Death's Privilege (22 page)

Twenty-One

Sarah took the cottage pie from the freezer, set the microwave to defrost and pre-heated the oven. She thought about Ellie’s reaction in the car the other day. Sophie had been as resilient as ever. Nothing seemed to bother her, on the surface at least. It was difficult to tell what was going on underneath. Ellie was the more cautious of the two and was far harder to read. She stopped herself.
I’m thinking about my kids like they’re suspects. I don’t have to read them, just need to put some time aside to spend with them.
The microwave beeped and she transferred the pie into a glass tray and waited for the oven to preheat. She took the baby carrots, broccoli stems and asparagus from the bottom tray of the fridge, checked the dates on the bags and started up the steamer.

The dinner conversation was light and she was conscious not to mention not being around. Spending their time together explaining why they had so much time apart defeated the point of being together at all. Sophie told her she’d made a new best friend—to replace last week’s best friend and to fill the gap before the next one—whose father was a ski instructor and took them skiing every year. Sarah could tell this would be Sophie’s latest fad. Ellie talked about her school projects and that she was reading
The BFG
. Sarah remembered reading Roald Dahl around her age. Despite how much had changed since then, she was glad some things had stayed the same.

When dinner was over, she washed the dishes while her daughters dried. She put a slice of pie in the fridge for Mark. He’d be home soon, and rather than welcoming him with open arms she’d be asking him if he was having an affair.
It couldn’t be Mark. It must be one of his workmates.
She had confidence in her husband, but maybe Dales was right? Work had taken her away from home so much, did he even feel like they were married anymore?

The girls went up to their room and Sarah tidied up the living room. The sound of the key in the door startled her.

‘Hello?’ Mark scraped his feet across the welcome mat as he called from the hallway.

‘In the lounge.’

His collar was open and he seemed flustered. ‘Hello you.’ He put his arm on her shoulder and leant in for a kiss. She presented her cheek. He looked at her, not having to ask if something was wrong, in the way couples often don’t.

‘We need to talk about something.’

‘Now? I’m on my way out again soon. One of the guy’s brothers is in town, so we’re heading to the pub in a bit. Can it wait?’

‘No, it can’t.’

‘Okay.’ His face changed. He swallowed hard.

There was no easy way to open the conversation. She’d thought about it from every possible angle and no matter what words she used, the question would be the same: Is everything we are a lie?

They sat down on the sofa. She put her hand on his knee in a gesture of support. He was in the wrong, but there was still a twinge of guilt as she was the one bringing it up. She’d been raised to hold it all together, like her mother had done. The thought that her questions could shatter everything apart, despite having every right to ask them, still made a small part of her feel like the bad guy.

‘Something’s come up at work. A woman came into the office alleging she was assaulted by her partner. He took money from her too.’

‘Okay.’

‘When I asked for ID, she gave me his bank account number. Your business account number.’

‘My account number? Who is she?’

‘Her name’s Leilani Hayes.’

‘Leilani Hayes? I don’t know any Leilani Hayes. You sure it’s my bank details.’

‘Absolutely positive. I read them over and over trying not to believe it. How could someone get it? Is it posted online anywhere?’
Don’t offer a way out. Make him bloody answer for it.

Mark stood up. ‘You think I’m having an affair? That’s what this is, isn’t it? More than that, you think I’d assault someone?’ He was almost shouting. She was certain he would be if the kids weren’t at home.

Sarah was used to remaining calm in the face of aggression. Aggression from violent offenders looking to affect their escape was a very different beast to the face of someone she loved. The uniform kept her at an emotional distance. She’d remained calm whilst protesters screamed inches from her face and whilst arresting thugs as the blood still dripped from their hands, but this, this was different. There was no line here, no badge in her back pocket to protect her from every expression, every look and every word.

‘Are you?’

‘This is ridiculous.’ He turned around to storm out. ‘Ellie?’

Ellie stood at the door. Her eyes wet and her face trembling from hearing every word. ‘What are you fighting about?’

‘We’re not fighting, Ellie.’ Sarah walked over and crouched in front of her daughter. ‘We’re just having a discussion about something.’

‘I heard you. You were making Daddy angry.’

