Next Door to Murder (29 page)

‘You don't
believe
him?' Max interrupted. ‘Rona, this—'

‘I almost think I do. But the point is, I want
you
to be there, just across the room, and if anything goes wrong – though I can't see how it can, in those surroundings – then you can charge to my rescue. What do you say?'

‘I say you're mad.'

‘No, just curious. Heavens, all this desperation to see me; he must have something important to say.'

‘Then let him say it to the police.'

‘He will, but afterwards.'

‘No, I'm not going along with this. If you don't ring the police straight away, I shall.'

‘I shouldn't advise it,' Rona said levelly. ‘I'm telling you this on trust.'

‘That's nonsense. Suppose something happens to you, and I'm quietly sitting back, letting it?'

‘Now you're being ridiculous.'

‘Humour me. How long would it take for him to whip out a knife? I'd only be halfway across the room before he used it.'

‘In front of all the tea-drinkers? And I thought I was the one with imagination! Honestly, honey, I won't be in any danger. I promise.'

There was a long silence. She said tentatively, ‘Max?'

‘What?'

‘You will come, won't you?'

‘Well, if you're determined to go into the lions' den, I'm sure as hell not letting you go alone.'

‘Bless you. I knew you'd help.'

‘With one proviso, and hopefully to prevent us both being clapped in irons. Once he's told you everything, glance over at me and touch your hair. That'll be the signal for me to phone the police on my mobile. Just in case it slips his mind to go to them afterwards.'

‘All right,' Rona said after a moment. ‘But don't give any sign that we're together, will you? It might inhibit him.'

‘I thought that was the idea,' said Max grimly.

After speaking to Max, Rona couldn't settle. She went upstairs and sorted through the papers on her desk. Then she took out the notes she'd made following her visit to Harrogate, rereading the comments of the Franks' ex-neighbour.
Why
was there no mention of Louise, either in the records or in anyone's memory? And who was Karen? Where was she, and what had happened to her? Perhaps, she thought with a twist of excitement, this afternoon would provide the answers.

Somehow, the time passed, and at a quarter to four, she left the house to walk to the Clarendon. There were fewer cars parked outside today, the press had finally left, and the crowd of onlookers, realizing there was nothing to see, was dwindling. After the hiatus of the last few days, Lightbourne Avenue was settling back into its normal ambience.

As she passed the
Chiltern Life
building, Rona remembered that she'd not spoken to Barnie for a while. Still, she'd soon be able to hand him the finished article. At least this time, the murders had nothing to do with what she was writing, thank God.

The Clarendon looked as it always did and always had. Hard to believe she was about to meet a potential murderer there.

She drew a deep breath, walked through the swing doors and turned into the lounge, hesitating in the doorway as she wondered for the first time if she and the man she'd come to meet would recognize each other. Then, across the room, someone stood up, a man of medium height in a pink shirt – no doubt to aid identification. He half-smiled and, on legs that were suddenly shaky, she walked over to him, catching sight of Max as she did so. It will be all right, she told herself. It has to be.

‘Miss Parish.' He made to hold out his hand, then thought better of it. ‘It's very good of you to come.'

He pulled out a chair and she automatically sat down.

‘Can I get you something to eat? Cakes, sandwiches?'

‘I'm not hungry, thank you.'

‘A cup of tea, then?'

It might help the dryness in her mouth. ‘All right. Thank you.'

He signalled to the waitress and ordered a pot for two. As he did so, Rona studied him, wondering if she could have improved on the description she'd given to the police. She didn't think so; there was nothing outstanding or memorable about his appearance. He had mid-brown hair, conventionally cut, a square chin and grey eyes. There was not much more to say.

He turned back to her, catching her in her scrutiny.

In an attempt to take the initiative, she said, ‘Perhaps, for a start, you'll now tell me who you are?'

‘Of course. Sorry for all the cloak and dagger, but I knew my name would freak out the Franks. I'm Harry Swann.'

The last part at least was familiar. Rona frowned. ‘Are you Karen's husband?'

