Tell the Truth (23 page)

She didn't think she'd actually slept, dozed maybe, but not for long, and now she could smell baking. It could be good, helping out in the kitchen – it was easier to talk while your hands were busy, while your eyes were on a task.

‘Well, hello,' Abby said, when Paris walked into the kitchen. ‘You sure you got enough sleep?'

‘I never sleep much before nights.'

The kitchen smelled of sweet biscuits and the oven warmed the air. Lucy kicked in a bouncer suspended from the doorway. Paris knelt by her and fingered her little hand. Lucy smiled, all gums. Abby rolled a wooden pin across a sheet of cinnamon-coloured dough, then pressed a star-shaped cutter into it.

‘Can I help?' Paris asked.

‘Sure.' She nodded to a bowl. ‘Roll out that next batch.'

Paris washed, dried and floured her hands, and got stuck in. There was so much that she wanted to say, about her mother, about Stacey, about Mr Leary. About work. It made her head hurt. She didn't know where to begin.

‘Any news on your aunt?' Abby said, as if sensing her problem.

‘Not that I've heard.'

‘How's your mum going?'

‘Going's the right word.' The dough was warm and pliable in her hands. She pressed it down hard on the benchtop.

‘She's out a lot?'

‘Either that or giving me a hard time,' Paris said. ‘She's constantly zipping off to James and Stacey's. I don't even know if he's home half the time she goes there. Then she comes back and hassles me about every little thing.'

‘I guess she's worried about her,' Abby said.

Paris pressed the pin onto the dough and started rolling it out. ‘We all are.'

Abby slid a tray of biscuits into the oven. ‘I'm sure it'll all work out.'

Paris was surprised by the platitude, but before she could say anything the doorbell rang. Abby wiped her hands on a tea towel and went to answer.

Paris listened, and heard a familiar voice. She went to the doorway. ‘Uncle James?'

‘Oh, hi,' James said. He looked exhausted, dark stubble on his cheeks, his eyes tired. ‘How are you, Paris?'

‘Is there any news?'

‘No. I'm just following up with the people Stacey knows, seeing if I can find out anything more.'

‘Come on in,' Abby said.

He sat at the kitchen table. Abby made him a hot sweet tea and served it up with a plate of warm biscuits. Paris finished rolling and cutting her dough, then sat opposite him.

‘How do I look?' he asked her. ‘Like a zombie, right?'

‘Not that bad.'

‘I can't sleep,' he said. ‘Your wife's missing, you can't sleep, this is how you look.'

‘It must be terrible,' Abby said.

‘It is. Horrendous.' He curled his hands around his cup. ‘I'm sorry I haven't made an effort to meet you before now. You and Stacey went to school together, right?'

‘Many years ago.'

‘And met up at the reunion last year,' James said. ‘I remember her coming home and saying what a small world it is, that the son of one of her old schoolfriends ends up with our niece.' He smiled at Paris.

Abby nodded. ‘We had good intentions of staying in touch. I don't know what happened.'

‘Time goes by, life goes on,' James said. He paused and stared at her. ‘Huh. You looked really familiar there for a second.'

‘Did I?' she said.

He nodded, wrinkling his forehead. ‘I can't think from
where though. Paris, we haven't all been at one of your mother's
barbecues, have we?'

‘No,' Paris said, confused.

‘Wait,' James said, ‘I know. I know where I've seen someone who looks like you. You're not going to believe it, and it's the strangest thing, but the cops showed me this picture of this person on CCTV, riding a pushbike, and
it
really could be you. Or you could be it, or whatever I'm trying to say.' He smiled. ‘Like I said, strange, huh?'

‘They showed me the same picture and asked me the same thing,' Abby said. ‘I said sure we're alike, if you count two people who are white and of average height and build as being alike.'

Paris looked at James, puzzled. ‘What are you saying?'

‘Just how it's odd that this person looked like her,' he said. ‘I mean, to the degree that I had this kind of deja vu moment sitting here.'

‘Deja vu's an odd thing all right,' Abby said, and raised her cup to her lips.

‘I guess so,' James said. ‘May I use your bathroom?'

‘It's along the hall,' Abby said.

He went out of the room.

‘That was weird,' Paris said.

‘Desperate people clutch at straws,' Abby said. ‘They see things where there's nothing to be seen.'

‘But it doesn't bother you, him saying that?'

Abby shrugged. ‘Why would it?'

