2.50pm Tuesday 17th December
Veronica sat listening to Francesca talk about her memories of Natalie as a small child. Natalie, unlike Andrew, had been popular and liked. She had been a pretty child with blonde hair, which her mother often used to put up in a French plait. She wasn’t exactly academic, but she was clever, and her artistic flair blossomed early. Where her artistic ability came from no one quite knew. Neither Doug nor Francesca could ever be accused of having such talents. Doug had been a primary school science teacher and Francesca used to work in a doctor’s surgery on reception. The position suited her well. She was organised, efficient and enjoyed the small amount of power the role gave her.
As Veronica zoned out of the monologue her sister was conducting, she found herself thinking back to Andrew’s childhood and the happy times she had spent with her son and husband.
Often, during the summer, the three of them would rent a mobile caravan on the Norfolk coast. The week would be spent crabbing off Cromer pier and exploring the quaint villages dotted around the rolling countryside. Dennis never did like eating crab, but he enjoyed catching the crustaceans and then letting them go again.
The weather, as is always the case in England, couldn’t be relied upon but it never stopped them from enjoying themselves. During the evening Veronica and Andrew would play cards, while Dennis read a book. Andrew, she now realised, had probably been lonely without a sibling and Veronica found herself wondering why they never had more children. It hadn’t been something she and Dennis ever discussed. Their sex life had declined rapidly after Andrew was born and Veronica had never broached the subject with her husband for fear of looking needy or insecure. She had been brought up to bury her feelings, something that came far more naturally to her sister than it ever had done to Veronica.
As Francesca continued to waffle on about what a perfect daughter she had raised, Veronica found herself wondering why Natalie had emigrated to the other side of the world. Andrew, for all his faults, had never gone far from home. But now he was somewhere in France, alone, on the run from the police. The thought made her heart bleed and she wondered how much more pain she could take. What had she done to deserve this? Veronica had never been a great believer in karma but suddenly she entertained the idea that perhaps she was being punished for something.
She found herself trapped within her own mind unable to escape. The walls of the house began to feel as if they were closing in and her heart started beating furiously in her chest, threatening to break through her ribs.
Finally, Francesca stopped talking, realising something was wrong.
‘Veronica?’ She placed her hand on her sister’s shoulder, but Veronica didn’t appear to hear. ‘Are you all right?’
Veronica couldn’t respond. She was frozen to the spot, unable to move, unable to even blink.
‘What is it?’ Francesca gently shook her sister desperate for a response.
‘Cromer.’
‘Cromer?’
‘I want to go back to Cromer.’
Francesca nodded not understanding what on earth her sister was talking about.
‘Where are my cards?’ Veronica stood, almost knocking her sister over. ‘I need to find my cards.’
Francesca watched as her sister moved around the living room opening every drawer, frantically searching.
‘What cards?’
‘For snap. We need them for snap.’
‘Snap?’ Francesca was completely lost, and she worried that Veronica was losing her mind, but before she could say anything the phone rang.
Leaving Veronica still frantically searching, she went into the small hallway and answered the phone.
‘Wade residence.’ The fact that she sounded like Hyacinth Bucket, from Keeping Up Appearances, was entirely lost on her but not on Palmer.
‘DI Palmer.’
‘Inspector. It’s Francesca Woodcock. How can I help you?’
‘We’d like to come over and speak to Mrs Wade, please. Is now a good time?’
Francesca stared through the doorway at Veronica who had collapsed in a heap on the sofa and was sobbing.
‘I’ll have her ready for you.’ She sighed, wanting to hang up and attend to her sister.
‘Thank you. See you in twenty minutes,’ he said before ending the call.
Veronica was still huddled in a ball crying. She barely noticed when Francesca came back into the room.
‘DI Palmer is on his way. He wants to talk to you.’ Francesca stood over her sister unable to comfort her. ‘Let’s get you cleaned up. We can’t have the inspector seeing you in this state.’
Francesca had seen Veronica distraught over the last few days but what she witnessed that afternoon was something entirely different. Struggling to know what to do to help calm her, Francesca decided that the only thing to do was to give her sister a large measure of whisky. Much to her surprise and relief it seemed to do the trick; so, when Palmer arrived, fifteen minutes later, Veronica was in a much more suitable state.
‘Mrs Wade.’ The DI extended his hand and shook Veronica’s warmly. ‘Thank you for agreeing to see us at such short notice.’
Elly, who stood next to Palmer, offered a small awkward smile. She wondered if she’d ever get used to dealing with relatives of murder victims. In one way she hoped she wouldn’t.
Veronica, who stayed mute, showed them into the kitchen where Francesca was preparing a pot of tea.
