The Therapist(33)

‘Yes.’

‘Then they must have found out who he was and eliminated him from their enquiries.’

‘That’s what you would have thought,’ he agrees.

‘I suppose if Oliver knew Nina was having an affair, he had a motive to kill her.’

‘Except that, according to the people who knew him best, he would never have harmed Nina.’

‘I’m not sure why you think I can help you. I’ve only just moved here – as you know,’ I add pointedly.

‘It’s exactly for that reason that I’m asking for your help,’ he says earnestly. ‘When Helen first asked me to look into the murder, I tried to speak to people here myself. But I came up against a lot of – not hostility, exactly, but tight lips. It’s why I didn’t hang around at your drinks evening. When I looked through the kitchen window and saw that the people you’d invited were the people I had tried to talk to, I thought it wiser to leave before someone recognised me.’ He pauses. ‘You didn’t know Nina, you don’t really know anyone here yet, which makes you impartial. I know this is a lot to ask but – if you happen to hear anything – you know, in conversations with the neighbours – perhaps you could let me know?’

I stand up. ‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t do that.’

He gives a small smile. ‘Of course.’ He gets to his feet, holds out his hand. ‘Thank you for your time. Goodbye, Ms Dawson.’

His handshake is strong, dependable. It makes me feel that I can trust him but, at the same time, I’m disappointed that he wanted me to betray the confidences of the people I’m hoping will be my friends. Given the circumstances, I suppose it’s understandable that he wants to get closure for Oliver’s sister before it’s too late. He strikes me as the sort of man who would do a lot for a friend – but not someone who would give that friend false hope, or take on a lost cause. He admitted that at the beginning, he was only humouring Oliver’s sister.

What made him change his mind?





Seventeen


I’ve barely begun working when the highlighter I’m using dries up on me. I know Leo has some in his study so I force myself upstairs. Living with Nina’s ghost isn’t easy. I pause, one foot on the next step. Living with Nina’s ghost.

After my sister died, there were times when I felt she was with me, times when I could feel her presence, especially in the quiet of the night or when I was feeling particularly low. It was as if she was letting me know that I wasn’t alone. I hadn’t been particularly spiritual before but, intrigued, I began to read about life after death and, because of what I had experienced in relation to my sister, I came to accept that sometimes, our spirit lives on, particularly when a person dies unexpectedly before their time. One of the things I read was the belief that if a death was violent, the spirit of that person might wait around until their murderer was brought to justice. It had particularly marked me because I hadn’t sensed my sister’s presence since the day her case was brought to court, and although I hadn’t been satisfied with the outcome, maybe my sister had been, which was why she had left. What if Nina Maxwell’s spirit is living on, here in the house, waiting for justice to be done?

The study on the first floor is Leo’s space and I’m always surprised at how tidy it is. There’s nothing on the desk apart from a wooden ruler and a couple of pens. I pull open the drawers that run down each side of the desk. The bottom one on the left-hand side is jammed full of pens, pencils and highlighters. I choose a yellow one and, as I take it out, the back of my hand brushes against something taped to the underside of the drawer above. Curious, I push the jumble of pens and pencils to one side and unpick the Sellotape with my fingers. There’s something metal underneath. I let it fall into my hand and see a tiny key, which I recognise as coming from one of those metal cash boxes that I used to save money in as a teenager. I turn it over, inspecting it. If Leo has gone to the trouble of hiding it, there must be something he doesn’t want anyone, including me, to find. Was that why he was so jittery when I told him I’d taken people upstairs to see the work we’d had done?

I turn to the grey metal filing cabinet that stands in the corner, where Leo keeps his client files. I tug at the top drawer but it doesn’t open. Neither do the other three; all the drawers are centrally locked. Puzzled, I go back to the desk, looking for another key, running my hand along the underside of each drawer in case Leo has hidden that one too. When I don’t find anything, I search the rest of the study.

I empty the pen holder on the desk, run my fingers over the little ridge above the doorway and come away with nothing but dust. I get down on my hands and knees and look under the desk, hoping to find the key to the filing cabinet taped somewhere on its underside. I turn Leo’s chair upside down, check behind his computer, under the keyboard and then repeat the whole process. But I can’t find the key. Frustrated, I stick the tiny key back where I found it and go back to work.



While I’m on my lunch break, I remember that before Thomas Grainger turned up yesterday, I’d been on my way to see Lorna. It’s early afternoon, so I’m not worried about her and Edward being in the middle of lunch. But no-one answers my knock and I don’t like to insist, because they might be having a nap. I turn to go home and see Will standing at the bottom of the drive, on his way out.