Chapter 59
FIFTY-NINE
‘Apparently, there’s a particular bone that only starts to form at around twelve weeks,’ Kate told Matt when she was back inside. ‘If Oliver Wray hadn’t been here, making everyone get back, it would probably have been trampled into the mud.’
‘We can’t know for sure the baby was Jamie’s, though,’ Matt objected.
‘No, but they’ll be able to get DNA from it. That’s partly why they’re doing a press conference – they want every man who had contact with Martina to come forward to be swabbed, for a screening programme.’
‘Wow.’ Matt was silent a moment. ‘But, whoever the father was, they won’t come forward, will they? They’ve spent the last thirty-odd years thinking they’ve got away with it.’
‘There’ll be some people the police approach directly. “Persons of interest,” as the sergeant put it. So if Jamie refuses, it’ll look pretty suspicious. And that’s even before they examine that sofa.’
Later, as they were getting ready for bed, Matt said, ‘By the way, I’ve told Will he can download Fortnite.
It’s a shooting game, and it’s rated 12, but it’s what he wanted for Christmas anyway and I think having it a bit early might cheer him up.
His friend Andy plays it and he’s said Will can join his team.
He heard through the gun club what a good shot Will is, apparently, so that seems to have smoothed things over between them. ’
‘That’s a good idea,’ she agreed. ‘He certainly needs a boost.’
‘I’ll play with him the first few times, to make sure he’s got it set up safely.
From the sound of it, it’s quite like a shooter called Quake I wasted far too much time on, back in the day.
’ Matt was silent a moment. ‘Though if I’d never got into gaming, I’d never have started the company, so perhaps it wasn’t completely wasted time. ’
She shot him a glance. ‘Is all that still horrible? Work, I mean?’
‘Still tough,’ he said with a sigh. ‘Perhaps ironically, I’m learning a lot more than I ever wanted to about contract-dispute law. It looks like we’ll have to go to mediation.’
She got into bed and hugged him. ‘Poor you. The last thing you need right now is this distraction with Jamie Finch.’
‘On the plus side, if we do end up in court over the sale of the house,’ he said grimly, ‘at least I now know a very good contract lawyer.’
The next morning, after breakfast, she dropped the children off at the bus stop as usual. They were still getting their kit out of the car when a white Tesla going in the opposite direction screeched to a halt, then did a U-turn, blocking her in.
Jamie Finch jumped out of the driver’s seat. Striding towards her, he banged on her window with the side of his fist. He clearly expected her to open it. Instead, she checked the children were safely over at the bus stop, then locked all the doors.
‘Open this,’ he yelled through the glass.
‘I can hear you fine, thank you,’ she retorted. At the bus stop, a dozen or so children were watching, open-mouthed. A couple of the older ones had pulled out their phones to film it.
Jamie bent down so his face, just the other side of the glass, was very close to hers. ‘Stop spreading your fucking lies,’ he snarled. Flecks of his spit dotted the glass in front of her. ‘I’m warning you – stop.’
He was incandescent with rage. Liv must have repeated Kate’s speculation about him being the father of Martina’s child, she realised, and that the sofa was being tested by the police. And, in a place like Pelham, unfortunately, telling one person was the same as telling everyone.
He hammered on the glass with the side of his fist again, more to make her flinch than anything. ‘I fucking told you the gloves would come off. Well, now they have.’
He looked over the bonnet at Tilly and Will, who were watching the confrontation with a mixture of embarrassment and fear. Turning back to Kate, he said, ‘You killed my father.’ He was speaking more quietly now, so only she could hear. ‘An eye for an eye?’
‘Leave my family out of this!’ she cried.
‘Bit late for that.’ He stood up to his full height. ‘In the meantime, I’ll tell the lawyer to add slander to the list. Believe me, he is really going to do a number on you.’
She was still shaking when she got home. As she got out of the car, she heard the sudden boom of a gas gun, which, in her current razzed-up state, made her jump. And, if she wasn’t mistaken, that was the buzz of a motocross bike in the wood, too. Jamie’s foot-soldiers, rallying to his defence.