‘Because he's sort of suggesting you had something to do with it, isn't he?'

‘You're Stacey's niece. Does it bother you?'

‘No, because I don't think it's true.'

‘And that's why it doesn't bother me.'

Paris heard the toilet flush, then James came back in. He crouched in front of Lucy in her bouncer.

‘Now here's a cheeky-looking youngster,' he said. ‘I love babies. Any chance of a cuddle?'

‘She's due for her nap soon,' Abby said. ‘Cuddles from strangers get her too wound up to sleep.'

James reached out and tickled Lucy's chin. ‘Well, maybe one day I won't be a stranger any more, will I, little darlin'?'

‘Maybe you won't,' Abby said.

Paris looked from one to the other. She felt like there was a subtext here she couldn't read. She watched James say he better be going, and followed as Abby walked him to the door. There was a strange moment when they looked at each other, Abby inside the house and James out, then James walked off down the driveway without even saying goodbye to her.

Abby shut the door. She looked distracted.

‘That was weird,' Paris said.

‘Hm?' Abby didn't wait for an answer. ‘I have to go out.
I just remembered.'

‘Do you want me to stay and mind Lucy? While she has her sleep?'

Abby focused on her. ‘No, I'll take Lucy with me. She can nap in the car.'

Paris hesitated, then said, ‘Can I come?'

A thought flashed behind Abby's eyes, then she said, ‘Sure. Yes. Yes, of course you can come.'

TWENTY-THREE

‘D
id they find Marie?' Ella asked Dennis when they got back to the office.

He nodded. ‘She's waiting in interview one.'

Ella was keen to talk to Marie, to dig a little deeper. In the same way that talking face to face was better than on the phone, talking in a stark interview room when the interviewee had come in through the busy office, seen everyone hard at work, and finally recognised themselves to be caught deep in the workings of an investigation could get results like nothing else. ‘Let's do this.'

Marie Kennedy sat with her arms folded, the table in front of her bare. ‘Have you found her?' she said the instant they walked in.

‘Sorry, no,' Ella said. ‘Can I get you a coffee? Water?'

‘No, thank you.' Her voice was clipped, her face expressionless.

Ella and Murray sat side by side, Ella placing a manila folder on the table. The pages inside were blank, a wad pulled from the stores cupboard for effect, but Marie didn't even glance at it.

‘We just spoke with your boss,' Ella said. ‘Do you want to tell us what happened there?'

‘No,' Marie said.

‘It's no big drama,' Ella said. ‘He was concerned, obviously, but there's no law against it.'

‘Yes, it's a big joke to you, isn't it? Is this about Stacey or not? That's what I was told.'

‘Have you heard from her?' Murray asked.

‘No. Don't you think I would've said something?' Marie pulled a face. ‘Look, if this isn't about Stacey, I have things to do.'

‘Here's the thing,' Ella said. ‘Your behaviour is far from what we'd expect from someone whose sister is missing with
a lot of blood
left behind. It's obvious that you know something, either about what's happened, or about what's really going on underneath what we can see. It's time to tell the truth.'

‘It's “obvious”?' Marie glared. ‘Because I haven't fallen in a heap you think I don't care about my sister and must've had something to do with it?'

‘You have to admit your behaviour is unusual,' Murray said.

‘Because I support my brother-in-law? Because I clean their house? You'd prefer he was alone and living in a pigsty?'

‘Scrubbing with bleach for over half an hour is more than what most people would call cleaning,' he said.

‘You people and your judgements,' Marie snapped. ‘Have you had a sister go missing? Then how can you know how you'd react? Ridiculous to say something like that.'

She was building up a good head of steam. Ella was pleased. Angry people said stuff they didn't always intend to.

‘Ridiculous,' Marie said again. ‘A person can't be who she is, can't do what she needs to do to keep herself going and keep her own mental strength up, without the police immediately thinking she did it. Oh, she's not sobbing every minute of the day, she must be guilty. Oh, look at her, being strong for the people around her, she must have something to hide. In a situation like this someone has to stay strong, and here it's me. Nobody notices, they take it for granted, except of course you lot, who think I did something horrible to my own sister.'

‘Who's taking you for granted?' Ella asked. ‘James?'

‘Of course not. How can he be expected to do anything but worry?'

‘Paris?' Ella said.

Marie's jaw tightened. ‘You've met her. She's a silly girl. She doesn't know how good she's got it.'

‘She wouldn't understand how it feels to be missing a sister either,' Murray said.