‘Your garden looks very pretty in the snow,’ Elly commented while looking through the window as large light flakes tumbled down from the sky.
‘Dennis was the gardener,’ Veronica said numbly.
‘Tea anyone?’ Francesca smiled brightly, placing the teapot down on the table.
‘I am sorry to do this, but I need to talk to you about your son,’ Palmer said as he accepted the floral cup and saucer foisted upon him.
Francesca tutted as she poured tea into his cup.
‘Have you found him?’ The hope in Veronica’s eyes was heartbreaking.
‘No, I’m afraid not.’
‘Well what then?’ Francesca was nothing if not to the point.
‘I need to ask you about an argument Andrew had with his father in November.’
Hearing those words, Veronica’s heart sank. ‘You mean about the bail money?’
‘Yes.’ He did not enjoy the fact he was inflicting more pain on an already broken woman. ‘Did you know that your husband had refused to give Andrew money?’
‘No.’ Veronica felt foolish admitting it. ‘But the only reason he would have kept it from me would have been to protect me. He knew how upset I got whenever Andrew got into trouble.’
‘Why do you think your husband refused on that occasion?’
‘This is not easy to admit.’ Veronica hung her head and let out a small sigh. ‘But Dennis had given up on Andrew.’
Elly chewed the inside of her cheek feeling like she was in the audience of The Jeremy Kyle Show.
‘We have helped Andrew financially time and time again. He always promises that it will be the last time… until we receive another call. It has been never-ending. His father was so disappointed. It pained him that his son was a drug addict and a criminal. I suppose he’d just had enough.’ She paused, considering something for a moment. ‘I have to ask, why was Andrew arrested in November?’ She wasn’t sure she really wanted to hear the answer.
‘He was found with herbal cannabis.’
Francesca kissed her teeth and shook her head, completely unsurprised by the revelation. ‘That boy,’ she muttered to herself.
Veronica glared at her sister. ‘He is your family too.’ She gently reminded her.
Francesca stiffened in her seat.
‘I have to tell you that we believe Andrew has been in a car crash.’ Palmer said it as softly as he could, but it made no difference. The impact of the words was still there.
‘A crash?’ Veronica looked horrified.
‘The French police found his car on the side of a motorway. It had collided into a tree. There was no sign of Andrew but we do believe he might be injured.’
For the first time since the whole affair had begun, Francesca found herself worried about Andrew. It was not a feeling she was familiar with and she wasn’t sure how to cope with it, especially when Veronica turned to her looking terrified.
‘He’s injured?’ Her voice shook.
‘We doubt it is very serious.’ Elly tried to soothe Veronica. ‘But we do think it would be best if he handed himself in.’
‘The French police are releasing a picture of Andrew to the news channels over there, in the hope that someone might have seen him.’
This was the final straw for Veronica. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, as she stood up, knocking over and breaking the bone china cup, ‘I can’t do this.’
Francesca sprang into action and immediately started to mop up the tepid tea that was threatening to pool off the pine table onto the vinyl tiles below. ‘She’s very upset,’ she apologised as her sister disappeared out of the kitchen. They heard the sound of her footsteps on the stairs. ‘It’s an extremely difficult time. And what with it being Christmas.’
Palmer always wondered why people said that. There was never a good time for anyone to die, was there? Would it have been more convenient if someone had strung Dennis up in the middle of July? Perhaps March was a better time to learn that your husband had been murdered.
‘I am terribly sorry.’ He stood, holding onto his tie and making sure it didn’t fall into the puddle of tea that was creeping closer to him. ‘We’ll leave you in peace.’
‘Inspector, now that my sister is out of the room, please tell me, how badly do you think Andrew is injured?’
‘We can’t know for sure. His car obviously hit the tree at some speed.’
‘But if he was really hurt, I’m sure he would have taken himself to hospital,’ Elly interrupted, wanting to be encouraging. ‘It’s probably just a scratch.’
Francesca stopped wiping the table and stared at the sergeant. ‘Do you have children?’ She asked in an accusatory tone.
‘No, I don’t.’ Elly blushed.
‘Then you will never know the pain a mother feels for her child.’
‘Thank you again for the tea,’ Palmer cut in, wanting to protect his colleague from a verbal bashing. He guided Elly out of the house leaving Francesca scowling.
‘Wow. She’s a piece of work,’ Elly said once they were outside.
‘She’s a fire-cracker.’ Palmer smirked.
‘It’s good to know that Mrs Wade has someone there for her, though.’ She reached over and brushed a snowflake off Palmer’s shoulder. The pair looked at each other for a moment and said nothing. There was something between them, and Palmer could feel it growing.
