Chapter 37
Mr Langford sat beside Heather, his arm wrapped around her shoulders as she cried against his chest and whimpered that she was sorry. He stroked her hair and told her it was okay in a monotone that matched the emptiness in his eyes.
Emma took a seat on the couch – beside Jamie, but with as much distance between them as possible. She gave up with her murderous stare and focused on Heather.
“It sounds as though there was a bit of a tussle between you and your mother before she fell,” she stated coolly.
“Not really,” Heather said, her tear-soaked eyes begging her dad for forgiveness. “It was an accident.”
“I know,” he said in that same eerie monotone. “I know.”
Emma made a note on her notepad. “I’m going to need you to start from the beginning. Tell me your exact movements on the morning your stepmother died.”
Heather’s chest quivered as she sniffed, but she accepted a handkerchief from her dad and dabbed at her face. “I should have told the truth to start with.”
Emma nodded. “Walk me through it now, please.”
This time while Heather tearfully recounted the morning, Emma scribbled away on her pad, only interjecting occasionally to clarify a couple of things.
Jamie was painfully aware of the anger radiating from Emma in his direction.
The room fell uncomfortably silent when Heather concluded her account of that morning.
Jamie shifted in his seat and cast a sidelong glance at Emma, who tapped on her notepad with her pen.
She looked out of her depth. Skye had said she was good at her job, but she seemed frozen, as though she didn’t know what to do.
“What’s going to happen now?” Jamie said, breaking the awkward silence and hopefully getting Detective MacLeod to focus.
“Does Heather need to go with you to the station or something? Is she in trouble for not telling the truth to start with?” Maybe she’d have to go to court – she was saying she didn’t push her mum, but Jamie wasn’t sure that was the truth.
Since she’d clearly told a lot of lies it was hard to know if she was still lying now.
A muscle in Emma’s jaw twitched and the look she cast at Jamie was full of disdain. He was only trying to help.
Another beat of silence passed before she inhaled a dramatic breath. “Mr Langford,” she finally said. “You didn’t mention that your wife was suffering from dementia.”
“No,” he said, rubbing circles on Heather’s back. “It didn’t seem very relevant I suppose. And we were never really sure that’s what it was. Maybe the confusion came from the pain meds and the lack of sleep.”
“Your daughter seems sure,” Emma pointed out.
Heather nodded and looked pleadingly at her dad.
“It probably was dementia,” he admitted.
“But you didn’t get that looked into by her doctor,” Emma stated.
Jamie frowned. Where was she going with this? Why delve into Marguerite’s medical history?
“It feels as though you were trying to keep it quiet, rather than being in denial,” she remarked. “I spoke to the manager of Fernleigh House on the way over here, who insisted it was clear Mrs Langford had Alzheimer’s and just as clear that you were lying to him about your wife’s condition.”
Mr Langford shook his head sadly. “It’s the best facility in the area,” he mumbled. “I didn’t think they’d accept her if they knew she had dementia.”
“Surely you knew they’d figure that out pretty quickly when she was living there.”
“Yes. Of course, but once they’ve accepted somebody, they don’t kick them out. Marguerite didn’t have a formal diagnosis, so it wasn’t as though I was withholding medical notes or anything.”
“How long had she been showing signs of dementia?”
He shrugged. “A year or so.”
“Was Mrs Langford aware that you were looking at a care home for her?”
“Yes.”
“Was she okay with it?”
“Not really. No one wants to leave their home, do they?” He let out a low growl. “What has this got to do with her fall?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Emma said sternly.
“It hasn’t got anything to do with it,” he grumbled. “Marguerite fell and it was tragic, but there’s no sense in dwelling on it.”
Emma looked him dead in the eyes. “According to multiple accounts, the banister rail was sturdy the evening before Marguerite fell. Up until now we’ve been assuming it was an accident, but now I know your daughter was in the property and arguing with your wife at the time of her fall. That changes everything.”
“Heather said she didn’t push her,” Mr Langford said desperately. “It was an accident, like she said.”
“I don’t think so.” Emma flipped her notebook shut. “We’ll be making a full investigation. Heather will go to court and a judge will decide if she was responsible for her stepmother’s death. Given the fact that she’s lied multiple times, things aren’t looking good for her.”
“No!” Mr Langford pulled Heather against him as she began to cry again. “That’s not right. Heather didn’t do anything. And this is all crazy anyway. Marguerite didn’t even want to live like this, so what does it even matter how she died?”
“It matters quite a bit,” Emma said. “What do you mean she didn’t want to live like this?”
His eyes were full of sorrow as he pressed his fingers to his forehead. “Marguerite’s mother had Alzheimer’s. Marguerite looked after her and said it was the worst time of her life. Her worst fear was that she’d end up the same way.”
“She never told me that,” Heather whispered. “Her mum died before you met her.”
“Shortly before I met her,” he said with a nod.
“She was still struggling to deal with it. When we got married she made me promise I wouldn’t let her end up like that.
She hated to think of us having to care for her and go through what she went through with her mum.
” His lips twisted to a sorrowful smile.
“She said if she got like that, I should give her a bottle of pills and tell the police that she took them herself. We laughed about it at the time, but she also kept insisting she was serious. If I loved her, I’d put her out of her misery. ”
Jamie’s eyes widened. He had questions. Surely Emma had questions too, but she didn’t speak, just waited while Heather looked at her father in disbelief. The silence was excruciating. It took all of Jamie’s willpower not to break it.
“Dad,” Heather breathed.
He turned to face her. “I’m sorry.”
“What did you do?”
He shook his head. “It came to me when you mentioned that the banister was loose and I should do something about it before it gave way.” He blinked back tears.
“I was going to fix it. I looked at it and knew it was just a matter of tightening the screws, but then I thought . . . what if I left it? An accident waiting to happen, that’s what you said.
And I thought that’s probably what Marguerite would want. An accident and it would be all over.”
Heather drew back from her dad and pressed her hand over her mouth.
Mr Langford looked at Emma. “The rail was so loose. It seemed like the perfect solution. I didn’t want to lose my wife, but I was losing her anyway. She wasn’t herself anymore.”
“But Jamie fixed the rail,” Emma stated.
Mr Langford nodded. “Heather insisted he look at it while he was here, and of course it was a quick fix, just like I knew it was. It was solid and sturdy, and I thought it was for the best. I was angry at myself for considering an accident would be the best solution.”
He pressed his hands to his face and took a breath before continuing.
“That evening Marguerite got into a state. She was shouting at me and swearing. She wouldn’t normally have done that.
It was like she was an entirely different person, and I knew that was the thing she didn’t want to happen.
I remembered what I’d promised. Even if I hadn’t taken it seriously at the time, I had made her a promise.
” He released a shuddering breath. “I loosened the screws again so they barely held the rail in place. I knew that if she went to lean on it – which she always did – it would fall, and she’d fall too. ”
“No,” Heather cried quietly.
“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I didn’t know you’d be here. You said you probably had to work and we agreed she’d be fine on her own for a couple of hours.”
A sob burst from Heather. “So it wasn’t my fault?”
“No.” Mr Langford shook his head. “Don’t ever think that.”
“I need you both to come down to the station and make formal statements,” Emma said sternly. “I’ll speak to my colleagues and we’ll figure out what happens from there.”
Neither of them protested, but followed Emma outside and into the unmarked police vehicle.
Jamie hung back, waiting for instructions from Emma, or a reprimand he was sure was coming.
But she closed the back door of the car and reached for the driver’s door without glancing at him.
“Do you need anything from me?” he asked.
“No.” She didn’t look at him as she slipped into the car. “I think you’ve done enough.”