‘Exactly,' Marie said. ‘It's all about her. She was upset this morning because I hadn't asked her how she was feeling. Ha.'

‘You had an argument?' Ella asked, thinking ahead.

‘Nothing unusual,' Marie said. ‘She might not technically be a teenager any more but it'll be some time before she stops acting like one.'

Ella said, ‘You argue with Stacey too, don't you?'

‘You asked me that yesterday. Yes. Siblings do.'

‘But you wouldn't tell me what you argue about.'

‘Sibling issues. My goodness, is this what you do all day? Pester people with pointless questions?'

‘I think you went to Stacey's house on Saturday night because you wanted to talk to her,' Ella said. ‘I think the two of you had an argument during the week, it got out of hand and things were said, and you wanted to patch things up.'

Marie looked at her. ‘That's what you think, is it?'

‘It is,' Ella said.

‘Well, more fool you. If anyone should apologise it's her. Not that she ever would, or ever has. Always the favourite, since the day she was born.'

Ella imagined four-year-old Marie, dismayed by the new baby and its noise and the way it sucked up attention. ‘You weren't happy when she got together with James, when they got married, were you?'

‘She didn't like him when we were going out,' Marie said. ‘She used to laugh at his acne, hang around and be a pest. Then she turns up with him all handsome and with money and everything, and says to me, “Remember this face?” Like it's a joke that once he was with me and now he's with her.' Her hands were fists on the table top. ‘The wedding was gorgeous. Paris was bridesmaid, lanky awkward teenager that she was. Stacey fussed and fussed over Paris's dress, told her how lovely she looked and everything. I tried to tell her it's not the wedding that counts, it's the marriage afterwards. She said yeah yeah, like she knew it all already. Like because my husband was dead and hers was brand new, she had it better than me. And she did. She does.'

Ella saw it all in a flash. ‘That should be your life.'

‘Paul and I were going to sell the house and caravan around the country, settle in the place we liked best. The two of us. Paris accused me this morning of blaming her for his death, and I told her that was a stupid thing to say, but I do. God help me, I do. He was the one who wanted her in the first place, he insisted on the private school, he had to do the long-hauls that brought in the money. I said we could get by and there was nothing wrong with public schools, but he insisted. For her. And now.' She spread her empty hands. ‘Now what have I got?'

‘Is that one of the issues you argued with Stacey about?' Ella said. ‘That she has a husband and you don't?'

‘She told me once that if I wasn't enough without a man, I'd never be enough with one. I know she was upset but I couldn't believe she could say that.'

‘When was that, and why was she upset?' Murray asked.

‘Two years ago. She'd had a miscarriage. It was very early. I was kind, but I said these things were usually for the best, and she still had James, that she was lucky really.'

Ella thought Marie had been lucky not to get a punch in the mouth.

‘She said she thought James had caused the miscarriage,' Marie went on. ‘I said he should get checked at the doctor's then, but she said it wasn't that. She said she'd told him about being pregnant and even though he'd said he was happy she didn't really think he was, and then after the miscarriage he hugged her and said now they could be normal again, just the two of them.'

‘What did she think he'd done?' Ella asked.

‘I don't know. I said it was silly to think that, and she started screaming at me and made me go home. We didn't talk about it again.'

‘And that was two years ago.' Ella's mind was ticking. ‘You were heard arguing at her house on Wednesday. What was that about?'

Marie huffed. ‘I'd told her what had happened at work. It was stupid to say anything, but I did. We'd been talking about Paris's birthday, again, and quite frankly I was sick of the subject. I said, how about we talk like two grown-ups, talk about our lives or our jobs or whatever. She had this look on her face and said, with this attitude, okay then, how's your job? As if my job means nothing. And I felt like slapping her, and next thing I was telling her. She was all incredulous, but I could tell she was laughing inside, like I was pathetic and she was so great and had it all together. I said she didn't understand, she had a husband, she didn't know how it felt. To not have someone there. You miss the physical contact, arms around you, the flesh and muscles and the bones underneath.' She looked at the table. ‘It's hard to explain. She didn't even try to understand. She had this look on her face and was saying, but you have Paris, you have Paris. I said kids weren't all they're cracked up to be. She said how could I say such a thing, that didn't I think kids were the reason we're all alive? And I was so angry about everything that I said that same thing back to her: that if a person wasn't enough without a child, they'd never be enough with one.' She wiped her eyes. ‘I guess by that time we were yelling, but she suddenly burst into tears. I was so angry over the whole situation that I got up and left.'

