Chapter 40
Forty
EMILY
The detectives arrive, two suited and booted figures framed in the morning sunshine at Lara’s front door.
DI Adebayo with her keen, sharp eyes that seem to take in everything at once. Her DS—Blair, as she introduces him—is tall, broad-shouldered, a notepad already in his hand.
I step back from the hallway as Lara shows them through to the sitting room. She offers refreshments, which are politely refused, and then discreetly excuses herself, murmuring that she’ll be in the kitchen if she’s needed.
I perch on the sofa while DS Blair runs through a few formalities.
I agree to them recording our chat and say it’s OK for them to call me Emily.
The sofa cushions are plump, but I can’t get comfortable.
My skin prickles with sweat and I tell myself not to fidget.
They’ll be looking for signs I’m hiding something.
DI Adebayo starts. ‘Emily, thank you for agreeing to speak with us here. I know it’s been a difficult day, and I want to start by making something very clear—you are not under arrest. We are speaking to you as a potential witness.’
‘A witness to what?’ I say. ‘I didn’t see my husband kill Vanessa Lambert, and I don’t believe he did.’
‘You’re not obliged to answer questions at this point in time,’ DS Blair says, his voice level. ‘But your cooperation now will help us piece together events leading up to the incident. Do you understand?’
I nod.
‘For the tape, please?’
My throat feels as though it’s packed with cotton wool, but I manage an affirmative croak.
DI Adebayo flips open a slim folder. ‘Let’s start with your neighbour, Mrs Vanessa Lambert. How well did you know her?’
The name makes me jolt, and I fold my hands in my lap. I need to keep it all buttoned in. ‘Not well. She introduced herself when we moved in and we sometimes chatted over the hedge—that sort of thing.’
‘Chatted over the hedge,’ DI Adebayo repeats. ‘Would you say you got on well?’
I hesitate. Her question feels like a trap. ‘She was friendly enough.’
Vanessa was a lot more friendly to Oliver, but I’m not going to say that.
She glances at me. ‘Your husband, Oliver—how often did he visit Mrs Lambert?’
I blink. How would they know he even did?
‘Visit?’ I say faintly.
The detectives stare and wait with impassive expressions. I can hear Lara pottering around in the kitchen, feel heat prickling at the base of my spine.
‘Occasionally. I didn’t keep count, but it was nothing unusual. Everyone is friendly around here, and sometimes neighbours borrow things, don’t they? Sugar, a ladder. That sort of thing.’
DI Adebayo watches me with sharp eyes. ‘How did you feel about him going round there?’
‘Fine. I had no problem with it. Why would I?’
DS Blair tilts his head. ‘Thing is, we’ve had reports that your husband was seen over at the Stables fairly often. Dropping by and spending time there. Did that strike you as odd at all?’
Heat pools at the bottom of my back. ‘Vanessa was our neighbour. Of course he sometimes went round there. It doesn’t mean anything.’
I know they’ll try and turn it into something it wasn’t.
‘It’s just that, sometimes,’ DS Blair says mildly, ‘other people pick up on things it might be difficult to admit when it’s your husband who is in the frame.’
I blink.
DI Adebayo sighs. ‘Let me be blunt here, Emily. Did you ever suspect that your husband and Mrs Lambert were having an affair?’
I stare at her, genuinely taken aback. ‘Absolutely not. She’s almost old enough to be his mother! That’s what you think this is all about?’
‘It’s a question we have to ask.’
‘Oliver is free to be neighbourly. Why wouldn’t I be fine with it?’
The room shrinks around me. I sense both detectives clocking the way my voice has risen. I grip my knees until the trembling lessens in my hands.
‘We only ask because it helps us to understand the relationships between people,’ DI Adebayo says reasonably. ‘Patterns of contact are important, especially after something as serious as this has happened.’ She pauses. ‘Sometimes those patterns matter, and sometimes they don’t.’
I stare at the carpet. A neutral beige, discreetly textured. The weave blurs and sharpens as I fight the urge to say more.