‘I...I wasn’t.’ She looked at Mark for support. ‘We just disagreed on something and we were trying to resolve it.’

‘I heard you through the door.’

Mark came over. ‘That’s all that was happening, Ellie. We were just talking through a problem. That can sometimes sound like fighting.’

Ellie looked at Mark. ‘Who have you been hurting, Daddy?’

‘No one, poppet. I’ve not been hurting anyone.’

‘Mummy said you have.’

‘It’s a misunderstanding.’ Mark looked at Sarah. ‘Isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’ She nodded. For Ellie’s sake. She didn’t want to hide the truth from her daughter, but tensions were too high to explain it now. That, and she didn’t understand the situation well enough herself to explain it to anyone, let alone a nine-year-old girl.

She looked at Sarah, then at Mark and wiped her eyes. ‘Okay.’

‘If you go back upstairs, I’ll bring you some chocolate milk once you’ve done your homework.’

‘Okay, Mum.’ Ellie left the room and ran back upstairs.

Mark sighed heavily. ‘There’s no fooling her. Listen, I can stay in tonight if you want? We can talk about this.’

‘No. I just want you to tell me nothing’s going on.’ Sarah didn't want to start controlling his behaviour, she wanted to know she could trust him.

‘Nothing’s going on. I don’t know how this woman’s got my bank details, but they certainly didn’t come from me.’ Mark’s phone vibrated. He looked at the screen and cancelled the call.

‘Who was that?’

‘Just the guys. I should get moving.’

‘Why didn’t you answer it?’

‘Because I don't need to speak to them. I’m going to see them in about half hour anyway. Sarah, please. I get your suspicion, I do, and I want you to find out just how this woman got hold of those numbers, but I’ve told you what little I know. I’ll check the accounts and make sure nothing’s missing. I’ll mention the name to the boys tonight and see if it’s anyone they recognise. Has she mentioned me by name?’

‘No.’

‘And she said I beat her? Can you really see me doing that?’

‘No.’

‘It’s weird, I’ll give you that. I understand why you think I’m having an affair, but the guy she’s describing just isn’t me. Listen, I’ve got to get ready.’

‘Promise me.’

‘I promise.’

Mark went upstairs. Sarah sat on the sofa trying to believe him. She needed to know more, needed to be satisfied he was telling the truth. She could hear his footsteps in the bedroom. She listened. He was pacing. She listened closer. He was talking to someone on the phone.

Twenty-Two

Sarah sat in The Duckbill Pub and looked across the road at The Candy Club. The first floor window seat gave her a clear view of the front door. It had gone 22:00 and she felt ridiculous sitting there, but just needed to know. Leilani had said she’d be working all week and she needed to know if Mark’s night out with the boys was an excuse to see her.

Heather had come over to sit in with the twins. She’d asked what it was all about and Sarah promised she’d explain when they had time for a coffee and have a sisterly chat. Heather expressed her concerns, and Sarah could tell her patience was wearing thin.

Sarah wore a comfy dark grey hoody and stretchy blue jeans. There was a time when she wouldn’t have been seen outside the house in a hoody. Between cultural ideas of hood-clad youth on street corners and a greater interest in her appearance, comfier clothing had stayed in the house. Her attitude had changed in her thirties and now, even though she liked to look her best, at this particular moment she couldn’t care less what other people thought. Her hair felt dry and undernourished. She twirled it round her fingers looking for spilt ends and finding none.
Soon it’ll be grey and falling out. You’ll be happy for just a split end or two.
The server brought her a glass of red. Her stomach was in knots, but she needed to eat something. She reopened the menu and ordered the wild salmon and seasonal vegetables. That morning’s egg McMuffin still hung around in the form of a queasy sensation at the bottom of her stomach. She was determined to have a wider range of colours on her plate for dinner; brown and yellow food was out. All she needed was a jazz piano and she was certain it would have been the most sophisticated stakeout in police history.

Sarah took her phone out. She’d been meaning to call her mother, and now seemed like a good time to do it. She’d always been there when things turned bleak, and now that life felt like it was starting to fall apart, Sarah knew she’d know the right things to say. It rang for a while, before that familiar comforting voice answered.