It was eerily close to Rowan's description of his argument with Stacey and her reaction then. Ella frowned, thinking it through.

‘Where was James when all this was going on?' Murray was saying.

‘He was working late or something, I don't know.' Marie rubbed her face.

‘When did you next speak to her?'

‘Friday she sent me a text, said we could talk about the party on the weekend maybe? I said yes, that'd be great. I dropped in on Saturday but she wasn't home and didn't reply to my text. Then we talked Sunday afternoon as if nothing had happened. That's what happens when we argue – after a couple of days things blow over.'

A thought dawned out of the blue in Ella's mind, and she gripped Murray's arm. ‘We have to talk to Callum.'

*

Rowan got to the cafe before Imogen this time, and had just sat down when she came in. ‘It's great to see you.'

She smiled. ‘It's great to see you too.'

They hugged, and it felt good. They sat down and started talking. It was easy this time, and Rowan found himself telling her about the detective's visit and his phone call to Angus.

‘So did Angus say why he went, or why he stayed away?' she asked.

‘He told Simon that at first he simply wanted to go, wanted to be out on his own with no family connections,' Rowan said. ‘But he felt a bit bad because he knew we'd worry, so he sent the postcards to let us know he was okay. He said he never thought that we mightn't be. And since his son was born he's been feeling like getting in touch, so when the police officer turned up he said all right, we could call.'

‘And now you're a grandfather of two,' Imogen said.

He showed her the photo that Angus had texted him last night, the round sleeping face, the shock of dark hair. ‘He's got Emelia's mouth.'

‘Listen to you.' She grinned at him.

The waitress came over and they ordered, then Rowan put his phone down.

‘How about Stacey?' Imogen asked. ‘Has there been any news there?'

‘Nothing,' he said.

‘I saw her husband on the news again last night, talking about how now their dog's run away too. He looks devastated about the whole thing. Have you talked to him much?'

‘Not really,' Rowan said. ‘He doesn't answer the phone. I've left a couple of messages, and he's called me back once. It's taken over his life.'

‘Understandable.'

‘Of course.'

The waitress brought their food and coffee. Rowan picked up his cutlery, then his phone rang. The screen said the number was blocked. He hesitated.

Imogen said, ‘I don't mind if you answer.'

He picked it up. ‘This is Rowan.'

‘It's me,' Stacey whispered. ‘Can you talk?'

Rowan struggled to speak. ‘Are you okay?'

‘I'm all right. I only have a minute. Listen.'

‘Where are you? Everyone's worried sick.'

‘You have to listen,' she said. ‘Gomez didn't run away. He'll be at a pound somewhere. He might look different. You have to find him.'

‘What?' Rowan said. Imogen was staring at him.

‘Keep him at your place. It's the only way he'll be safe.'

‘What's going on?'

‘Please, just do it.' Her whisper was urgent. ‘I don't have much time. Please find him.'

‘But –'

‘Say you will. Promise me.'

‘The police are looking for you. All that blood –'

‘Promise,' she hissed.

‘I promise,' he said. ‘But you need to tell the police where you are. Or tell me and I'll tell them.'

‘No. You can't let anyone know I called. If it gets out –' There was a sound in her background. ‘I have to go. Don't tell anyone.'

The line went dead. Rowan lowered the phone to the table, his gaze on his plate.

‘Who was that?' Imogen asked.

Stacey had said not to tell anyone. She'd sounded frightened. He thought over what he'd said, what Imogen had heard.

He raised his eyes to hers. ‘I can't tell you.'

She frowned. ‘From what you said –'

‘I know, but I was asked not to tell anyone.'

Imogen's frown deepened. ‘She asked you that? Why?'

Rowan poked the congealed egg with his fork, then laid it down. ‘I have to go.'

‘Where?'

‘To find a dog.'

Imogen looked at him for a moment. ‘Can I come?'

*

Rowan had never thought about how many council pounds were dotted across the city. He started with the one closest to Stacey and James's house in Haberfield, then worked his way outwards, using Google Maps on his phone to guide him. At each, he asked about a small wire-haired dog, mostly brown, with dark eyes and a black nose, who'd come in yesterday or today. He'd seen a couple that barked and jumped at the wire in their pens just like Gomez would but were distinctly not him.

In the car heading to the next place, Imogen said, ‘So you won't tell me, but I bet I can guess.'