‘I know you’ve already covered this, but let’s start at the beginning,’ DS Blair says, his tone a little sharper now. ‘Where were you between 1 p.m. and 4 p.m.?’
‘As I said before, I went into town. Made credit card purchases, so it should be easy enough to check.’
‘What time did you leave home to head there?’
I think for a moment. ‘About ten thirty, I think.’
‘I’m sorry, Emily,’ DI Adebayo says gently. ‘I’m sure you understand that corroboration is an essential part of our duty when it comes to a major investigation.’
I nod stiffly.
DS Blair clears his throat. ‘So you went shopping in town. What time did you return to Orchard Lane?’
‘It was around three forty-five. The cab dropped me near the junction because they wouldn’t allow us to turn into the road. The street was already full of police and emergency vehicles.’
‘Did you see anyone entering or leaving the Stables at all before you headed out today?’
‘No. Nothing before I left. Just police officers and Forensics when I got back. There was tape everywhere. It was chaos.’
I close my eyes briefly, reliving the shock of coming back to it all.
‘What did you understand Oliver to be doing while you were out?’
‘He was still in bed when I left,’ I say. ‘We had a barbecue here on Saturday evening, with a few neighbours. Oliver had more to drink than I did.’
DI Adebayo leans back slightly. ‘How had he seemed the last few days?’
I think about his preoccupation with his phone, the threatening text message I’d seen. ‘Just normal,’ I say. ‘Nothing out of the ordinary.’
‘Was Mrs Lambert a guest at the barbecue?’ DS Blair asks.
I nod. ‘Yes. Most of our near neighbours came. She seemed quite happy. Socializing with everyone.’
‘Why do you think your husband went round to Mrs Lambert’s house, if you say you left him in bed?’
‘I was gone a while. Obviously, he got up at some point.’ I bite down on my back teeth. ‘You arrested my husband,’ I say. ‘You must have a working theory. What do you think happened?’
‘We’re following a process, and I’m sorry, but at the moment we’re unable to comment on anything else.’
‘She’d asked him round there a couple of times to help with odd jobs. There was nothing in it. Nothing sinister.’ I look at each of them in turn. ‘Maybe he’d popped over there and found her.’
I realize I’ve said too much. Been too eager to state his innocence when I don’t know the facts. I glare at them, but my pulse won’t steady.
DS Blair’s taps his pen on the notepad and then stops. The silence stretches, and I scramble to fill it.
‘Have you interviewed Oliver?’
DS Blair answers. ‘Yes, but we can’t discuss that.’
‘We’ve only just moved here. We barely know anyone yet. Oliver isn’t a killer, and he had no reason to hurt Vanessa. No reason at all.’
DI Adebayo clears her throat. ‘As I’ve mentioned before, we’ll also be carrying out a full forensic search of the Coach House.’
The way they’re looking at me . . . I think they’re waiting for me to crack in front of them. I clamp my lips shut, but now I can feel that something has shifted. They’ve heard the doubt and the weakness in my voice. They’ve smelled the panic leaking out.
This might not only be about Oliver. They might know other things, too.
I lower my eyes to the carpet again. Silence is safer.
DI Adebayo closes the folder with deliberate care. ‘I think that’s all for now. We may well need to speak to you again, depending on what comes back from Forensics and other enquiries.’
DS Blair adds, ‘Please don’t leave the area without letting us know. If you need to travel, contact me first.’ He slides a card across the coffee table.
I nod and take it.
DI Adebayo stands. ‘Thank you for your time, Emily. Try to rest, if you can.’
I almost laugh. Rest, with Oliver in a cell and Vanessa Lambert dead? With my own secrets gnawing at me like rats in the walls?
‘Thank you,’ I murmur, and watch them walk out, their silhouettes framed in Lara’s dim hallway.
The front door closes and the house falls quiet.
I press the card hard between my fingers so it bends.
They think I’m only frightened for Oliver. I intend to keep it that way as long as I possibly can.