Sweet Little Lies (Cat Kinsella #1)(19)

‘Perhaps,’ he says, sadly. ‘I honestly don’t know. Maybe.’

‘Had you come to terms with the decision, Tom?’ Parnell, fierce-proud father of four and unashamedly gooey when it comes to all thing babies, softens his voice a little, surprising both Lapaine and me.

‘I was disappointed, I can’t deny it.’

‘Did you row about it?’ I ask, before Parnell does.

‘We didn’t row.’

‘Oh, come on, Tom,’ Parnell cajoles. ‘Everyone rows.’

He gets up, tosses the now-empty bottle of scotch in the bin. ‘I’m aware of that, Sergeant. I’m not averse to a row myself with business associates, or my parents from time to time. But Alice wasn’t like that. You couldn’t row with her. She was too sweet a creature.’

The martyrdom of the dead is the bane of a Murder detective’s life. It’s hard to pinpoint the truth when people are too busy polishing the halo.

‘OK,’ says Parnell evenly, ‘you didn’t row, but you must have enquired about the sudden change of heart?’

He sits down. Hurt flashes across his face, still raw. ‘She said it was the money. Basically, where would it end? We’d been through so many rounds already and in the cold light of day, she felt even a sixty-five per cent success rate seemed too big a risk for such a large amount. We’re not exactly churchmice, Detectives, but look around, we’re not rolling in cash either. We’d had to make sacrifices to fund the IVF. We’d spent savings, taken out loans, borrowed from my parents.’

‘How much?’ asks Parnell. ‘In total?’

He puffs out his cheeks. ‘Around ￡50,000, I’d say. Still, I told Alice it didn’t matter, it was only money, but she’d made her mind up. She said we’d forced it enough and the disappointment was killing us. I had no choice but to accept it. Even though she was so sweet-natured, when she dug her heels in about something you had to let her be. Same with our anniversary trip to London .?.?.’

‘That was about wasting money too? Well, partly,’ I add, before he corrects me. ‘Did you and Alice have differing views about your finances?’

‘Not especially.’

I check my notes. ‘You told my colleague this morning that Alice worked for a few hours each day at a pub in the village.’

‘That’s right.’

‘Why only a few hours?’

He shrugs but there’s a wariness in his eyes. ‘That’s all they could offer, I believe.’

‘OK, but there must have been other jobs Alice could have done?’

‘I’m not following, Detective.’ I’m not sure Parnell is either.

‘Well, it’s just that if Alice was conscious about money, and if money was tight, I don’t understand why a fit, able woman wouldn’t find a more lucrative job.’ Lapaine stays silent, uncomfortable with the line of questioning if his pursed lips are anything to go by. ‘Hey, look, it’s not a judgment, Tom. I’m just trying to understand as much as I can about Alice – her values, her .?.?.’

‘I was against her working full-time, OK.’ So it’s not just the house that’s stuck in a time-warp. ‘And yes I know how that sounds, but you have to understand that working full-time in hospitality means regular evening work, weekend work, and I didn’t want that for our marriage. Alice agreed.’

Controlling, or kind of understandable? Is wanting to be at home at the same time as your partner really so primitive or simply pragmatic? Necessary for the health of any long-term relationship?

I decide that I can’t decide. Murder skews your view of how the normal world operates.

Parnell picks up the baton. ‘We’ll obviously be looking at your wife’s bank records – any activity helps us to build up an idea of her movements. Did Alice have her own account or is it a joint one?’

‘Joint. Her salary wasn’t much but it covered a couple of monthly loan payments. She did have her own credit card, although she hardly used it, the limit was only a few hundred pounds.’ He looks to me, the perceived softer option. ‘Our joint account won’t tell you much though so I wouldn’t waste your time. She mainly withdrew cash from the ATM. She always preferred cash.’

I smile apologetically. ‘All the same, we’ll need to take a look.’

His answer isn’t quite instant. ‘If you must.’

Parnell keeps his tone steady. ‘How did you feel about her withdrawing the money?’

Lapaine shrugs. ‘I didn’t expect her to live on thin air.’

Parnell nods. ‘Well, no, but she says IVF is a waste of money and then weeks later she’s swanning around taking money out of your joint account, I think I’d be annoyed.’

A blanket of near-silence. Just the sound of the river rushing outside.

‘I did not kill my wife, Sergeant.’

Fair play. It’s exactly what I’d do. Expose the elephant in the room and you control it.

Parnell doesn’t flinch but the admission switches him back into formal mode – no more ‘Tom’ for a start. ‘I’m afraid we have to ask these questions, Mr Lapaine, and while I regret any discomfort this causes, it’s crucial we eliminate you as quickly as possible. Do you understand?’