Chapter 21
It was all Julia could do not to gasp in shock when she walked into Hayley Gibson’s office the next day.
The detective’s desk, which ordinarily could pass for a model of the Himalayas, its peaks and slopes crafted entirely of files and papers, was as clear and flat as a desert.
Instead of the empty pens and broken pencils scattered about like pick-up sticks, a black jar held a few pens and pencils.
Julia leaned forward to examine them. The pencils were sharpened to deadly spikes.
Three black boxes held modest piles of files, each of which was neatly labelled.
There was a coaster under Hayley’s cup of coffee.
A coaster! Julia felt her jaw drop, and yanked it up again.
Hayley motioned her to a chair and said, ‘Sorry I couldn’t take your call yesterday. So, what have you got to tell me?’ Something in her direct tone and the set of her eyebrows dissuaded comment on the state of her office.
Julia sat down, disconcerted by the familiar yet unfamiliar environment, and the pervading smell of lemony furniture polish.
‘Yes, well… It’s about Emily.’
Julia outlined what she’d found out about Emily, Ian, Marigold and the colonel. As she did so, she took out the notebook she had brought with her, and opened it to the relevant page.
‘You see? Emily was sent to France to keep her away from the gardener. I can’t imagine she would have been very delighted about that. In fact, it seems she was angry.’
‘Interesting,’ said Hayley, nodding as she examined the notes and sketches.
‘I can see this would have been a big drama.’ She turned a page, and looked up at Julia, who had been staring in wonder at the polished wooden grain of Hayley’s desk, a sight she had never seen before.
‘If it weren’t for the fact that this all happened fifteen years ago, I’d say you might be onto something relevant to this murder investigation. ’
Julia dragged her attention back from the mysteriously tidy desk.
‘I know it happened a long time ago. That’s what made me hesitate to come to you, but I still think that big family drama could be relevant.
Emily was furious, according to her mother’s notebook.
The colonel was the one who decided she would be sent away to France.
The poor girl must have felt horribly punished and powerless.
The colonel had all the power and made the decisions.
Maybe being back at Greystone Manor triggered that old hurt and anger. ’
‘And what about Ian?’
‘We don’t know what went on between them when she got back. Remember, I saw them argue.’
‘I’ll keep it in mind,’ said Hayley, although she didn’t sound convinced by Julia’s information. ‘By the way, Julia, we found the poker.’
Julia tried to adopt an expression of surprise and interest. She didn’t want to get Dylan into trouble for spilling the beans.
‘This is all strictly confidential. The family doesn’t know anything about it yet.
But it’s full of fingerprints, as you’d expect.
Everyone picks up the poker to have a go at the fire in winter.
Prints showed up for all the family and the staff – but not Emily.
She’s the only one missing. She wasn’t home during winter, so had no need to touch the poker. ’
Julia thought about this for a moment.
‘I see. Although, you could say the absence of fingerprints makes her look more guilty. She might have been wearing gloves,’ she said. She gave the clean desk another look. It was distracting her.
Hayley shrugged, unconvinced.
‘Battering someone with a poker isn’t something a person plans to do. It’s an act of rage,’ said Hayley. ‘I don’t imagine anyone stopping to put on a pair of gloves – assuming, too, that they travelled with gloves during the hottest weather that England has known for decades, just in case.’
‘She might have held the poker with a cloth or a tissue.’
‘Possibly. Look, Julia. Thanks for coming to me with this information. I know you’re trying to help, and it could be useful background information.’ She paused. ‘And don’t tell anyone about the poker. Sometimes it helps us to have something up our sleeves.’
‘I understand,’ said Julia. She looked at Hayley’s strangely tidy desk again, frowning.
Hayley sighed. ‘Is there something else you wanted to ask me, Detective Bird?’
‘Your desk…’ said Julia, gesturing. ‘I’ve never actually seen its surface before.’
‘Sylvia,’ said Hayley, shortly. ‘And now I can’t find a bloody thing. Sometimes things are better left alone.’
Hayley stood up. Clearly, their meeting was over, and her last comment may, in fact, have been aimed at Julia.
DC Walter Farmer was coming into the station as Julia came out of the offices, into the waiting room. He greeted her warmly, and gave her a quizzical look.
‘I popped in to see Hayley. I had a thought, but it’s probably nothing,’ Julia said. ‘How is Amaryllis? And how’s dear little Hugo?’
‘Ah, the little one’s grand. Crawling about at a hundred miles an hour, can you believe?’ He seemed genuinely astonished by this development, despite the behaviour being fairly commonly observed in babies. ‘It all happens so quickly, doesn’t it?’
‘It does, Walter. Next thing you know, you’ll be running after a toddler.’
‘Lord, I don’t know how we’ll manage that.’ He said it lightly, but for a moment his face clouded over with worry. Julia got the feeling that there might be something else on his mind. Julia had noticed that he hadn’t answered the question when she’d asked it earlier, about Amaryllis.
‘It’s a very demanding stage, Walter. It can be a lot for the parents. Especially the one who is the primary caregiver. How is Amaryllis doing?’
Walter hesitated, looking around to see if they were being overheard.
The receptionist was on the phone, and there was no one in the waiting area.