With the police there, at least there was no likelihood of him following her back to Trade Cottage. But she’d be sure to log this latest incident, all the same. She made a mental note to ask Will if he knew any of the kids who’d been filming it.
Outside the house, she met Steve, the builder, getting some tools from his van.
‘You were right,’ she told him. ‘It’s almost certain it’s Martina. There’s going to be a press conference.’
He nodded, digesting that, then cast a glance at the pond, still screened off for the scenes of crime officers. ‘Poor girl.’
‘Did you know her?’
He shrugged. ‘Only to say hello to. We all drank in the Pelham Arms – some of us were underage, but back then they weren’t too worried about that. There was a group of older private-school kids who kept a bit separate from the rest of us. She used to hang out with them.’
‘What sort of person was she?’ Kate asked, curious.
‘Nice enough.’ He considered for a moment.
‘I didn’t think it at the time, but, in hindsight, maybe a bit naive.
My mum would have called her tarty. You could tell the other girls in the group didn’t like her, but the boys liked that about her, too.
They’d wind the other girls up by talking about the things Martina would supposedly do for them – “Go on, Martina, flash us your tits again,” that sort of stuff.
I don’t suppose half of it was true, but there was this atmosphere of them all egging each other on. ’
‘Did she hang out with anyone in particular?’
Steve thought. ‘Well, they all wanted to buddy up to Guy Pelham. It’s like that, round here – they try not to let it show, but the posh lot are all over anyone with a title.
To be fair to Guy, he’s not a snob – he’ll talk to anyone – but the people who hang around him usually are.
And they don’t like other people getting too close. ’ He nodded and went on his way.
Inside the house, she went and checked her laptop.
It looked as if the press conference had already happened – there was a short clip of it under ‘Breaking News’ on the Hampshire Chronicle website.
The senior investigating officer, a woman about Kate’s age, read out a short statement to the effect that human remains, believed to be those of a pregnant female, had been found at a location in Pelham.
Tests were ongoing to determine whether the remains might be those of Martina Boban, missing from the area since 1993.
A DNA screening programme was being established to try to identify the father, and any man who had contact with Martina was being asked to come forward for elimination purposes.
The SIO added, ‘Because it is believed the pregnancy was at an early stage, the father may not have been aware of it. It’s too soon to speculate about how she died, but at the moment we can’t rule out natural causes.’
They were only saying that so people wouldn’t be scared off from getting swabbed, Kate thought. Presumably they had no way to compel people. What was the betting Jamie would simply refuse – if necessary, hiding behind those expensive lawyers he was so fond of?
She drummed her fingers on the table in frustration.
The fact the remains had been found at Trade Cottage pointed at him being involved in some way, but it certainly wasn’t proof.
That pond was right by the drive – anyone could have backed a car up to it and rolled a body, weighted with stones perhaps, into the water.
For want of anything more concrete to do, she went into the study and located the box of papers Rosemary had left under the bath. She vaguely recalled seeing some of Jamie’s old school reports in it. Perhaps there would be something useful to be learnt from them.
She went through the box, putting everything relating to Jamie on one side. She wasn’t even sure what she was looking for. A name, perhaps – some schoolfriend, still living in the area, who she could question for more information.
There was nothing, beyond the confirmation that Jamie had been academically bright as well as sporty, ultra-competitive, and successful in everything he did.
But, as well as the reports, there were a dozen or so photographs celebrating rowing victories – Jamie and his fellow oarsmen, posing with their boats.
They’d clearly been taken by the official school photographer: they were encased in cardboard frames that had the name of each crew member listed on them.
At least that gave her something to work with.
She selected the photos from Jamie’s last year at school, then googled the names.
In most cases, there were simply too many hits to be useful, but when she added the name of the school – ‘Townley’s’ – she found a few people who’d included their place of education in their LinkedIn profiles.
She started to draft an email to send them. But, after a few lines, she hesitated. What, really, was she asking? Whether their fellow rower was an arrogant, angry, bullying shit? Whether they’d ever seen him with Martina Boban? Whether he was capable of murder?
