‘Oh, I think Will likes to have Lucy all to himself. I can imagine what’s on his mind most of the time. Did she tell you about how we all first met?
‘She said it was at your aerobics class,’ Millie recalled.
‘That’s right, he made quite an entrance.’ Julie-Ann’s eyes had gone dreamy. ‘He came in late while we were still warming up. I mean most people coming into a group of strangers for the first time would just sneak in quietly, wouldn’t they? Especially if he’s a man and the class is mostly women. But not Will; he was so full of himself - he just flashed that gleaming smile at everyone, then he calmly walked over to the benches and stripped down to his underwear, you know, like Nick Kamen did in those Levi ads, and put on his sweats.’
‘That took some nerve,’ said Millie.
‘That’s Will. Sexy and knows it. I remember when I managed to tear my gaze away, I caught Lucy’s eye. We just went “wow” -’ Julie-Ann mouthed the word in exaggerated fashion ‘- and it was all we could do not to giggle. After the session he came over to talk to us, and a couple of weeks later he asked her out.’
‘Was that a surprise, that he asked her and not you?’
‘Actually he did ask me.’
‘Oh?’
‘He asked us both out to the gig with him that first time, but I withdrew gracefully. I don’t do shared dates.’
Millie wondered if there was a hint of regret in her voice. ‘What do you think about the way it’s worked out?’ she asked tentatively.
‘I think it’s great.’ Julie-Ann bent forward, suddenly intent on sorting her papers, but not before Millie had noticed the rush of colour to her face. ‘I mean, Will didn’t on the face of it seem like Lucy’s type, but I’m really glad that she’s found someone.’ She lifted her face, composed once more. ‘I hope they’ll be very happy together.’
To Millie’s ears, it sounded a bit forced. ‘When did you last see Lucy?’ she asked.
Julie-Ann grimaced. ‘Now you’ve got me. It was a while ago, I guess.’
Some best friend, thought Millie.
The distant clanging of a hand-bell was followed by a growing crescendo of voices, and small children in regulation navy sweatshirts began trickling into the classroom. Seeing Millie, their chatter faded away, but their presence signalled the end of the interview.
‘Thanks for your help,’ Millie said, getting up from her perch. ‘I’ll find my way out.’
Millie’s next task was a pleasant drive out to Fairfield, a village tucked into the green fields of the commuter belt between Birmingham and Bromsgrove. It was a beautiful spring day; the sun bobbing in and out of white fluffy clouds and giving off an unseasonable warmth. Millie had to stop and consult her map a couple of times to locate the cottage where Lucy’s mother lived, before finally coming to wooden gates opening on to a lengthy gravel drive that intersected several acres of immaculately tended gardens.
Grace Copeland was out in her garden watering a number of large plant pots on a rear terrace, but straightened up, watching the approach of the car with interest, waiting to greet Millie as she got out. Tall, like her daughter, she had a healthy outdoors glow to her cheeks and was dressed in jeans, polo neck and gilet that looked to be her customary garb, her shoulder-length greying hair loosely tied back.
At the sight of Millie’s warrant card she was instantly alarmed. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Yes,’ Millie reassured her. ‘Your daughter has reported some nuisance calls and I just need to ask you a few questions.’
‘Oh, of course.’ She seemed relieved. ‘It’s about time for a cup of tea,’ she decided. ‘Would you like one?’
The brew made, Grace Copeland brought it out to where Millie sat in the sunshine, on an ancient wooden bench under a spreading cherry tree. ‘I know Lucy has been getting these calls, and she told me she thought she’d been followed in her car.’
‘I’m just trying to establish a bit of background,’ said Millie, taking a mug from her. ‘We’ve had a look at the house too, checked that it’s secure.’
Grace sat down beside her. ‘Paul, her father, died two years ago. He’d had a good job and invested shrewdly, so he left her a substantial amount of money. It seemed a good idea for her to invest in a bigger house, but I don’t think she’s been happy there.’
‘How do you get on with your new son-in-law?’
‘Will?’ Grace pondered for a moment. ‘Well, he’s very handsome and charming. But I wish he had a more traditional job, I suppose. Lucy seems to be left on her own an awful lot. I’ve suggested that she come and stay here, but she has her own life to get on with.’
‘It looked a lovely wedding,’ Millie said.