He looked surprised, as though she should have known. ‘No, that was my brother, David.'

‘Well, you can at least tell me who Karen was? Or is?'

He stared at her blankly. The waitress came and set down a pot of tea, cups and saucers, milk and sugar, while Rona waited impatiently.

As she moved away, he said uncertainly, ‘I thought you . . . It seems I'd better fill in the background. When I was young, my family lived in Harrogate. My brother met Karen at the tennis club when they were both sixteen, and they started going out together. Though they went to different universities, they kept in touch, and eventually got engaged.'

He looked up. ‘I should say at this point that Karen has never liked me; she was jealous that David and I were close, and was always trying to stir up trouble between us.'

Since he'd made no move to pour the tea, Rona stirred the pot and then did so, pushing the milk and sugar towards him to take if he wished.

‘What about Louise?' she asked. ‘How does she fit into all this?'

Again he looked puzzled, then his face cleared. ‘I thought the name was familiar; you were asking about her in Harrogate, weren't you? Afraid I can't help, though; I don't know anyone called Louise.'

‘But surely – I mean, she must have been Karen's sister or something?'

He frowned. ‘I never heard of any sister. But the Franks lived on the other side of town, and as Karen disliked me so much, I never went to her home. I didn't even meet her parents. Until last week.'

Rona caught her breath. ‘You saw the Franks last week?'

‘I'm coming to that. But to go back to David and Karen, the opportunity came up of a job in Toronto, and they decided to bring the wedding forward and move out there.'

He paused, and took a sip of his tea. Rona noticed he'd added neither milk nor sugar, but was unsure if this was intentional.

‘I said David and I were close, and that's true. But we both had tempers, and we'd always fought as children. Even when we grew up, there were heated arguments, but they never lasted long. Until Karen. She built on it, making snide comments, criticizing me to Dave, and so on. It came to a head just before the wedding; we had an almighty row, and the upshot was he didn't want me as best man.

‘I was bitterly hurt, as you'd imagine, but convinced he'd come round. However, thanks to Karen, he stuck to it. So I refused to go to the wedding, they went off to Canada, and I – never saw him again.'

Another quick drink of tea. Questions were teeming in Rona's head, but she daren't interrupt the narrative.

‘After a year or so,' Swann continued, ‘I had a letter from Dave, suggesting we bury the hatchet and I go over and spend a holiday with them.' He gave a twisted smile. ‘She couldn't have known he'd written. But I was still nursing the slight over the best man business, and I never replied.

‘Then I met my wife, and naturally David and Karen were invited to the wedding. But by then she was pregnant and couldn't fly, and she caused a fuss when Dave suggested coming over by himself. I can just imagine it:
He refused to come to our wedding; why should you go to his?
No matter that it was all her fault.

‘But Susie, my wife, knew all the bad feeling was making me miserable. So, after a few months of her nagging, I swallowed my pride and wrote to him, saying I was sorry for my part in the row, and would like to see him.'

Swann came to a halt and sat staring down at the table.

‘And did you?' Rona prompted.

He looked up, and she was shocked by the expression in his eyes. ‘No. The next thing we heard was that he was dead.'

‘Oh, no!'

Again the odd look. He said abruptly, ‘What exactly is your connection with the Franks?'

‘Connection? I haven't one, other than they rented the house next to ours.'

He stared at her. ‘So you've only known them – how long?'

‘About four weeks. But it was Louise I knew.'

‘This Louise again. Who is she, exactly?'

It was Rona's turn to stare. ‘Their daughter. The woman you were following round town.'

His eyes bored into hers. ‘Are you being straight with me?' he demanded.

‘Of course I am. Why?'

‘You mean you really don't know?'

‘Know what?'

‘The woman you keep calling Louise is Karen Swann, my brother's widow.'

‘No!' Rona said involuntarily. ‘She can't be!'

‘What I don't understand is, if you don't know the Franks, why were you making enquiries about them?'

