His smile was entirely without sincerity.
‘Oh don’t worry, Laura. I won’t ask you to renew your rather tedious services in the bedroom. I can find many a willing substitute.’
I couldn’t just let this go. If he meant what I thought he meant.
‘When I came in here, Hugo, it was triggered by…’
But I froze when I saw the fury in Hugo’s eyes.
‘I know what triggered it, Laura. Your ludicrous over reaction to a perfectly normal event. Your behaviour has made my life exceptionally difficult, and that is something that I can’t forget or forgive. But this is what we are going to do.’
And then we discussed terms, as if we were negotiating a business deal to buy a second hand car. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Let’s face it, I’ve had plenty time to think! I can’t leave him and just ignore everything that I know. The consequences would be just too devastating. My history of mental illness would make it difficult for me to be believed if I tell anybody about Hugo’s predilections. But I can’t walk away. I have to do something positive. Something proactive. So I told him my terms. I made a deal with the devil. My complicity in return for a number of concessions - one of which is the purchase of a home in Italy. Somewhere to escape to, to feel safe - somewhere that he would hate. We can appear on the face of it to be a normal couple, but during the week when we don’t have Alexa I can get away from the oppressive atmosphere of our marriage. This was a concession he found easy to make. But it was by no means the most important one.
***
Laura shouted up the stairs to Imogen. She knew she shouldn’t disturb her, but somebody was ringing the front door bell. She didn’t know how they’d got past the gate, but perhaps the gardeners had left it open. Whatever the reason, she wanted Imogen with her in case it was a reporter.
Becky had appeared out of her ‘office’ but seeing that Imogen was making her way quickly down the stairs, Laura smiled and shook her head briefly at Becky and went to let the new arrival in. It took her a moment to register who was standing on the doorstep.
She stood in silence with her mouth slightly open as she looked into the suntanned face and bright blue eyes of one of the few people she was happy to see. She saw the sorrow in those eyes, but whether it was a sign of sympathy for her or for the sadness in his own life she didn’t know. His attempt at levity broke the spell.
‘Close your mouth, sis. It’s really not very becoming.’
‘Oh my God! It really is you. I know you told Imo that you’d come, but I never thought you’d make it so quickly. Oh Will - it’s so wonderful to see you.’
Laura flung her arms around her brother’s waist, and clung onto him for dear life, loving the warmth of his familiar broad body. She felt his arms go round her, and she welcomed the feeling of safety that nothing but a hug from somebody close to you can offer. But it wasn’t to last for long. From just above her head, she heard her brother speak quietly.
‘Hello Imogen.’
Silence.
She was glad that her head was buried in his chest, because she didn’t want to see the glances that passed between them. Neither of these two had ever found anybody else to love, and she knew without a doubt that this was down to Hugo. She didn’t know what she could do to mend what he had so carelessly broken, but she knew she was going to try.
Pulling back, she suggested they went into the drawing room. She couldn’t get enough of looking at Will. His blond hair had been bleached to pale gold by the sun, and his rugged features were suntanned. His shoulders - always broad - made him seem like a giant of a man as he looked down from his six feet four inches of solid rock. He looked like the safest port in any storm.
It was clear that Imogen and Will couldn’t really decide how to behave. Should they hug each other, as they both clearly wanted to, or should they remain aloof? The latter option obviously appeared the safer to both of them.
Laura was aware of the tension in the room and all three of them looked slightly uncomfortable, as if one person shouldn’t really be there but it wasn’t clear which one. They filled a ten minute gap with small talk about Will’s job, Imogen’s life in Canada, and the improvements that Laura was making to the house. Then Will broke the spell.
‘Okay you two. Enough of the idle chatter. You’d better tell me what’s been going on. I won’t pretend to have liked your husband, Laura, but I can’t imagine why anybody would have wanted to murder him.’
‘Will, it’s a long story. The last few days have been hell. Before we start on that, I’ll go and tell Mum you’re here. She’s probably in the kitchen. She seems to be of the opinion that we all need to be fattened up, and that chocolate cake cures everything.’
As she stood up, she glanced out of the window and was surprised to see Tom Douglas standing by a marked police car. And two uniformed policeman were getting out. Laura felt a tightness in her chest.