‘Oh it was.’ Grace smiled, remembering. ‘Brackleys did us proud. It all came as a bit of a surprise. Lucy hadn’t to my knowledge had a boyfriend for some time, then all of a sudden there was Will and they were talking of getting married. I’m thrilled for her. It’s what she wanted so much. And to tell you the truth I was beginning to give up on the idea of grandchildren altogether.’
So, as well as her best friend, Lucy’s mother didn’t know about the change of plans either. Millie decided it was not her role to disillusion the woman. ‘Do you have any reason to think that Lucy might be unhappy with Will?’
Grace Copeland was taken aback by the question. ‘No. Why ever would she be? Though I must confess I haven’t seen much of her since the wedding. We talk on the phone regularly, of course, but, since she started getting these calls, it has become more difficult. It’s so expensive to call her on her mobile.’
‘Is there anyone you can think of who might want to upset Lucy now? Any old boyfriends you remember, who might have got too attached?’
But Grace couldn’t think of anyone. Millie had finished her tea and was mindful of the twenty-minute journey ahead of her. ‘Do you mind if I use your bathroom before I go?’ she asked. ‘It’s a bit of a drive back into the city.’
‘No, of course, I’ll show you where it is.’
Grace took Millie into the house, directing her to an upstairs bathroom. Without seeming obvious, Millie took the opportunity to have a quick glance around. It was a typical middle-class home, Millie thought, though the photographs on the wall alongside the stairs were interesting; mostly corporate shots at formal functions. Paul Copeland, Millie presumed, had been photographed with various dignitaries, including, she noticed, the current assistant chief commissioner. Grace Copeland caught up with her at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Your husband knew some important people,’ Millie commented.
‘I suppose he did,’ Grace said proudly. ‘He was a prosecutor with the CPS. I think at one time he’d hoped that Lucy would go into law too; she was bright enough, but Lucy was determined to do a job that was more obviously helping people, and she loves being around small children. She didn’t think much of the people Paul used to mix with.’
‘Like the ACC?’ Millie suggested.
Grace smiled. ‘Hm. Paul belonged to the Masons. It wasn’t something I liked or particularly approved of, and neither did Lucy, but Paul felt that it was good for his career, so we tolerated it.’
Through the door into the lounge Millie could see a cabinet full of trophies. ‘Lucy’s?’ she asked, and on cue Grace Copeland walked her through to look at them.
‘She was a cheerleader of all things,’ she said. ‘Paul hated it. It was all so American and - tacky. I think the girls mostly liked it because of the glamour and the costumes. Girls of that age love dressing up, don’t they? But to their credit they worked hard and they were very good.’
‘So I see,’ Millie said. The array of first-place awards was impressive.
‘And it kept them out of trouble.’
‘What would Lucy’s father have thought of Will?’ Millie wondered.
‘Oh, I’m sure he would have got along with him.’
They walked out again into the sunshine. ‘Well, thank you for your time, Mrs Copeland,’ Millie said, getting into her car. And, after checking her route back to Granville Lane once more, she left Grace Copeland to her garden.
CHAPTER FIVE
Mariner saved his questions for Rachel Hordern until after she had made a positive identification of her stepmother. Until then he simply introduced himself and waited quietly in the background. Stuart Croghan and his staff had managed somehow to make Nina Silvero serene in death, and Rachel tearfully confirmed that it was her stepmother. A member of the morgue staff sat with the Horderns’ energetic two-year-old, while the ritual took place, and, though Rachel remained remarkably composed throughout, it was seeing her child again that brought emotion to the surface. Mariner allowed her some time alone with her husband, Adam, before going into the visitors’ lounge with Knox.
‘Did she suffer?’ was Rachel’s first question to him, her eyes eager for reassurance. A heavily built woman, her face was covered in pale freckles and fine, strawberry-blonde hair touched her shoulders. They sat round on low chairs and Rachel clung so tightly to her son that he was squirming, trying to wriggle free.
‘It was over quickly,’ Mariner replied tactfully. ‘I’m very sorry. Were you close to her?’
‘Yes, I was. I’d stopped thinking about her as a stepmother long ago.’
‘How long had she been -?’
‘- my mother? Since I was six. I think I was hideous to her for the first couple of years, but Mum - Nina - did all the right things. We’ve been closer than ever since Dad died.’ She paused to wipe her eyes.