Rona barely heard him. Her mind was spinning, refusing to accept what she'd just heard, and, blocking it, she fastened instead on his earlier reference to Harrogate. ‘That's how you tracked me down isn't it? From Harrogate? I'd been wondering.'

‘It's how I heard of you, yes. We live down here now, but a friend rang to tell me you'd been to their old house, and since you'd left a card, he gave me your address. But you've not answered my question: what were you trying to find out?'

‘About Louise,' Rona said drily. She took a sip of tea, hoping it would steady her. ‘She told me she had amnesia, and could remember nothing of her past life.'

‘How very convenient,' Swann said harshly.

‘She'd been in a car crash in Canada, and everything that had happened before was a complete blank. She even began to wonder if the Franks were really her parents. There were no photos of her, or anything to do with the past, but they said it had all been burned in a house fire. I had to go to Harrogate on business, and she asked me to find out what I could while I was there.'

‘And what did you find out?'

‘That the Franks had lived where they'd said they did, had a daughter who'd married and emigrated to Canada, as they'd told her she had, but that the daughter's name was Karen and her husband was David Swann, whereas Louise had married Kevin Stacey.'

‘And what did they say had happened to this Kevin Stacey?'

‘They divorced and he went to work in the Far East.'

‘Did he, now. I think it's time you had a look at these.' He bent down and retrieved a briefcase from under the table. Rona watched as he took out a cardboard folder, opened it, and withdrew a sheaf of yellowing news cuttings. He selected the top one and handed it across the table to her.

It was headlined HOUSEWIFE ACCUSED OF DOUBLE MURDER – and beneath it, unbelievably, was a photograph that, though the hairstyle was different, was undeniably Louise.

Rona felt the bile rush into her throat. Instinctively she put a hand to her mouth, and out of the corner of her eye, saw Max start to his feet. Distractedly she shook her head at him – they couldn't be interrupted now – and after hesitating a moment, he subsided.

She dragged her eyes back to Swann's. ‘Who . . .?' Her voice came out in a croak.

‘Dave and the baby.'

‘God, no!'

‘Would you like to see the rest of the clippings?'

‘Not – now. Just tell me what happened.'

‘The only known facts are that the cleaner found them, early one morning. Karen was sitting on the nursery floor, covered in blood and nursing the dead baby, with Dave's body beside her.'

‘But what did she say? She must have said s
omething
?'

‘Oh, believe me, she said plenty. That Dave had been having an affair – which turned out to be true – that he had a violent temper – also true – and that when the baby wouldn't stop crying, he'd picked him up and shaken him violently.
Un
true. She maintained that she'd flown at him to try to make him stop, and when he wouldn't, she'd seized the nursery lamp and cracked it over his head.'

‘How unbelievably awful,' Rona whispered.

‘What is even more unbelievably awful,' Swann said in a low, bitter voice, ‘is that she got away with it. Because of what was referred to as “provocation” – i.e. the affair – and the fact that she'd been suffering from severe post-natal depression, she was given a suspended sentence. For killing my brother and his son.'

‘I thought you said—'

‘
She
said. There's no way Dave would have harmed that baby. Oh no; the boot was on the other foot.
He
found
her
shaking him, and tried to stop her. And when she realized Timmy was dead and Dave had seen her do it, she bashed him over the head. The God-awful thing, though, is it was her story that held, and everyone believed it. Everyone, that is, except those who knew Dave.'

He lifted his cup again, saw it was empty, and put it down. Rona refilled it.

‘It almost killed my mother,' Swann continued in a low voice. ‘It became her aim in life to clear Dave's name, but there seemed no way of doing it. She's terminally ill now, and when I heard, indirectly through you, that the Franks were back in this country, I felt I owed it to her to get Karen to retract the accusation. It couldn't make any difference to her now, and it would give such comfort to Ma.

‘And, of course, I also had a personal reason for contacting her. I've been torturing myself, wondering if he ever got my letter. I can't bear to think he died believing I wanted nothing more to do with him. However much she dislikes me, Karen owes me that.'