‘Right.’ He led the way back to the car, crunching through the newly fallen snow. ‘Back to the station.’
Elly followed behind, stepping in his footprints, knowing that she had feelings for this man and that he was married. She wasn’t a homewrecker but spending so much time together was making it difficult to ignore the attraction she felt towards him. She suspected that he felt it too and that only made the situation worse.
As they got into the car, grateful to be out of the bitter cold, Palmer’s mobile phone began to ring. Barrett’s name was on the screen. Pulling off his gloves he fumbled in a hurry trying to answer it in time. ‘Sir?’
‘We’ve got a situation. I need you and Hale back here now. We’ve had reports from the French authorities that Andrew Wade is staying in a hotel in Vaas, north of Tours. They are on their way there now.’
When Elly and Palmer returned to the station, they were surprised to find Tilly Edgely in reception. She looked like she hadn’t slept for a week. Her hair was a mess, she wore loose-fitting clothes that did nothing for her figure and her once bright eyes were sunken in her face.
‘Miss Edgely,’ Palmer greeted her warmly.
‘I just wanted to find out what’s going on.’ She chewed the sleeve of her jumper nervously while Elly and Palmer shared a concerned look.
‘I really can’t disclose details of an on-going case.’ He was half apologetic.
‘But, but…’ Tilly’s hands shook and her eyes pleaded.
‘Why don’t you come with me.’ Elly put her arm around Tilly’s broad shoulders, noticing how tall she was, and led her away from the people staring in reception. Palmer nodded gratefully and headed up the stairs.
‘We really can’t tell you much, I’m afraid,’ Elly said, guiding Tilly towards a blue nylon armchair.
‘Are they going to get me?’ She looked frightened and searched Elly’s face for comfort and answers.
‘Who?’ Elly asked softly.
‘The killer. Are they going to come after me too?’
‘Why would you think that?’ She did little to disguise her shock.
‘Two people now. Two.’ Tilly counted on her fingers. ‘Maybe I’m next.’
‘Listen.’ Elly reached over and put her hand on Tilly’s knee to stop it shaking. ‘We have no reason to believe you are in any danger, Miss Edgely. We’re doing everything we can to catch the person responsible.’
‘I don’t want to end up like Dennis,’ she sobbed. ‘I don’t want to die alone in the dark.’ She covered her eyes with the palms of her hands, trying to escape the visual memories that swirled around her head.
‘Has something happened that has led you to think you are a target?’
‘Two people.’ Tilly counted on her fingers again, her childlike vulnerability shining through.
‘It’s perfectly normal to be upset. You saw a horrible thing.’ Elly wished she was upstairs where the action was going on, rather than dealing with an emotionally fragile witness who was clearly on the cusp of nervous breakdown.
‘The news said it’s a serial killer,’ Tilly said in a whisper. ‘They could be after any of us.’
‘It’s true we are working on the assumption that the same killer is responsible for both murders.’ Elly couldn’t deny that. ‘But, at the moment, there is no reason for you to think you’re in any danger.’
‘We’re all in danger,’ she insisted.
Elly didn’t know what to say. She felt that Tilly would be better off having this conversation with a psychiatrist.
‘Do you have any plans for Christmas?’ She decided the only course of action was to change the subject.
‘I can’t leave. You won’t let me leave.’
‘Are you spending it with your family?’ Elly was exasperated.
‘They’re in Dorset. You told me I have to stay in Cambridge.’ Large tears rolled down her gaunt cheeks.
‘Stay here a moment, I’ll be right back.’ The sergeant left the room closing the door behind her and leaning on it for a moment to compose herself. The intensity in the room had been a lot for her to handle. Returning to reception she asked the officer behind the desk to put a call in to Barrett’s office.
‘What?’ Barrett barked down the line, having been interrupted by the call.
‘Sir, I’m downstairs with Tilly Edgely. She’s in a very bad way. I was wondering if perhaps it would be okay for me to tell her she can return home to Dorset for Christmas. What do you think?’ Elly held her breath.
‘Yes, yes. Fine. She’s not a suspect.’ Barrett banged the phone down ending the conversation.
When Elly returned to tell Tilly the good news, she found the young woman huddling in the corner of the room rubbing her temples with her fingers.
‘I’ve just spoke to DCI Barrett who says you don’t have to stay in Cambridge. Now you can go home to your family. That’ll be nice, won’t it.’ Elly smiled, pleased that she had been able to do something to help Tilly.
‘But I have to stay and help.’ Tilly’s eyes were wide and staring. ‘I need to find his glasses.’
‘Whose glasses?’ Elly asked.
‘Mr Wade’s. He can’t see without them.’