood up. ‘I’ll be down in the kitchen.’
Cat headed into the hallway to the alcove where the telephone was situated. She dialled the phone number that Reginald had her memorise.
‘Yes, hello. This is Catherine Carlisle calling for Reginald. I’m coming by with the St Edmunds’ pippins and was wondering if he wanted me to make him a pie.’
The woman who answered the phone was silent. Cat could hear breathing, but she didn’t speak.
‘I’m sorry, ma’am, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. There’s no one here by the name of Reginald.’
‘No, you’re mistaken. I was given this number – Hello?’ Dry static came through the line. Cat slammed the phone down. Was Reginald turning his back on her now that he had made use of her? What about Chloe St James? I’ll contact you. Cat took a deep breath. It seemed she would by necessity navigate this ocean on her own.
Cat headed down the stairs for a cup of tea and the familiar surroundings of Lydia’s kitchen, with its flagstone floor and the scarred pine table. She could hear Lydia banging pots and pans and reckoned her aunt would start chopping carrots and onions in preparation for her chicken soup, her go-to activity in times of crisis. Lydia claimed the soup was an ancient family recipe with medicinal properties, but Cat knew that the mundane chopping of vegetables and the careful tending to the pot was just as healing as the actual broth.
Her thoughts were on this mundane matter when she stepped off the final step into the kitchen and skidded to a stop. Alicia Montrose stood next to Lydia, pale-faced, her eyes filled with concern.
‘Alicia.’ The words caught in Cat’s throat.
‘I came as soon as I heard,’ Alicia said. ‘Cat, what can I do? What’s happened? Are you okay?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Cat said. ‘I really don’t know what happened or what I feel –’ Of course Alicia would show up at this, Cat’s most desperate hour. How could she not? Alicia Montrose was nothing if not loyal, despite the horrible treatment she received at Cat’s hand.
‘Please let’s let bygones be bygones, Cat. You need a friend now. Don’t turn me away,’ Alicia said.
‘How can you be so kind to me, Alicia? I’m not deserving of your charity.’
‘I need to tend to something upstairs,’ Lydia said. She scurried away, leaving Cat and Alicia alone.
‘I’ve been horrid to you.’
‘Cat –’
‘I turned my back on you and didn’t even have the guts to tell you why,’ Cat said. ‘I’m ashamed of the way I treated you. You were a good friend and didn’t deserve it.’
Alicia looked at Cat with sad eyes. ‘I know why, Catherine. It’s the boys. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you to watch me keep a child after losing yours. And then when I got pregnant again and again –’ Alicia shook her head. ‘I admit to being angry at first, but then I realised that every time you saw me and my children, it was a reminder of all that you’d lost. I can’t fault you for that.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Cat said. ‘Can you ever forgive me?’
‘There’s nothing to forgive, darling. You’ve had a hellish go of things.’
‘We’ve got some catching up to do,’ Cat said, ‘but you don’t need to involve yourself with this.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. You need help.’
They sat down at the table.
‘How did you hear?’
‘From Jeremy. He has a friend who works with Benton at the Air Ministry. Everything’s very hush-hush, thank goodness. Hopefully the newspapers won’t track you here.’
The newspapers. Cat hadn’t even thought about how the reporters would swarm. ‘The police in all likelihood think I’ve killed him. Isn’t the spouse always the suspect? The police will talk to Isobel – I can only image what she’ll tell them. If they didn’t suspect me, they will after they speak to her.’
‘You didn’t kill him, Cat. That’s all that matters,’ Alicia said.
‘I left him. I was leaving him.’
‘What?’ Alicia couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice.
‘We reached an understanding. We weren’t divorcing. Benton would never grant me a divorce. But I couldn’t bear that house any longer, so I told him I was moving out. We were simply going to live apart. We’ve not shared a bed since I lost the last child.’
‘You mustn’t tell that to the police,’ Alicia said. ‘No good can come of it.’
‘Too late,’ Cat said. ‘I’ve already told them.’
‘Jeremy’s agreed to help you in any way he can. He’s offered to hire you a solicitor. He’s ready to make the call. He can get you in to see his man this afternoon.’
‘Thank you, Alicia. I don’t think I’m quite ready for a solicitor yet. Let’s wait and see what the police do.’
‘Are you saying they came and questioned you here? At least they didn’t take you away with them. That must mean something.’ She stood. ‘I hate to rush off, but I need to get the boys. Should I have Jeremy ask around and find out what’s happening? He has connections.’
‘Let’s just sit tight and see what comes, shall we?’
Alicia cocked her head to the side and studied Cat. For the briefest second, Cat had the impression that her friend knew she carried a secret. The moment passed. Alicia fussed with her hat, kissed Cat’s cheeks, and promised to call the next day.
‘I don’t know how you can remain so calm. You’ll call me if you need help? You’re not alone, Cat. Promise me you’ll call.’
‘Promise,’ Cat said.
‘I’ve missed you,’ Alicia said.
‘Me too. I’m glad you came.’
Alicia swept out of the kitchen, leaving a slightest trace of Jean Patou Joy in her wake.