He spoke in a quiet voice, ‘To be honest, I’m a bit worried about her.
It’s taking a lot out of her. My job’s full on, and I can’t be there as much as I’d like.
It’s lonely for her. And it’s hard work. ’
‘It is,’ said Julia. ‘It’s really not unusual to feel overburdened and isolated. I felt it myself as a young mum. And as a social worker, I have heard so many mums expressing those feelings.’
‘Really?’ Walter seemed relieved, almost heartened by this information.
‘Oh, yes. But it’s important to get help and support. To talk to someone. I know you do your best, Walter, and you’re an excellent father and husband, but perhaps it would help her to talk to someone outside of the family.’
‘Julia… It’s a lot to ask… But could you have a chat with her?’
‘Well, I’m retired, so I can’t really help with services and such.’
Walter looked down at the floor, his shoulders slumped.
‘But as a friend of the family…’
‘Yes, as a friend!’ He looked up.
‘As a friend I could go over one morning for tea and a chat. I had been planning to go round; it’s been a month or so since I saw them.’
‘Thank you, Julia, thank you.’
‘You’re welcome, Walter. I’ll give her a ring sometime soon and make an arrangement to come by and see them both.’
‘That would be great. And if you could just…’
‘Don’t worry Walter, I won’t tell her we had this little chat.’
‘You’re a good friend, Mrs B.’
Walking away from the police station towards her car, Julia’s thoughts returned to Emily, who had seemed like a fairly strong suspect, and who now seemed a decidedly weaker one.
The absence of fingerprints, the time that had passed since the conflict and drama… It all seemed to rule her out. There was something about that family, Julia thought, something about Emily that was…
‘Oh, hello, Julia!’
Julia was startled out of her musing by none other than Emily herself appearing right in front of her, walking in her direction. The sight of her left Julia flustered, almost as if she’d magicked the young woman into being, right there in Berrywick high street, just by thinking about her.
‘Emily!’ she exclaimed, much louder than she had intended.
‘Sorry, Julia, I didn’t mean to startle you.’
‘Not your fault, I was away with my thoughts.’
‘It’s funny we should meet,’ said Emily. ‘I was on my way down to Second Chances to have a chat with you.’
‘You wouldn’t have found me, because I only work there on Wednesdays. But here I am!’ Julia’s voice sounded bright and brittle to her own ears.
With Emily right in front of her, she felt bad about digging into her mum’s notebooks, and into the daughter’s past. And even more bad about suspecting her of something terrible.
And worse still about sharing her suspicions with the Berrywick police.
Had she really a matter of minutes earlier been trying to persuade Hayley that this sweet young woman might have killed two men with a poker?
She felt a flush to her cheeks, but Emily didn’t seem to notice.
She had stopped in the middle of the pavement and was talking eagerly.
‘Well, this is a lucky coincidence then, isn’t it? I wanted to ask you about my mother’s notebooks. I said to toss them, but I’ve changed my mind.’
Before Julia could answer, Emily gabbled on, her hands circling each other anxiously. ‘Have they been thrown away? I would like to have them, if that’s possible.’
‘Actually, I hung on to them. I flicked through a couple of them and saw the beautiful sketches your mum had made, and I felt I couldn’t toss them until I’d checked that you were absolutely certain that you didn’t want to keep them.’
‘Oh, thank you! I’m so pleased.’ Emily looked almost tearful with relief.
‘I was in such a state when she died. It was so strange being home. All the memories came rushing back when I returned to England, and to Greystone Manor. The good and the bad, but mostly some difficult ones. It was overwhelming.’
‘I can well imagine. People deal with grief in all sorts of ways, and don’t always make the decisions they might ordinarily make.’
‘I rushed things with her house. I should have hung on to the personal things, the notebooks especially. I realised I couldn’t bear for those notebooks to end up in a dump somewhere, or to fall into the wrong hands. I should never have let them go.’
Julia nodded. ‘I quite understand you wanting to sort things out quickly. It’s normal. I’ve seen people clear things out on the very day of the loved one’s death, and others who can’t face it for weeks or even for months or years,’ she said, in her most reassuring tone.
Emily smiled weakly. ‘At the time I wanted to get things sorted as soon as I could. I think I was looking for closure, to move on. But with all that’s happened since… First Uncle Clarence dying and then Ian. So much loss.’
She paused for a moment, steadying her breathing.
‘It made me think about how almost all the people who knew me and Mum in my childhood are gone. Mum’s notebooks are some sort of record of her and of our lives at that time.
And I just… tossed them out. I don’t know what I was thinking.
It’s a huge relief that they are still around. ’
‘I’ve got them in a box at home. I’ll drop them off at Greystone Manor, shall I?’
‘Thank you, Julia, that’s a kind offer.’ She paused. ‘But could I come by your house and fetch them today? I know it sounds odd, but I really want to hold them in my hands as soon as possible.’
‘Of course. I’m on my way home now. Give me your number and I’ll text you the address.’
‘I’ve got to pop into the greengrocer’s for a few things, and I’ll be right over,’ said Emily, typing her details into Julia’s phone. She smiled as she handed the phone back to her. ‘Thank you, Julia. I will feel so much better when I have them back. I know I will.’