‘What’s going on? Tom’s here and he’s got uniforms with him. What do you think it means, Imo?’
Laura cast an anxious look in Imogen’s direction.
‘Calm down, Laura. It’s probably nothing. They no doubt missed something in their search, so they’re coming to have another look. Go and let them in, or I’ll go if you like.’
Laura was out of the door before Imogen could get to her feet. Becky was already opening the front door, and as her eyes briefly met Laura’s she looked away.
Tom stood on the doorstep, and looked at Laura.
‘I’m sorry to intrude, Lady Fletcher. May we come in?’ He glanced enquiringly at Will, who had followed her into the hall with Imogen close on his heels.
Laura was not slow to miss the formality, nor the grim expression on Tom’s face. Trying to keep it light, she responded in kind.
‘Of course, Chief Inspector. May I introduce my brother, Will Kennedy. He’s just arrived. Can I offer you something to drink? The ubiquitous cup of tea, perhaps?’
Tom took a couple of steps into the hall, but came no further.
‘No, thank you. I’m sorry, but we need to ask Mrs Kennedy some questions.’ He turned to Imogen who was still hovering in the door to the drawing room. ‘Mrs Kennedy, there are two uniformed police officers here. They will accompany you back to New Scotland Yard for some questioning. Detective Chief Superintendent James Sinclair, who you met briefly on the night of Sir Hugo’s death, will conduct the first part of the interview. You’ll be cautioned when you arrive. I’ll join you later when I’ve asked Lady Fletcher a few more questions.’
Imogen didn’t move. Her face didn’t alter.
Will had advanced further into the hallway, initially to shake the detective’s hand, but now he took up a belligerent stance.
‘May I ask why you’re taking my wife in for questioning, Detective Chief Inspector? And if you’re cautioning her, does that mean you’re
arresting
her?’
‘We have new evidence, sir, and it relates to your ex-wife. I’m not at liberty to discuss it with you until I have spoken to your ex-wife.’
Laura could see that Tom was determined to differentiate between wife past or present.
Will turned to Imogen, frowning in his concern.
‘Imo, what’s all this about? Do you want me to get you a lawyer?’
It was obvious that Will’s mention of a lawyer had spurred Imogen to life. She gave an exaggerated sigh.
‘Will, shut up. You don’t know anything about this, so please just butt out.’
Laura was distressed. Her voice was quiet, but shaking with emotion.
‘Imo, you don’t need to go through this. You mustn’t. It’s not right. I’ll speak to Tom. I’ll sort it, okay?’
Imogen’s jacket was lying on a chair at the bottom of the stairs and she grabbed it in one hand and turned quickly to face Laura.
‘Laura, will you just shut the fuck up too, please? I didn’t kill Hugo. You know that, and I know that - and I bloody hope you know that too, Will. So just leave it. It’s just questioning. If they arrest and charge me, they’ll be in trouble because they can’t have any evidence if I didn’t do it, can they? Now calm down, have a large gin, and I’ll see you later. I don’t need a lawyer. I’m absolutely fine.’
Imogen turned to Tom who seemed to have been listening intently to this conversation.
‘I’m ready to go, Chief Inspector.’
*
There had been an undercurrent in that exchange that Tom couldn’t quite grasp. As they closed the door behind Imogen and the uniformed policemen, he turned to Laura and gave her a sympathetic smile.
‘I’m sorry about that, Laura. I had to be quite formal at that point. I’m sure you understand.’
Will interrupted before she had a chance to answer.
‘Well I don’t. Unless you have evidence, you can’t just hike her off to be interrogated. If it was just a couple of questions, why couldn’t you ask them here?’
A force to be reckoned with, thought Tom, noting Will’s aggressive pose with legs apart and hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans.
‘Mr Kennedy, we have evidence that suggests your ex-wife was in London on the morning of the murder. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to talk to your sister.’
‘I’m staying with her,’ Will responded. ‘I’m sure she needs my support.’
Tom could see that Laura was visibly shaken, although he wasn’t sure which particular part of the conversation had done the damage.
