Chapter 62 Supermarket
I’ve regained some composure over the weekend, as I decided not to talk to Stephen about his mother’s background checks or threats. At least, not until I have a plan to remove her and all her evidence from Planet Earth. Instead, I put my head in the sand and played happy families, which felt nice.
This morning, however, Hollis called. He apologized for turning up at my house and said he’s desperate to meet now he knows we’re divorcing. I told him that we’re not, and that Stephen’s current preference is only based on his mother’s threats of disinheritance. There was a long pause on the line.
‘For someone so smart, you can be so dumb,’ he said.
‘Because I’m willing to fight for my marriage?’ I asked.
‘I told you before, he’s cheating on you, Lalla. I asked Mercer to follow him because I wanted to know if you were happily married. He meets a woman every Sunday.’
I threw my phone against the wall, and when I had calmed down, I decided to find out the truth for myself. The only place Stephen goes on a Sunday is to the supermarket. He started just after Nathan was born as payment for never getting up for night feeds.
He always comes back with a bootload of shopping, so unless he’s fornicating somewhere between the vegetable aisle and the checkout, I think Hollis is lying.
I am relieved to see the dot still in the car park half an hour later, but something does bother me. The dot is not moving. I reassure myself that this is either due to a lack of a signal inside the supermarket or he’s left his phone in the car. I continue my ironing.
Another thirty minutes later, I’ve abandoned my chores, and I’m about to drive to the Tesco car park when the doorbell goes. I open it without looking, just as I’m putting my coat on, and who do I see standing there?
‘DS Birch, and the odd man who is always with her,’ I say, impolitely.
‘Mattoo,’ he says and smiles brightly. I find him charmingly disarming.
‘On your way out?’ says DS Birch.
‘You are brilliant,’ I say. ‘Was it the coat that led to this breakthrough?’
‘We just want a word.’
‘Can’t you call in advance and book an appointment?’ I say.
‘This won’t take long,’ she says, and takes out her notebook. ‘I presume you don’t want us inside?’
‘Cleaner’s just mopped the tiles, sorry,’ I say, and start tapping rather exaggeratedly on the door frame.
‘Well, could you explain a recent ￡150,000 transfer to your bank account from an anonymous Bitcoin account?’
‘You’ve accessed my bank accounts?’ I say, horrified.
‘We obtained a court order to access your financial records as we have reason to believe that you’re helping Mr Mercer. Now, can you explain where the ￡150,000 came from?’
‘Not really,’ I say.
‘We believe that your husband may have paid Jason Mercer to have you followed,’ she says, with a face that suggests she’s terribly pleased with herself.
‘You really don’t know Stephen, do you? I could conduct an affair on our kitchen table and he wouldn’t care less,’ I say, realizing that I’m losing grip of my normally clear boundaries.
‘Your bank records also show payments for drinks at the Savoy and the Ritz. We checked their CCTV against the time of those bills, expecting to see you with Mercer, but you were with two different gentlemen. It would seem that Mr Rook has good grounds to suspect adultery.’
‘How dare you!’ I shout.
‘It’s a priority case, Mrs Rook. The reputation of the Metropolitan Police is important, and we’re under significant pressure to find Mercer, so please just tell us where he is.’
‘I have a right to meet male friends where and when I like. I also have a right to receive loans from other friends. It’s for a house purchase. You can check with the estate agents, if you like.’
‘Do you have the name of this wealthy friend so we could tick this one off?’ says Birch.
‘No,’ I say. ‘You can’t. This is an invasion of privacy. I want you off my bloody porch.’
‘We think you found out that Mercer was following you and demanded money from him to keep quiet.’
‘Oh, please, do I look like someone able to blackmail anyone?’ I pull the door closed and walk between them as quickly as I can on my heels.
‘One more thing,’ says Birch as I reach the gate.
‘What?’ I shout. ‘I’m not having an affair or helping anyone abscond from court. I’m just trying to save my marriage, get my daughter into prep school and move to Hampstead so please leave me alone.’
A mother passes with a pushchair. She avoids my eye.
‘It’s just that you have a pair of pants stuck to your leg,’ she says.
I look down. A red thong from the washing basket is clinging to my trousers. I pull it off, curse Aimée, and push it into my pocket.
‘Good luck,’ says Mattoo.
I get in the car and start the engine. It’s only a matter of time before my bank shows a deposit of ￡50,000 from Lawrence and they come back with more questions. I don’t really know where this will end, but I need to find a solution.
At the entrance to Tesco’s car park, I look down at my phone and try to stop DS Birch’s voice circling in my mind.
The green dot remains motionless, so I drive towards it, and park close by.
I get out of my car, look around and then cross over to Stephen’s car.
I put my face to the window and there it is.
Mystery solved. His phone is sitting there in the central console on his wireless charging mat.
Hollis is lying. Stephen and I can still work.
I know it’s childish but I let down all four of his tyres and return to my car.
I’m about to leave when a blue Audi A3 drives up and stops just beyond Stephen’s car.
To my astonishment, Stephen gets out of the sporty Audi, flicks open its boot, and then proceeds to move several Tesco shopping bags into his own car.
I stare, confused, as Stephen notices one of the back tyres and the Audi takes off at speed.
It’s as if I’ve watched a county-lines drug transaction.
I put the car into drive and power away, skidding on the tarmac, but turn the wrong way up a one-way lane and meet another car head-on, only just avoiding a collision.
I beep wildly. The woman in the car points to the arrows, and although she’s in the right, I edge up to her until she loses confidence and moves backwards. I skirt around her car, speed out of the car park and up the road to the lights, my eyes peeled for the blue Audi, but it’s nowhere.
I cross two lines of traffic to a succession of beeps, and drive home with my mind racing. My God, I thought he was being unfaithful, but if he’s been cheating on domestic chores, this is even worse.