‘Hello?’

‘Hi, it’s me. How’ve you been? Just calling for a catch up.’

‘Nice to hear from you. All the same old with me. Still going and all that. Postman’s retired, about time too, if you ask me. They make them work till their deaths these days. We’ve got some new young fella, who’s nice enough, but always comes a little later. I imagine that’s a trend that’ll continue. Aside from that, all’s the same. The new priest’s a nice chap, not quite the same as Michael, but Michael’s a tough act to follow.’ She laughed. Sarah knew how close her mother had been to Michael. His murder was devastating to the community of Sunbury, especially to the older generation. ‘God rest his soul. At least he’s looking over us from above. That’s one more angel we’ve got in our corner. I sometimes imagine him standing next to your father, wondering what they’d say. Glad they’re not down here with us, the way this world is going. How’re you? When am I going to see my beautiful granddaughters again?’

She knew Sarah wasn’t religious. She didn’t like her daughter’s position, but had grown to accept it. ‘We’ll visit soon. Things are a little busy at work.’ Life always got in the way of visiting family. This weekend became next weekend, and, when things were busy, it didn’t seem like much to put it off. Whenever Sarah spoke to her mother, all those excuses felt silly. Their conversations usually ended with Sarah feeling excited and energised about staying in touch more, and visiting regularly, a feeling soon extinguished by the humdrum of daily life.

‘And how’s Mark’s business? Moving to Alco Polco anytime soon?’

‘It’s Acapulco, Mum. And no, I don’t think Acapulco jumps out as anyone’s idea of paradise anymore. He’s had some interest from investors, though. Things aren’t really great at home.’ The only way to get it out was to blurt it out. They were close, and had always talked things through together, but it was difficult for Sarah to admit her marriage wasn’t perfect. It had always been good, the fairy tale she’d been promised, and the fact it looked like that was slipping away was hard to come to terms with.

‘What do you mean, dear?’

‘Just things with Mark. We’ve been arguing.’

‘That’s just married life, Sarah. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.’

‘I think he’s having an affair.’

‘An affair? Mark?’ She laughed a little. ‘He doesn’t seem the type. You’ve got a keeper there. What makes you think he’s been having an affair?’ She’d always approved of Mark, but occasionally hinted that Sarah could have done better. When her mother said,
doesn’t seem the type
Sarah knew she meant
who’d take him?

‘A woman came into work with his bank details, reporting a fraud, saying she’d been seeing the owner of that account. I asked him about it and he clammed up. I could just tell something was up.’

Her mother took a few minutes to reply, probably trying to figure out how someone making a fraud report at the police station could be linked to her daughter’s husband. ‘If I can’t believe he’s having an affair, I very much doubt he’s stealing from someone.’

‘I hope not.’ Sarah kept an eye on The Candy Club. The server brought over her food and placed it on the table.

‘Try not to think on it too much. These situations can often seem frightening, but tend to all blow over in time. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation. As long you don’t become one of those crazy wives who ends up hiring someone to follow their husband around, I think you’ll be fine.’

They said their goodbyes and Sarah ended the call. She took a moment to think about what she was doing. Had one of her friends told her she’d spent an evening following her husband around, Sarah would have thought it extreme. That was back when things were beautiful. Back when her marriage was going to last forever. Back when her husband supported her career, kept no secrets and didn’t scurry upstairs to make surreptitious phone calls. And back when strange women didn’t know his personal account numbers. She’d never once checked his phone, his emails or questioned anything he did, yet here she was staring out of a window late at night, wondering if he was meeting another woman behind her back.

It began to rain. The wide-shouldered man who’d waved them through the other night stood by the door. A woman stood a few feet in front of him, dressed in the same white shirt, white suit, with the Security Industy Authority badge holder strapped around her arm. She spoke into her radio. So far, no punters had arrived.

Someone walked along the other side of the road. The rain made it hard to see. She leant over as close to the window as possible. He had a familiar stride and she was certain she recognised him, even with his head down against the driving rain. He looked up as he approached the door staff and she caught his face. Her heart jumped as she saw Joel Johnson shaking hands with the door staff before being led down an alleyway beside the club.