‘Will, Tom and I have a good relationship. I know you mean well, but please go and find Mum. She’ll be delighted to see you, and somebody needs to tell her about Imogen. I’m comfortable talking to Tom alone. Please, Will?’
Clearly not happy with this outcome, he eventually complied and begrudgingly left the hall. Laura indicated that they should move to the drawing room, and Tom waited until they were seated before he spoke again.
‘Thank you Laura. I’ve got a number of things that I want to ask you, and some are quite sensitive.’
He could see that she was uneasy, but he needed her to relax if he was going to get anything out of her.
‘How’ve you been, Laura? I notice that you’ve been making a few changes - definitely for the better.’
Tom hoped she thought he was referring to the alterations to the house and grounds, but he hadn’t missed the improvements to Laura herself. Today she had some colour in her cheeks, and once again had chosen a bright jumper, this time a petrol blue - so much better for her than the washed out beige she’d been wearing when they met. It was hard to believe it was the same person he’d seen for the first time only a few days ago. And she appeared to have more confidence.
But she was clearly very upset about Imogen being taken in for questioning, and despite her assurances to her brother, Tom could tell from her tone of voice that he wasn’t her favourite person today.
‘Never mind the gardens for the moment. Just tell me what you can possibly have found that in any way links Imogen to Hugo’s murder?’
‘I’m sorry but I can’t say anything else at the moment. As soon as I can, I promise that I’ll explain it to you.’
Tom knew this wasn’t going to satisfy Laura, so decided it would be best to move on quickly.
‘This is difficult, I know - but could you talk to me a little bit about your illnesses, do you think? I asked you this the other day, but events overtook us. I know it might not seem relevant to you, but I’m just trying to get a picture. Is that okay?’
Laura had lost the hard edge to her voice, but it was tight with tension.
‘The first time I was sectioned - horrible word, I know - I was classed as being severely depressed. Hannah - Alexa’s nanny - and Hugo had found me huddled in a room in one of the disused areas of the house.’
‘Do you know what brought that on? Was there some specific incident?’
‘From what I’ve learned about clinical depression, it can hit anybody at any time and for no apparent reason.’
Recognising that this was not an answer, nor was it intended to be, Tom probed a little more.
‘Were you locked in the room where they found you?’ he asked gently.
‘Apparently the door could be opened from the inside, so that would suggest not.’
She was so good at not lying, but not actually answering either. He needed to get her to look it him. Since asking about Imogen, she had been fixing her gaze on anything but him. He could understand that this was a difficult subject, but he had wasted too much time already.
‘Laura, we’ve not known each other long, but I think that we already hold a mutual respect for each other, and there’s something you’re not telling me. Your husband’s ex-wife is currently in a state of near panic over information that she gave me. The will showed Hugo for what he was, and I can only conclude that there were sides to him that didn’t quite live up to his public image. Becky also overhead you talking about Rohypnol. This all ties together somehow, and I’d really like you to explain it to me.’
Finally she looked at him, and nobody could miss the pain that was reflected in her eyes. He saw her swallow hard, and knew that he had touched a raw nerve. He felt a sharp shard of guilt, but these questions did have to be asked, and he would rather ask them himself than pass them on to somebody who didn’t feel any connection with Laura.
‘Tom, this is difficult and painful for me. My husband is dead, and our marriage was far from the perfect dream that everybody was supposed to believe. But I don’t think that anything is going to be gained by looking into its dismal depths now, do you?’
She needed time, Tom decided, and perhaps examining the dregs of her marriage wasn’t going to be quite as productive in the short term as understanding some of the other pieces of the puzzle.
‘I don’t entirely agree, but for now we can move onto something else and come back to it later. I want to talk to you about Danika Bojin.’
Tom was not surprised to see that Laura was plainly even more uneasy with the change of subject.
‘You heard the message on the answer phone the other day about Danika Bojin. I can’t help but wonder why you didn’t mention that you knew her. She’s now turned up safely, thank goodness, but we know that she came to see you about two years ago. Do you want to tell me about it?’
The expressions that had flitted across Laura’s face during this brief exchange of information had been indecipherable. Tom couldn’t decide if it was relief or fear that he was witnessing. Laura’s face hadn’t changed, but her eyes were so very expressive.