Let Me Lie(75)

If Mum had only gone to the police when Dad first mentioned his absurd scheme, none of this would ever have happened. Mum wouldn’t have felt the only way to escape was a fake suicide, and I wouldn’t be here now, harbouring a criminal. She should never have done it.

She should never have helped him disappear.





FORTY-TWO


I would have done it unaided, if it had been possible.

It wasn’t.

The practicalities alone made it too hard for one person. One car to leave at Beachy Head, another to drive us back. Witnesses to fabricate, tracks to cover, evidence to destroy. Even with two of us, it was a struggle.

We could have asked Anna for help. We could have told her everything, promised her the world if she’d lie for us. But I didn’t want to involve her; didn’t want to make a mess of her life, the way I’d made a mess of my own.

Now she’s up to her neck in it anyway.

She’s frightened. I don’t like it, but there’s no other way. My lies are unravelling, and unless the police back off, everything we did is going to be splashed across the papers, and I’ll be heading for a prison cell – if they can find me.

I thought I had no choice but to involve someone else.

I wish I’d tried harder.

If I’d done it alone, I wouldn’t have had to put my trust in another person. I wouldn’t have had to lie awake at night, wondering if secrets were being spilled.

If I’d done it alone, I could have kept the money.





FORTY-THREE


MURRAY


Murray woke to the sound of the radio. He opened his eyes and rolled onto his back, blinking at the ceiling until the grit had cleared and he was properly awake. Sarah had fallen asleep on the sofa the previous evening, and although he had known she wouldn’t make it upstairs, he was still disappointed to see that her half of the bed was untouched.

The radio was loud. Someone was washing their car, or doing their garden, with little thought for whether anyone else in the street wanted to listen to Chris Evans. Murray swung his legs out of bed.

The spare room was empty, too, the duvet still downstairs on the sofa. Sarah had an appointment at Highfield today. Murray would try and speak to Mr Chaudhury alone. Tell him how Sarah had been over the last day or two.

He was halfway down the stairs when he realised the radio was coming from inside the house. In the sitting room, the curtains were drawn and Sarah’s duvet was neatly folded on the sofa. From the kitchen, Chris Evans laughed at his own joke.

‘Tosser. Play some music.’

Murray’s soul lifted. If Sarah was swearing at radio presenters, she was listening to what they were saying. Listening meant stepping out of her own world into someone else’s. Something she hadn’t been doing yesterday, or the day before that.

‘No tossers on Radio Four.’ He joined her in the kitchen. She was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, and a faint smell of sweat clung to her. Her grey hair was greasy, and her skin still dull and tired. But she was awake. Upright. Making scrambled eggs.

‘What about Nick Robinson?’

‘I like Nick Robinson.’

‘He’s a tosser, though.’

‘He’s a Tory. It’s not the same thing.’ Murray stood next to the hob and turned Sarah to face him. ‘Well, not always. How’s today shaping up?’

She hesitated, as though she didn’t want to commit, then nodded slowly. ‘Today feels like it might be okay.’ Tentatively, she smiled at him, and he moved forward to kiss her.

‘Why don’t I take over here, and you can go and have a quick shower?’

‘Do I stink?’

‘You’re a tiny bit fragrant.’ Murray grinned as Sarah opened her mouth to object, before rolling her eyes good-naturedly and heading for the bathroom.

Murray was finishing a call when Sarah emerged. He put his mobile in his pocket and took out the two plates from the oven, where they had been keeping warm.

‘I don’t suppose you feel up to a shopping trip, do you?’

Sarah’s face pinched, her lips tightening, even as she tried to be supportive. ‘It’ll be busy.’

Murray generally avoided shops between Christmas and New Year, and judging from the adverts on TV, the sales were already in full swing. ‘Yes.’

‘Do you mind if I stay here?’ She saw Murray’s face and lifted her chin. ‘I don’t need babysitting, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not going to top myself.’

Murray tried not to react to the casual reminder of all the times she had indeed attempted suicide. ‘I wasn’t thinking that.’ But he had been. Of course he had been. ‘I’ll do it another time.’

‘What do you need?’

‘Sean from High Tech Crime emailed. The handset used for the 999 call reporting Tom Johnson’s suicide was bought at Fones4All in Brighton.’

‘Do you think they’ll have a record of who bought it?’

‘That’s what I’m hoping.’

‘Go!’ Sarah waved a fully loaded fork in the air. ‘Just think: you could have this all wrapped up before CID even know it’s happened.’

Murray laughed, although the same thought had crossed his mind. Not that he could make an arrest, of course, but he could line everything up, and then … Then what? Look into another cold case? Interfere with someone else’s investigation?