‘What happened to your natural mother?’ Mariner asked.
‘She and Dad split up years ago, before Nina came along. She ran off with a Swede.’ She broke into an unexpected giggle, which in seconds turned into a sob. ‘Sorry, it’s just for some reason my friends and I used to find that hilarious.’
‘Where’s your mother now?’
‘Still in Stockholm with Lars, as far as I know. I haven’t seen her in a long time.’ She blew her nose, then looked up at Mariner. ‘Mum wouldn’t have committed suicide, you know,’ she said emphatically. ‘She had no reason to. She’d got her first grandchild, she loved being with Harry, and she’d just been given the MBE, for God’s sake.’
Mariner knew that, given the right state of mind, those two factors didn’t necessarily make a difference, but she’d been through enough today, so he went along with it for now. ‘What did she get the award for?’ he asked.
‘Services to dance; she runs a local ballet school - she’s been doing it for years.’
Mariner hesitated. ‘This is a difficult question to ask, but is there any chance that the MBE could have uncovered some kind of skeleton in the closet, something she might have been ashamed to have made public?’
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know,’ Mariner admitted. ‘Some kind of impropriety?’
‘Absolutely not!’ Rachel was beginning to get impatient now. ‘My stepmother did not kill herself.’
Harry began to grizzle loudly, making further conversation impossible. Knox stood up. ‘Why don’t we take Harry to look at the boats on the canal?’ he suggested to Adam, who responded immediately. ‘Yes, of course. Come on, soldier.’ He held open his arms and Rachel gave her son a final squeeze before letting him break free and go to his dad.
‘Be careful by the water,’ she called after them.
When they had gone, Mariner asked, ‘Who knew about the award?’
Rachel was calm again. ‘Lots of people,’ she said. ‘We placed an announcement in the local paper. There were people she’d lost touch with over the years, and it was good publicity for the school.’
‘Is there anyone you can think of who might have resented the MBE, or felt that your stepmother didn’t deserve it?’ Mariner asked. Seeing her blank expression, he added, ‘Was there any rivalry? Any other dance schools that might not have liked the attention she was getting?’
‘Enough to kill her? That’s ridiculous.’
‘It probably is,’ Mariner agreed. ‘But I do need to ask these things. When was the last time you saw your stepmother?’
‘A couple of weeks ago, we came up for the weekend, Harry and me.’
‘And how did she seem?’
‘She was fine, looking forward to finally retiring. I mean, she hasn’t had a very good year healthwise, so it seemed the right thing to do.’
‘She’d been ill?’ Mariner queried.
‘Just silly, niggling things,’ Rachel said, shrugging it off. ‘Mostly tiredness and lethargy, and she’d had a couple of tummy bugs lately. It wasn’t like Mum to be ill. She’s always been so active what with the dancing and everything. We put it down to the number of hours she was working, so she had cut those down. I suggested she get some help around the house; it’s a big place to look after all on her own, but she wouldn’t even consider it. And we were talking about the possibility of her moving down to be nearer to us, except that she didn’t really want to leave the friends she has here.’
‘She had close friends?’ Mariner asked.
‘Two in particular that she sees on a regular basis; the Golden Girls they called themselves. Some throwback to years ago.’
‘Estelle Waters, was she one of this group?’ Mariner recalled the name of the woman who raised the alarm.
‘Yes, Estelle’s probably Mum’s closest friend.’
‘And neither of them would be jealous about what your stepmother has achieved?’
‘I suppose it’s possible that anyone could be envious, but enough to do this to her? No, I’m certain. They’re good friends to Mum and were very supportive.’ Rachel, like most people, was inclined to believe in the essential goodness of people, though Mariner knew differently.
‘Was your stepmother anxious about anything, or had anything changed in her behaviour recently?’ he probed.
‘Not recently. She went through a bad time when Dad died. But then, you’ll know all about that.’ She looked up at Mariner, a hint of challenge in her eyes, he thought.
‘I know a little, yes,’ he said evenly. ‘But it was before my time.’ He needed to distance himself from it, to encourage her to talk.
‘It was terrible. He didn’t deserve to go that way. If he hadn’t been persecuted the way he was -’
‘I’m not sure that -’ Mariner began gently, but she wasn’t listening.