Mindful that Jamie had undoubtedly been telling the truth when he’d threatened to come after her for slander, she contented herself with sending a link to the press conference and saying that, if the recipient had any relevant information, please could they contact the police.
That done, she sighed and closed her laptop. If anything, her sense of impotence had only increased.
As she went into the kitchen, she glanced out of the window.
Biddy, the black Lab, was trotting up the lawn, Rosemary following a few paces behind him.
That was fortuitous – Kate might not be allowed through the gate herself, but there was nothing to stop her going and talking to Rosemary if she came through it. She went outside.
‘Oh, Kate, there you are,’ Rosemary called when she saw her. ‘I’m so sorry – Biddy must have decided he’d get his tea at Trade Cottage’s back door again. And you know how stubborn he is when he starts to think about food.’
‘No problem,’ Kate said. ‘It’s lovely to see you.
’ She glanced at Biddy. It didn’t look to her as if the dog was thinking about food – he wasn’t drooling, or thumping his tail, the way he usually did when he was hungry – and, in any case, it was far too early for his tea.
It seemed more likely that Rosemary had wanted to come round to talk to her, and following a wandering Biddy was her cover story if Jamie found out.
‘I take it you’ve heard the news?’ she added.
Rosemary stopped. ‘So it’s true? A body in the pond? And they think it’s Martina?’
Kate nodded. ‘Why don’t you come in, and I’ll tell you what I know.’
She actually knew very little, of course, but she wanted to see what Rosemary remembered about Martina.
‘I felt sorry for her,’ Rosemary said simply, as Kate handed her a mug of tea.
‘She was such a long way from home, and people she knew there were being killed – her own relatives, even. And being Pam Hoggart’s au pair wasn’t much fun, poor girl.
Pam was completely chaotic – she couldn’t make up her mind whether Martina was a refugee she was housing out of the goodness of her heart, or an incompetent employee who didn’t know how to cook the children’s meals properly.
One minute she was saying, “You poor thing, it must be terrible,” the next she was shouting at her.
And she wasn’t the only one who didn’t know how to deal with her.
This village can be a bit funny about outsiders. ’
Don’t I know it, Kate thought. ‘And . . . Jamie?’ she ventured. ‘Liv thought perhaps there’d been something there. Or with Guy Pelham, perhaps?’
Rosemary was silent a moment. ‘Well, possibly. I suppose I felt bad for her over all that, too.’
‘Over all what?’
‘Jamie and his friends . . . They were young men, and I don’t suppose they were any crueller than other young men are, but they did rather make fun of her behind her back.’
Interesting, Kate thought – from what Liv had told her, it had sounded more like Guy and Jamie had almost pursued Martina. Or perhaps that was just how Martina had spun it to herself.
‘They’re saying she might have been pregnant,’ she prompted gently. ‘If so, is there any possibility Jamie could have been the father, do you think?’
Just for a moment, she thought she saw a flash of anger, deep in Rosemary’s eyes.
‘I’ve no idea,’ she replied haughtily. ‘I haven’t asked him and I don’t intend to. But if she was pregnant – well, I’d say more fool him, for not being more careful. He should have realised that was probably exactly what she wanted.’
‘Rosemary!’ Kate remonstrated. ‘You can’t know that.’
‘Can’t I?’ Rosemary tutted. ‘Oh, I know we’re meant to say girls are always the victims and boys are in the wrong, but, whoever the father was, perhaps it was him who got taken advantage of.’
‘Except that she was the victim,’ Kate said gently. ‘Somebody killed her.’
Rosemary shot her a glance. ‘That’s what they’re saying, is it?’
‘Not in so many words,’ Kate admitted. ‘But the circumstances look pretty suspicious.’
‘Well, Jamie wouldn’t have hurt her,’ Rosemary said firmly. ‘I can promise you that. He might not be perfect, but he believes in decency and fair play.’
Kate decided not to challenge that. ‘When was the last time you saw Martina? Can you remember?’
There was another silence. Then Rosemary said angrily, ‘Of course I can’t. It was all so long ago – I can barely remember what she looked like. I’m sure you know I’ve been diagnosed with dementia. So I can’t be expected to know anything about anything.’