The Retreat(20)

‘When Lily’s body didn’t appear, the police turned their attention to the mother.’

I was shocked. ‘To Julia?’

‘Uh-huh. Think about it. There were no witnesses, other than Mrs Marsh. They only had her word for what happened. My friend said her distress seemed genuine, but maybe it was an accident, one that she tried to cover up.’

‘What kind of accident?’

The world around us was eerily quiet and still. A songbird called out from a tree above our heads. The water made a rushing sound as it rounded the bend. Apart from that, all was silent.

Zara crumpled her chocolate wrapper and stuck it in the pocket of her puffa jacket. ‘Julia admitted to the police that all was not well in the Marsh household. She had to, because they’d had a massive row in the supermarket just before Christmas. In the alcohol aisle. The police found a witness who reported seeing Julia yelling at Michael about the amount of booze he’d put in the trolley. Something about broken promises, about Christmas being ruined. Lily was there, watching.’

I thought about Julia’s alcohol ban at the retreat. Had Michael Marsh been an alcoholic?

‘When they did the autopsy, the pathologist found high levels of alcohol in Mr Marsh’s blood. So he’d been drinking that day. Here’s a theory: what if Julia and Michael had another huge row when they were down by the river, and she pushed him in?’

I thought about it. ‘That’s possible, I suppose. But what about Lily?’

‘The police thought maybe Julia chucked Lily in too, because she was the only witness.’

‘That’s ludicrous!’

‘Or maybe she planned to kill them all, including herself. Murder-suicide. But she chickened out when it was her turn. Or how about this? Julia pushed her hubby into the water and their daughter jumped in to try to save him. Julia can’t swim, so she couldn’t do anything to help.’

The bird in the tree had stopped singing.

‘But that still doesn’t answer the question: what happened to Lily’s body?’

Zara shrugged. ‘That’s where the police got stuck too. They had cadaver dogs out searching the woods, looking for a grave, thinking that if Lily didn’t drown maybe Julia killed her and buried her somewhere. They searched the house too.’

‘So Julia knew she was a suspect?’

‘I guess they used the old “exploring every avenue” line. But they didn’t find anything, and Julia never slipped up. So they went back to square one. The most likely explanation was that it all happened exactly as Julia described, and Lily’s body is stuck somewhere at the bottom of Bala Lake.’

I mulled over what Zara had told me. Could Julia be responsible? No, I was sure her distress was genuine – and it wasn’t guilt. Unless she was the world’s greatest actress – a psychopath – she genuinely didn’t know what had happened to her daughter.

‘So, basically,’ I said, ‘you haven’t really made any progress.’

‘Except I’ve done what you asked. Checked the police took it seriously, that they did indeed pull out all the stops. Maybe, Lucas, it’s one of those mysteries that will never be solved. Like the Mary Celeste, or those UFO nuts who may or may not have jumped off Beachy Head a few years ago.’

I blinked at her.

‘So what do you want me to do?’ she asked.

I stood up and paced around the copse, hoping the movement of my feet would trigger my brain.

‘Did the police interview local sex offenders? Paedophiles?’

‘Yep. It’s a small community. There weren’t that many guys for them to talk to, but they got them all in, checked their alibis, searched their houses. Nada.’

‘Maybe they didn’t search hard enough. Especially if they were fixated on this theory that Julia was responsible or it was an accident.’

Again, she shrugged. ‘That’s possible. You want me to do some digging?’

‘I do.’

She pushed herself to her feet. ‘All right, then. Digging I shall do.’

We headed up towards the road where Zara’s car was parked. The mist had cleared and the sun had come out, bathing the landscape in buttery, early-spring light. Zara paused to take it in, then looked at me.

‘So, you come from round here originally?’ she said. ‘I’m curious. You hardly know this Julia woman, do you? Why are you trying to help her?’

I was taken aback by her directness. ‘I feel bad for her. I want to help.’

‘You sure that’s all it is?’

We reached Zara’s car, a ten-year-old Honda. Inside, it was littered with fast-food containers and sweet wrappers.

‘I’m not sure what you mean,’ I said.

‘Oh, nothing. It’s just . . .’ She laughed. ‘Sorry, I know I can be overly frank sometimes. But I’ve seen photos of Julia Marsh. She’s a good-looking woman.’

‘And you think I’m helping her as a way of getting her into bed?’

She unlocked her car. ‘Hey, I don’t mean to offend you. But there’s a certain kind of man who can’t resist a damsel in distress. And by “certain kind of man” I mean one with blood in his veins and a dick between his legs.’ She chuckled as she got into the car.

She wound down the window. ‘I’ll see what I can find out about the local kiddy fiddlers and call you tomorrow.’